The River Flows On

by Maggie Craig

  Most members of the two families, especially the younger ones, felt the tension in the air without any idea of what was causing it. Agnes Baxter was unhappily aware that something had gone badly wrong between Kate and Robbie. She’d had her suspicions when he’d gone off like that, but the pair of them had managed to keep the full extent of the rift between them well hidden. Until now. Neil Cameron was on a knife-edge, she could see that. So could Lily. She kept clasping and unclasping her hands, darting anxious looks at her husband all the time.

  Lily, Kate had to keep reminding herself, was the only person apart from herself and Robbie who knew what was really wrong. It had never been discussed - she didn’t have those sort of conversations with her mother - but Lily was shrewd enough. She would have worked out why Robbie had gone off to sea.

  Kate was certain, however, that her mother had never told her father the truth. His belligerent defence of his daughter against what he saw as Robbie’s neglect of her tugged at Kate’s heartstrings, but it was misguided. If he knew what she had done ... but he did not, so she was not surprised when he could contain himself no longer.

  It was well after eleven. Grace was sleeping soundly behind the curtains of the box bed. Davie was struggling to show how wide-awake he was, the last hour of the old year, as usual, dragging itself at a snail’s pace towards oblivion.

  ‘What are your intentions towards my daughter?’ The words boomed out in the sleepy room.

  Robbie stood up. Neil, too, rose from his chair. They were squaring up to each other, both almost exactly the same height, both as stubborn as mules - and neither prepared to give an inch. The atmosphere in the room was electric.

  ‘My immediate intentions towards your daughter - who also happens to be my wife - are to take her out for a walk.’ There was a very faint emphasis on that my wife. ‘Do you have any objections to that, Neil? No? Good.’ He wheeled round to Kate.

  ‘Will you get your coat?’ he asked quietly.

  He hadn’t given his father-in-law much time to answer. He’d never called him by his first name before, either. Kate fetched her coat. Her father spoke again.

  ‘I’m not sure that Kathleen should be going out in the cold. She’s been ill, you know. Or hadn’t you heard?’

  Robbie’s voice was cool and unemotional. ‘I’d heard. Although not until a few hours ago.’ His eyes flickered over her as she stood doing up her coat and fastening a muffler about her neck. ‘She’s well wrapped up. A wee bit of fresh air will do her good.’

  There was no need to discuss where they were heading. As they turned down Yoker Ferry Road Robbie spoke, his tone of voice calm and level. ‘I think your father wants to rearrange my face.’

  ‘He doesn’t know,’ Kate put in. They walked on in silence for a few paces. ‘He doesn’t know what I ... what I did to you.’

  She turned her face away, fixing her gaze on their surroundings, on the ferry and the river just coming into view, on anything but the face of the man walking beside her.

  ‘But he knows what I did to you.’

  She looked at him then, but his eyes were fixed on the lights of Renfrew on the other side of the river. The ferry was chugging its way across.

  ‘You’ve no idea how much I’ve missed this river.’ His voice was soft in the darkness.

  And me, she wanted to ask, have you missed me?

  They walked together without touching, in step but a foot or more apart. She had dreamed so often of having him home, had rehearsed what she would say, how she would explain it all to him. Now that he was here she couldn’t seem to get a word out.

  ‘We’ll stop here.’ They were at the rowan tree.

  She halted immediately and saw, her eyes adjusting to the darkness, that there was a faint smile on his face.

  ‘So obedient, aren’t you? Come out when I ask you to, stop when I tell you to.’

  She didn’t know how to answer. He was so different from the Robert Baxter who had gone away nine months before. Oh, he looked more or less the same, but he had a different air to him somehow. He had acquired a polish, a sophistication. Was the real Robbie still there? Or was he buried so deep she was never going to be able to find him again? She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear in the old, nervous gesture.

  ‘Cat got your tongue?’

  Her eyes filled with tears.

  ‘You’re crying.’

  It was a statement of fact. Nothing more. No sympathy in his tone. No attempt to take her in his arms.

  ‘I cried, you know.’ There was still no expression in his voice. ‘Down here. At this exact spot. The night we broke up.’

  Kate found her voice at last. ‘Broke up? Is that how you see it?’

  He went on as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘It was pouring with rain that night, do you remember?’

  Yes, she remembered. She had cried too, had thrown herself across the box bed and cried until she had made herself sick. She could remember the rain beating against the window panes...

  ‘I stood here and cried and the rain ran down the back of my neck and I didn’t give a damn. Nothing mattered.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘I got cold eventually - freezing cold. I started thinking of where I could go to be warm. Somewhere dark and secret. I suppose I was like an animal crawling away to lick its wounds.’

  ‘Where did you go?’ she whispered.

  He turned then and looked at her. Was there still a faint smile on his mouth? ‘I went back to where I had come from that day - where I had found out about you and Jack Drummond.’

  Kate winced at that name - and at what came next.

  ‘The woman there let me in - I must have looked like a drowned rat - and one of her girls took me to her room ... and did what women in houses like that do best.’ He was smiling. If you could call it that.

  ‘I’ve learned to have great respect for women like her. I’ve done business with four or five of them since I’ve been away.’

  ‘Four or five?’ Kate’s mouth went dry.

  Robbie’s smile broadened. ‘Well, on one occasion I was too drunk to know whether I had been capable of anything the night before.’

  ‘Drunk? You?’

  ‘Och, I thought I would try it. See if it helped.’ He paused, lifting his face to the night air. ‘Take my word for it, it doesn’t. Instead of just waking up miserable, you wake up miserable and with a thumping headache. I paid her though, it seemed the least I could do.’ The cool, detached voice went on. Relentless. Ignoring Kate’s growing distress. It’s a business transaction, after all, and I had taken up space in her bed. She was entitled to her money. That’s what I like about it. It’s a straightforward deal - no emotions involved.’

  Kate could take no more. She let out a cry of pain, like a small trapped animal in distress.

  Robbie lowered his head and looked directly at her. ‘Hurts, does it?’ he enquired pleasantly. ‘Thinking of me with other women?’

  Kate squeezed her eyes tight shut. Her voice was an agonized whisper. ‘Aye, it hurts.’

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Now you know how it feels.’ He put a hand inside his jacket, took out a packet of cigarettes, extracted one and lit up.

  She looked at him, so cool, so calm - so cruel. This was not the Robert Baxter she knew. This was a brittle elegant stranger. Elegant? It seemed a funny word to use about Robbie Baxter, but it was the one that fitted. He was studying her dispassionately, putting the cigarette to his lips, striking a match to light it.

  ‘I didn’t know you had taken up smoking.’

  He shrugged. ‘Maybe there’s a lot you don’t know about me. There was certainly a lot I didn’t know about you. Wasn’t there?’

  Kate turned her head away and bit her lip, unable to meet that unforgiving gaze any longer.

  Robbie swore. Coarsely and violently. Startled, Kate looked up. She had known he was capable of it. All the men in the yards did it, but few of them let a curse pass their lips when they were in female company. He gave another angry exclamation and tossed his cigare
tte into the river. She watched the glowing red tip as it fell in an arc towards the water. She even heard the tiny hiss as it was extinguished.

  Then there was rapid breathing in her ear and Robbie was beside her, gripping her wrist, and looking down his long nose at her. ‘Wasn’t there?’ he demanded. ‘A lot of things I didn’t know?’

  Tm sorry,’ she said.

  ‘Sorry?’ he spat out. ‘Sorry? For Christ’s sake, Kathleen!’

  Kate felt a spark of anger. She tossed her head. ‘Yes! I’m sorry! What else do you want me to say? I did a terrible thing to you, but by God I’ve been punished for it! And don’t swear at me!’

  He dropped her arm and took a step or two backwards. ‘I’m sorry for swearing,’ he said tersely. ‘And for taking the Lord’s name in vain.’ He lit up again and stood looking at her from under his dark brows. ‘What was he like?’ he asked abruptly. ‘Our son?’

  ‘Like you,’ Kate said, caught off-balance by the suddenness of the question. ‘He had this really curious look about him - inquisitive. You know?’

  The man in front of her nodded, his lips pressed firmly together.

  ‘I told him his name ... and I told him about you ... and Grace... and me... and he drew his wee eyebrows together, exactly like you do when you’re trying to work something out.’ She was silent, remembering those precious few moments with their son.

  ‘What did you call him?’

  ‘Neil James. After his two grandfathers. My father baptized him.’

  Robbie nodded his head. ‘You chose fine names.’

  Somewhere deep inside Kate a tiny flame of hope flared into life. It was as small as the glowing end of Robbie’s cigarette, and might be as easily put out, but it was there.

  ‘Why didn’t someone write to me?’ he demanded. ‘Let me know what had happened?’

  She stared at him. ‘Jessie wrote to you. Did you not get the letter?’

  ‘Jessie?’ He shook his head from side to side. ‘No, I got two letters from you.’

  ‘No,’ Kate insisted. “The second one was from Jessie. I wasn’t well enough to write. She wrote and told you what had happened.’ Her voice broke. ‘And you never replied. I waited and waited. I even thought you might come home as soon as you got the news. But you didn’t.’

  ‘I didn’t know!’ he burst out. ‘I didn’t open the second letter. I was so sure it was from you. The handwriting looked the same.’ He put the cigarette to his lips, then withdrew it, looking at it in disgust. ‘God, I hate these bloody things.’ It went the same way as the first one.

  ‘You didn’t open it?’ Kate’s voice rose on a note of mingled outrage and incredulity.

  Robbie gave her a curious look. ‘You’re angry at me,’ he observed.

  ‘Yes,’ she said slowly, realizing it for the first time. ‘Yes, I’m angry at you.’

  He was watching her carefully. ‘Because I wasn’t there when you needed me?’

  ‘That,’ said Kate, thinking about it. ‘And because you had me up on a pedestal. You thought I was perfect, that I couldn’t make mistakes. Well, I can. And I did. Why did you not open the second letter?’ she asked, her voice a little calmer.

  ‘Because the first one was so ...’ He paused, searching for the right word. ‘Cold. I couldn’t face another one like that.’

  ‘Cold?’

  ‘Well, what would you call it?’ He quoted verbatim. ‘ “It looks like being quite a hot summer this year. We are all well and hope that you are too.” And the way you signed it! “Kathleen Baxter.” In the name of God, Kate! How do you think I felt when I read that?’

  ‘I don’t know. How did you feel?’

  His answer came straight back at her. ‘That you didn’t love me any more. That you never really had loved me. That you still loved him.’

  Kate was getting angry again. ‘How could you think I didn’t love you? How could you, after how it had been between us two? Are you stupid or something, Robert Baxter?’

  He looked startled. Then his face relaxed.

  ‘Yes,’ he said softly. ‘I’m stupid, a right eejit. I need things spelled out for me.’

  She spelled them out for him. ‘I love you. I always have done and I always will.’

  ‘And Jack Drummond?’ Robbie’s voice was deceptively calm.

  ‘I thought I loved him. I thought he loved me. That he wanted to marry me. I was wrong on all three counts.’ She dropped her eyes, embarrassed at what she was going to say next, but knowing that it had to be said. ‘But that’s why I slept with him ... and I did it once, Robbie. Just once.’

  There was a long silence. Kate shivered as a little breeze off the water stung her cheek. She dared to look up. Robbie was slowly nodding his head.

  ‘That’s what I figured. When I had time to think about it. And he wouldn’t marry you and your mother told you it was me or some old witch with a knitting needle.’

  Kate flinched.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘That was coarsely put. But that was what happened, wasn’t it?’

  She nodded, unable to speak.

  ‘And you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t bear to end a life that had only just begun.’ He paused. ‘Grace’s life.’

  ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘No, I couldn’t.’ She coughed to clear her throat and went on, her voice stronger. ‘I couldn’t get rid of the baby, I just couldn’t - and you were so upset about Barbara. I knew that you loved me, and I thought I could try to be a good wife to you, try to make you happy.’

  She dared a look at him. Robbie was watching her intently.

  ‘When Grace was born you loved her so much... like she loves you so much. I knew that didn’t make it right, but I thought - maybe - it made up a bit for what I had done to you.’

  Robbie’s grave expression hadn’t altered. Kate forced herself to go on.

  ‘Then I realized that I did love you, that it was you I had loved all along.’ Her voice was a whisper. ‘Maybe I’ve realized that too late.’ She had tears in her eyes again. Turning her head away she looked out across the river to the lights of Renfrew. It must be nearly midnight. Almost the New Year.

  His voice was gruff. ‘You haven’t realized it too late. Not as far as I’m concerned.’ His next words were tentative and uncertain. ‘Do you want to start again, Kate?’

  Kate lifted her chin. It was courage that was needed here, not tears. Courage enough not to settle for second best. For both their sakes.

  ‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘I do. But not if I have to go around apologizing for the rest of my life. Not if it’s always going to be cast up at me. Not if you don’t allow me to make mistakes sometimes.’

  There was a catch in his voice. ‘Make as many as you like - just as long as you come back to me!’

  ‘Och, Robbie!’ Was it her or him who closed the distance between them? No matter. They were in each other’s arms.

  ‘Hush, now. Hush. Don’t fight me,’ he added, for she was struggling a little in his embrace.

  ‘Och, Robbie!’ She looked up at him, impatiently wiping away a tear. ‘I was trying to be all grown-up and calm about it, and here I am crying on your shoulder. Like I’ve always done.’

  ‘That’s what shoulders are for,’ he said comfortably. ‘And I’ve cried on yours too, haven’t I?’ He pulled her head down. ‘Now cry. Cry for as long as you like.’

  ‘But Robbie ...’

  His arms tightened around her. ‘Dae as you’re tellt, Kate Baxter.’ He gave her back the words with which she had comforted him the night his beloved sister Barbara had died. ‘It’s all worth crying for, isn’t it?’

  There were to be many more tears in the days and weeks that followed - but no recriminations. That they had decided as they had stood by the Clyde at midnight, listening to the ships’ foghorns heralding the arrival of 1934 in the time-honoured way. A new year, and a new start for them, Robbie had said.

  It wasn’t an easy time. Until they found a new place of their own, their only privacy was a nightly walk by
the river. That was where they talked it all out. They were very frank with each other - and the tears were not all on Kate’s side. Robbie got upset too, especially when he asked her to forgive him for breaking their wedding.vows.

  ‘I hated myself for doing it, Kate. Each time - afterwards, I mean - well, I felt disgusted with myself.’ He paused, and reached for her hand as they walked. ‘If it’s any consolation, the last time was six months ago.’ He swallowed, and she realized he was forcing himself to tell her this. ‘I did it all at the beginning. I think I went a wee bit mad after I left here... ’ His voice trailed off.

  ‘I won’t pretend that it doesn’t hurt,’ she said when she felt able to speak. ‘It does. But I think - maybe – I can understand why you did it.’

  He stopped and took her other hand in his. ‘I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Kate.’

  ‘Aye you do,’ she whispered, looking up into his troubled face.

  ‘Och, Kate,’ he said. ‘Och, Kate.’

  She took him to their baby’s grave and he stood there for a long time with his head bowed. She gave him the time he needed, but when he raised his head at last she was beside him, wordlessly offering him the comfort of her arms. He arranged for the stone Kate hadn’t been able to afford and when the spring came they went with Grace to lay daffodils in front of it in memory of Neil James Baxter.

  ‘We’ll plant some daffodil bulbs for your wee brother later on,’ Robbie said, squeezing Kate’s hand and smiling down at Grace. ‘Flowers that’ll go on living from year to year.’

  In private, Kate had told him anxiously that there could be no more children.

  ‘We’ve got Grace, haven’t we?’ He read the question in her eyes. ‘Grace is my daughter,’ he told her, ‘our daughter. In every way that matters.’

  ‘Then why did you sign your postcards R. Baxter?

  He looked nonplussed. ‘Because it didn’t seem right to put Daddy on something that everyone was going to be reading.’