The Girl with the Creel Page 24

  Peter had made up his mind not to see Lizann again, but on his way home from work one night he thought there was no reason why he shouldn’t go to ask how she was. They were still friends, and friends were expected to be concerned for one another’s well-being.

  Having hoped she would be well on the way to recovery, he was saddened to see how haggard her face was when she opened the door. Her once shiny black curls were hanging lank, and the eyes that had sparkled brightly seemed to have no life left in them. He longed to take her in his arms and beg her to let him look after her.

  ‘It’s you, Peter,’ she said in a flat voice. ‘You’d better come in.’

  It wasn’t a warm welcome, and he wished now that he hadn’t given in to his whim. ‘Jenny’s not with you, then?’ he asked.

  ‘I made her go home.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have. You need company.’

  ‘I don’t want company.’

  ‘You’ll get over it, Lizann,’ he told her, gently. ‘It takes time.’

  ‘That’s what everybody says.’

  An awkward silence fell, both staring into the barely-glowing embers in the fire, then Lizann murmured, ‘How’s your wife? And your boys?’

  ‘They’re fine. Pattie’s a little devil, into everything, but Tommy’s quieter. It’s funny how brothers can be so different.’

  ‘Aye, I suppose so.’

  Noticing tears glistening before she turned her head away, he guessed that she was thinking of her own son, the son she had lost on the same day as she lost her husband, and his heart went out to her. Not knowing what else to say, he murmured, ‘You shouldn’t be on your own yet.’

  Her lips lifted in a thin smile. ‘I’m better on my own.’

  ‘But you might … do something stupid.’

  The smile faded. ‘I’ve thought about it. What have I got to live for?’

  ‘Everything! You’re still young, you’ll get your looks back and … I have to say it, no matter what you think, you’ll find another man.’

  ‘I could never love anybody else, and you needn’t worry, Peter. I’m not going to do away with myself. If I’d only myself to worry about, I might have done it, but another bad shock might turn my mother’s brain again, and I couldn’t do that to her.’

  ‘Thank God! You had me worried.’

  ‘I think you should go now, but don’t tell Mick what I said.’

  He got to his feet at once. ‘I won’t tell anybody, but remember, if there’s ever anything I can do for you, Lizann, you’ve only to let me know, whatever it is.’

  Rising, too, she shook her head. ‘There’s nothing anybody can do for me, Peter, for I’ve lost the only man I’ve ever loved.’

  ‘I know that,’ he said, wryly.

  When he went home, Elsie looked at him suspiciously. ‘You’re late!’

  ‘I went to Freuchny Road to see Lizann, and before you start shouting, let me tell you something. If you’d seen her the night, you’d have been as sorry for her as I was. She’s as far down as anybody could be, and I’ll not stop seeing her, whatever you say.’

  ‘Did she turn her dark eyes on you and bewitch you again?’

  ‘She was like a skeleton, with her eyes sunk right into her head.’

  ‘Would you go running if she asked you?’

  ‘If she asked me for help, I’d go running,’ he said, truthfully, ‘but she won’t. As for what you’re meaning, my place is here with my family.’

  ‘Aye well,’ his wife smirked, ‘and don’t you forget it.’ She snuggled up to him in her usual seductive manner, but for once – maybe because he was so anxious about Lizann – it had no effect on him. ‘Get off, Elsie!’ he exclaimed, shoving her away. ‘Can you not leave me in peace?’

  The initial surprise in her eyes became anger. ‘I might have ken’t!’ she shouted. ‘You’ve laid your fancy woman the night! You’ve aye hoped you’d get her, that’s why you’ve kept going there, and now you’ve had her, you dinna want me!’

  Something in Peter snapped. ‘Have you no sense, woman?’ he bellowed. ‘She’s not in a fit state for anything, and I’ve never had her, tonight or any other night. But I love her so much I’d lay down my life for her if I thought it would help, and I can’t even tell her, for she still loves George Buchan!’

  Taken completely aback by his outburst, Elsie stared at him with her mouth gaping, then, snapping it shut, she flounced away. He sat down, head in hands, appalled at what he had said in his fury. She would do her best to get back at him, and he’d be wise to stay away from Lizann … for a while, at any rate, until Elsie cooled down.

  As usual, Mick went to see his sister when he came off the boat and was dismayed at the change in her. She had looked a bit better the last time he’d been, and now she was as bad as ever. ‘Are you sure you’re eating properly?’ he demanded.

  Nearly at her wits’ end as to how to keep going, Lizann burst out, ‘I haven’t any money left.’ Not having meant to let him know, she clapped her hand over her mouth, but the damage was done.

  ‘I thought the skipper gave you compensation,’ Mick gasped.

  ‘Just five pounds, and it’s all gone.’

  ‘Five pounds? Was that all? The hungry bugger! To hear him, folk would think he’d lashed out a hundred.’

  ‘Don’t say anything to him, Mick,’ she pleaded. ‘I shouldn’t have told you. It’s not your worry.’

  ‘It is my worry, though I likely wouldn’t get any more out of him if I did tell him what I thought of him.’

  ‘I’ll get by. I’ll think of something.’

  ‘Like what?’ he said, harshly. ‘You’ll not be able to work for a long time yet, and I can’t let my little sister starve.’ Hesitating, Mick did a quick mental calculation. ‘I’ll give you something every week to let you get some decent food.’

  ‘I can’t let you do that!’

  ‘You can and you will! I’ll only manage ten bob, will that do? Just till you get your health back.’

  Although Mick was not taking her other expenses into account – rent, coal, gas, cleaning materials – Lizann said gratefully, ‘It’s plenty, but I wish you wouldn’t.’

  He stuck his hand into his trouser pocket then handed her a crumpled ten shilling note, which she accepted reluctantly. ‘I’m sorry I can’t offer you a cup of tea, Mick. My caddy’s empty.’

  ‘I’ll get when I go home. Do you want me to go and buy some things for you first, or can you walk to the shops yourself?’

  ‘I haven’t been out at all yet, but I’ll give Mary Droppie next door a list when she comes in the morning.’

  ‘What about your supper the night?’

  ‘Jenny took in a pie this afternoon. She’s been awful good to me.’

  He smiled broadly. ‘Aye, she’s a good-hearted lass, my Jen.’

  Cheap nourishing food having restored a little of Lizann’s strength, she had started going to the shops, letting Mary Droppie accompany her the first time in case the walk was too much for her. Then she insisted on going alone, because she didn’t want her neighbour or anyone else to see what she meant to do. At first she sold only one of the teasets which had been wedding gifts and had never been used, but what she got for it didn’t last long, and she gradually disposed of all four, and six tablecloths which had also been presents. They had all been stored in boxes under the bed, so neither Jenny nor Mick knew they were gone.

  Although Lizann’s health had improved, the same could not be said for her spirits. Every night before she went to sleep, she shed tears for her husband, for the child she had borne but never suckled, and in her dreams she pictured herself with George, swinging their little boy by the hands as they walked. She knew that Jenny was judging her by the brave face she put on and thought she had got over her losses, but it was nearly two months, and she herself didn’t think she would ever get over them. To add to her worry as to what would happen when she had nothing left to sell, Mrs Buchan’s venomous utterings came back to haunt her. She might have remained
in this precarious state indefinitely if two things hadn’t happened to make things even worse.

  Elsie Tait’s mind had been on only one thing for weeks, and this Monday was no different. She’d known for ages that Peter didn’t love her, and she had seen by his eyes, when he said he loved Lizann, that it was a love that was tearing him apart. She’d felt like killing him at the time, but she didn’t want to lose him … she knew when she was well off. He kept her in comfort, he didn’t begrudge her the clothes she bought and he was a good father. She had always known how to arouse him, but since their last quarrel she could hardly get him to touch her at all. Although she consoled herself with Lenny Fyfe, she couldn’t bear the thought of Peter making love to Lizann. He swore he hadn’t, but he couldn’t pull the wool over her eyes and she was determined to put a stop to it.

  Having planned what to do, she left her two sons with the woman next door and set off to put it into action, gloating that the little bitch in Freuchny Road didn’t know what was coming to her.

  ‘I’m Peter Tait’s wife,’ she announced, when Lizann opened the door.

  The girl looked surprised. ‘Is something wrong? Is he ill?’

  Her patent concern inflamed Elsie even more. ‘If you let me in, I’ll tell you,’ she snapped. Pushing her way inside, she plonked herself on a chair. ‘You should ken what’s wrong.’

  ‘Me? I’m sorry …?’ Lizann murmured, utterly bewildered.

  ‘Dinna play the innocent wi’ me! I ken what you’ve been up to – trying to take my man away from me.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You couldna wait to get rid o’ Jenny Cowie so you could get Peter to yourself when he came to see you.’

  ‘That’s not why …’

  ‘I ken what’s been going on, and let me put you wise to something. You maybe think he loves you when you and him are at it, but he doesna.’

  Lizann shook her head in disbelief. ‘You’re making a big mistake, Mrs Tait. There’s never been anything like that between Peter and me.’

  ‘I dinna believe you.’

  ‘Oh, this is ridiculous! Please leave.’

  Elsie was enjoying herself now. ‘You canna stand hearing the truth, is that it? You was engaged to him once, so dinna tell me …’

  ‘Nothing happened, I swear.’

  ‘You was just a young lassie, and you canna tell me you never wanted a man inside you?’

  Remembering her wish to find out what came after the kissing, which had led to her making love with George in Yarmouth, deep colour flooded Lizann’s pallid face, and Elsie pounced in triumph. ‘So it’s true!’

  ‘No!’ Lizann screamed. ‘You don’t understand!’

  ‘I understand right enough, and listen to me, my fine lady! You leave my Peter alone! Next time he comes here, tell him nae to come back! Tell him you’ve found somebody else! Tell him onything you like, but send him hame to me! If you dinna, I swear I’ll spread it the length and breadth o’ Buckie that you’ve been taking up wi’ my man for years!’ Breathless from the increasing volume of her tirade, Elsie laid her hand on her chest for a moment before she carried on. ‘You’ll be the speak o’ the town, and you’ll be wishing you’d never set eyes on him … wishing you’d never been born!’

  Getting up, she went to the door, but before going out, she said, ‘And dinna tell him I’ve been here, or it’ll be all the worse for you!’

  Lizann was still shaking next morning. Unable to get the vindictive face out of her mind, she had lain awake all night, wishing – as Elsie had said she would – that she had never been born. How could that woman have said all those things? Peter was a friend, a very dear friend she would be forced to turn from her door because of his wife’s insane jealousy … but maybe it would please Mrs Tait more if she left Buckie altogether?

  She was still agonizing over it when Jenny arrived, eager to tell her about a wedding party she’d seen going into church on Saturday. Trying to show some interest, Lizann saw that Jenny’s eyes were moist when she described the bride’s gown and, without taking time to think, she said, ‘Why have you and Mick never got married?’

  ‘We can’t afford to, as long as he keeps giving all his wages away,’ Jenny said, rather sharply.

  Too upset already to remember that most of what Mick gave away went to the shipyard, Lizann took this to be a hit at the ten shillings he gave her. She had never given a thought to how Jenny would feel about it and, mortified with shame, she could say nothing.

  ‘Ach, don’t mind me,’ Jenny smiled in a moment. ‘I was just jealous at seeing the bride so happy.’

  She proceeded to describe the outfits of some of the women guests, but Lizann hardly heard her, and when Jenny left she sat down to think. She was a burden to Mick, a burden he would willingly carry for ever though he shouldn’t have to. If it wasn’t for her, he could marry his Jenny and live happily ever after. Her mind dwelt now on all the things her older brother had done for her over the years. He had always defended her from bigger boys when she was little; he had gone to see George when she was confined to the house, had given him the advice which had been the means of her father letting her marry the man she loved; he had come to tell her himself that George was drowned, when he could have left it to the skipper; he had looked after her as well as any midwife could have done when she lost the baby. All that, as well as giving her money he could ill afford.

  It was her turn to do something for him now, but what? If she told him what Jenny had said, he would be angry at his girlfriend, not her, and he would still insist on giving her the ten shillings. Then it occurred to her that, if she left Buckie as she had thought of doing, she would be killing two birds with one stone. She wouldn’t tell anybody where she was, and both Peter and Mick would be free of her … but where could she go? It would have to be within walking distance, for she’d have to keep what little she had in her purse in case she didn’t find work straight away. Most of the fishing villages round about had their own women to gut what their boats took in.

  She pressed her hands to her temples. It was too difficult to think, for she hadn’t recovered from Mrs Tait’s terrible accusations. And she still hadn’t got over George … and the baby … Maybe she would be best to go to bed and leave the thinking till her brain was clearer. Rising out of her chair, she studied the picture hanging above the fire and wondered if this girl had ever been faced with as many troubles as she’d had. She drew in her breath. She had always loved the picture for its atmosphere of peace and love, and she had nearly forgotten that the girl was her mother, who must have felt something for Robbie Chapman because she had kept the sketch he had so lovingly made.

  Lizann’s heart jolted. Her mother had once sold fish from a creel, and if her mother could do it …? People still needed fish, people who lived too far from shops or the sea. She likely wouldn’t make a good living, but as long as she could exist on it, she wouldn’t mind.

  Her mind made up, she started to plan how to go about it. She had sold so much already that there wasn’t much more than the old furniture left in the house, just her using dishes and some ornaments, and the bedding. She wouldn’t get much for any of them, but every penny would help. She would go to the auction room in Blairdaff Street tomorrow and ask if they’d clear the house for her, and with what she got she would pay her rent arrears and hand in the key. Lou had said, when she was leaving on Sunday, that she wouldn’t be back for about a week because she was going to be cleaning, Jenny had said yesterday that she’d a big load of sewing to do and wouldn’t see her for a few days, and Mick wasn’t due home till Friday or Saturday. She could be well away before any of them discovered that she had gone.

  In spite of the shock Jenny had given her, and the knowledge that she would soon have to fend for herself with no friends or relatives to turn to, Lizann slept soundly that night and rose in the morning anxious to put her plan into action.

  She hung back for a moment before she went into the auction room, but the man asked no awkward
questions. When she realized that he believed the house to be cleared belonged to someone who had died, she did not correct him. It was better than having to admit the truth. While he was laboriously writing down the address, she had a quick glance around her, gasping incredulously when her eyes fell on an old creel propped up in a corner. Taking it as a good omen, she asked, ‘Is that creel for sale?’

  The man’s eyes lit up. ‘It’d make a fine display in a room wi’ a bunch o’ heather in it, or …’

  ‘How much do you want for it?’

  Averse to being rushed into making decisions on the spot, he said, ‘We can agree on that when we’ve settled this business.’ He tapped on the pad in front of him. ‘When do you want me to take away the stuff?’

  ‘As soon as you can, please.’

  ‘This is Wednesday … would tomorrow morning first thing suit you?’

  ‘That’s fine.’ It was better than just fine, she thought, for old Mary Droppie slept at her daughter’s every Wednesday and wasn’t home till the next night, so she wouldn’t be there to see what was going on.

  ‘There’s just one thing, though,’ the man cautioned. ‘I never carry any cash with me, so you’ll have to come here to be paid, and I’ll take the price of the creel off that.’

  Lizann went out, satisfied with what she had accomplished so far.

  At eleven o’clock the following morning she wasn’t quite so happy. The entire contents of her house – including the picture she had sworn she would never part with, and she had done so with tears running down her cheeks – had yielded only £4 2s 6d, and with the cost of the creel deducted, all she got was £3 15s. She had nearly told the man he hadn’t given her enough for her belongings and seven and six was too dear for an old creel, but she hadn’t felt up to arguing with him.