The Girl with the Creel Page 21

  George had looked hurt because she hadn’t remembered him, and Lizann had frowned to let him know not to say anything, so he shook hands and the confrontation she feared was averted. She herself had learned to take every day as it came, cleaning the house and cooking little treats for her mother to encourage her to eat more, and only occasionally did Hannah speak as if Willie Alec might walk in. Lizann would always humour her. ‘There’s enough dinner for him,’ or ‘I’ll make him something when he comes.’ That satisfied Hannah and, her thoughts having no continuity, she reverted to speaking about Mick or praising Jenny, who looked in most days, or pondering over some gossip Lou had given her.

  Only once had a delicate subject been touched upon. ‘Peter Tait’s got two right bonnie bairnies,’ Hannah had said, looking speculatively at her daughter. ‘There’s nae sign o’ you starting a family?’

  Lizann hadn’t been sure at the time and had shaken her head, but she had good news today: between Christmas and Hogmanay, or maybe into 1939, her mother would get the grandchild she longed for.

  Hannah looked up from her armchair when she went in. ‘The kettle’s boiling.’

  Her senses sharpened by the anticipation of what she was going to say, Lizann noticed with dismay that her mother’s eyes were dull and sunken, her cheeks hollow, her brow rutted with deep furrows. And she was so thin that anyone who didn’t know better would think she’d been starved.

  Feeling a rush of pity for her, Lizann took a few minutes to make the tea and get everything ready, then pushed the breadboard across the table. ‘Have a bit of the teabread I took in. You could do with being fattened up a bit.’

  She was pleased when her mother took a slice and spread it thickly with butter. ‘You and Lou’s a pair,’ Hannah snorted. ‘She’s aye saying I’m wasting away to a shadow.’

  ‘So you are.’ Lizann waited until her mother’s plate was empty before she ventured, ‘Mother, d’you remember asking when I was to be starting a family? Well, I’m due at the end of the year, so you’ll be a granny.’

  Hannah’s proud smile was followed by intense bewilderment. ‘But me and Willie Alec’s got two grandsons already …’

  Her spirits plummeting, Lizann said cautiously, ‘No, you haven’t any grandchildren, Mother. You must be thinking about Peter’s two boys.’

  ‘But Peter’s your man, isn’t he?’

  ‘No, I’m married to George, and this’ll be our first baby, though I haven’t told him yet.’

  ‘George? George Buchan? Him that …’ Hannah halted, screwing up her face in her effort to remember. ‘He did something bad to your father.’

  ‘George has never done anything bad to anybody!’ Lizann couldn’t stop her voice from rising. ‘He’s good and kind and …’

  ‘He’d another wife before you, though.’

  Having often wished that her mother would regain her memory properly, Lizann wished now that she hadn’t remembered so much. But she would soon forget again, and it was wisest to ignore her last remark. ‘Do you want me to change your bed this morning?’

  Hannah’s face cleared. ‘Aye, there’s a good drying wind.’

  No further reference was made to either George or Peter, and when Lou turned up in the late afternoon Lizann said, ‘I’ll leave you to take in the washing, Auntie Lou. I’ll do the ironing the morrow.’

  Her aunt went to the door with her. ‘You look a bittie upset. What’s she been saying to you?’

  Lizann didn’t want to speak about it. ‘Just the usual.’

  ‘About Willie Alec? I some think she’ll never be right about that. Are you expecting George back the night?’

  ‘He’s due home, though I never know exactly when.’

  ‘Take a day off the morrow, it’s time you’d a rest. I’ll come and see to your mother after I’ve had my breakfast.’

  ‘Thanks, Auntie Lou, it’ll be good to have a whole day at home with George. Not that he ever says anything about me coming here, but …’

  ‘He’s a good man. Nae like some that like to be waited on hand and foot … my Jockie, for one.’ Lou went inside laughing.

  When George came in that evening, Lizann didn’t mention her mother’s flash of remembrance. She had something better to tell him.

  She waited until supper was finished and they were both seated at the fire, but he forestalled her. ‘You look kind of peaky. What’s wrong?’

  ‘Not a thing,’ she assured him, wondering how he would take her news. ‘Except …’

  ‘I knew there was something. Is it your mother?’

  ‘Well …’ Lizann hesitated, then, not considering it a peculiar way of telling him, she murmured, ‘She’s going to be a grandmother.’

  He looked puzzled. ‘She’s going to be a …?’ When her meaning struck him, he gasped, ‘We’re having a baby?’

  His awestruck face didn’t tell her what he thought. ‘At the end of the year. Are you angry?’ she asked, timidly.

  ‘Angry?’ With an exuberant whoop he jumped up, lifted her from her chair and whirled her round. ‘Anything but! I’m pleased … more than pleased. I’m delirious!’ Setting her down, he kissed her until she had to struggle for air.

  ‘I wasn’t sure if you wanted a baby.’

  ‘I wasn’t sure if we could afford to feed an extra mouth.’

  She gave a shy smile. ‘I’ll be feeding it myself for the first eight or nine months.’

  He patted her stomach gently. ‘I can’t get over it! I’m responsible for the little being that’s in there.’ He kissed her again. ‘Oh, Lizann, it’s wonderful, and I don’t care if it’s a boy or a girl.’

  ‘Just as well,’ she smiled. ‘We’ll have to take what comes.’

  He sat down again and pulled her on to his knee. ‘You’d better take things easy, though, for I don’t want anything to go wrong. Stop going to your mother every day, one house is enough for you to keep clean.’

  ‘But I can’t leave her to do everything. She’s not fit.’

  ‘Lou’ll help her.’

  ‘Lou has enough to do. Anyway, I’ll not have to take it easy till nearer the time.’

  ‘Promise me you’ll stop when it gets too much for you.’

  ‘I promise. I’ll stop when I get too big to bend.’

  ‘And no lifting anything heavy.’

  ‘No lifting anything heavy.’ She laughed at his over-protection.

  Leaning back, he gave a sigh of contentment. ‘A little Buchan!’

  ‘A wee George?’

  ‘Or another Lizann?’ he grinned.

  ‘What if it’s twins?’

  ‘Like you said, we’ll have to take what comes. God, I love you.’

  Her heart full, she pulled his head down and kissed him. ‘This is only the start of our family.’

  ‘One’ll do for a while, till we see how we manage.’

  ‘We’ll manage however many we have.’

  Saturday being a lovely May day, they took a walk in the afternoon, and as they strolled arm in arm along the open road – the green grass of the verges brightened by the pink of campions, the yellow of buttercups, the blue of forget-me-nots, the white of the Stars of Bethlehem and a host of other wild flowers – George looked across at the herd of cows grazing at one end of a huge field and laughed. ‘They’re daft, aren’t they? All that space and they crowd into one wee corner.’ He slipped his arm round his wife’s waist, hugging her closely and kissing her before letting her go again. ‘This is heaven. It’s so peaceful, and just the two of us …’

  ‘And the cows,’ she giggled. Two had already poked their heads over the paling beside them, and the rest were ambling up, too, curious to know what was going on.

  As she pulled some grass and held it out to the nearest animal, George gave a sigh of pleasure. ‘When the baby comes, we’ll be taking it out in the pram and letting it see all this … I can hardly wait.’

  ‘You’ll have to,’ Lizann smiled, ‘for seven months, and I’ll grow fat and horrible before that, and wadd
le about like a …’

  ‘As long as I can get my arms round you …’ he teased.

  ‘Maybe I’ll get so big they won’t go round me.’

  ‘I won’t care, I’ll still love you. I’m just sorry it’s you that’s got to put up with all the pain and discomfort.’

  ‘You can’t have the baby for me,’ she chuckled.

  On Sunday, despite her protests that he didn’t need to bother, George insisted on accompanying her to the Yardie in the afternoon. ‘How are you this fine day?’ he asked Hannah breezily when they went in.

  ‘Not too bad,’ she replied, smiling sweetly at him.

  ‘Will I chop some kindling for you?’

  ‘Aye, if you wouldna mind.’

  Hannah turned to her daughter when he went out. ‘He’s a good man. Does he ken you’re expecting?’

  Surprised that she had remembered, Lizann nodded. ‘Aye, I told him on Friday night, and he’s delighted.’

  ‘So he should be, you’ve waited long enough.’

  Lizann looked round the kitchen. ‘Where’s the ironing?’

  ‘Lou did it yesterday.’ As she watched Lizann swilling the teapot and putting in three heaped caddy-spoonfuls of tea, she said, ‘Would you get me some wool the morrow, so I can knit some things for the bairnie? I’m tired doing nothing. I’m getting so I can hardly move about at all.’

  ‘You’re not strong enough to be moving about much.’ Lizann had noticed how spindly and weak her mother’s legs were. ‘Righto, I’ll buy wool on my road here in the morning. Now, I’d better go out and see if George wants a flycup.’

  When she asked him, he said, ‘No thanks, I’ll just carry on with this. Your mother’s failing, isn’t she?’

  ‘She couldn’t manage without somebody helping her.’

  ‘I can see that, but mind what I said. No tiring yourself.’

  After washing up the two dirty cups and saucers, and knowing that her mother wouldn’t let her do any housework on the Sabbath, Lizann opened the cupboard. ‘What’s for supper? I’d better start cooking it.’

  ‘Lou made a pot o’ soup yesterday wi’ a big bit o’ rolled mutton. We can have it sliced cold.’

  ‘I’ll pare some tatties, then,’ Lizann smiled, filling the basin with cold water.

  Hannah said nothing for some time, then she observed, ‘I’m surprised Willie Alec’s nae hame yet, but he’s likely went somewhere wi’ Mick.’

  ‘Aye, likely.’

  Another five minutes elapsed before Hannah spoke again. ‘Ach, you must think I’m off my head, Lizann. I ken fine your father died, but I canna stop thinking he’s still alive.’

  Not knowing what to say, Lizann murmured, ‘It’s only natural, Mother.’

  ‘I get awful muddled sometimes, and my mind goes back to the days he was here. We was that happy, Lizann, and we never had a fight. Little arguments, but nae a real fight.’

  ‘I know that, but you’d be better to forget the old days if thinking about them makes you muddled.’

  ‘That’s what Lou says, and all, but her and you dinna ken what it’s like to lose your man.’

  Her eyes were so strange that a shiver passed over Lizann’s heart. It was almost as though her mother could foresee some terrible tragedy in store for either her or her aunt, and crossing her fingers she prayed it would involve her uncle, not her husband. She was instantly shocked at her own selfishness, for Lou must love Jockie, though surely not as much as she loved George.

  Supper was ready by the time Mick came in, and when Lizann told him that George had made enough kindling to last for weeks, he winked to his mother. ‘So he’s taking over my jobs now?’ Hannah’s expression made him add, with a laugh to show he wasn’t displeased, ‘About time, too.’ Then he turned to his sister. ‘I’ll manage to attend to our supper if you two want to get off home.’

  ‘Good man,’ George beamed, rising to his feet and clapping him on the shoulder. ‘Before we go, I’ll give you a surprise. You’re going to be an uncle. What d’you say to that?’

  ‘Uncle Mick? By God, that’s something, right enough. How do you feel about being a grandma, Mother?’

  ‘It’s old news to me, Mick, for I was tell’t first. I just wish your father was still alive. He’d have been fair proud.’

  His eyebrows shooting up, Mick said nothing until he went to the door with Lizann and her husband. ‘Was I hearing things? Was Mother really admitting Father’s dead?’

  Lizann nodded. ‘I think she’s accepted it now … if she doesn’t slide back again.’

  On the way home, George said, ‘And she didn’t blame me for anything, thank goodness. I feel like a free man.’

  ‘She said you were a good man.’

  ‘Praise be! We should have made this baby months ago.’

  ‘I told you that.’ She couldn’t resist saying it.

  The hot August was making Hannah more irritable than usual, yet she persisted in hugging the fire, which had to be kept burning to boil the kettle for the many cups of tea she needed, as well as for cooking. The heat also made Lizann feel her pregnancy more of a burden than it should be, and when her mother complained one day, ‘The sweat’s just hailing aff me,’ she snapped, ‘If you’d shift to the couch, you wouldn’t sweat so much. It’s daft sitting half up the lum.’

  Hannah turned on her angrily. ‘Ho! So I’m daft now, am I? I dinna need to put up with cheek from you, so just you go hame and …’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mother, but you would feel cooler on the couch. Come on, and I’ll help you over to it.’

  ‘Leave me be! You needna think you can boss me about now you’ve got a man to make a fuss of you. You never carried on like this when you were engaged to Peter!’

  Lizann swallowed the retort she felt like making. George was too busy listening to the wireless or reading in the papers about what Hitler and his troops were doing to pay much attention to her these days, and Jenny said Mick was the same. Goodness knows why they were so interested in the man everybody said was mad.

  Mick and his girlfriend visited Freuchny Road every Sunday evening now, the two young women being left to sit and chat while the men went into a huddle, their faces grave, their voices low, and it wasn’t until Neville Chamberlain returned from the Munich conference at the end of September waving a piece of paper and declaring ‘Peace in our time!’ that George told his wife about the rumours of war which had been circulating for some time. ‘It’s all right now, though,’ he grinned. ‘Our Prime Minister got Hitler and Mussolini and the French – Daladier, I think his name is – to sign a pact, so there’ll be no war. Germany’s been given a bit of Czechoslovakia as a … well, to keep him sweet.’

  Lizann was put completely at ease by this, not realizing – as so many other people did not realize – that this bribe to Hitler was to have the effect of encouraging further German aggression.

  A very cold spell had started at the end of October, and as Lizann made her way home one dark night at the beginning of November she had to watch her step, the roads were so slippery. Just one wrong move, she thought, as she strained her eyes to see where to put her feet, and she could land flat on her back. It wouldn’t be her first fall on ice, but it would be a disaster with her confinement so near. Reaching Freuchny Road in safety, she let herself into her house with fingers scarcely able to grasp the doorkey, then, about to take off her coat and muffler, she decided to keep them on. It would be a waste lighting the fire when it was after seven already, and she could do with an early night.

  While she waited for the kettle to boil for a cup of tea to heat her, she made up her mind to tell her mother tomorrow that she’d have to stop coming for a while. George had been right when he left last time – she shouldn’t be trailing there every day. She’d felt quite queer ever since she got up this morning, and if anything happened to the baby he would never forgive her. Besides, she was quite worried that she hadn’t felt it moving for a while, though when she’d mentioned it to Babsie Berry, the old woman had said,
‘It often happens late on. I’m sure the bairnies have a wee rest afore they’ve to make their way out into the world.’

  The tea poured, she sat with her hands round the cup until the feeling came back to her fingers, then draining it quickly, she went through to the bedroom, the only other room there was. It too was bitterly cold, so she wasted no time in getting into bed, wishing that she could afford to buy a winceyette nightgown, but with rent to pay, food to buy and all the other things she needed, there was nothing left at the end of each week. She couldn’t get warm whatever she did, for the linen sheets – a wedding present from George’s mother – were as cold as charity.

  She had been in bed for over an hour, unable to sleep because of the chill seeping right into her bones, when a thunderous knocking made her sit up in alarm. At the next assault she jumped out of bed and pulled on her coat to go and see who was at her door; when she beheld Mick, his face white and his eyes starting out of his head, she was sure she knew why he had come.

  He barged right in, and she closed the door to keep out the wintry blast. ‘Is it Mother?’ she asked anxiously.

  Giving a loud groan, he gathered her in his arms. ‘No, Lizann, it’s worse than that. Oh God, I wish I didn’t have to tell you.’

  ‘Tell me what? Oh, Mick, what’s happened?’

  ‘It’s George! We were on our way back to port, and … the sea was that rough it was coming right over the bows, and he was walking from the wheelhouse …’

  The pause made her cry out, ‘Tell me, Mick, tell me!’

  ‘I can hardly bear to say it. You see, another wave came up and took him over the side.’

  ‘Is he hurt? Is he badly injured?’

  Dissolving into tears, Mick burst out, ‘We couldn’t see any sign of him! We couldn’t save him! Oh, Lizann, we did everything we could. We circled round and round for hours, but he never surfaced. I’m sorry, I’m sorry!’