The Girl with the Creel (32 page)

Thirty minutes later she was trudging along the coast road with the creel slung over her shoulder. Inside was the bundle of clothes which was all she had to her name apart from the three pound notes in her pocket – the fifteen shillings had gone to the factor for rent – and when it hit her that she had left home and friends for ever, her step faltered. For a moment she wished bleakly that she hadn't been so rash and was on the point of turning back when she remembered that she was doing this for Peter, and for Mick and Jenny.

Heaving a deep, shivering sigh, she carried on.

Chapter Seventeen

Because Lizann was his main concern these days, Mick made straight for Freuchny Road when he came ashore at half past six on Saturday night, a day later than usual. He knew he would feel better if he made sure she was all right before he went home.

When he saw that there were no curtains at her window, he assumed that she had taken them down to wash and hadn't been able to get them dry – it had been drizzling steadily all day. Finding the door locked, and getting no answer to his knock, he dug into his wallet for the key he'd had cut in case of an emergency – not that this was an emergency, but she might have fallen asleep and he didn't want to stand outside longer than necessary.

Swinging the door open, he stood stock-still in astonishment. Instead of the shabbily cosy room he had expected to walk into – Lizann had made quite a presentable home from all the second-hand bits and pieces; she had hand-stitched covers for the cushions she picked up at sales; she had crocheted lace doyleys to stop her ornaments scratching the old sideboard; she had cleeked a rug for her hearth – he gazed round a room bare of any form of comfort … totally bare. Too bewildered to feel any sort of emotion, he walked across the wooden floorboards and glanced into the bedroom, but it too was completely empty.

When he heard someone coming in, he turned, hoping it was Lizann, but it was Mary Droppie, puffing from the unaccustomed effort of hurrying. ‘I was hoping you'd come the night, Mick, for I didna ken what to do.'

‘What's happened?' he asked in bewilderment, the nape of his neck prickling now with fear for his sister. ‘Where's Lizann?'

‘God knows! I didna ken she was awa' till I saw Jeannie Tosh – next door on the other side – coming doon the street aboot four o'clock the day, and she said a lorry flitted her oot on Thursday morning. I wasna here, you see, so I'd nae idea …'

‘Have you asked if any of the other neighbours know anything?'

‘Of course I asked. D'you think I didna care aboot her?'

It was obvious to Mick that the old woman was offended that Lizann had not confided in her – he knew she had felt a responsibility for the young widow. ‘I'm sorry, Mary, I know you did a lot for her.'

She looked embarrassed at this. ‘Aye, well, I did what I could. Ony road, Jeannie Tosh was the only body that saw a thing, and she thought Lizann was going back to her ma's.'

Not having given one thought to his mother, Mick exclaimed, ‘Oh, my God! Maybe Lizann's had to go … I'd better get home double quick.'

He shepherded the old woman out and locked the door behind him before he set off, taking long strides at first then breaking into a run when the drizzle developed into a heavy downpour. By the time he reached the Yardie it was bouncing off the street and he burst into the house like a wild thing, startling Hannah, who was sitting by the fire reading.

‘What a fleg you gave me!' she frowned, hand on her palpitating heart.

He had to hold on to the back of a chair to get his breath back and to get over his disappointment that Lizann wasn't there, though he knew he should be glad that his mother was the same as she usually was. Needing to share his worry with a person of some sense, he said, ‘I was running to get out of the rain, it's bucketing down, but I'm wet through any road, so I might as well go and let Jenny know I'm home.' He dashed out before his mother could say anything.

In his panic, he banged open Jenny's door, too, when he reached it, making her jump up in alarm. ‘What's wrong, Mick? Is it Hannah?'

‘It's Lizann. She's … gone away.'

‘Gone away? What d'you mean?'

Irritated, he said, ‘Gone away! Cleared out her house and vanished.'

‘Cleared out her house?' Jenny's expression grew contrite. ‘Oh, Mick, I knew I shouldn't have left her so long on her own, but I'd a whole pile of sewing to finish …'

‘When did you see her last?'

‘Tuesday morning, and she never said anything about leaving …'

‘She didn't say anything to anybody, not even Mary Droppie, but she was seen going away in a lorry and she could be far enough by this time. God Almighty! What the hell could have made her go away so suddenly?'

There was a moment's silence, then Jenny let out a horrified gasp. ‘Oh, Mick! I've just minded!'

‘Minded what? Tell me, for God's sake!'

‘I was telling her about a wedding I saw, and she asked me why we'd never got married …' She stopped and looked at him in dismay.

‘Go on,' he urged.

‘I said we couldn't afford it as long as you gave all your wages away. I meant what you gave the yard, but maybe she thought I was complaining about the ten bob you give her.'

Shoving her away from him, Mick shouted, ‘She's touchy about that. You should have known that's what she would think.'

Jenny burst into tears. ‘I never thought …'

‘You never thought,' he repeated, harshly. ‘God Almighty, you should have thought! You know the state she's been in! She never wanted money from me, and if she thought you weren't pleased about it … oh God!'

‘Mick … I'm sorry.' Sobbing loudly, Jenny threw her arms round his neck in entreaty. ‘Please, Mick, say you don't blame me.'

About to say that there was nobody else to blame, his anger vanished, and with a low moan he clasped her tightly to him, rubbing her back to calm her. ‘I know you wouldn't hurt her deliberately, Jen, but I wish you hadn't said that.'

They stood thus for some time, then sat down to discuss what could be done, but no matter how hard they tried, they could think of nothing. Presently, Jenny gave a start. ‘Would she have gone to Cullen?'

‘To George's mother?' Mick looked a little happier. ‘I'll bet that's where she is! It's too late the night, I'll get the first bus tomorrow.'

Ina Buchan looked at her caller in astonishment. ‘What made you think she'd come to me? She never bothered wi' me afore George was lost …'

Thankful that he didn't have to tell her about her son, Mick murmured, ‘She'd to look after my mother …'

‘… and keep her man from seeing his?' Ina sneered. ‘She's a thankless besom, for she near aboot threw me oot when I went to see her.'

‘You went to see her? When?'

‘Once I got ower it myself … but she … there's nae love lost atween me and her, and I'm the last body she'd've asked if she was needing help.'

She'd be the last person he'd ask for help, too, Mick thought. ‘I'm right worried about her, Mrs Buchan, she's emptied her house, and I've no idea where she is. She's been in an awful state …'

The woman nodded stiffly. ‘Losing her man and her bairn at the same time … that would be enough to put ony woman aff her head.'

Thinking it best to leave her under the impression that Lizann's mind was totally deranged – which maybe wasn't so far off the mark – Mick said, ‘I'll have to go, my mother's not fit to be on her own for long, but if Lizann does come here, you'll let us know?'

‘I will, but she'll likely be hame in a wee while.'

‘I hope so.'

Going home in the bus, Mick felt that all hope of finding his sister had gone, and when Jenny opened her door to him she could see by his look of defeat that he'd had no luck. Trying to cheer him, she said brightly, ‘I just thought when you were away … would she be at Lou's?'

A shaft of hope came into his drawn face. ‘My mind's like a sieve. How could I have forgotten Lou? We'll go when we've had our dinner.'

In his own house, he had to parry his mother's questions as to where he'd been, saying that he'd had some business to attend to and refusing to tell her what. Then, when he said he was going out with Jenny, Hannah snapped, ‘You're hardly ever in when you're ashore nowadays. You'd be as well taking your bed along there.'

Lizann was not with Lou, who was more concerned about her than Ina Buchan had been. ‘She'll be like a bairn if she's among strangers. Is there nobody else you can try?'

Mick heaved a shuddery sigh. ‘I can't think of anybody.'

‘Oh, well,' Lou said staunchly, ‘we never died a winter yet, and one o' us'll surely manage to come up wi' something ower a cup o' tea.'

The cups of tea had no miraculous effect, nothing coming to any of them until Lou suddenly hit one hand with her other fist, and looked at them smugly. ‘Why did I nae think on it afore? She musta got that lorry in Buckie, so somebody here musta driven her and kens where she's went, and me and Jenny'll just have to ask till we find him.'

It came to Jenny that Lizann could have got the lorry from wherever she had gone, but she didn't like to say anything to dim the sparkle which had appeared in Mick's eyes. ‘We were a day late in coming in,' he smiled, ‘so I'm not sailing till Tuesday. I'll ask round the fish houses after I pay the shipyard in the morning.'

They made a list of every place they could think of that might have a lorry and settled on which of them would go where next day, then Lou asked, ‘Have you tell't Hannah, Mick?'

Looking shamefaced, he shook his head. ‘To tell the truth, I couldn't face it, but it's up to me and I will do it, when I'm ready. Now, we'd better go, Jenny, or Jockie'll be home and his supper not ready.'

On the walk back, he said, ‘Mother was saying I should take my bed to your house seeing I'm there so much.' Seeing a flush spreading across Jenny's face, he murmured, ‘In just two month, I pay the last instalment on the
Hannah
and then I'll be able to provide for you. We'll get wed, and you can sell your house and move into the Yardie.'

‘Oh, Mick, I can hardly believe we'll be man and wife at last.'

‘We've waited long enough,' he said gruffly.

When they reached her house, he asked, ‘Can I come in?' Noticing that she looked doubtful as to his intentions, he added, ‘I'm not trying to jump the gun, but I haven't kissed you for three whole hours.'

Giggling, she unlocked her door and took him inside.

*    *    *

Neither Jenny nor Mick, on their separate missions, had any luck on Monday, and what Lou told them when they reported at Rannas Place in the evening made them even more depressed. ‘I could've grat when the factor said Lizann had gi'en up the hoose,' she said, sadly. ‘I'd been hoping they'd moved her oot so's they could repair her roof or something like that, that's why I went and asked first thing, but she's handed in the key, so there's nae chance she'll be back.'

‘I'd better give you the key I got made, then,' Mick murmured, ‘and you can hand it in.'

Lou's mind was still on the most important matter. ‘Now, you'll be back at sea the morrow, Mick, and there's nae need for you to waste your sewing time, Jenny, so I'll carry on myself. There canna be much places left to ask, just the littler shops.' She would take no argument and so it was left at that.

Mick couldn't sleep for worrying that night, but he was finishing his breakfast when he remembered that Peter had sometimes visited Lizann. Would she have confided in her old sweetheart? For his own peace of mind, he would have to go and ask before he joined his ship.

His question only succeeded in worrying Peter and clearly annoying Elsie, so he hurried home to pick up his seabag and get to the harbour. He felt so helpless; he couldn't even report Lizann as missing to the police, not when she took all her belongings with her.

It was Tuesday afternoon when Lou came to the auction room in Blairdaff Street, and she wondered if it was worth asking in such a run-down place. Telling herself that needs must when the devil drives, she hitched up her skirts and went in, her nose wrinkling at the musty smell. The man who came forward struck her as a shifty character, so she came straight to the point. ‘Do you have a lorry?'

He smiled ingratiatingly. ‘Was you wanting to buy some furniture?'

Horrified that he thought she was the kind of person who would buy furniture out of a place like this, Lou drew herself up to her full five feet, half an inch. ‘I'm not buying, I just asked if you'd a lorry.'

His fawning manner vanished along with his smile. ‘No!'

‘Thank you.' She made a sweeping exit, little knowing that if she had been less abrupt, or if she had phrased her question differently, she would have been given a fuller answer. David Roth had not told a lie, for he hired a lorry on the rare occasions he had a heavy load to shift, but even if he had told Lou this, he couldn't have told her what she really wanted to know. He had taken Lizann and her belongings back to his shop, and he had no idea what she had done after he paid her.

When Jenny arrived that evening, Lou had to admit defeat. ‘She must have got the lorry from wherever she was going.' She made a brave show of cheerfulness now. ‘She must have found another house, seeing she took her furniture, though I canna understand why she went away at all.' This had bothered Lou ever since she heard about it.

‘It's my fault,' Jenny admitted, and explained a little tearfully.

Lou looked staggered, but patted the girl's hand. ‘It's likely nothing to do wi' you, lass. She ken't Mick was paying the yard, and it looks like she doesna want naebody to ken where she is. We'd best get on wi' our ain lives and let her get on wi' hers.'