The Girl with the Creel Page 16

  ‘I just want to hold you. When we were in the water, I kept thinking about you, and … oh, God, come here, my darling.’

  ‘I’ll have to tell my mother …’

  ‘Forget your mother. She’ll know you’ve come to bed with me.’

  She needed no further persuasion and, remembering her wish when she thought George was lost to her that she hadn’t been so afraid of them being heard, she did her best to please him.

  In the morning, Willie Alec looked round the breakfast table. ‘I meant what I said last night. I’m going to pay back every penny of my debts.’

  ‘You should have a word with the yard,’ Mick advised. ‘They might come to some special arrangement with you.’

  ‘I want no special arrangements made for me,’ his father growled. ‘I took in hand to pay off a certain amount every month for three year, and that’s what I’m going to do. I’m giving no man the chance to say Willie Alec Jappy broke his word. I want nothing hanging over my head when I go to my grave.’

  ‘That gives you plenty time,’ Mick grinned.

  His father was in no mood for pleasantries. ‘Just you let this be a lesson to you, and all, Mick. Buy nothing you canna pay for in full.’

  Mick’s grin became somewhat rueful. ‘That means I’ll never be able to buy anything that costs more than a shilling or two. I’m aye skint.’

  ‘You’ll have to cut your coat according to your cloth,’ Willie Alec said, firmly. ‘You spend ower much on that lassie you go out wi’.’

  Mick glanced wryly at Lizann, who guessed that he had been saving in the hope of marrying Jenny, and that he, too, would be left with very little after buying his new gear, but she said nothing. Mick and George would consider this as a setback to their future plans – as had she the day before – but all she felt now was thankful that they had a future.

  Chapter Eleven

  Three weeks later, Peter Tait married Elsie Slater in the Baptist church in Cluny Place. Her father had arranged for the reception to be held in the St Andrew’s Hotel, to which forty guests had been invited, and it was almost midnight before the happy couple could go up to the room Chae had also booked for them for the night.

  Peter was shy about undressing, but Elsie tossed off her long white wedding gown and underclothes then gyrated slowly in front of him. This made him forget his inhibitions, and he too cast his clothing on the floor.

  ‘Wow!’ Elsie exclaimed, when they settled back on the bed afterwards. ‘That was the best yet, Peter.’

  His prowess had also surprised him – it had likely been not having to worry about being seen – but he laughed off her compliment. ‘That was nothing, I’m not finished yet.’ The way she was fondling him had fired him again, and he proceeded to show her his boast had been no idle one.

  It was only after their second wild coupling that he remembered. ‘I hope this doesn’t hurt the baby.’

  Her big blue eyes regarded him innocently. ‘What baby?’ His puzzled expression made her giggle. ‘There’s no baby, I just said that so you’d marry me.’

  She had planned her moment carefully, sure that he would forgive her anything tonight, but his expression alarmed her. Had she gone too far? Running her tongue round her already moist lips, she wheedled, ‘Peter, lovey, you’re nae angry at me, are you?’

  ‘Of course I’m angry!’ he barked, trying unsuccessfully to keep his eyes away from her. ‘No man likes being made a fool of.’

  ‘I wasna trying to make a fool o’ you,’ she pouted. ‘I wanted you to wed me, what’s wrong wi’ that?’

  This time he did manage to turn his head away. If she hadn’t spun him the story, he’d have told Lizann when he went to commiserate with her that he still loved her, and even with George turning up safe and sound again, she might have realized she would have a more tranquil life with a draughtsman than a seaman who could be lost at any time. Instead, he’d had to say he was marrying Elsie … and because of her bloody stupid lie, he had lost all hope of ever getting Lizann.

  ‘God Almighty!’ he burst out, viciously. ‘I wish I’d known. Do you think I’d have married you if …’

  ‘Do you think you could have gotten another girl to satisfy you like me?’ Elsie’s voice was velvet-soft, cloying, insinuating her words deep into his brain and setting it off on a different track. She was a man’s woman, she knew how to get him going, she knew how to keep him going, and by God, when she wanted to, she could drive him so mad with lust that all he could think of was taking her. Anyway, he had burned his bridges behind him. They were husband and wife now, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health.

  Feeling her stroking his shoulder, coaxing him, he looked back at her and was lost. His pulses quickened at the sight of her lissom, naked body spreadeagled by his side, her sweet red lips crying out to be kissed, but he had to teach her who was boss. ‘I’ll make damned sure I’ll put you up the spout tonight,’ he muttered, grabbing one of her breasts and squeezing.

  Her hand dived down. ‘Get on wi’ it, then!’ she grinned.

  With her uncommunicative husband by her side – nothing new, for he was always like that – Bella Jeannie reached home much happier than when she set out for the wedding. ‘You ken,’ she said, when they were inside, ‘I was near sure Elsie was in the family way, so I watched her like a hawk the whole time …’

  Bowfer Tait held his breath, for he’d really enjoyed himself dancing with all the young things, especially his new daughter-in-law, then he relaxed when his wife went on, ‘… but her belly’s as flat as a pancake. It’ll likely nae be long till she is, for I could see Peter was worked up, but there’ll be nae shame to the bairn when it’s born.’

  ‘Aye … no, that’s right.’ Bowfer nodded vigorously. He’d been worked up himself just looking at all the lassies, their slim supple bodies so different from Bella Jeannie’s whaleboned stiffness, and when he’d held them in his arms he’d felt a long-forgotten raging heat in his nether regions. And if Elsie’s belly was flat, it was the only thing about her that was. ‘We’ll just go up to bed, eh?’ he muttered, hopefully.

  ‘Aye, we’d be as well.’

  After climbing the stairs, Bowfer had to sit down on a chair – this damned cough would be the death of him, he thought, as he fought for breath. By the time he recovered, Bella Jeannie had taken off her tent-like frock and petticoat, and though he bent down to remove his shoes and socks, he watched her out of the corner of his eye. When he was younger, he had liked a woman with a bit of flesh on her, but a man’s tastes change. He’d have preferred somebody with a decent figure right now, but Bella Jeannie would have to do.

  When she took off her brassiere, he was mesmerized to see her high bosom dropping a couple of inches, but it occurred to him that he should start to undress himself in case she noticed him looking at her. First pulling off the tie he had slackened when he came out of the hall, he took off his shirt and started opening his trouser buttons. He couldn’t believe the size of the huge belly that flopped out when his wife unhooked her corsets; he was usually asleep before she came to bed. Her sagging breasts reached to her belly-button now, or where her belly-button should be – it must be somewhere under all those layers of fat, though he wouldn’t have seen it anyway with her always keeping on her woollen vest, day and night, winter and summer.

  Sighing with relief, she threw the pink instrument of torture on the chair at her side of the bed, and scratched where her skin was irritated from long hours of confinement. As her fingers gouged into the spongy rolls around her waist and hips, Bowfer felt his heat subsiding. She wasn’t just fat, she was bloody disgusting!

  Blissfully unaware of her husband’s repugnance, Bella Jeannie hitched up her thick bloomers, put on her winceyette nightdress and got into bed, the springs protesting loudly at her weight. Starting another fit of coughing, Bowfer held his chest until it stopped, then kicked off his trousers and, in his linder and drawers, lay down on the narrow strip which was all that was available to hi
m. He hadn’t touched Bella Jeannie as a husband for many a long year, and he’d thought he was past it, but he wasn’t. The young things had got him going, though he’d lost the urge again after seeing his wife as near naked as anybody would ever see her.

  Bowfer closed his eyes and turned his thoughts to Elsie. Dancing with her had been a revelation, for the lassies in his day had been nothing like as forward. She’d pressed her tits into his chest, and she must have known it was turning him on, for she’d smiled and rubbed against him till he was that fired up he was feared he would disgrace himself in front of the other guests. He’d had to pretend his chest was bothering him so he could go and sit down, but she knew fine what his trouble was. By God, he wouldn’t be lying here just thinking about it if it was her lying beside him. Peter was a lucky young bugger!

  * * *

  At his side, Bella Jeannie was also thinking. As a mother, she wished her son had chosen a better wife, a lassie she would be proud to be seen with in the street, but it was done and she’d have to make the best of it. She wouldn’t let Elsie dictate to her in her own house, that was one thing sure, though it was her own fault they’d be biding here. Peter had been all for buying a house, but she hadn’t wanted Elsie to have him all to herself. ‘What’s the sense in spending out money when there’s plenty room here?’ she had said.

  ‘We wouldn’t have any privacy here,’ he had argued.

  ‘You’ll get all the privacy you need in your bed.’

  He had flushed at that, and though she had been nearly sure he’d been at it with Elsie before the wedding, she had learned different today. He was as innocent as a bairn … but not his wife. It wouldn’t be that one’s first time with a man! Not even a hundred-and-first!

  Bella Jeannie recalled the shock she’d had on her own wedding night. She had no brothers, no idea of how different a man’s body was from a woman’s, and when she saw the huge thing that sprang out of her groom’s trousers she had nearly fainted. She gave a tiny smirk in the darkness. She’d soon found out what it was for, and once she got used to it, she’d quite liked it. Of course, she’d been nice and slim in those days, but even after Peter was born and she’d put on weight, his father had still needed his nightly ration. But she’d grown fatter and fatter, and sometimes couldn’t be bothered with him, and now she couldn’t remember the last time he’d done it, even the last time he’d tried. At her age, she needed her sleep – and so did he!

  The trouble was, he barked like a Great Dane off and on all night, and though she knew he couldn’t help it, she often felt like telling him to shut up. There he was again, hawking and hawking, and gasping as if his last minute had come. Giving him a thump in the ribs with her elbow to show her displeasure, she heaved herself round with her back to him, and turned her mind to the earlier part of the evening. His bad cough hadn’t stopped him from dancing with every lassie in the hall, and coming back after his dance with Elsie all flushed. And he’d sat for ages with his hands over the bulge she’d seen when he was walking to his seat, stupid old devil. He’d hardly taken his eyes off the little bitch for the rest of the evening, and little wonder, for she’d flaunted herself in front of all the men. Peter would have to watch her. If she stuck her tits in Bowfer’s face every day, what would it drive him to?

  With something of a struggle, for it wasn’t easy to shift her sixteen stones, Bella Jeannie turned round again. ‘Are you sleeping?’

  Bowfer’s erotic dreams were rudely shattered. ‘Eh? What’s that?’

  ‘I asked if you was sleeping.’

  ‘I was, but nae now.’

  ‘I was thinking …’ Bella Jeannie began, slowly, for she hadn’t quite worked out what to say, ‘… about Elsie.’

  ‘Oh, aye?’ he said, cautious now.

  His wife jumped right in; he had to be told. ‘I could see she got you going, and I’m warning you now, Bowfer Tait, keep your hands off her.’

  ‘Me?’ he exclaimed, incredulously. ‘For God’s sake, woman, I’ve never laid a finger on her.’

  ‘And you never will! Have you got that?’

  ‘Aye, I’ve got it, but I dinna ken what you take me for. A man doesna interfere wi’ his son’s wife. Now, if you’re finished, would you let me get some sleep?’

  She closed her eyes, clicking her tongue as he began another bout of coughing which went on and on, as though he couldn’t get to the bottom of it. She was about to ask how he expected her to sleep when he gave a peculiar grunt, and she wondered if the exertion of dancing had been too much for him. After all, he was past sixty and he was like a washed-out clout when he came home from his work, though it never stopped him from going out for a few pints once he’d had his supper. She waited for him to make a move of some kind … and waited … and waited.

  A rough shove still producing no response, a cold alarm gripped her, and, unable to see anything in the dark, she hoisted herself out of bed to light the gas mantle. Hoping she could do something to help she went back to her husband, but one look was enough. His eyes – the eyes that had twinkled roguishly for Elsie and the other young girls – stared back at her with no spark of life. Stretching over to close them, she said, ‘Silly old bugger, see what you’ve done to yourself wi’ your nonsense.’ There was a catch in her voice, and her legs giving way, she sat down on the chair to think what to do.

  If Peter had been here … but Peter wouldn’t be till tomorrow sometime. Wondering what time it was, she looked at the alarm clock on the chest of drawers. Quarter to two. She couldn’t knock on anybody’s door at this time of night, but she couldn’t sit here and do nothing. Nevertheless, she made no move until she recovered a little, then she stood up to put on her clothes, her trembling hands fumbling with each fastening. Fully dressed, she went down to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea, and when her frozen heart thawed out, she decided to go and fetch Peter. She needed him, and he had to be told about his father.

  Still satisfying his bride’s insatiable demands, Peter halted at a sharp knock on their door. ‘What the …?’ he muttered, deciding to ignore it, but it came again, more insistent this time. ‘Mr Tait! Mr Tait!’

  Stark naked, he rose to find out who was there, and when he put his head round the door, he was astonished to see the hotel manager, muffled up in a fleecy dressing-gown. ‘Yes?’ he asked.

  The man looked embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr Tait, but a policeman’s asking for you.’

  ‘A policeman? What’s it about?’

  ‘He wouldn’t tell me. You’ll have to come down.’

  Closing the door, Peter switched on the light, at which Elsie eyed him suspiciously. ‘A bobby? What’ve you been up to?’

  ‘You should know,’ he grinned, then shook his head. ‘There must be a mistake. It can’t be me he wants, but I’d better go down and see.’

  ‘Be quick, then, or I’ll go off the boil.’

  Wondering, in amusement, if she ever went off the boil, he pulled on his underpants, trousers and shirt, then went down to the hotel lobby. ‘Not guilty,’ he joked, holding both hands up in mock surrender. ‘You’ve got the wrong man, officer.’

  The policeman did not smile. ‘Your mother wants you home.’

  ‘What?’ Peter gasped. ‘This is my wedding night.’

  ‘Aye, she told me. But I’m afraid it’s bad news. Your father died.’

  Peter clutched at the reception desk. ‘But he was dancing here earlier on …’ He looked pathetically at the uniformed man.

  ‘It happens like that sometimes – no warning. I’ll walk back with you, but you’ll need a coat or something. It’s devilish cold outside.’

  ‘I don’t have a coat here, but I’ll get my jacket. I’ll have to tell … my wife, anyway, and she’ll likely want to come with me.’

  Elsie was not at all pleased to leave the warm bed in the middle of the night. ‘It’ll make no odds to your father if we wait till a decent time,’ she pouted.

  ‘My mother sent for me. You’d better hurry, the bob
by’s waiting.’

  ‘Trust your family to spoil our first night.’

  But she rose and took out the bag containing her ordinary clothes. ‘Put my wedding gown in there,’ she muttered as she dressed, quickly because she was cold, not because somebody was waiting, ‘and watch and nae crush it.’

  The policeman tipped his hat when they went downstairs, and held the outside door open for them. ‘Your mother was on her way here when I met her,’ he said, as they hurried along the road, ‘and when she told me about your father, I said I’d come and let you know, but I went for the doctor first, in case … well, in case she’d made a mistake.’

  Dr Mathieson was still in the house when Peter and Elsie went in, having stayed with Bella Jeannie who was suffering from delayed shock. She was sitting in the kitchen and looked so pitiful that Peter crossed the room to put an arm round her shoulder.

  The doctor lifted his bag. ‘You’ll not need me now you’ve got your son,’ he said and, putting on his hat, he went out.

  ‘She needs something to steady her nerves,’ Peter whispered to Elsie. ‘There’s a bottle of whisky in the foot of the dresser, give her a good shot of it.’

  The spirits brought some colour back into Bella Jeannie’s cheeks, and he said gently, ‘Do you feel like telling us what happened?’

  ‘Oh, m’loon,’ she said, mournfully, ‘I dinna really ken what happened. We went straight to our bed when we come in, and your father’s chest was bothering him for ages, and he coughed and coughed – you ken how he is – and then he made a funny kind of noise. He didna move after that, and I got up and lighted the gas, and …’ The horror too fresh, she broke off and put her hand to her eyes.

  ‘Don’t upset yourself any more,’ Peter soothed.

  ‘I didna ken what to do, and I couldna stand being here myself wi’ him so … I’m sorry, Peter.’

  ‘No, no, it’s all right. You needed me, I understand.’

  ‘But it was your wedding night …’ She looked across him at Elsie. ‘I hope you’re nae annoyed at me?’