The Girl with the Creel (26 page)

‘Oh,' Lizann exclaimed delightedly, ‘that's good of you, Jenny.'

The girl looked flustered. ‘I went to see her one day on my road home from the town, and she was so embarrassed at not having biscuits to give me with the cup of tea, I started baking scones and things for her.'

‘That's why we're here,' Mick explained. ‘Jenny would like the recipe for your sponge cake. She didn't like to ask you herself.'

‘You shouldn't be shy with me, Jenny,' Lizann scolded, gently. ‘You know me well enough by this time, surely? I'll let you write it out.'

The two women went to the table with paper and pencil, and George sat down next to Mick. ‘Are you two thinking of getting wed?' he teased. ‘Is that why Jenny's after recipes?'

Mick pulled a face. ‘I wish we could, but I've nothing to offer her. It's taking me all my time to make the payments to the yard and give Mother enough to keep her going. And there's Jenny's folk. They're poor things, the pair of them, and I couldn't take her away. They need what she takes in from her sewing.'

‘Could you not marry her and move in there?'

‘They haven't room, and what about my own mother? No, George, I've puzzled and puzzled, but it's hopeless.'

‘How long before you clear the debt to the yard?'

‘Near two year yet, but even when it's paid up, I could hardly keep a wife and two houses going.'

‘Aye,' George sighed, ‘you've got a problem. I wish I could help you, but I'm still paying up our furniture.'

‘I wouldn't take anything from you, any road.'

When the recipe had been written out Lizann looked round, and seeing her husband and brother deep in conversation, she murmured, ‘I've been thinking on going to see my mother when George goes away. Will she want to see me, do you think?'

Jenny considered for a moment. ‘It might be easier if I came with you. She wouldn't kick up a fuss in front of me.'

‘That's a good idea! George wanted to come, but he'd be like a red rag to a bull to her. When could you manage?'

‘What about Sunday afternoon? Mick's promised to paint old Jack Hay's shed – he was on the
Silver Star
with your father and him at one time, and he's retired now and bent with arthritis – and I heard George saying he'd give him a hand.'

‘That's fine, and we won't tell them.'

Having arranged to meet Jenny at two o'clock, Lizann tapped gently on the door of her old home on Sunday afternoon, but when her mother opened it, her face went stony. ‘Oh, it's you.'

Jenny stepped forward. ‘And me, Hannah,' she said, brightly.

Obviously in a quandary as to whether to welcome them or shut the door in their faces, it took some seconds for Hannah to mutter, ‘Come in.'

‘How are you, Mother?' Lizann had decided not to ask for forgiveness, because she had done nothing that needed to be forgiven.

‘I'm fine … and you're looking well.'

Lizann was relieved that her mother was actually speaking directly to her. ‘I am well. George and me are very happy.'

‘You should see their house, Hannah,' Jenny put in. ‘It's really nice inside.'

‘We haven't much,' Lizann smiled, ‘but you're welcome to visit us.'

Hannah's eyes hooded. ‘I never go outside my own door nowadays.'

‘Auntie Lou said you sometimes went to see Peter Tait's baby.'

‘Lou has nae business carrying tales.'

‘She was pleased you'd been going out, and she always comes to let me know how you're doing.'

‘I don't know how I'd have managed if it hadna been for her … and for Jenny here. She's been like a daughter to me.'

This was too much for Lizann. ‘You could still have your own daughter if you hadn't …' She broke off. It would do more harm than good to drag it all up again.

Hannah's brow wrinkled in perplexity, and Jenny said quickly, ‘Will I make some tea for you, Hannah? So you and Lizann can speak?'

As Jenny moved to get the teapot, Lizann said softly, ‘I want us to be friends, Mother. I'd like to come and see you now and then.'

‘Nobody's stopping you.' Hannah's fingers were meshing and unmeshing as if she had no control over them. ‘I never put you out.'

As good as, Lizann thought, but the situation was too delicate to say it aloud. ‘Can I come once a week, then?'

‘If you want.'

‘I do want. Oh, Mother, I've missed you.' Tears hovered on Lizann's eyelashes and she held out her hands in appeal.

Unable to stand by and see the woman hurt her daughter again, Jenny gave her a gentle prod from behind. ‘Go on, Hannah. You need her as much as she needs you.'

‘I don't need her,' Hannah said, stubbornly, but her eyes were moist.

‘You do,' Jenny cried. ‘I know you do, if you'd just admit it.'

Spotting a tear starting to run down her mother's cheek, Lizann jumped up and ran round the table. ‘I'm sorry,' she gulped, enfolding the frail body in her arms. ‘It's not true what you thought of me, but I'm sorry, just the same. I would never have done anything to hurt you, you should know that.'

Still sitting ramrod straight, Hannah sniffed, ‘Willie Alec's gone.'

‘I know, and I'm sorry about that, too, but it wasn't my fault, nor George's. Please, Mother, say you don't blame us any longer.'

Her back suddenly caving in, Hannah burst into tears. ‘Was that what I was blaming you for? I couldna mind, I just ken't it was something bad.'

Lizann, also sobbing now, squeezed her shoulders affectionately. ‘We didn't do anything bad, but I suppose you were so upset you had to blame somebody.'

‘I'll have to tell Willie Alec I was wrong about you.'

Gasping at this, Lizann looked up at Jenny, who shook her head. ‘You can see she's still not right,' she whispered. ‘Now, go and sit down and I'll pour the tea.'

She produced half of the sponge cake she had made that morning from Lizann's recipe, and Hannah accepted the slice she was given. Lizann, however, was too distressed by her mother's lapse to eat anything.

When they were leaving, Hannah said, ‘You'll come back, Lizann?'

‘Yes, Mother, I'll come back.'

‘And bring your man wi' you …' She looked at Jenny now. ‘And you'll come back, and all?'

‘As often as I can.'

Knowing that she was standing watching them, neither of them dared to speak until they were out of her sight. ‘I'd better come home with you,' Jenny said then. ‘I can see you're awful upset.'

Lizann nodded tearfully, unable to trust herself to say anything.

She had recovered slightly by the time they reached Freuchny Road, and with George and Mick still out they discussed the visit. ‘It could've been a lot worse,' Jenny consoled. ‘She wasn't as bad as I've seen her.'

Lizann sighed deeply. ‘I thought she'd got over it. Was it seeing me that made her get muddled again?'

‘No, she's up and down and sometimes I don't know how to take her. But she asked you back, don't forget.'

‘Will she remember, though? She might turn on me the next time I go.'

‘I think she's seen sense about that, but the brain's a funny thing.'

This did not make Lizann feel any more confident about going again, though she knew what Jenny meant. ‘Why don't you come and see me more often?' she asked. ‘You don't need to wait for Mick to take you, I'd be glad to see you any time.' It would be good to have a friend to talk to when George wasn't there, she thought.

‘I didn't like to come without being invited.'

Lizann managed to smile. ‘You've a standing invitation now. Any time you're up to the shops, come in for a cup of tea. And thanks for coming with me today. It would have been a lot worse if you hadn't been there.' She paused, then said, ‘I'm not going to tell George I went, not till I see how things go the next time.'

‘I won't say anything to Mick either, then.'

While she was doing her housework on Monday, Lizann's thoughts turned to her visit to the Yardie. It had been going so well at first, awkward but not really difficult, and with the reconciliation, she had thought her mother had regained her senses … till she began speaking as if her dead husband was still alive. That showed she wasn't clear in her mind yet, nothing like it. Maybe she never would be, but her daughter would do everything she could to help … if she was allowed to.

Chapter Fourteen

The cold snap at the beginning of 1938 had had a devastating effect on more than one family in Buckpool. Several old people succumbed to it, including Jenny Cowie's parents who died within a week of each other. Fortunately, Mick had been at home on both occasions and was a great comfort to her, but after the second funeral, which had cleaned out her father's meagre savings, he told her he still couldn't afford to marry her. ‘We'll have to wait till after I finish paying the shipyard,' he said, regretfully.

‘But we'd be living here, and I could keep on with my sewing …'

‘I'm not having my wife working, and there's my mother to think on.'

‘She's got Lizann and your auntie.'

‘Lou's getting on, she's five years older than Mother.'

Jenny gave a deep sigh. ‘I don't think you want to marry me at all.'

He gripped her shoulders. ‘Don't say that, Jenny. I've wanted to marry you since we started going steady, that's how long I've been saving, but it's been one damned thing after another. First I'd to buy new gear when the
Hannah
went down, and then having to pay the yard …'

‘You didn't need to take that on,' Jenny muttered. ‘The insurance folk would surely have settled what was still owing …'

‘Father didn't have her insured, worse luck, and I'd to ask Jones to reduce the instalments, so it's going to take a while to clear.'

‘I could sell my house,' Jenny offered. ‘If I gave you what I get for it, that should be enough to pay off …'

‘I can't let you do that!' Mick declared. ‘I took in hand to settle it myself and I'll settle it! Any road, where would you bide if you sold this house?'

‘If you'd marry me, I'd come to the Yardie as your wife, and I'd look after your mother.'

Mick was tempted, but like his father he was fiercely proud of his integrity. ‘I don't want folk thinking I'd to depend on you for money.'

‘You're as thrawn as an old mule,' she burst out. ‘I should look for somebody else and stop wasting my time with you.'

‘Oh, Jen,' he pleaded, ‘don't do that. You know I love you, and if you loved me you'd wait.'

‘Aye,' she sighed, ‘that's just it. I do love you, Mick Jappy, and I don't want anybody else. I'll wait, for as long as you want.'

Lizann went to see her mother every forenoon now, even at the weekends, though George didn't come with her every time he was home; sometimes he went to see his own mother, but not very often. The first time they'd gone to the Yardie together had been worrying; Hannah had eyed him with suspicion as if she wondered why she didn't feel easy with him. Lizann had been afraid that she might cast up his divorce, or throw out the old accusation that Willie Alec's death had been his fault, but she had held out her hand after a moment and said, ‘So you're Lizann's man? I'm real pleased to meet you.'

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.'