by Millie Vigor
When they reached the beach she took Robbie’s shoes and socks off so he could run barefoot and race the waves as they broke and dropped to run across the sand. She took off her own shoes, took Robbie by the hand and went with him into the shallows. When a wave crashed onto the beach and rushed towards them she ran with him and swept him up when they were overtaken. Again and again they walked into the sea then turned to run, laughing, ahead of the foaming water.
Norrie stood to watch them and love for the plucky young woman, who defied dislike and prejudice and who battled against the odds to fulfil her husband’s dream, welled up in his heart. One day he might share in the joy and laughter he was witnessing now. But first he had to deal with Sheila.
‘Are you not going to join us, Norrie?’ said Catherine.
‘No, I’m happy watching you.’
‘I canna run any more,’ said Robbie.
‘Will I carry you?’ said Norrie, and when the little boy held up his arms he picked him up and hoisted him on to his shoulders.
‘It’s time for his bed,’ said Catherine. ‘We’ll go home now.’ Swinging her shoes by their laces she walked barefoot beside them.
‘Do I get a cup of tea or are you just going to throw me out?’ said Norrie.
‘You do and you can make it while I put Robbie to bed,’ said Catherine. Norrie had it ready when she came to tell him the little lad was sound asleep.
Their talk as they sat at the table and drank tea was of sheep and the coming agricultural show. She told him she was looking forward to it as it would be the first time she’d had an animal to enter. When tea cups were empty, Catherine stood up and when Norrie said he was leaving she went with him to the door.
‘Don’t forget to go in and see Kay,’ she said.
Suddenly Norrie’s arms were around her and he was holding her very close. Being held by a pair of strong arms was something that had been absent from Catherine’s life for a long time; it was something she didn’t want to stop, so she didn’t resist.
‘Don’t turn me away, Catherine. I haven’t deceived you,’ whispered Norrie, his lips in her hair. ‘Don’t turn me away.’ Then he put a kiss on her forehead, let her go and was out of the door and gone.
TWENTY FOUR
CATHERINE’S PROGRESS IN trying to bring Robbie’s dream to fruition was not easy. The animals she had thought to be such gentle creatures she found to be anything but. Some were stupid, some nervous, some aggressive, others plain difficult and all subject to a host of ailments. But with Daa’s help she soldiered on.
From the previous year’s crop of lambs she had chosen two males which she had not had castrated, hoping that one would be worthy of a prize. They had both developed into fine animals, but she favoured one in particular and in order to gentle it had put it on a tether. By tending, feeding it and handling it, it had become easy to manage. It was tethered on the back green behind her house and was the animal she had decided to put in the show. Every day, whatever else she had to do and whatever time of day it was, she slipped it from its tether and, with a lead rope fastened to its collar, took it for a walk. After a while, Noble, for that’s what she decided to call him after Kay had said what a noble beast he was, became used to being led about. He took no notice at all when Mina and Laura came out to watch or when Robbie, held fast by Kay, jumped up and down. Daa told her she was a clever girl to make the ram so docile and manageable.
‘You don’t think I’m wasting my time then?’ she said.
‘Making a ram easy to handle is never a waste of time,’ said Daa. ‘They can be pig-headed when they want, and aggressive.’
Billie laughed when Catherine told him what she’d been doing. ‘They’re powerful beasts and you’d never handle him if he got nasty,’ he said. ‘How are you going to get him to the show?’
‘I don’t know yet,’ said Catherine. ‘I’ve got to get someone to help me, I can’t walk him all the way and I don’t want to borrow Daa’s pony cart.’
‘I can take him,’ said Billie. ‘I’ve bought a van and I’d like to help you.’
With her rising excitement at how well the ram was shaping up, at how it might fare in the coming show and now the problem of how to get him there being solved, Catherine forgot her decision to keep Billie at a distance. She threw her arms round his neck and kissed him. ‘Oh, Billie, you are a darling,’ she cried.
Billie gasped and clutched her to him. ‘You too, Catherine …’
With his face so close to hers Catherine saw the shock on it. ‘Stop, stop,’ she cried. ‘Don’t say any more.’ Pushing him from her she turned away. ‘Um … ah … I’m sorry, Billie, I’m sorry. Thank you for coming over, but I’ve got to get on now, can’t leave Robbie with Kay too long … she hasn’t been too well … um.’ She talked too fast and suddenly seemed to run out of words.
Billie took hold one of her hands, ‘It’s all right, Catherine, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you again.’ Then he was off, running as he went.
Catherine stamped her foot in annoyance at having forgotten her resolve not to encourage him. What can of worms had she opened now?
Irritation with herself carried on to evening and to little Robbie. Despite his protests she bundled him off to bed much earlier than his usual time.
Catherine rose very early on show day. She slid out of bed, picked up her clothes and crept out of the bedroom. In the kitchen she dressed, then picked up a bag she had put ready the night before. Quietly she lifted the latch, opened the door and went out to begin working on Noble. She lifted his feet to see that they were sound; there was no need, for she had looked at them regularly ever since she had decided to enter him in the show. Next she saw to his fleece, combed and trimmed it until, standing back and looking at him from every angle, his outline was as perfect as she could make it. She could do no more; final primping would have to be done at the show. She patted the top of his hard white head. ‘Do your best for me, Noble,’ she said. ‘Just do your best.’ Then she left him to go and wake Robbie and get their breakfast.
Billie arrived before they’d finished eating. ‘Have you had anything to eat?’ she asked and when he said no she made him sit and take a bowl of porridge. ‘You know it’s going to be a long day. What on earth were you thinking of?’
‘I thought you might be waiting for me.’
Equipped with a small bag of feed, a comb, clippers and a clean jacket for her, she was ready at last. Billie had driven down the track and his van now stood outside Catherine’s house.
‘I’ve put some straw in the van to keep him clean,’ he said as Catherine fastened a lead rope to the ram’s halter and undid the tether.
‘Do you think he might panic?’ said Catherine. ‘Perhaps we should have put him in before this to see how he reacted.’
‘He’ll be all right,’ said Billie. ‘There’s a place we can tie him.’
The back doors of the van were open. With Billie on one side and Catherine on the other they lifted Noble’s front feet into it. Then, clasping hands behind his rump, with one heave they pushed him in. Billie tied the end of the rope to a ring set in the floor, then shut the doors.
‘Did you put your stuff in?’ he asked. Catherine said she had. ‘Get in then and we’ll go.’
‘I’m not getting in there until you get to the top of the hill,’ said Catherine. ‘I … I … It’s too steep. I’ll walk.’
Billie grinned. ‘You’re chicken,’ he said.
‘Chicken or not, I’ll join you at the top.’
Hoping the ram wouldn’t panic Catherine crossed her fingers. Kay looked out and wished her luck, the aunts too. Jannie stood at her door, nodding her head, and said, ‘Hope you do well.’ Catherine thanked her, but her attention was on Billie’s van and the stones that were flying out from under its tyres as he drove up the hill. Gasping for breath as she puffed up the last few yards of track she was relieved to see Billie looking for her. ‘No bother at all,’ he said when she asked how the ram had behaved. ‘You’d think he did i
t all the time.’
‘Let’s hope he’s as good when we have to get him in his pen,’ she said. The sky had clouded over and the day had become dull. ‘Is it going to rain?’
‘I wouldn’t think it,’ said Billie.
‘Better for the animals if it’s not too hot, but I don’t want to see rain.’
‘Go and find your pen number,’ Billie said when they’d driven into the show ground. Pen number allocated, the pen was found and the ram installed.
‘I hope you’re not as nervous as I am, Noble,’ Catherine said as she gave him a last look over. She’d told Billie off for not eating breakfast but had hardly eaten anything herself; now her stomach rumbled and she was afraid she was going to be sick. She stood by the pen and leaned on the top rail.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Billie.
‘No,’ moaned Catherine. ‘I feel sick.’
‘You cannot be sick here.’
‘It’s all right, it’s my nerves; I just feel sick, that’s all. What am I doing, thinking I can compete with men who’ve been working with sheep all their lives? They’ll look at me and think I’m nothing but an upstart.’
‘No, no,’ said Billie, putting a hand on her shoulder. ‘Folk like you and if you think none of them ken what you’re doing then you’re wrong. They ken fine.’
Catherine rested her head on her arms. ‘I still feel sick,’ she said.
‘We have to go home now,’ said Billie. ‘The judges will be comin’ round to do their work. We’ll come back later.’
At home, unable to settle to anything while she waited for Billy to come back and fetch her, Catherine fussed about. She picked up things and put them down; decided to put something ready for tea, then remembered Kay was going to do it. She was impatient with Robbie so Kay said she would keep him with her and would bring him to the show on the bus. Able to contain herself no longer, she walked up out of the valley to stand at the side of the road and wait for Billie. And there he was at last.
‘I am so nervous,’ she said as she got in the van.
‘You don’t need to be, I think you have a fine animal,’ said Billie.
The showground was already full of people, with more queuing at the gate to get in. Cattle and sheep were in pens, chickens, ducks and geese in cages. Horses had been allocated a portion of the field to themselves and young riders there were milling around. Over the clamour of animal noises, voices and laughter, was the booming voice of a man with a loudhailer.
‘Oh, Billie, I can’t wait to see if I’ve got anything,’ said Catherine when the van had been parked and they were making their way to the sheep pens. As they went along the line they looked at the rosettes already on the pens of winners.
‘Do we have one?’ asked Catherine as they got closer to the pen Noble was in. Billie took Catherine’s arm and stopped her, then put a hand over her eyes.
‘Yeh, but you’re not going to look till we get to it.’
‘What colour is it?’
‘I’m not telling.’
Blinded by Billie’s big hand Catherine stumbled along beside him until he brought her to a halt and took his hand from her eyes.
‘We’ve got one … it’s a second … oh!’ cried Catherine. She didn’t wait to open the gate to the pen but climbed up and over, dropped down into it and put her arms round the ram’s neck. ‘You lovely thing,’ she said.
‘You’ve done well,’ said Billie, ‘I didn’t think you’d do so well as that.’
‘Neither did I,’ said Catherine, ‘but we’ll do better next year.’
They looked at the cattle, then at the ponies and workhorses. They peered into pens of chickens, ducks and geese. There were pets too: dogs and cats, goats and all kinds of furry little animals, rabbits and hamsters. In the village hall they marvelled over delicate pieces of lacy knitting, jumpers in Fair Isle, socks, gloves, hats and fine examples of sewing and embroidery too. They strolled along beside trestle-tables and drooled over fancy cakes, jam and pickles.
‘I don’t know how people find time to do all this,’ said Catherine.
‘Well, but they do,’ said Billie.
And then they found Kay and Robbie. Robbie had only been interested in the ponies and now he asked his mother if he could have one.
‘Please, Mam?’ he said.
‘Well, I don’t know,’ said Catherine. ‘Maybe next year.’
Robbie was not happy with that and as the afternoon wore on he dragged his feet and grizzled, so Kay begged a lift and took him home.
‘You’ll let me take you to the dance tonight, won’t you?’ said Billie. ‘You did promise once, remember?’
‘So I did,’ said Catherine.
The festive air of show day carried on into the evening and the dance, which was always held in the Broonieswick village hall after the show. Billie said Catherine should be there and as it had been such a long time since she had been dancing she had agreed. And now she needed something to wear. Her dresses, the ones she had packed and brought with her all those years ago, were lying unworn, folded and creased in the bottom of a drawer. Anxiously she wondered if they would still fit, but, to her delight when she tried them on they did.
If she hurried there was time for a quick bath. She made up the fire and while water was heating put the flat iron on to heat too. The excitement of the day was still with her and when she got out of her bath and towelled herself dry she became aware of how well her body was toned. It was a body that needed love, but she had no husband now and her thoughts turned to Norrie. One day …
The clock struck the hour. She had to hurry or she would not be ready in time and Billie would come rattling down the track. She stood and ironed the dress she had chosen and left it to cool while she combed her hair, powdered her face and put on a dab of lipstick. Dressed and carrying her dancing shoes she walked up to the road. Billie was there waiting for her.
TWENTY FIVE
IN THE CLOAKROOM Catherine hung up her coat and changed her shoes. She looked in a mirror, decided she looked all right and went to join Billie. They sat out the first two dances. Catherine said she didn’t know how to do them, but when a waltz was announced she stepped on to the floor with him.
‘I see the McKechnie lass here,’ said Billie.
‘Where?’ gasped Catherine. ‘Oh. It looks as though she’s with a lad.’
‘Ay, I’d say she is.’
‘Hello, I’m told you did well today.’ It was Norrie.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Why weren’t you there?’
‘Had to go to work, couldn’t get time off. You’re looking awful pretty.’
Conscious that Norrie had only ever seen her in her working clothes, Catherine blushed. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Have you sorted out that problem?’
‘I’ve had words,’ said Norrie. ‘It’s done with. Can I see you now?’
‘As long as you’re sure, I don’t see why not.’
When the music started again he slid an arm round her waist and despite her saying she couldn’t do the Shetland dances they were on the floor and he was saying of course she could. He led her through the steps. When she stumbled he held her, and being wrapped in a pair of strong arms filled her with longing. When the dance was over he smiled and held her longer than was really necessary.
Billie scowled when Norrie took her up for dance after dance. Catherine told him she was sorry, said she wouldn’t dance with Norrie again. At the interval she left the dance floor and went up the stairs to the cloakroom. At the wash basin she was splashing cold water on her face when she heard someone come in.
‘I told you to stay away from him,’ snarled Sheila McKechnie. ‘But I saw you in there. Couldn’t keep your hands off him, could you?’
Catherine mopped her face. ‘We were only dancing,’ she said.
‘Oh yes,’ sneered Sheila, ‘you were only dancing. It was more than that from what I saw. I’m telling you, you’d better watch your back.’
‘I already told him I wasn’t going to se
e him if he was with you, but he told me only minutes ago that you and he were finished.’
‘Oh, he did, did he? Well, that’s what he might think. I’m not going to warn you again. Have you got that?’
‘And I’m telling you,’ said Catherine, ‘you can take a running jump. I don’t want what belongs to somebody else, but if he’s free he’s fair game.’
Sheila jumped at Catherine and grabbed a handful of her hair. She gripped it tight and, while Catherine clutched and scratched in an attempt to make the girl let go, made her run in circles. Sheila was strong. ‘This is nothing to what I’ll do to you if I see you dancing with him again,’ she said. ‘You keep your hands off him.’ Viciously she twisted her hands in Catherine’s hair: twisted with such spite that Catherine wished her nails were long and sharp. She raked them down Sheila’s arms anyway.
‘Little hellcat,’ screeched Sheila as Catherine’s nails drew blood.
Catherine kicked out and was gratified with the thud as she made contact with Sheila’s leg and heard the grunt of pain from her opponent.
‘Stop it, stop it at once,’ shouted the older of the two women who rushed in. ‘Whatever are you doing?’
‘None of your business,’ shouted Sheila. ‘Keep your nose out. I’m just putting her in the picture, OK?’ Gathering force she swung Catherine round and round, then let go so quickly that Catherine staggered across the floor and crashed into the wall, her head snapping up to hit the wall with a loud crack. Winded from the collision, she sank to the floor. For a moment all went black. When she opened her eyes everything around her was fuzzy.
Sheila glared at the two women, then turned to Catherine and shook her fist at her. ‘You haven’t heard the last of me. I shall be around,’ she said. Then, with a shrug of her shoulders she casually walked away.