Time Shall Reap Read online

  ‘That’s true,’ agreed Elspeth, ‘for you never know what’s going to happen to spoil it.’

  After Donald and his wife left to go to their hotel – ‘It’s really our honeymoon,’ Margaret laughingly remarked – Elspeth went sadly to bed. She still resented the fact that, in the eyes of the world, her child belonged to the Watsons. If only their baby daughter had been born alive, nothing like this would have happened. She had been so sorry for Helen at the time that she had gone along with the charade, and she would have to be a much stronger person than she was before she could end it ... but she must end it some day, however much it hurt Helen. In the mean-time, she would have to be content to let things drift on as they were.

  When he learned that his son’s wife was expecting a baby in December, Jimmy grumbled, only half joking, ‘I’ll never hear the end o’ it when folk ken I’m to be a grandfather.’

  ‘It’s worse for me being a Granny,’ Helen objected, then gave a little laugh. ‘I must say I’m looking forward to it, though, but it’s hard to think our grandchild’ll be that far away we might never see it till’s the war’s done. I just hope and pray Donald’ll come back to Aberdeen wi’ his wife and the bairn when he’s out o’ the Gordons. He’ll surely not want to settle down in Hull? What d’you think, Jimmy?’

  ‘He’ll make up his own mind about it, lass.’

  Elspeth was elated about Margaret’s pregnancy. When Donald came home for good with another child for Helen to fuss over, she might be more willing to relinquish John. Her hopes seemed to be doomed, however, for in the next instant, Helen was saying, ‘It just come to me. John’ll be an uncle when he’s only two year and three month.’

  The young woman looked at Jimmy, appealing to him to say something, but he shook his head hopelessly and she knew that he, like herself, could not hurt his wife by reminding her that John and Donald were not really brothers.

  ‘We wouldna have room for them all here, of course,’ Helen went on, happily, ‘so you’ll not need to worry about having to leave, Elspeth, for Donald’ll get a house for his family, and he’ll likely make sure it’s near enough for me to see the bairnie every day.’

  The two pairs of anguished eyes met again for a second, then Jimmy turned away rather shamefacedly. Elspeth did not feel angry; he was only shielding his wife, after all.

  The letter Helen had been long awaiting arrived on the day before Christmas. ‘Margaret had a son on the 22nd,’ she told Elspeth, in great excitement, ‘and she says he’s to be called James, after his grandfather. That’s nice, isn’t it?’

  ‘Jimmy’ll be pleased,’ Elspeth smiled.

  ‘He’ll be like a dog wi’ two tails.’

  Jimmy was indeed delighted. ‘He’ll be the fourth James Watson that I ken o’,’ he grinned, when he was told the news, ‘for I was named for my father, and him for his father before him, and it could go even further back than that.’

  ‘Now I can send on the baby jackets I’ve knitted,’ Helen said, then added, ‘I was feared to do it before, you see, in case ... well ... you never ken, do you?’

  Elspeth held her breath. Had Helen remembered about her own dead baby at last? Was this the reminder she had needed? But Helen went on, ‘I was lucky wi’ John, but ...’ Breaking off, she hesitated for a moment then shook her head. ‘Ach, I’m sorry, Elspeth, I shouldna have said anything about things going wrong.’

  Jimmy was still too busy thinking proudly of his new namesake to notice what she was saying, and Elspeth sighed as she stood up. Margaret’s baby had changed nothing ... except, perhaps, to show that Helen’s mind had exchanged her own confinement for Elspeth’s and vice versa.

  The first few months of 1918 passed fairly smoothly for the inhabitants of the middle floor flat, with letters at odd intervals from both Donald and David, and from Margaret regularly once a week, telling his grandparents about the progress little James was making. Elspeth, although she was interested to hear about the baby, was more interested in what David wrote. He told her little about what he was doing himself, but he always asked her to tell him what she had been doing, and she sat down every Sunday and told him any little things she thought might amuse him. In his replies, he told her how much her letters cheered him, and in his last one he had said, ‘I keep seeing you in my mind in your apron and cap, your beautiful golden hair poking out.’ That had made a warm glow spread through her, but she was beginning to get a little worried because she had not heard from him for some time.

  ‘I wish David would write more often,’ she said to Helen one Saturday afternoon, when she came home and was told, once again, that there was no letter, ‘but he’s likely too busy fighting the Huns.’

  ‘It’s the same wi’ Donald,’ Helen sighed.

  ‘I’m sure they write as often as they can,’ Jimmy observed, sitting down on the mat with John to play with a box of lead soldiers of Donald’s that Helen had found when she was cleaning out a cupboard.

  ‘Bang! Bang!’ the little boy shouted, his deep brown eyes dancing ‘Don soota Derries!’

  ‘What things to learn the laddie.’ Helen ruffled the boy’s curls as she passed. ‘Shooting Jerries!’

  Watching her son, Elspeth laughed when he pushed the Soldiers flat to the floor and came over to her, pointing to them ‘Look, Ep ... pie! All deaded!’

  ‘Oh, Helen!’ Elspeth was overcome. ‘That’s the first time he’s said my name, an’ it’s what my mother called me, for that’s what I said when I was little.’ She was as proud as if he had said ‘Mammy’, and Jimmy looked at her with pity.

  A loud knock made them all jump. ‘Who could that be?’ Helen was already half way to the door, and when Elspeth heard the deep voice asking, ‘Mrs Watson?’ she jumped up and ran through to the lobby. ‘David!’ she exclaimed, then stopped, embarrassed. In her joy at seeing him after fifteen whole months, she had nearly thrown her arms round him.

  ‘Aye, Elspeth, it’s me.’ Her welcome had made hope spring to his eyes. ‘I hope you don’t mind me coming here, but they said at the tearoom you’d been on the early shift.’ Laying his kitbag down, he removed his bonnet and stood shyly holding it. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs Watson.’

  Helen beamed. ‘Come away in.’ Taking him into the kitchen she said, ‘Jimmy, this is Elspeth’s ... friend, David.’

  Rising off his knees, her husband shook the visitor’s hand and said, hospitably, ‘Sit down, then, lad.’

  Hovering over the young soldier, Helen said, ‘The supper’s ready – you’ll have some?’ Taking his acceptance for granted, she went to the stove and lifted a lid to judge if there was enough stew for this extra mouth, while Elspeth gathered the lead soldiers off the mat. John had forsaken them the moment the kilted figure had appeared, and was standing in front of David, his dark eyes huge circles in his chubby face. ‘Sodger!’ he said loudly, and beamed when David picked him up and set him on his knee.

  When Jimmy asked him how he had fared in Belgium, he told them something of his experiences: not the gruesome details he knew would sicken them; not about the filth and discomfort of the trenches; but tales of the camaraderie and heroism he knew they wanted to hear. They lapped it up, even Helen, who set the table and dished up the stew and dumplings as she listened to him.

  When they finished eating, Elspeth stood up. ‘It’s time John was in his bed, Helen. I’ll get him ready.’

  ‘No, no. You sit and speak to David, and me and Jimmy’ll do the dishes, then I’ll see to John.’

  Just before nine, David said, ‘I’d best be leaving. My father doesn’t know I’m coming.’ He glanced at the girl with a smile. ‘I’ve been writing to him, as well, Elspeth.’

  ‘Oh, I’m real pleased about that, David.’

  Jimmy got to his feet and clapped the young man’s shoulder. ‘You’re welcome back any time, lad. Mind that.’

  ‘I’ll walk wi’ you to the tram,’ Elspeth said, and lifted her coat from the peg in the lobby as they went out.

  Taking his glasses out
of their case in order to read the newspaper, Jimmy observed, ‘I don’t know how Elspeth feels, but I can see David’s real taken wi’ her.’

  Helen nodded. ‘Aye, but she doesn’t want to get serious about him, in case he gets killed, like her first lad.’

  Elspeth and David walked along the lane without talking, but at last he said, ‘Can I see you again, please?’

  ‘If you like, but I just want to be a friend, remember, nothing more.’

  ‘I’ll not try to make you change your mind, Elspeth, but I’ll keep on hoping. There’s not another lad, is there?’

  ‘There was once, but he was killed.’

  ‘Oh, I see now. You’re feared I’ll be killed, but I’m determined to come back, lass, and you’ll maybe have second thoughts once the war’s finished. Can I come and take you home from the tearoom on Monday?’

  ‘If you want, but let things bide the way they are. I’m not ready yet for anything else.’

  When Elspeth returned to the house, Helen asked, ‘Are you to be going steady wi’ him?’

  ‘No, I said we could just be friends, and he understands why, for I tell’t him about John Forrest being killed.’

  David accompanied Elspeth home from the cafe every day of the next week, but put no pressure on her. They sat and talked with Helen, or took young John for walks, and the girl realized that she had come to feel more than friendship for him. He was so good with the toddler, and got on so well with Helen and Jimmy, that she wished she could overcome her fears and let their relationship develop into something deeper.

  When Sunday came round again, they decided to go to the beach, Helen insisting, when they offered to take the boy, that they go by themselves. ‘You’ll not want to be saddled wi’ the bairn seeing it’s your last day, David.’

  Elspeth was fully aware that her landlady was giving her an opportunity to make up her mind – or rather, to change it – about David, but she was determined not to alter her decision. She was fond of him and would miss him a lot when he went away, but she couldn’t commit herself to another soldier.

  Although it was a lovely, warm May day, the beach was not seething with people like it would be during June, July and August, and Elspeth’s spirits lifted at the mile-long stretch of golden sand lying invitingly before them when they alighted from the tramcar. Leaning over the railings, they watched in amusement as a small dog, barking excitedly, bounded in and out of the water to retrieve the stick his elderly master was throwing for him. Farther along, an oldish man and his wife were walking along the edge of the sea with their shoes off, giggling like children each time a wave came up to lap their ankles.

  After a few minutes, Elspeth pushed herself away from the metal bars and said, ‘Come on down on to the sand, David.’

  They went past the red brick Bathing Station and sat down on the grass to remove their shoes and boots, then Elspeth turned away to take off her stockings and stuffed them in her coat pocket, while David did the same with his long woollen socks. ‘I’ll race you along the beach,’ she cried, laughing at his expression of surprise.

  He followed her gingerly down the granite steps and sprinted to catch up with her as she ran, strands of her golden hair streaming out behind her. She squealed and ran even faster, until they collapsed together, breathlessly, then, as they looked at each other, laughing and panting, Elspeth sensed a change in David’s mood – his eyes were serious and his smile had faded. Guessing that he was contemplating kissing her, her heart sank. One kiss would lead to more, and then where would it all end?

  She sat up abruptly. ‘What a mess I must look.’

  ‘You’re the bonniest lassie I’ve ever seen.’

  Embarrassed, she gazed out over the sea. ‘The water looks as blue as the picture of the Mediterranean in Mrs Robb’s hall. N-I-C-E it said, but she said the folk there on the Riviera pronounced it “niece”.’

  His eyes following a seagull, David said, ‘Why did you leave the Robbs, Elspeth?’

  ‘I ... wanted a change,’ she said quickly, for she couldn’t tell him that she had been expecting an illegitimate child, ‘and Jimmy heard they were looking for waitresses in the People’s Cafe.’

  ‘Oh aye.’

  She relaxed. He had just been making conversation to keep his mind off other things. ‘D’you ken what I’d like?’ she asked, looking at him with her eyes dancing. ‘I’d like to paddle in the blue waters o’ the Mediterranean.’

  After a pause, he said, ‘Maybe some day, Elspeth, if ...?’

  She burst out laughing. ‘No, no. The blue waters here, I was meaning.’ Jumping up, she skipped down to the sea, lifting her skirts almost to her knees as she went.

  David, a little shocked at seeing her bare, shapely legs, stood for a moment before he ran to join her in the water, his kilt flaring around him. She threw back her head and laughed as the cold sea swirled round their feet – the sand trickling through their toes with each plodding step they took. He grabbed her elbow to save her from being swept off her feet by an extra-high wave, and she didn’t protest when he kept holding it. She had never seen him looking so happy and carefree before, and wondered what terrible experience had caused him to be so withdrawn as he’d been the first day he came to the cafe, but she was glad that it was she who had wrought the change in him.

  Up on the grass again, they made short work of the flask of tea and the sandwiches which Helen had provided, then, putting on their footwear again, they walked along the promenade to the wide estuary of the Don, where they sat for a long time watching the seabirds circling over the water looking for fish. Strolling back to catch the tram home, he took her hand and she didn’t pull it away as she would have done even yesterday – it was comforting to know how he felt about her – but she couldn’t bring herself to respond.

  They talked companionably during the long journey, but when they were walking past the quarry, he said, ‘Elspeth, you must ken I love you. Is there a chance you could ...?’

  She shook her head reprovingly. ‘Don’t spoil things, David. Not when we’ve had such a lovely day.’

  Sighing, he let the matter drop and the ensuing oppressive silence totally engulfed them until they went into the house. Helen could see that nothing had changed but couldn’t make up her mind whether to be glad or sorry.

  When David was going home, Elspeth offered to see him to the tram, but he said, ‘No, you’ve done enough walking for one day.’

  Being tired, and having to be on early shift the following morning, she gave in. ‘I’ll come down the stair, any road.’

  On the bottom step, he said, ‘You don’t need to come any farther.’ Hesitating for a moment, he went on, softly, ‘I’ll never stop loving you, Elspeth. It gives me something to live for, and I hope you’ll have changed your mind about things when I come back next time.’

  ‘I’ll not say I’ll never change my mind,’ she whispered, ‘but not yet, David. Not yet.’

  He kissed her cheek lightly and walked away.

  No letter came for Elspeth over the summer and autumn. She had written to David every week in the five months since he went back, but now she didn’t bother, although Helen, ever the optimist, assured her that he must still be alive. ‘I’m sure you’d feel it inside you if anything had happened to him,’ she had repeated, over and over again.

  The girl was convinced that David had been killed, but put a brave face on to fool her landlady. ‘Maybe he found somebody that was willing to be more than a friend to him.’

  ‘What chance would the laddie have for that, out there in the trenches?’ Helen couldn’t have been more scornful.

  Elspeth was glad that the People’s Cafe kept her mind fully occupied for at least eight hours every day, and Helen, feeling sorry for her, allowed her to take John out for walks more often, but even that did not lift the girl’s spirits. She felt bitter, and resentful that David had been taken from her, too. ‘It’s not that I loved him,’ she said to Ann Robb one day when she took John to visit the doctor’s wife,
‘but I’d grown real fond of him and I don’t like to think he’s been killed.’

  ‘Perhaps he’s only been wounded,’ Mrs Robb suggested.

  ‘If he’d been wounded, he could write,’ Elspeth said, stubbornly. ‘He would know I’d be worried about not hearing from him.’

  ‘If he’d been killed, you’d have seen it in the newspaper. They publish lists, remember.’

  ‘I hardly ever look at the paper.’

  ‘But Mr Watson does, I’ve heard you saying, so he’d have seen it, if it had been in.’

  ‘Aye, that’s right,’ Elspeth said, thoughtfully.

  Mrs Robb left it at that, and turned to John. ‘Goodness, you’re growing a big boy.’

  Elspeth smiled. ‘He’s three now, and his dark curly hair and big brown eyes are just like his father’s.’

  The big brown eyes were regarding her solemnly, but she had a shock when the boy turned to the other woman. ‘My father works at the Quarry,’ he told her.

  ‘He thinks Jimmy Watson’s his father,’ Elspeth whispered, her face flaming.

  Ann Robb laughed. ‘It’s only natural.’

  Elspeth could have told her that Helen’s attitude to the boy was most unnatural, but she was so ashamed at having let it run on for so long that she kept quiet.

  It was all over on the 11th November. The Armistice came as a blessing to the world in general, but more especially to the women with husbands, sons or lovers in the forces.

  When the next letter came from Margaret, full of glowing descriptions of baby James, Helen remarked, ‘I can hardly wait to see my grandson, but I couldna face the journey to Hull, even if I had the fare, so I’ll have to wait till Donald gets out o’ the Gordons and they bring him up here.’ Glancing at Elspeth’s unresponsive face, she said, kindly, ‘I ken you’re worried about David, lass, but no news is good news and it’ll likely not be long till you see him now.’

  ‘Aye.’ Elspeth did not feel inclined to discuss it.