Brow of the Gallowgate Page 2

  Bathia Johnstone filled his dreams again. She looked so fragile, but it was clear that she’d a mind of her own, and what was wrong with that? It only made him love her more.

  At the breakfast table the following morning, Albert did his best to appear nonchalant. ‘I won’t be needing any supper tonight, Mother, for I’m meeting . . . somebody at half past seven and I’ll have to hurry.’

  His blushing excitement wasn’t lost on Nell, who was only too pleased to think that her youngest son had found a girl. At last she’d have grandchildren. Her other daughters-in-law were barren – by choice or otherwise, she wasn’t sure.

  She said nothing to her husband, who was having to miss a fishing trip because of a badly cut hand, and who would only tease her for counting her chickens before they were hatched. Wattie was a great one for teasing, but it was all in good fun, and she never bore him any grudge for the things he said. He was a good man, and if Albert was half as good to the girl he wed, the lassie would have no complaints.

  His mind fully occupied with the most beautiful girl in the world, Albert could hardly wait until it was time to shut the shop, and locked up at three minutes to seven – something he’d never done before – then ran all the way home.

  Having been warned by Nell, Wattie made no comment until his son rushed out again. ‘He’s put on his Sunday suit. It must be a lassie, and it looks like he’s smitten real bad.’

  When he came to the park gates, Albert was relieved to find that Bathia hadn’t yet arrived – it gave him a chance to get his breath back. When she did appear, and the two dogs were let off the leash, she turned to him apologetically.

  ‘I hope you haven’t been waiting long, Mr Ogilvie?’

  ‘Just a minute or so,’ he replied, truthfully.

  ‘My father said it was too late for me to be going out, but I reminded him that it wouldn’t be dark for some time yet, so he gave in. It would have been awful if you’d been left waiting, and wondering why I didn’t come.’

  It would have been worse than awful, Albert thought. It would have broken his heart if he’d believed she hadn’t wanted to keep her promise. After answering some questions about his job, he shyly told her of his ambition to have his own shop, at which she grew very excited and made a few suggestions which he stored away in his mind, just in case.

  She became so carried away that he was forced to bring her back to earth. ‘It’s only a dream, remember. I can’t see me ever having my own shop.’

  ‘Don’t be so pessimistic, Albert. Oh!’ She coloured and looked confused. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Ogilvie, I shouldn’t have called you that.’

  Hearing his Christian name on her lips came as such a surprise that he was every bit as confused as she was, and mumbled, ‘It’s all right.’

  ‘I always think of you as Albert, you see, and it just sort of slipped out.’

  ‘I don’t mind, Miss Johnstone.’

  ‘Miss Johnstone,’ she said, scornfully. ‘I’m sure you could say Bathia, if you really wanted to.’

  ‘I do want to, and nothing would give me greater pleasure, Miss John . . . er . . . Bathia.’

  ‘What I was going to say, Albert, was that you shouldn’t think you can never have your own shop. If you believe enough in something, it’s bound to come true one day.’

  They had been walking for more than thirty minutes, with Albert describing some of the shops he’d come across in his search, and why they weren’t suitable, when she interrupted. ‘I think I’d better go home now, before it gets too dark, but I’ll see you again tomorrow?’

  He hesitated, wondering if it was fair to her to continue with these meetings. ‘We shouldn’t . . . your father . . .’

  ‘You don’t need to worry about him – I always get round my father.’ She chuckled engagingly. ‘Please, Albert?’

  Even if he’d wanted to, he hadn’t the willpower to refuse her. ‘Half past seven, then.’ Looking down at her upturned face, he had a great longing to kiss her, but was afraid that he would scare her off altogether if he did.

  When they parted at the granite pillars, she said, ‘Until tomorrow, then, Albert.’

  On Tuesday night, they arranged to meet on the Wednesday afternoon, since it was Albert’s half day. Bathia was far more important to him than sitting poring over dry-as-dust books in the public library.

  This time, they had longer of each other’s company, and after walking round for a little while, they sat on a bench for a good hour and a half, discussing whatever came into their heads, and laughing at the least little thing.

  Albert had to restrain himself from kissing her, her lips looked so sweet and inviting. He could never be so familiar with her, not for a long time yet, and it would be all the sweeter for waiting.

  Their assignations continued in the same manner all that week, and it wasn’t until the following Monday that Bathia took matters into her own hands. They’d been talking outside her home for a few minutes when she suddenly stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, then, without waiting to see his reactions, she whirled round and went up the steps and into the house.

  ‘Oh, God, Belle,’ Albert said, softly. ‘Is one of my dreams going to come true? The best dream I’ve ever had?’

  In bed, he couldn’t sleep for remembering the soft touch of her lips, and he pictured himself kissing her, very tenderly at first, then more and more passionately until he could . . . No, no! She was far too fragile and genteel ever to let him do what he felt like doing at that moment. His coarse thoughts disgusted him, and he would have felt better if he’d known that Bathia’s mind was working on much the same lines. She longed for Albert to kiss her, to embrace her, to caress her, to . . . love her properly.

  When they met the next night, they were both slightly ill-at-ease, trying to ignore the desires building up inside them, and, after a long silence, they spoke together.

  ‘Bathia . . .’

  ‘Albert . . .’

  Glancing at each other, they both laughed nervously. ‘You first.’ Albert’s voice sounded gravelly in his own ears.

  ‘I was going to ask if you thought it was terrible of me to kiss you last night, when we’ve known each other for such a short time.’ Her husky voice was almost a whisper.

  ‘No, I . . .’

  ‘I couldn’t help it, Albert. I just felt like kissing you. Could you ever bring yourself . . . ? Have you ever wanted . . . ?’

  ‘I want to kiss you right now,’ he muttered, feeling like a callow schoolboy. She had awakened feelings the depth of which he hadn’t known he possessed, and he was rather afraid of setting them loose.

  ‘You have my permission, Albert.’

  He meant to be gentle, but her innocent, yet seductive, response unleashed the emotions he’d been repressing. He crushed her against him, and his mouth covered hers hungrily.

  When he let her go, he moaned, ‘Oh, Bathie, Bathie.’

  The distortion of her name was a form of endearment, how he’d thought of her every night – it seemed to suit her – so he was relieved when she gave a little mew of pleasure.

  ‘Bathie? Yes, I like that, Albert.’

  She lay against him and held up her face, but he said, roughly, ‘No, Bathie, I mustn’t . . . It makes me . . .’

  ‘Makes you what, Albert?’

  ‘It makes me want to do something I shouldn’t.’ A pulse was beating at his jaw, and he held himself away from her, not wanting her to feel how much he needed her. ‘Something a man shouldn’t do to a girl till they’re married.’

  ‘Married?’ Her eyes widened in wonder, then a shy smile stole across her face. ‘Is that a proposal, Albert?’

  Before he could either confirm or deny it, she whispered, ‘If it is – and I hope it is – I accept with pleasure.’

  Burying his face in her soft, fragrant hair, he murmured, ‘Dearest Bathie, I want you to be my wife more than anything else in the world, but I’m sure I’m not the kind of man your father would want as your husband, and he’d move heaven and ea
rth to prevent it. Can’t you see how difficult it would be?’

  ‘I’m sixteen, and he can’t stop us.’

  How innocent and trusting she was, Albert thought, his heart almost bursting with love. He said, recklessly, ‘No, he can’t stop us, but I’ll come home with you this very minute to ask his permission.’

  Although his stomach churned more and more as they came nearer her house, his resolve didn’t waver. However much her father was against it, he meant to make Bathie his wife.

  When they reached the stone pillars, she gripped his hand much tighter. ‘Don’t let my father intimidate you, Albert, dear. His bark is much worse than his bite.’

  This didn’t make him feel any easier about the coming ordeal, but he smiled bravely. ‘Let me do all the talking.’

  ‘I love you, Albert Ogilvie,’ she whispered, then pulled him up the steps and through the front door.

  ‘Father, Mother,’ she began, quietly, when they went into the large elegant room, ‘I’ve brought someone to see you, and he’s got something very important to ask you.’

  Of the two astonished faces which turned towards them, Arthur Johnstone’s was first to change expression, when he saw Albert holding Belle’s lead with one hand and Bathia’s arm with the other. His brows descended abruptly, almost overhanging his nose, his eyes hardened and his nostrils flared. ‘And who is this . . . person?’ he demanded icily.

  It didn’t bode well for the young man, but he strove to answer calmly. ‘My name is Albert Ogilvie, Mr Johnstone. I love your daughter, and I want to marry her.’

  Arthur’s shocked splutterings made no sense, so Albert repeated, ‘I want to marry Bathie – with your permission, preferably, but without it, if I have to.’

  The older man’s face turned rapidly purple, causing his wife to stand up in alarm. ‘Are you all right, Arthur?’

  ‘No, I am not!’ he shouted. ‘An absolute stranger walks into my house and says he is going to marry my daughter, and you ask me if I am all right? God in heaven, Henrietta . . .’ He stopped to take a deep breath, then addressed the girl in a slightly less violent manner. ‘What is the meaning of this, Bathia?’

  Before she could answer, Albert gave her arm a warning squeeze and said, firmly, ‘I love her, Mr Johnstone, and she loves me, that’s all that needs to be said.’

  ‘No, by God, it is not all that needs to be said.’ Arthur was breathing heavily, as if every word were an effort, and his flinty eyes were fixed on Albert.

  Henrietta Johnstone touched her husband’s arm. ‘You must calm down. It is not good for you to get in such a state.’

  Ignoring her completely, he burst out, ‘Who are you, what are you, and how do you come to be on such familiar terms with my daughter?’ His voice had risen angrily once more, and his chest was heaving with violent emotion.

  Keeping his eyes on the great cord throbbing at the man’s high-winged collar, Albert said, clearly and deliberately, ‘I serve in a grocer’s shop in Torry, my father’s a fisherman, and we live in a tenement in Market Street. I’ll be twenty-four years old next month, and I met Bathie when we were both out walking our dogs. Is that all you need to know?’

  Henrietta gasped at his audacity in speaking in such a manner to her husband, and Arthur snarled, ‘She has had that dog for less than three weeks, so you must have known her before that.’

  ‘No, we smiled at each other two weeks last Sunday, then we met accidentally the next Sunday and walked in the park together, and we’ve been meeting every day since.’ Albert felt nowhere near as bold as he sounded, but he carried on. ‘That’s exactly how long I’ve known Bathie, Mr Johnstone, but I knew she was the only girl for me as soon as I saw her.’

  Arthur was rendered speechless, but Bathie shook Albert’s hand off her arm and ran to her father’s side. ‘I love Albert, Father. I love him with all my heart.’

  Arthur snorted in derision. ‘What do you know about love? You are only a child still, and you have never met any other men. I have shielded you all your life from this type of person.’ He looked at Albert as if he were the lowest creature in God’s creation. ‘He is only after you for your money.’

  ‘He didn’t know I had any money, honestly,’ Bathie cried, desperately. ‘He didn’t know you were a banker, either, and when he found out, he tried to make me stop seeing him.’

  Grunting, Arthur searched feverishly for some other argument to put forward, and the ensuing deathly silence was broken only by the loud tick of the ormolu clock on the high marble mantelshelf. The three minutes that elapsed seemed like an eternity to Albert, who felt like grabbing the girl’s hand and running out with her, but her father was an influential man and could surely make life unpleasant for them if they went against him. The young man would have faced anything for Bathie, so it was for her sake that he waited. If Mr Johnstone was not prepared to see reason, then they’d leave, but only then, for Albert didn’t mean to drive a wedge between Bathie and her parents if he could avoid it.

  Arthur’s eyes narrowed calculatingly, and he turned to the young upstart again. ‘Would you still be prepared to marry Bathia if I told you she would come to you penniless?’ Pushing his daughter away when she tried to interrupt, he carried on, relentlessly. ‘Could you provide for her properly on what you earn? You, a common assistant to a grocer? A nothing?’ The cold contempt he felt was quite clear.

  ‘I want Bathie if she comes to me with just the clothes she stands up in,’ Albert declared. ‘I can’t promise to keep her as well as you’ve done, but she’ll not starve with me, nor go naked.’

  Henrietta gasped again, and Arthur turned triumphantly to the girl. ‘Now do you see how common he is? He has given himself away by the foul things he thinks. It is only your body he wants, Bathia, and you are not going to marry him. That is my final word.’

  Bathie’s eyes were blazing now, like her father’s, but she bit her lip and adopted the coaxing tone which usually won him round. ‘Please don’t say no, Father, because I won’t be able to live without Albert.’

  He shoved her aside roughly. ‘You have survived without him for sixteen years.’ His harsh voice held no compassion. ‘When you meet a man who is suitable for you, and who comes to me first to ask my permission to court you, I will give you my blessing, but meantime, you stay under my protection. You are obviously not to be trusted to behave in an adult manner.’

  Bathie burst into tears, and Albert went to comfort her. ‘I can understand how your father feels,’ he said, quietly. ‘I’m no catch for a girl like you, but if you love me enough to wait for me, I’ll come back for you in a year or so, a successful man.’ He hadn’t the faintest idea of how he could fulfil his promise, but he had uttered it in all sincerity.

  ‘I’m not going to wait for you, Albert. Take me away with you now – I don’t care about money or about anything except you.’ Her mouth quivered as she laid her head on his shoulder, and he placed his arm round her.

  Looking up helplessly, he met Arthur Johnstone’s tortured eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I can see you’re trying to protect, Bathie, but you’ve nothing to fear from me. I know this has been a great shock to you and your wife, so I’ll leave you now to give you a chance to consider the matter.’

  ‘Don’t go, Albert.’ Bathie pulled the sleeve of his jacket. I don’t want to live if I can’t be with you, and my father won’t change his mind. You don’t know him like I do.’

  ‘I must go,’ he said, gently. ‘Your mother and father have the right to discuss it and decide what’s best for you, but I’ll come back tomorrow night for their answer.’

  ‘It won’t make any difference,’ she persisted, ‘and I can’t wait until tomorrow to know what’s going to happen.’

  ‘It’s better this way. If your father’s still against our marriage when I come back, I’ll take you away with me, if you still want me to.’ Removing her hand from his arm, he turned towards the door. ‘Come on, Belle, we’re going home now.’

  His legs carried him outside without
buckling, but he was forced to lean against one of the pillars at the foot of the steps for a few seconds, wondering how he could have had the temerity to say those things to Bathie and her father.

  ‘I must have been mad asking her to be my wife,’ he said to Belle, who looked up at him with her head on one side. ‘No, I wasn’t mad. It’s the most sensible thing I’ve ever done.’

  But had he been wise in leaving her house when he did? It gave her, as well as her parents, time to think, and what if she changed her mind about him? Or if her father sent her away somewhere before he went back? God Almighty! He might never see her again, and he might just as well throw himself into the Dee now and be done with it.

  His agony was eased by a more comforting thought. Bathie wouldn’t be easily swayed, and she truly loved him, he was sure of that, just as he was sure that she was the only girl for him. His pace, which had become very slow and despondent, quickened now, and he arrived at Market Street with a much lighter heart than when he left Ferryhill.

  As soon as the front door closed behind Albert, Arthur Johnstone vented his spleen on his daughter. ‘Now do you understand why I would never let you go out unaccompanied before?’ he thundered. ‘It was to save you being taken in by the first man who made advances to you. You are so gullible, I knew it was bound to happen if there was no one with you to prevent it. My God, he cannot even say your name properly.’

  ‘Leave the child alone, Arthur!’ Henrietta’s face was red with the effort it had taken to stand up to her husband. ‘She is upset enough as it is. Bathia, you may go to bed now.’

  ‘I have not finished with her yet.’ The banker caught the venom in his wife’s eyes, and some of his pomposity went out of him. ‘Very well, Bathia. Do as your mother says, but do not think that the matter is over. We will continue with it in the morning.’

  The girl, weeping hopelessly now, trailed out with her head drooping, too emotionally exhausted to argue any more, and convinced that her life would be ruined for ever because of her wicked father.

  As she watched Bathia go, Henrietta’s heart went out to her daughter. She felt determined the girl should not miss her chance for happiness as she had done.