The Girl with the Creel (39 page)

Defeated, Lizann remained still and stared at the fire while the old woman scrubbed every inch of her body until she was satisfied that it could be made no cleaner. The drying and dressing would have overcome a woman with less determination than Martha, but at last she got Lizann decently covered and called to Adam. ‘You'll have to give me a hand to get her up to Margaret's room.'

Brother and sister made a cat's cradle with their hands for Lizann to sit on, but when they reached the stairs, they saw that there wasn't room to take her up that way. ‘I could carry her,' Adam offered.

Martha was about to say he wasn't fit for that, but having seen how sharply the girl's ribs and shoulder blades protruded from her emaciated body, she changed her mind. ‘Well, there's nothing of her, so I suppose … just watch and not strain yourself.'

Holding her under the knees and round her back, he lifted her in one seemingly effortless movement. ‘She's light as a feather,' he smiled, as he started up the steps.

When he laid his burden on the bed, he looked at Martha for guidance on what to do next. ‘Go down and fill the pig again,' she told him.

‘Who's Margaret?' Lizann asked, when he went out.

‘Adam's daughter. He was forty when she was born, so that would make her nearly twenty-eight now. She was working in an office in Edinburgh and married the boss, but they emigrated to Australia five years ago.'

When Adam took up the hot water bottle, Martha wrapped it inside an old pillowcase and pushed it under the bedclothes. ‘I'll leave you to rest now,' she told Lizann. ‘You'll not be fit for anything for a long time yet.'

‘But …'

‘You're welcome to bide here for as long as you need.'

‘But I can't pay …'

‘I'm not wanting anything from you. Good gracious me, if you knew how often I've wanted another woman to speak to, instead of sitting every night with that brother of mine. He's that dour, it takes him all his time to string a couple of sentences together sometimes.' She went out, leaving Lizann with a faint smile on her face.

‘I'd right like to know why that poor thing was in such a state,' the old woman said when she went downstairs. ‘She looks like she hasn't had a square meal for ages, and you'd think somebody would've noticed she wasn't fit to be trailing about like she did. She'll not sell any more fish for a good while.'

‘She's real bonnie when she's clean,' Adam remarked, self-consciously. ‘Curly black hair and brown eyes … and fair skin. She's nothing like a gypsy now.'

‘She'd have been better looked after if she
had
been a gypsy.'

Adam stroked his nose. ‘You'll have to give her something to eat.'

‘Empty bellies shrink, so I'll just make a bowl of saps when she's had time to come to herself. That'll be a wee bit of nourishment.'

When she took up the saps – two slices of bread soaked in hot milk and sprinkled with sugar – Martha had to spoon it into the girl's mouth, and was pleased that she supped most of it. ‘Are you thawing out yet?'

‘My feet's tingling now,' Lizann said, shyly.

‘That's a start. Would you like the pig filled again?'

‘No … thank you.'

Martha shook her head sadly when she went downstairs. ‘She's not used to folk doing anything for her, the poor soul, and what'll she do when she's on her feet again? She wouldn't make much from selling fish, and I think she's been living rough. That's why she hadn't been able to keep herself clean.'

They sat pensively for some time, then Martha picked up the poker and stirred the coals in the fire. ‘Adam, you wouldn't think of letting her bide here?'

He looked at her in astonishment. ‘For good?'

‘Aye. Once she's better, she could help me in the house, and maybe in the summer she would help you in the garden. We're not so able nowadays to do things, and we're aye getting older.'

‘We can't pay her anything.'

Martha had already thought of that. ‘It seems to me she's hardly had any money to herself for a long time. I think she'd jump at the chance to work for her keep.'

Adam chewed this over for a few minutes, then said, ‘She'll need new clothes. You said yourself she was in rags.'

‘There's still some of the things Margaret took here before she went to Australia, and they're about the same size.'

Adam had no answer to this. ‘We'll see, then.'

Knowing her brother as she did, Martha was satisfied that the battle was as good as won. It all depended on the girl herself agreeing to it.

Chapter Twenty-one

Going into the byre the following morning, Dan Fordyce found that his cows had been given their usual ration of hay, cattle-cake and mashed turnips, and he was very thankful to have a man like Adam Laing in his employ. The old man never neglected his work whatever the weather, and it was to be hoped that he hadn't suffered any ill effects. Continuing on his way, Dan discovered that the overnight gales had blown most of the snow against the dykes and the ground had a thick covering of solid ice. There would be no outside work done today again, he mused glumly, but he was soon to make a more disquieting discovery.

Carrying on his round of inspection, he decided to go and ask about Adam when he was finished, but twenty minutes later, as he made his way carefully over the ice, his eye was caught by something in the field to his left. On investigating, he saw that it was a creel, almost submerged under a frozen drift. ‘God Almighty!' he exclaimed, remembering the fish he'd had for supper last night, though it hadn't dawned on him that his housekeeper had bought them from the young fishwife. Even in the blizzard, that poor girl had called as usual, but why had she cast her creel off here? She couldn't have had much to sell in this weather, so possibly she had sold all she had and gone home without the basket. It would have been an encumbrance to her with conditions underfoot so bad.

His mind eased, he aimed a few idle kicks at the base of the drift and had another nasty shock when he saw several fish embedded in the chunk of ice that sheared off … and even more in the space it left behind. The creel hadn't been empty! The girl wouldn't have abandoned what was her livelihood! Had she felt ill? Had she collapsed somewhere farther on? His eyes circled the vast expanse of whiteness but saw nothing apart from several round, iced eruptions which he knew were really the large boulders which bedevilled his ploughmen, a legacy from Pictish times that nothing would shift. Desperate to find out what had happened to the girl, he went back to his house to ask if Meggie knew anything.

‘She was a good bit later than she usually is,' she told him, vaguely.

‘When was she here?' he demanded, his stomach tight with dread.

‘Oh now, it would have been … maybe twelve, maybe a bittie after. I didna think to look at the clock.'

Her sarcasm angered him. ‘Why didn't you take her inside, woman? The storm had started by then.'

‘She was anxious to get on. She did look kind o' funny though, now I come to think on it.'

‘And you still let her go? Good God, Meggie, why didn't you take her inside? Wherever she gets her fish, she …'

‘I think it's Pennan.'

‘That's a long way to come in weather like this.'

‘She didna need to come,' Meggie said, defensively, ‘and if she'd had ony sense, she wouldna.'

‘She probably couldn't afford to lose a day's takings. I can't think how she managed to get as far as this, and it looks as if she didn't get any farther. Her creel's lying out there.'

Trying to make up for what he evidently considered her short-comings, Meggie muttered, ‘Maybe one o' the cottars' wives took her in.'

He was off before she finished, going as quickly as he could over the treacherous ice. Judging by where her creel was, she had not been going to his cottar houses, but she could have been disorientated … she might have realized her mistake and found her way there eventually. It was worth a try. About to knock at the first door he came to, he spotted the old barrow he'd always meant to burn standing on the next path and wondered why Adam had been using it. A possible solution coming to him, he vaulted the dividing fence and rapped on the Laings' door.

It was Martha who opened it. ‘Oh, it's you, Mr Fordyce. Come in.'

‘I won't come in, thank you. I came to ask if you saw the fishwife yesterday. You see, I found her creel, and I …'

‘Adam found her,' Martha smiled. ‘He took her here in that barrow.'

‘Thank God for that!' he cried, not caring what she thought of his concern for the girl. ‘I was afraid she was lying dead somewhere.'

‘She was near death when we took her in, but she's young and she'll get over it, though it'll take her a while to get her strength back. I'm sure she hadn't had anything to eat for weeks, she's like a skeleton, but I'll feed her up.'

‘She couldn't be in better hands.' Remembering that he had meant to call here anyway, Dan said, ‘I saw Adam had fed the cattle yesterday. He shouldn't have gone out in weather like that. Is he all right?'

‘It's a good job he did go, or he wouldn't have found the lassie, but don't worry, he didn't come to any ill. A wee sniff, that's all.'

‘Tell him to take a few days off. I'll get the other men to attend to any of his jobs that need doing, and I'll see to the animals myself.'

‘I'll tell him, Mr Fordyce, but I can't guarantee he'll listen. He's not a one for sitting about on his backside doing nothing.'

Dan's eyes twinkled as he touched the peak of his lugged bonnet and turned away. He wished that he could have seen the girl for himself. He couldn't come and ask about her again, because he didn't want to give Martha or Meggie any cause for gossip. But … why shouldn't he use the creel as an excuse? Returning the girl's property would be regarded as an act of kindness, but he would have to wait until he could get it out of its ice prison.

Looking around the room, Lizann gave a sigh of contentment. It was just as sparsely furnished as her last room – only a tallboy and a padded chair in addition to the bed – but so much nicer. There was a cross-stitch runner on top of the drawers, the padding on the chair picked out one of the colours on the pristine cover on the quilt. The linoleum was highly polished, with a mat at each side of the bed. Although an attic, it had a proper window which made everything look really bright. There was a tiled fireplace, not that much bigger than the one she'd had at Pennan, but sending out far more heat. It had been burning when she woke, but she didn't know which of her benefactors had come up to light it.

Martha had taken up her breakfast at eight, a soft-boiled egg mashed with a little butter, and had come back with a cup of tea at ten. It would be heaven to live in this old cottage with nothing to worry about, but she couldn't. As soon as she was fit she would have to leave; she couldn't take advantage of the Laings' kindness.

At twelve, when Martha came bustling in, she said, ‘You'll be ready for your dinner?' Setting the tray down on Lizann's knees, she went on, ‘Mr Fordyce was asking about you.'

‘How did he know I was here?'

‘He found your creel, and he thought you were lying dead somewhere. He was real worried about you.'

‘I don't remember much about it.' Lizann sighed. ‘I think I was at the farmhouse …'

‘That must have been the last place you were before you collapsed.'

Lizann nodded, ‘If it hadn't been for your brother …'

‘I wasn't pleased at him for going to feed the beasts, but I didn't stop him, thank goodness. Now, I strained that soup for you, so sup it before it's cold.'

The soup was followed some minutes later by a small plate of thin custard, but it was like a feast to Lizann. Still feeling very weak, she dozed off but was roused again at three. As she was to discover, Martha was as regular as clockwork in everything she did, every snack and meal dead on the hour. ‘Here's a flycup for you,' the old woman smiled, ‘and I thought I'd take mine up here, and all, for it's time we'd a wee chat … if you feel up to it?'

It was the moment Lizann had been dreading. Not one question had been asked yet, and the Laings were bound to be curious about her background. ‘Yes, I'm up to it,' she murmured.

Martha took a sip from her cup before she began. ‘What are you going to do when you're back on your feet?'

Lizann's throat constricted. ‘I'll do what I was doing before, and I'll leave as soon as …'

‘Have you got money to buy your fish?'

‘I think I'd some in my bag, not much, but I don't know where it is.'

‘It's likely lying under the ice and somebody'll find it when the thaw comes.' Martha eyed her speculatively. ‘Do you want to go back to that life? You weren't really making a living, were you?'

‘I was … managing,' Lizann muttered, looking away.

‘You weren't managing very well. If you were any thinner, I'd be able to see right through you.'

Lizann gave an uncomfortable smile. ‘I'll be all right when the better weather comes in.'

‘That'll be a while yet. Now, I'm going to ask you something, so just listen till I've finished. Me and Adam was speaking last night, and we thought it would be a good idea if you bade here to help us. We'll not be able to pay you anything, but you'd have your bed and all the food you need.' Noticing Lizann biting her lip, Martha said, a little sadly, ‘Never mind, lass. If you can't face biding with us two old folk, just tell me. I'll not think any the less of you.'

In tears now, Lizann gulped, ‘It's not that, Martha. You've been so kind to me already, and now …'

Stretching out, the old woman laid her hand over the girl's. ‘M'dear, we weren't trying to do you a favour, we need you. I'm seventy-two, and Adam'll be sixty-eight in June, and we're finding things getting a bit much for us. You'll have to work hard, mind, the garden as well as …' She broke off, shaking her head. ‘No, it's too much to ask.'