The Girl with the Creel (8 page)

Lizann's offer to help with the dishes was taken up, but little was said during the operation. When everything was washed and laid past, Bella Jeannie bundled up the tablecloth, shook it out at the back door and, with not one dirty spot to be seen on it, put it in the washing basket to be washed the next day. Then she swept the floor, remarking, ‘I like everything to be spick and span, and it's best to clean up as you go along.'

With this evidence of pride in her house, Lizann expected her to take off her filthy overall before she sat down, but she settled herself into her armchair oblivious of her own appearance, her eyes closing almost as soon as her huge rear end came in contact with the seat.

Afraid to speak now, Lizann looked at Peter, who grinned. ‘That's her till Dad comes in again, and she's as bad as him for snoring. We'd be as well leaving her to it.' Getting up, he went over to his mother and gave her arm a poke. ‘We're going out for a walk, Mam, and then I'll just take Lizann home.'

‘Thank you for having me, Mrs Tait,' Lizann murmured, deeming it best not to address her by her Christian names, although it was how she was commonly known.

‘You'll have to come back some time,' Bella Jeannie mumbled vaguely, before her eyelids drooped again.

‘I don't think she's pleased about the engagement,' Lizann remarked when they were outside.

Slipping an arm round her waist, Peter said, ‘It wasn't that. She was annoyed I'd spoken to your father and never said anything to her, but she'll get over it. She'll be a good mother-in-law to you when the time comes, I'm sure.'

Lizann shuddered at the prospect of having Bella Jeannie Tait as a mother-in-law – something that had slipped her mind until then – but Peter couldn't choose his relations any more than anybody else could.

‘We're not going to live there when we're married?' she asked.

‘God no! She'd never stop interfering. We'll look for a house … up the town, not in Buckpool, but there's plenty of time.'

Before she went to sleep that night it crossed Lizann's mind that she hadn't thought of George the whole day. She could hardly believe it, but it was surely a good sign. She'd had the feeling, on their last night, that if she'd given him the slightest hint that she might not marry Peter he'd have thrown over his girlfriend and come to Buckie to court her. But he probably wouldn't have, and he'd be engaged to his Katie by now, so it was best to forget him.

If she married Peter … when she married Peter, she corrected herself, she would be ecstatically happy. She hadn't told him a lie when she said she still loved him, for she did … didn't she?

Chapter Four

‘It's time I tidied out the foot o' the lobby press,' Hannah observed, one dull morning, after Willie Alec and Mick had left. ‘Your father just chucks everything in there.'

‘I'll do it if you like.' Lizann was glad of a change from polishing the brasses and washing and ironing clothes, and there was always a possibility that she would come across something interesting.

She smiled ruefully when she opened the door. The two shelves where her mother kept articles only needed for occasional use were neat and tidy, but the bottom of the cupboard was in a proper mess. She lifted everything out and laid it on the linoleum behind her, then scrubbed out the wooden floor and, waiting for it to dry, looked to see what could be thrown out. There were tins of nails and screws, a box of the tools her father used for the jobs around the house and a cardboard box with old door handles and lots of other items he obviously thought might come in handy. She sifted out the things she thought were past being useful, and put the rest into the carton neatly before she returned boxes and tin to the cupboard.

Next she set an old storm lantern in its original place, also two old rolls of wallpaper her mother used for lining drawers. Lastly she came to a thick bundle of old newspapers dated 1908 and tied with a piece of string. Wondering what was so interesting in them that they'd been kept twenty-two years, she undid the knot and felt something hard and flat inside. Carefully opening out the yellowing pages, she uncovered a gold-framed picture of a fishergirl with a creel on her back, standing on the shore looking out to sea.

It was a sketch, not a photograph, but it fascinated her because she could see a likeness to her mother in the girl's face and the way she was standing. She could be a sister, but Auntie Lou was Hannah's only sister and she had never mentioned going round with a creel when she was young. Maybe this was a younger sister who had died … or got into some kind of trouble that had made her run away in disgrace?

Intrigued, Lizann took the picture through to the kitchen, but when Hannah saw it she let out a horrified gasp. ‘Ach, I forgot I'd hid that thing in there.'

This increased Lizann's curiosity. ‘It's not a thing, Mother, it's a lovely picture. Why did you hide it away?'

‘Never you mind. Put it back and leave it.'

But Lizann couldn't drop the subject. ‘Who is she?'

‘It's me!' Hannah snapped. ‘So now you know.'

This was a great surprise to her daughter. ‘I didn't know you'd ever sold fish. Were you ashamed of it? Was that why you hid the picture?'

‘Aye, I was ashamed. I wasna brought up to earn my living. My father was like Willie Alec; he didna believe in lassies going out to work. But he was a terrible drinker and he died wi' some disease on his liver when I was sixteen, and Mother pined that much, she passed on less than three weeks after him. Lou got the house in Rannas Place and I was to get the money, but there was hardly nothing left when the funerals was paid for. Lou'd been going steady wi' Jockie Flett, so they got wed, but they couldna afford to keep me for nothing, and … well, Mother's old creel was still in the loft, and Lou said I could easy sell fish round the doors like Mother did when she was single. I didna argue, for Lou was aye a lot stronger than me.'

‘Selling fish round the doors wasn't a disgrace,' Lizann said, gently.

‘I was just a hawker, and the country folk looked down on me.'

‘You just imagined that.'

‘Then Willie Alec … well, he took a fancy to me, and after we got wed, he got … a man he ken't to draw that picture of me.'

Detecting a faint unease in her mother now, Lizann asked, ‘Who was he, the man that drew you?'

Hannah's eyes darted away. ‘He was … ach … he was just somebody your father ken't.'

‘Did you not know him?'

‘Not till Willie Alec took him to the house after we was married.'

Her mother's patent reluctance to talk about it only made Lizann want to hear more. ‘You must have got to know him when you posed for him.'

Clearly embarrassed, Hannah refused to be drawn out any further. ‘Your father hung it up above the fireplace, but I didna like being reminded of … of things, so when he was at sea one time, I put it away.'

Sensing a mystery here, Lizann said, ‘But he must have noticed …?'

‘He ken't why.'

Lizann gave up. ‘Can I take it and hang it up in my room?'

‘Ach, do what you want wi' it!'

When Lizann had placed the picture to her satisfaction, she stood back to admire it. It looked as if the artist had thought a lot of her mother … maybe loved her, but it would have been all on his side, for she had never looked at any man but Willie Alec, everybody said that. She would have sent this other man packing and had hidden the picture because it reminded her of him … or had she been drawn to him in spite of herself?

Wishing she knew the truth, Lizann reflected that whatever the story behind the picture, she would treasure it for ever.

When she returned to the kitchen her mother tutted irritably. ‘Ach, I should have got another bag o' flour yesterday, though I'd have had plenty for this pie if your father hadna wanted scones last night.'

‘I'll go and get some.' Putting on her coat, Lizann opened the door and stepped out into the frosty January air. The new year of 1930 had started very cold.

‘Lizann!'

Her heart started palpitating at the sound of the familiar voice, and, praying that her ears hadn't deceived her, she spun round. ‘George!' she exclaimed in wonder. ‘What are you doing here?'

‘I've come to see you.'

‘What about Katie? Does she know?'

‘I broke off with her. What about you and Peter?'

The bubble burst. ‘I've promised to marry him.' She couldn't back out now, not when all their friends and relations knew they were engaged.

There was a pause before he said, ‘Congratulations! And I hope you'll be very happy together.'

Although it was heartily said, Lizann could tell he was downcast, and when he made to walk away, she grabbed at his arm. ‘You can't go just like that.'

‘I think I'd better, before I forget myself and kiss you.'

‘George, I'm sorry,' she whispered.

‘Don't be. I'm pleased for you.'

‘But I still love you, and all.'

‘Don't say it, Lizann,' he groaned.

‘It's true, and I wish you could kiss me.' She also wished with all her heart that she wasn't wearing Peter's ring. If she had known George would come back to her, she would never have got engaged.

They gazed at each other, the same pain stamped plainly across both faces, then a voice from inside the house broke the spell. ‘Who's that you're speaking to, Lizann?'

Startled, she whispered, ‘It's my mother,' and called in answer, ‘It's a man asking how to get to Portessie. I've been trying to tell him, but it would be easier if I took him up and showed him.'

‘Aye, that would be best, and you're going up the town, ony road.'

Over aware of each other and unable to let even their hands touch, they walked along the street. ‘My mother's waiting for flour. I'll have to hurry. I'm sorry, George.'

He looked at her sadly. ‘I should never have come. We said all that had to be said in Yarmouth.'

‘I'm awful glad to see you.'

‘Forget about me, Lizann. Marry your lad and be happy.'

‘Will you marry Katie now?'

He shook his head. ‘I don't think so. I said things to her that … maybe I expected too much.'

They had come to a junction – where Low Street leads to the harbour and the seafront, and High Street, to the right, goes up to the central shopping and housing area – when Lizann whispered, in alarm, ‘Oh, here's my auntie. You'd better go down that way.' She pointed to the low road, and raised her voice. ‘Straight along there. You'll see all the big houses up on the brae, that's Portessie.'

‘Thank you,' he said, politely, walking off.

With her aunt's inquisitive eyes fixed on her, Lizann had to drag hers away from George, but his slumping shoulders had told her that he was as miserable as she was at their being riven apart with no chance to say goodbye. ‘He wanted to go to Portessie, Auntie Lou,' she explained, ‘and Mother said I could show him. She needed me to get flour.'

Louise Flett nodded. ‘I'll come to the grocer wi' you, then, and walk back wi' you. I was going to see her, ony road.'

Sore at heart, Lizann had to listen to a long diatribe about her Uncle Jockie's shortcomings, thankful that Lou didn't expect any comments from her. Back home, she offered to make the pastry to let the sisters chat, and at last her mind could deal with her own troubled thoughts. Seeing George again had made her realize that she loved him much more than she had ever loved Peter. For the five minutes they'd been together it was as if the sun had come out from behind a cloud to light up her world; as if she had been sexually stimulated. Every nerve end in her body was raw and tingling, waiting for some miraculous wand to be waved so that she and George could make love again.

Feeling the fire burning inside her and wondering if it showed on her face, she glanced across at her mother and aunt, but they were totally absorbed in their gossip and wouldn't have noticed if there had been a chimney on top of her head sending up great puffs of smoke. Smiling at this inane thought, she picked up the rolled-out pastry with trembling hands and laid it over the meat in the pie dish. After flaking the edges and decorating the top, she asked, ‘Will I put this in the oven now?'

Hannah tore herself away from Lou's graphic account of what Jockie had done when he came home drunk the night before. ‘What's that, Lizann? Oh, the pie! No, just leave it. It doesna need to go in for a while.' She turned to her sister again. ‘Now, Lou, you was saying …?'

Their supper taken care of, Lizann went upstairs and lay down on her bed. No matter how loving Peter was, he had never made her feel the way George had done today without as much as touching her. And she should be ashamed of the sinful thoughts she'd had downstairs, things that should never enter the mind of an unmarried girl … but she was married … to George, if not by vows made in front of a minister, by the bonds they had forged, the bonds of love, of physical fulfilment. She shouldn't have let him go a second time. She wouldn't get a third chance.

Despite being sure that he would go back to Katie, whatever he'd said, she knew that her heart would always belong to him. Right to her dying day, she would remember how his twinkling eyes had grown serious and tender when he looked at her; how his work-roughened fingers had gently traced the outline of her cheekbones; how their bodies had fused … She shook her head to stop the pain-filled thoughts, and then realized that they all added up to one thing. She couldn't marry Peter now, and the sooner she broke the engagement, the better.

She went out in answer to his knock that night so tense that her stomach churned and knotted, even threatened to disgorge its contents, but her resolve remained unshaken.

‘I'm taking you home with me,' he said, linking arms with her. ‘My granny's not well, and Mam and Dad are away to Fochabers to see her.'