Catherine of Deepdale

by Millie Vigor

  ‘Hush,’ said Kay, ‘hold on, you’re nearly there.’ Plumping the pillows behind Catherine’s back, Kay prayed silently for the arrival of the doctor.

  ‘Did you put the water on to boil?’ said Catherine as she lay back and waited for the next contraction.

  ‘I did; kettle and pans.’

  ‘And the rest of the stuff is laid out?’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Lumsden’s not going to get here, is he? … aaah,’ cried Catherine as another contraction took hold of her. Snatching a handful of sheet in each hand she leaned forward and bent to the effort of putting all her strength into pushing. Her face grew red as she roared through clenched teeth.

  Kay held her breath, wrung her hands together and once again prayed for the arrival of Neil Lumsden.

  ‘Will you look to see what’s happening, Kay?’ said Catherine as she breathed easy again now that the spasm was over.

  ‘I can see the baby’s head,’ said an excited, but nervous, Kay. ‘What should I do?’ But there was no need to ask, for Catherine, every muscle straining was pushing again. ‘Its head is out now,’ cried Kay.

  Breathing deep and hard Catherine leaned back. Then, as another urge to push came and while Kay clenched her fists and willed energy into Catherine, she bore down on it and with one last effort pushed her baby into the world.

  ‘It’s a boy,’ cried Kay as the baby spluttered, opened its mouth and wailed.

  Catherine, every muscle relaxing, softening, giving way, closed her eyes and gave a long deep sigh. A boy, she’d given Robbie a son, thank God. ‘See to the baby, Kay,’ she said and almost without knowing it shed the afterbirth.

  ‘I know you’ve already told me what to do, but tell me again.’

  ‘Take the cotton wool and wipe his eyes like I showed you; one swab for each eye, then clean his face. Now you have to cut the cord,’ said Catherine. ‘Can you do that?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Kay and swallowed hard at the thought of it. ‘Talk me through.’

  ‘Take the string you sterilized, tie the cord in two places about six inches apart, one close to the baby, as tight as you can, very tight, then cut it in the middle.’ It was important that Kay should get it right and Catherine forced herself to sit up and watch. ‘That’s right,’ she said. When it was done she held out her arms to receive her son, a warm damp bundle in a soft white swaddling cloth.

  ‘Just look at him, Kay,’ she said. ‘All that black hair. Isn’t he wonderful?’ The two women, heads together, looked at the little screwed-up face and tiny hands, then unwrapping the binding, at the rest of him. ‘He’s perfect,’ said Catherine, wrapping him again to hold him close to her. She looked at Kay and saw that the old lady was close to tears. With the arm not holding the baby she gathered her unofficial midwife to her.

  ‘Oh, Kay, thank God you’re here. What would I have done without you?’ Then as Kay’s tears began to fall, ‘Shush, don’t cry or I’ll be crying too.’ But despite herself Catherine’s own tears came and the two women, heads together snuffled and sniffed as the floodgates opened. At last, with a watery smile as she wiped away her tears, Kay said, ‘I’m just so relieved that nothing went wrong. I don’t know about you, but I could do with a cup of tea.’

  ‘Couldn’t I just,’ said Catherine, ‘but could clean me up a bit first?’

  ‘I’ll do that while the kettle boils.’

  Reluctantly Catherine handed her baby to Kay to be settled in the pram while she was made comfortable and given a cup of tea.

  The snow had stopped falling, the sky had cleared and become as blue as a cornflower while the sun, at mid-afternoon, stooped low to peep through Catherine’s bedroom window. Neil Lumsden, skiing down the hillside, came to a stop by Jannie’s door. It flew open and she appeared. ‘Where’s my patient?’ he asked.

  ‘At home,’ said Jannie. ‘Will I come wi’ you?’

  ‘No need,’ said the doctor. He dug in his ski poles and pushed off towards Catherine’s house. Kay was about to dish up the meal she had cooked when he rattled on the door. He was propping his skis against the side of the house when she opened it. With a cry of joy she said, ‘Oh, I’m so glad you’re here.’

  ‘My goodness, woman, what’s the matter with you? I’m here to see Catherine. Is everything all right? Where is she?’

  Wiping her hands on her apron Kay led the way into the bedroom. Catherine was awake. She was leaning over, gazing into the pram. She smiled when she saw who her visitor was. ‘You’re a bit late,’ she said.

  ‘Well I did tell you not to go into labour in the middle of a snowstorm, but you obviously weren’t listening. Anyway, I’m here now so let’s have a look at you.’ He turned to Kay. ‘Would you mind?’

  ‘You don’t have to ask, Doctor. I’m gone.’

  Sitting on the bed after he’d examined Catherine, seen to the baby and weighed it, Dr Lumsden said he was satisfied with everything and beamed at her. ‘Why am I not surprised that you managed on your own?’

  ‘But I didn’t. I couldn’t have managed without Kay.’

  ‘She’s a good woman,’ said the doctor and chuckled. ‘I bet she never did anything like you’ve just put her through in all the years she taught at school. She was overjoyed to see me; I thought she was going to throw herself in my arms.’

  ‘Poor Kay,’ said Catherine. ‘Thank God she was here if only for moral support, but it was much more than that. She’s a friend in a million.’

  ‘Everybody needs friends.’ Lumsden stood up. ‘I’d better be off, but take advantage of the fact that you’ve got someone to look after you. Stay in bed. I’ll come and see you again in a day or two.’

  In the kitchen Kay was hovering with the teapot in her hand. ‘Can I give you a cup of tea, Doctor?’ she said.

  ‘Don’t you have anything stronger?’

  Kay stared at him, then smiled. When she put the whisky bottle on the table her smile was reflected in the beaming face of the doctor.

  ‘Got to wet the baby’s head,’ he said as Kay poured whisky into two glasses. ‘Besides, I have to climb that hill out of here. Bottoms up.’

  ‘Bottoms up,’ echoed Kay.

  Both glasses were emptied with one gulp. As they were put down Lumsden patted Kay on the shoulder and said, ‘Well done, Mrs Burnett, well done.’

  ‘You have visitors, Catherine,’ said Kay as she ushered Mina and Laura into the bedroom. Mina stalked in to stand at the bottom of the bed. Laura, carrying a parcel, stood beside her.

  ‘So, you’ve had a boy, I’m told,’ said Mina.

  ‘A boy, a boy,’ echoed Laura.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Catherine, wrapping the shawl Kay had put round her shoulders across her chest. ‘He’s in the pram.’

  The pram was beside the bed. Mina led the way, Laura at her heels, and stopped by the side of it. Leaning stiffly forward she gazed for a long time at the sleeping infant. ‘He favours his father then,’ she said as she straightened up.

  ‘So he does,’ said Laura. Then, as she handed the parcel she was carrying to Catherine, ‘I’ve brought you this.’

  ‘Thank you, Laura.’ Catherine opened the loosely wrapped parcel and lifted out a shawl so fine and soft it took her breath away. ‘This is absolutely beautiful,’ she said as she touched it to her face, ‘so fine. You’re so clever.’

  Laura twittered and said it was nothing. Mina turned up her nose and sniffed disapprovingly, ‘What are you going to call him?’ she asked as she inclined her head to look into the pram again.

  ‘I haven’t decided yet,’ said Catherine. But she had for there was only one choice of name for her son.

  ‘Ay … well, you’ll think of something. Now we’d better go.’ Away she went and Laura, trotting behind her, stopped briefly by the bedroom door to give a little wave, then she was gone too.

  ‘Come and look at this, Kay,’ said Catherine when she heard the outer door close behind them. ‘Laura has knitted me the most beautiful shawl. It seems too good to wrap round a
baby.’

  It was late before Jannie came. She was empty handed and walked in ahead of Kay to give Catherine a brief nod before going straight to the pram. There was the suggestion of a smile on her lips as she looked at her grandson. She reached out with both hands as though she would pick him up, then quickly drew back. For long moments she gazed at the child, ‘He’s like his daa,’ she said. ‘Robbie had the same black hair.’ She looked at Catherine. ‘He’s awful bonnie.’ From her bending position over the pram Jannie straightened up. ‘I didna think you would stay to have him, I thought you would go home.’

  ‘No, it was right for him to be born here. Would you like to pick him up?’

  ‘Pick him up?’ Jannie hesitated, but then lifted the baby, cradled him and looked at his little face. ‘He’s just like his daa.’.

  The woman does have a heart, thought Catherine, when she saw how Jannie’s expression softened, how her lips twitched into a smile when she touched her grandson’s face with a fingertip. When she put the baby back in the pram she looked at Catherine. ‘I’m braaly glad du stayed,’ she said. There seemed nothing more to add and abruptly she turned on her heel and was gone.

  Catherine stared after her then, turned to look at her baby. ‘You, my son, may be the one to melt your grandmother’s heart,’ she said and was amused to see the baby’s lips spread in the semblance of a smile.

  Snuggling down in her bed Catherine pulled the covers up to her chin. Kay was away at her own house, the baby sleeping and the house was quiet. Content and happy to think that at last Jannie was about to accept her Catherine settled down to sleep too.

  ‘Cathie.’ The voice came from a long way off. ‘Cathie.’ There it was again. Was she dreaming? Catherine roused herself from sleep and sat up in bed; no one called her Cathie but her mother and she was 1,000 miles away. She must have imagined it and, not expecting an answer, she said, ‘Mum?’

  ‘Oh, there you are.’ Catherine’s mother, divesting herself of scarf and gloves, came into the bedroom. ‘My God, Cathie, what sort of godforsaken place have you landed yourself in? And what are you doing in bed?’ Then, as realization dawned, she gasped, ‘The baby’s here. Oh, let me look.’

  ‘Why are you here, Mum?’ said Catherine.

  But Doris Marshall was making little cooing noises. She didn’t reply.

  Louder this time, Catherine said, ‘What are you doing here, Mum?’

  Doris looked up. ‘What is it, girl or boy?’

  ‘It’s a boy.’

  ‘Lovely,’ said Doris; then, leaving the baby she sat on the side of the bed. ‘I’m here because I thought I ought to be with you and your father said I should.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘The journey was horrendous; I had to walk from the town. I brought my gum-boots because I thought the farm would be muddy. By the way, where is the farm? I haven’t seen anything that looks like one yet.’

  ‘Oh, Mum. Why did you come, why did you come?’ Catherine lay back on her pillows and covered her eyes with her hands.

  ‘Hmm,’ went her mother as she stood up and planted her hands on her hips. ‘It seems to me I’m not here before time. Why didn’t you tell me you were living in a hovel? You didn’t tell me about Robbie till it was too late. Well, now I’m going to find out just what’s going on.’

  They didn’t hear Kay come in. When she said, ‘Hello,’ mother and daughter turned to look.

  ‘This is my mother, Kay,’ said Catherine, ‘and Mum, this is Kay, my next door neighbour.’ The two women shook hands. Then Kay said, ‘I’ll make a pot of tea,’ and Doris said she’d help.

  TWENTY

  DAA SAT ON the bed. ‘How are you, lass? None the worse for your ordeal, I hope. And Kay’s doin’ good by you?’

  ‘No one could do better.’

  ‘Ay, she’s a good wife. Now, where’s the boy?’

  ‘In the pram,’ said Catherine. ‘I expect he’s sleeping.’

  ‘I’m thinking he’s awake,’ said his grandfather. ‘His eyes are open.’

  ‘Are they? Would you like to pick him up?’ Catherine leaned across and turned back the blankets covering her son. ‘He’s bundled up, quite easy to lift.’

  John Jameson slid his big, work-worn hands under the little bundle, lifted the baby and cradled him in his arms. As he did his face softened into a smile. ‘He’s awful bonnie, looks like his daa.’ He turned to look at Catherine. ‘Is he good?’

  ‘Hasn’t had time to be bad yet. No, he’s very good; I’m hoping it’s going to stay that way.’

  ‘It will. He’s got the right mam.’

  With a contented smile on her face Catherine watched her father-in-law’s beaming face as he held his grandson. The old man looked long and lovingly into the little face, picked up and examined tiny fingers. At last he spoke.

  ‘You canna mind how little they are, ‘he said. ‘Do you have a name?’

  ‘Yes. He’ll be Robert after Robbie and John after you.’

  A smile spread slowly across the old man’s face, crinkled the corners of his eyes. He looked at her. ‘Thank you, Catherine.’ Then he lifted his head and looked off into the distance. ‘Robert … John … Jameson … sounds good.’ He looked down again at the child in his arms. ‘I think I should put him back now.’

  When Robert John was tucked up again Daa said he had to go. Giving Catherine’s hand a squeeze he said, ‘Look after yourself, lass.’ He started to walk away but stopped and looked back. ‘Have you a visitor? I saw a wife I don’t know askin’ for you and she was wi’ Kay when I came in.’

  ‘That’ll be my mother,’ said Catherine.

  ‘Ay,’ said Daa, nodding his head, ‘I thought it might be.’

  ‘Now, Kay,’ said Doris when the two women were in the relative privacy of the kitchen, ‘tell me what’s been going on.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s for me to say,’ said Kay. ‘You should ask Catherine.’

  ‘And you think she’d tell me? She doesn’t write often and when she does there’s never anything much in her letters about Shetland, where she lives, or her in-laws. Was that Robbie’s father I met when I asked where Cathie lived?’

  ‘Must have been; he’s the only man in the valley.’

  ‘He seemed pleasant enough and Cathie’s told me about him, but what about Robbie’s mother? There’s never a word about her. Don’t they get on?’

  ‘Ah.’ Kay busied herself with teacups.

  ‘I thought as much,’ said Doris. ‘She’s told me about the funny old aunts and about you and what a good friend you are, but nothing about the old lady. Isn’t she kind to her, then?’

  ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Some don’t take kindly to the English,’ said Kay, ‘and she didn’t know Robbie and Catherine were getting married, let alone when they were coming home. She was very upset and insists she never got the letter Robbie sent.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous. I mean, about the English.’

  Kay, about to pour out tea, put the teapot down with a thump. ‘Oh, come now, Mrs Marshall, you know as well as I do that there are those among us who think themselves superior. The English are notorious for that. They do themselves no good.’

  ‘But my Cathie’s not like that.’

  ‘No. I know she’s not.’

  ‘Right. I shall have to get to the bottom of this,’ said Doris. ‘Let’s have that cup of tea. That was Robbie’s father going in to see my girl, wasn’t it?’ Kay nodded. ‘I’ll wait till he’s gone.’

  Kay poured tea for the two of them.

  ‘It seems to be a desolate place,’ said Doris. ‘I’m sure I don’t know what made Cathie stay after Robbie died, but you’re from the south; why do you stay?’

  ‘I’ve been here a long time so I’m used to it,’ Kay said with a smile, ‘and it does grow on you.’

  ‘Could have fooled me.’

  ‘Oh, I assure you, there’s magic in the islands.’

  ‘And if her mother-in-law is giving he
r a hard time is it magic that’s making my girl stay? Or is there something else I ought to know about?’

  ‘Catherine is a lovely girl; I’m very fond of her,’ said Kay, ‘and I’m glad she’s here, it’s time we had some young people in the valley. Not everyone is against her. Have a bannock, Mrs …?’

  ‘Call me Doris,’ said Doris.

  Daa came through from the bedroom and on his way to the door said, ‘Yon’s a fine peerie lad, you should be braaly proud.’ His accent rich and his speech broad, Daa spoke as he always did. He was gone before anyone could reply.

  When the door shut behind him Doris said, ‘What on earth did he say?’

  ‘He said the baby was a grand little boy; you should be very proud of him.’

  ‘Do they all speak like that?’

  ‘Most do, but they speak differently when they need you to understand. You must have found that to be able to make your way here.’

  Doris thought about this for a moment. ‘Yes, I must admit the people in the town were very helpful, even told me where I could leave my suitcase,’ she said. ‘I think I’ll go and see Catherine now.’

  Catherine was sitting up suckling her baby. ‘What made you risk coming here at this time of year, Mother?’ she said when Doris came to sit on the bed.

  ‘I had a feeling things were not as they should be,’ said Doris, ‘and from what I’ve been hearing I was right, so you’d better tell me the whole story, I’m not going to go home till you do.’

  At that Catherine laughed. ‘Have you looked outside? It’s snowing again. You’ll be lucky if you get home inside a couple of weeks.’

  ‘I don’t care how long I’m stuck here; you’ve got to spill the beans.’

  Snow fell silently all night. In the morning it was still filling the air, feather-light it danced and twirled, then settled flake on flake to cover all with a quilt soft and light as eiderdown. Catherine looked out and worried about the sheep, but the hill gates had been opened and they were on land that was closer to home. Kay said they wouldn’t starve; Daa would be putting out hay, or whatever else he had, to them.