But the old man was taking too long. And Willie was giving a big cough to let the old man know he was there. The old man looked round, an old man with grey hair down his back.
‘What can I do for you, laddie?’ said this old man.
‘Well, to tell you the truth, I’ve been travelling a long, long way, old fellow, and the sole fell off my boot. I wonder, could you fix it for me?’
‘Aye, laddie, nae bother. I’ve an awful lot of work on. But seeing you’re here to wait for it, I’ll do it for you. Sit down on the chair!’
There was a big, old-fashioned wooden chair. Willie sat down. And he took off his boot, gave it to the old cobbler. The cobbler put it on the three-legged man, the last, and he ran his hand around the sole. But just then Willie saw the curtain parting – at the back of the shop there was no door, just a curtain. And out comes this bonnie lassie with a tray with two mugs on it. Willie looked at her. Bonniest lassie he’s ever seen in his life! The old cobbler’s daughter.
So the old cobbler says to his lassie, ‘Bring another cup. We’ve got a young man here. It’ll be a wee while before his boot’s ready. Get another mug for him!’
The lassie went, parted the curtain and came back with another mug of tea. They sat and they cracked and they cracked. Willie tellt the cobbler his father was a farmer, and he tellt him the whole story.
‘Well,’ the cobbler said, ‘what kind o’ work are you used to doing?’
‘Well,’ said Willie, ‘I help my father. My job was mostly sorting the harness on the farm, mending the saddles and the bridles. On a rainy day.’
‘Ah,’ said the old cobbler, ‘if you ken about leather, laddie, you’re just the very man I want. Look beside me there! I’ve got so much work on boots, so much leather to cut, I can’t do it all myself. You wouldn’t be looking for a job, would you?’
‘Oh, I could do with a bit job,’ Willie says. ‘I’m running kind o’ short of money.’
And the old man says, ‘Look, there’s an empty room upstairs. You can eat with me and my daughter. She lost her mother when she was a wee wean, and I brought her up myself.’
Willie’s heart began to beat quick. He swallowed his spittle. He could hardly crack to the old man she was that bonnie, this lassie!
‘All right,’ he said, ‘old fellow, that would suit me fine.’
‘You got any bundles or baggage?’ said the old man.
Willie said, ‘Just two or three sarks.’
‘Give them to the lassie there. She’ll take them, give them a bit wash to you seeing you’ve been on the road for a while. And come on upstairs!’
There was a wee wooden stair at the side of the shop. And there was a beautiful wee room at the top with a bed in it, and a wash hand basin. Willie said to himself, ‘This is fine for me. I’m going no farther. I’ve found what I want.’
So we’ll leave Willie for a wee while.
Now Jack, after he had bade goodbye to his father and mother, took the puckle money in his pocket. Happy-go-lucky, he wasn’t worrying a damn what he did.
He said, ‘A year’s a long time. I can enjoy myself in a year!’
So Jack travelled on and travelled on, having a bit drink here in the pub and a bit carry-on here and there. And och, three months passed by, just passed like that! Another three months passed and he got two-three jobs, and he wouldn’t settle in a job. But he travelled on till he had no more money left, not a penny. He was broke.
And he’s coming up this road, oh, many many miles away from where he had left his father and mother. This road goes up by this big estate and there’s two big gates.
‘There must be a farm up here o’ some kind,’ he said. ‘Maybe two or three farms. I’m needing to look for a job. I’ll have to get a job o’ some kind to get something to eat.’
He was starving. He had spent all his money. But the first thing he passed was a great big mansion house. Curtains all drawn. There was not a soul about. The grass was growing round about it. It looked derelict.
Jack said, ‘Nobody lives in there. It was used at one time. Whoever owns it made it a good house.’
He looked all around. There were turrets on it, oh, great fancy windows and everything. The gates were closed.
‘Tsst,’ Jack said, ‘it’s a pity a good house like that is going to waste. I wonder why somebody doesn’t bide there?’
But he passed by the house and he hadn’t gone far around a bend till he came to a bonnie wee farm at the corner where he took the bad bend. A bonnie wee farm and a wee road running up to it. And all these hens running about. And cockerels. The reek coming from the lum. It all looked so homely and so clean.
Jack said, ‘I wonder who lives up here? Some old gadgie and old mort. Maybe I’ll get a wee bit day’s work or a puckle something to eat from them anyway.’
So he went up to the door and the first thing came out was an old fat woman with a sheet apron round her waist and her cheeks full of flour. She was baking.
She said, ‘Well, what can I do for you, laddie?’
He tellt the story to her. He said, ‘Look, missus, I’m hungry and I’m looking for a wee bit job.’
‘Oh well,’ she says, ‘I’ll tell you the truth, I could do with somebody! Look, my old man fell and broke his leg. I tellt the old dottering soul many times . . .’
She was the cheeriest old woman Jack had ever met! She reminded Jack a wee bit of his mother. She said, ‘Would you like to come in and I’ll give you something to eat, laddie? I’m just making some scones.’
So she brought Jack into the wee kitchen of the farm house. And there sitting in the chair was the cheeriest old man, a wee fat, round-faced man with rosy cheeks. And he had his leg sticking out wrapped in bandages. His leg was up on the top of a stool.
She says to her man, ‘John, a young laddie at the door – he’s hungry. He’s come a long way. He’s looking for a wee bite to eat and he’s looking for any kind of job.’
‘Job?’ he says, ‘Oh, God bless us! I wish I was able.’
‘I tellt you,’ she said, ‘you dottering old fool, if you hadn’t been rushing about so much – I tellt you one of these days you would fall and break that leg of yours!’
‘Sit down, laddie!’ the old man says. And the old man took out his pipe and lighted it, a clay pipe. ‘Where do you come from?’
So Jack tellt him the whole story and about his two brothers.
‘Ah well, laddie,’ he says ‘there’s no women here except my old wife. I don’t think your father’d be awful pleased with her!’ He said, ‘Look, I could do with you. I could really do with you. And I’ll pay you well. You’ll get plenty to eat here and we’ve all we need, but I need somebody to help my old wife round the farm. There’s cows to milk, byres to clean, hay to cut and things to do. I’ll never get it done in the world! But I’m sorry there’s no women about the village, the town, o’ no kind. Maybe you could get into the big town about nine miles away. You might meet a lassie to please you. I don’t want you to get a lassie in the first place . . . I could do with you here!’
‘Ach,’ says Jack, ‘it’ll no matter. I’ll stick it for a day or two anyway. See what happens.’
But for the first week Jack worked away. And the old man was delighted and the old woman laid praises upon him to the old man. He was so good that laddie, oh, he was just like a son to her. He helped her with the milk and carried basins to her, carried pails for her. He was so good. But the thing was, they had no place for Jack to stay.
The old farmer said, ‘Look, you see that big house you passed by?’ It was only about twenty yards down the road from the corner where the bad bend was. He said, ‘That house belonged to my uncle. I don’t remember him, not very much about him. Because you see he was always overseas. He and his daughter used to go off on holidays. But they never came back. He always went on holidays into the East. And the house is probably as much mine as it is theirs now. But I’ve got the key. And there’s plenty bedrooms in it. It’s fully fitted. And look, Jack
, you can stay down there. There’s a good fireplace. Plenty firewood. You can have it to yourself to stay in as long as you want.’
Jack was very pleased with this.
So after the first week Jack went in, picked the best room he could get. Kindled a big fire and found the best bed he could pick in the big bene cane, big house. Jack was there for a week. Nothing happened.
But one night he was lying on the bed and dovering to sleep because he’d worked hard that day. He had a candle burning on the table. He was fully dressed. He never took his clothes off, just lying on top of the bed. Now the door led from where the bed was into a wee kitchen, where there was a back door. And Jack had left the door open going into the wee kitchen. Because it was warm now in the house Jack had opened the kitchen window to let some air in. And he was lying there after a good feed he had got from the old woman, braxy and tatties and everything. Baked scones and oh, he was really full up. He’s lying in the heat there in the shadow o’ the wee candle.
And he heard ‘cluck-cluck, cluck cluck, cluck-cluck’. And he sat up in bed. ‘Cluck-cluck, cluck-cluck.’ And then coming walking in by the kitchen was a bonnie wee black hen. You know the hens with the silver earrings? Instead of their ears being red like any other hen’s, they’re silvery. Wee black hen not much bigger than a blackbird. A bit bigger than a crow. Anyway it came: ‘Cluck-cluck-cluck-cluck-cluck.’
And Jack said, ‘God bless my soul and body – a wee hen!’
He was glad to see the wee hen for company. And the hen – it jumped up on the bed beside him where he was lying. It cooried down.
‘Cluck-cluck-cluck,’ it closed its eyes and went to sleep.
Jack was dead tired. He was pleased and he stroked its back, the wee toy black hen. He stroked its back.
‘Darling wee thing,’ he says, ‘keep me in company. I wonder where you’ve come from? Ay, you must have come down from the farm.’
But Jack stretched out, and there’s the wee hen lying on the side of the bed in front of him. But then he must have dovered off to sleep somehow with his clothes on. And the next thing . . . he felt was . . . a hand rubbing his brow . . . a hand rubbing his brow. Jack sat up with fright.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ a voice said. ‘Don’t be afraid, just lie still!’
But Jack couldn’t lie still. The candle was still burning. And there lying on the bed beside him was the bonniest lassie he’d ever seen in all his life! Long, dark hair over her shoulders. A long, dark dress and her bare feet. He was dumbfounded.
He said, ‘I’m sorry, my lady, I’m sorry!’
She said, ‘It’s all right. Lie still, lie still.’
But he said, ‘I’m no in bed. I was just resting.’
She said, ‘It’s all right. It’s all right, don’t worry!’
But he said, ‘Where do you come from, my dear? Am I intruding in your house?’
She says, ‘Yes, it’s my house. But just lie still!’
But Jack sat up. He said, ‘I’ll go if I’m bothering you.’
‘No no,’ she says, ‘don’t go! Just stay where you are. You’re just a new arrival here, aren’t you?’
‘Aye,’ he said, ‘I’ve been here for about two weeks. And I’m working for old John and his old wife.’
‘I know,’ she said, ‘they’re relations of mine. Did anything disturb you?’
He said, ‘Well, I’m looking . . .’
She said, ‘What are you looking for?’
‘I’m looking for the wee hen.’
‘A hen?’
‘Aye, a wee black hen that was in . . .’
And she smiled at him. She said, ‘I’m the hen!’
‘Na,’ he said, ‘you’re not a hen! You’re no a hen; you’re a young lady!’
She says, ‘Jack, I’m the hen. And Jack, I know about a lot o’ things. Tell me why you’re here.’ So Jack told her the story.
‘Well,’ she says, ‘Jack, look. I’ll have to tell you my side o’ my story. You see, my uncle was a magician. He and I used to travel into the East where he made a lot of friends, and he made a lot of money there. And I always wanted to come back here. I prayed and pleaded and begged for him to come back home, where I loved this house. This is my home. I was born here. And he said, “You’ll go back, but you’ll not go as a human being. You’ll go back as a hen! And you’ll remain a hen. Only one hour of the night will you ever be yourself. Till some young man comes and takes you to the church and marries you as a hen!” Now Jack, that’s my story. He said, “He’ll have to love you and marry you as a hen before you ever receive your own form.”’
Jack was flabbergasted about this. He didn’t know what to do. He said to himself, ‘I couldn’t make a fool of my father and mother, go back to my father and mother with a hen, tell them I’m going to marry a hen!’ But the lassie was so beautiful and so nice.
There was an old clock on the wall. It went pong – one o’clock. The candle went out. It burnt down. And Jack got up, lighted another candle. And look . . . ‘cluck-cluck-cluck,’ sitting on the bed was the wee black hen.
‘Ah,’ Jack said, ‘I fell asleep. What a dream I had. What a dream! Wasn’t that a beautiful dream?’
But anyway, he couldn’t help thinking about it the next day. It was a dream. It passed out, out of his mind. He worked hard all day. He spread dung on the fields. Garden work all day. But he sat with the old woman, sat and cracked, played a game of cards with the old man and did things till it was getting late. Nine o’clock, he bade the old couple good night.
He said, ‘Ach well, I’ll away down to my bed.’
But he didn’t go to bed. He lighted a candle, kindled up the fire as usual. And stretched himself on the bed. He made no meat for himself, because he got plenty meat in the old house from the old folk. But the old clock, pong-pong-pong-pong . . . ten o’clock.
‘Cluck-cluck, cluck-cluck, cluck-cluck,’ in came the wee black hen again. Popped up on the bed beside him.
Jack said to himself, ‘I wasn’t dreaming. I couldn’t have been dreaming! This must be happening really.’
But anyway he stretched out. He kind of dovered away. The wee hen’s lying, he petted the hen lying asleep beside him. And then pong-pong-pong-pong, twelve o’clock went the clock. Wonst again he felt the bonnie hand, soft hand.
And Jack said, ‘Oh, I must have fallen asleep.’
There was the young bene mort sitting aside him again. Same long black dress, same long black hair.
Jack said, ‘It wasn’t a dream!’
She says, ‘What do you mean, Jack?’
He said, ‘I thought I had a dream last night.’
She said, ‘Jack, it’s not a dream. It’s all the truth. What are you going to do about it?’
Now the days had passed, the weeks had passed. Jack stayed in that house for three months and worked with the old folk. By this time ten months had passed since Jack had left his father and mother. And every night to Jack’s enjoyment he couldn’t wait, couldn’t wait to get back! He wasn’t doing half the work he should have done with thinking about the bonnie young woman. He finally made up his mind, if it was the last thing he ever did. He had to go back to his father in two months. Because the time would soon be up.
He said, ‘Hen or no hen, I’m going to take the chance for it anyway. But I’ll work away for a wee while yet.’
And the reason he worked was the enjoyment he had for an hour to spend with the young woman. He talked about many things. He tellt her about his brothers, and about his father. And she told him about the big house and how she owned it and all the money she had. And her uncle was gone for ever. He would never come back. He had mysteriously vanished. She tellt him all these stories.
At last one evening as he sat beside her when the clock struck twelve o’clock, she said, ‘Jack, it’ll soon be time.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Jack.
She said, ‘In another month I’ll have to be going back again to the East.’
‘Ah,’ says Jack,
‘you’re no going back; you’re going with me!’
So the next morning he went up and tellt the old man and woman: he said, ‘I have to go back to my father and mother.’
The old man and the old woman didn’t want to see him go. They loved him like their own son.
She says, ‘Look, when you go back, if you ever get a woman come back! Come back, Jack, laddie, come back!’ They loved him so much. By this time the old man’s leg was a bit better. He could go about with a staff.
‘Laddie,’ he said, ‘you saved my life. The wonderful things you’ve done for me. Please, please, Jack, come back!’
‘Well,’ Jack said, ‘we’ll have to wait and see.’
So that night he lay on the top of the bed as usual till the clock struck twelve o’clock. The wee hen had come in at ten. And at twelve o’clock the same thing happened – there was the young woman.
He tellt her straight: ‘Look, tomorrow I must go.’
She said, ‘Will you take me with you?’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘there’s nothing else for it.’
She says, ‘Look, if you take me with you, you’d better watch me and be very careful with me, Jack. Because if a dog or cat or anything kills me, Jack, that’ll be it finished. And I can’t take back my form again till you marry me in church. And look on my foot. You’ll see a ring.’
Jack looked. And there was a big silver ring on the wee hen’s foot.
‘Now,’ she says, ‘take it off, Jack, and keep it in your pocket and don’t lose it!’
So then the candle went out once again. It got black dark and Jack fell sound asleep. He wakened in the morning and there was the wee hen coorying beside him.
So he packed all his wee bits o’ belongings, went to the house and filled his pockets full of grain from the old farmer’s shed. Bade the old man and the old woman goodbye, promised he would come back. Took the wee hen below his oxter and off he set.
He travelled on, sleeping in places here and sleeping in places there, giving the hen a wee taste of grain, feeding it and giving it a wee drink of water and taking good care of it. By the time he landed back at his father’s farm one late evening the farm was in lunaries, lighted up! There were lights in every window, music playing, the old-fashioned gramophone was going.
Jack and the Devil's Purse Page 5