The Girl with the Creel (61 page)

Having taken Gladys at her word, Lizann had a shock when the hooter blew on the evening before the great day and she was whisked to the cloakroom and draped in an old lace curtain which someone had taken in. ‘What's going on?' she gasped.

‘We're dressing the bride,' she was informed, as someone put a garland of newspaper roses round her head.

‘Don't be scared,' Gladys whispered. ‘They won't blacken you.'

The last embellishment was a large feather duster stuck into her hand as a bouquet, and then she was carried into the yard and hoisted on to a lorry. This time it was girls and women who jumped on with handbells and pans held aloft. She knew what to expect, and covered her ears as the lorry moved out slowly into the street. The din made the workers who were coming out of the neighbouring yards join in the cheering, and as they went over Victoria Bridge and along South Market Street, everyone they passed shouted out their good wishes. The fun became frenetic when they went up the steep hill of Market Street itself – the floor of the ‘wedding carriage' was awash with brine and bits of fish, and it was all the ‘bride' and her ‘attendants' could do to keep their feet.

‘How're you doing?' Gladys yelled, as they turned into Union Street, seething with people bound for home.

‘I'm surviving,' Lizann yelled back, ‘but what'll folk think?'

‘They'll think we're mad! No,' Gladys added, seeing her friend's look of shame, ‘they've seen this lots of times. All the yards and factories do it.'

The lorry sailed majestically up the main thoroughfare, often having to stop behind a tram when it picked up or deposited passengers, and Lizann soon saw that the onlookers were enjoying the spectacle. When a group of workmen shouted, ‘Give's a smile, lass,' she grinned, waving her brightly-coloured ‘bouquet', and was rewarded by cries of ‘Good luck', and one ribald, ‘Watch you dinna land wi' a honeymoon bairn.'

At the end of Union Street they turned left into Holburn Street, just as long but not quite so busy. The crowds had dwindled to an odd person here and there by the time they reached the Bridge of Dee, where the driver made another left turn to go along North Esplanade West. All the yards here had emptied long before, so he put on a little spurt and in only minutes they were back at Sinclair Road and his cargo of women all jumped off.

‘That's something for you to remember,' he joked to Lizann as she was extricating herself from her ‘bridal' accoutrements.

‘Yes,' she laughed. ‘I'll never forget it, and thanks, Davey.'

‘Nae bother,' he grinned.

‘You'll come to the Douglas tomorrow?'

‘We'll all be there.'

‘Great! Well, I'd better go and get on my coat, for my landlady'll be wondering why I'm so late.'

When she went into her digs, Mrs Melville said, ‘I thought they'd get up to something. I've seen brides being taken round before.'

‘I wish you'd told me. I didn't know what was happening, but it was good fun. I'll miss them.'

‘You'll have your man to keep you occupied,' her landlady smiled. ‘Is he coming to see you tonight?'

‘He's coming to collect the case with all my clothes, and he'll only stay a wee while. You know, I can't believe everything's going so well for us – even the war's taken a turn for the better. It'll all be over soon.'

The newspapers were jubilant over the Allied advance into France in the four days since D-Day. Mrs Melville was sure that the situation was not as rosy as some reports would have it, but kept her misgivings to herself.

Dan was very amused by Lizann's account of her ‘wedding' parade. When he was leaving she went down to the street entrance with him, her eyes popping when she saw the shining black car instead of the rickety lorry. ‘What …?' she gasped, as he laid the suitcase on the back seat.

‘I couldn't take my bride home in an old Ford,' he grinned. ‘And I can't get away from the farm long enough to give you a honeymoon, so I hired the car as the next best thing.'

She flung her arms round his neck. ‘Oh Dan, I love you.'

‘I should hope so. You'll be Mrs Fordyce by this time tomorrow.'

Remembering that they would probably be going to bed about this time the next night, Lizann was too embarrassed to say anything, which was just as well because Dan couldn't have waited any longer to kiss her.

When she went upstairs, her face was so radiant that Mrs Melville gave a deep sigh. ‘Oh lassie, I'm happy for you. You're getting a good man, a gentleman, and I know you'll never regret it.'

‘There's just one thing I regret,' Lizann smiled. ‘I wish I'd said yes the first time he proposed. I've wasted so much time … but if I'd never come to Aberdeen I wouldn't have met you.'

‘And that's another thing,' her landlady said, a little tearfully now. ‘You've done me a great honour asking me to give you away.'

‘I'm honoured that you agreed. You've been like a mother to me, Mrs Melville, and there's nobody I'd rather have to give me away.'

‘We'd better get to bed. We'll need all our beauty sleep if we're to look our best tomorrow. I just hope it's a fine day.'

It was more than fine, it was a perfect June day, the sun streaming through the window as, one after the other, they washed at the kitchen sink. Fully dressed, Lizann took one last look in the wardrobe mirror, and smiled in satisfaction. The straw picture hat was the same shade as the powder-blue two-piece. She hadn't been too sure in the shop under the electric light, but in daylight it matched exactly. Looking at her reflection from every angle, she was positive that the costume made her look slimmer, or maybe it was the cuban heels of her court shoes, which certainly made her taller. Picking up the navy clutch bag, she went into the kitchen.

‘Oh, Lizann, lass, you're a perfect picture,' Mrs Melville breathed.

‘You're very elegant yourself,' Lizann smiled.

The grey coat-dress was very smart, and the silk, swathed turban sat on the silver hair – permed and blue-rinsed for this occasion – as if it had been specially fitted. ‘I'll not need a coat, will I?' her landlady asked, anxiously. ‘I've only the one I wear every day.' After buying her own dress, Mrs Melville had handed over all the coupons she had left, which had enabled Lizann to buy a decent trousseau … not flimsy nightdresses and lingerie this time, though. She was older now, more sensible.

‘It's too warm for a coat.' And when Lizann stepped out of the taxi at the church, she was thankful that she had chosen something lightweight to wear; she would have melted in the heat if it had been any heavier.

Ella came forward when they went through the door and walked behind them up the aisle to where Dan and John were waiting, and the ceremony began. After placing Lizann's hand in Dan's, Mrs Melville stood back, fishing her handkerchief out of her sleeve to wipe away the tears which persisted in edging out.

The ceremony did not take long, and the bride and groom walked out hand in hand, to be whisked off in a taxi to the Douglas Hotel, where, as only the fish workers knew how, the real celebrations took off. Even with food on ration, the hotel – helped by items provided by Ella, Dan and Mrs Melville – had laid on an appetizing meal, which was eaten amid a joyful hum of voices and loud cackles of laughter at obviously risqué jokes. Dan had been disappointed at not being able to get more whisky and other drinks for the toasts, but looking around, Lizann couldn't help smiling at the amount of bottles on the tables. Most of the men must have taken something in with them – bought on the black market, more than likely – so it promised to be a very convivial affair.

It was hilarious, everyone determined to have a good time and to make sure everyone else did, too. Eventually it came time for the cake to be cut. It was more Madeira than wedding cake – Mrs Melville having made it from an egg-less, fruit-less recipe in the
Gert and Daisy Cook Book
– but Dan guided Lizann's hand on the knife as if it were a three-tiered confection par excellence. Cries of ‘Speech! Speech!' made him blush, but he kept standing when Lizann sat down.

‘First of all,' he began, letting his eyes rove round the now hushed assembly, ‘on behalf of my wife and myself …' He had to wait until the foot-stamping died down before he could carry on. ‘… I'd like to thank you for making our wedding day one we shall never forget. I would also like to thank the matron-of-honour and the best man for executing their duties so well …' more cheering ‘… and last, but by no means least, my undying thanks to Mrs Melville for giving Lizann to me.'

He sat down to thunderous applause, and when it died away, John stood up. ‘Now it's my turn,' he smiled. ‘I didn't realize until Gladys told me that the best man has to read out all the telegrams, but here goes.'

Lifting the papers in front of him, which he had already arranged in what he thought would be the most suitable order, he went through the straightforward good wishes from some of Dan's workers and the women who had worked with Lizann, then he said, ‘Now we come to the more colourful messages. First, “To Lizann and Dan – May all your troubles be little ones – Davey.” ‘

‘He drove the lorry yesterday,' Lizann whispered to Dan. ‘That's him sitting at the far end of the table on the left.'

‘Next,' John went on, once the clapping stopped, ‘ “May your joys be as deep as the snow in the glen, and your troubles as few as the teeth of a hen.” That's from Mr Birnie.'

‘He's the manager,' Lizann whispered. ‘His wife's ill so he couldn't come, but it was nice of him to send a telegram, wasn't it?'

John was grinning broadly as he held up a hand for silence. ‘There are two more, gems from the pens of poets who prefer to remain anonymous.' Taking up an orator's stance, he recited:

‘We all fell in love with Lizann,

We were sure she was needing a man,

But now she is leaving,

And leaving us grieving,

For the man she has chosen is Dan.'

The tumultuous applause increased when an apprentice admitted proudly that he and the other mechanics had taken their whole half-hour off one dinnertime to make this up, and John had to bang the table before he could read out the final item.

‘We'll look for the sun, we'll look for the rain,

We'll look for Lizann, but all in vain.

She's left us for love, for a farmhouse so nice –

She'll gut no bloody fish now she's Mrs Fordyce.'

John looked up and, doing his best to make himself heard above the gales of laughter, shouted, ‘It just says “From all the coopers”.'

‘Stand up and take a bow, Runcie,' came a yell. ‘We ken it was you.'

To everyone's delight, a small, middle-aged man rose to his feet and looked across at Lizann. ‘I hope it didna offend you?'

‘No, no,' she assured him. ‘We'll treasure it … all of them.'

John sat down to a sustained round of applause, and for the next ten minutes there was great activity as the men helped to dismantle and move all the tables to make way for the dancing. The floor cleared, the three-piece band supplied by the hotel came in and struck up a swingy quickstep. Every male, it seemed, wanted to dance with the bride, and Lizann thoroughly enjoyed her popularity for the next couple of hours. At last, however, she knew it was time for more serious matters, and taking her life in her hands, she mingled amongst the friends she had made and was now on the brink of leaving, to bid them goodbye. Knowing that she would break down when she came to Gladys Wright, she left her until last, and they stood in a corner amid all the uproar clasping hands tearfully. ‘You'll write?' Gladys asked.

‘Yes, and you too? I want to get all the news.'

Both were aware that they would have less and less in common as time went past – Lizann would have only the farm to write about; Gladys would give up work when her husband was released from the prison camp – but they meant what they said at that moment.

Most of the men, and some of the women, were what was euphemistically termed ‘merry' by this time, a few even more than that. The cackles of laughter had become screeches, the jokes bordered on the obscene, and Lizann was quite relieved when some of them began to make a move towards the door. Before leaving, everyone shook hands with the bride and groom, said how much they had enjoyed the ‘do' and wished them health and happiness. Mrs Melville had only time to give her lodger a tearful hug before she was swept away by the woman with whom she was to share a taxi home, but it was perhaps a good thing, Lizann thought. She couldn't have coped with a long-drawn-out parting from her just then. She would write to her in a day or two.

At last only the bride and groom and their matron-of-honour and best man were left. John leaned back in his chair. ‘I've attended quite a few weddings in my time, but I've never enjoyed one so much before, not even my own.'

‘The same goes for me,' his wife smiled, ‘but don't settle yourself down. These two have a long journey ahead of them.'

Lizann stood up. ‘Yes, we'd better be going, or it'll be all hours of the night before we …'

She came to a halt when Dan pulled her back into her seat. ‘We're not going anywhere tonight, my sweet. I booked a room here. It isn't much of a honeymoon, but I thought …'

‘Oh, Dan,' she said, her eyes brimming, ‘you're an absolute darling.'

‘I do my best,' he beamed.

‘In that case …' John began, leaning back, but Ella fixed his lapel. ‘In that case, nothing! Dan and his wife want to be alone.'

‘Oh, of course. Sorry!' He rose rather unsteadily. ‘I hope you have a good journey home, Mr and Mrs Fordyce …'

‘Come on!' Ella urged, adding to Lizann, ‘He'll be like a bear with a sore head in the morning.'