Sammy, who had been looking in a perplexed manner from one to the other with his mouth slightly open, now lifted his hand and flexed his little finger mischievously at the other boy. This raised a howl of laughter from the others, Fobbie himself joining in after a moment of looking shamefaced.
‘That put his gas doon to a peep,’ Susie whispered.
Katie hoped that he would not take it out on Sammy, and for the next few days, she watched her ‘brother’ closely in case Fobbie said something nasty to him in the bothy, but he looked as carefree as always, and she gradually relaxed.
Susie was the only close friend Katie had ever had, but she didn’t dare tell her anything about her life before coming to Struieburn. At times, Katie almost forgot why she had left the Howe of Fenty, she was so happy at the farm, but occasionally the memory of that awful night surfaced in her dreams, making her wake up shivering yet sweating, her heart clattering painfully against her ribs. Not wanting to disturb Susie, she would lie as still as she could, thanking her lucky stars that Mr Sutherland had found them hiding in his barn.
She tried not to think of her grandparents now. She had considered writing to let her grandfather know that she was well and working on a farm, but she remembered in time that, even if she put no address at the top, the postmark on the envelope would be a clue to her whereabouts.
As they did every Hogmanay, the Sutherlands invited all their workers to the farmhouse in the evening, laying on a huge meal and refilling glasses with brown ale even before they were empty. Afterwards, the table was shifted into the passage to make room for the dancing, music provided by the first horseman on an accordion and the ploughman’s son on a penny whistle. Most of the wives were there to keep an eye on their husbands, but there was a surplus of men, and some of the young bachelors danced with each other, the ‘lady’ mincing about with an exaggeration that made the spectators go into wild paroxysms of laughter.
At first, Sammy sat forward in his chair with his eyes – brighter than ever with the beer he had consumed – popping out of his head, his feet tapping rhythmically, but the urge to join in grew too strong. Jumping to his feet, he cavorted round the floor with his arms in the air, grinning happily.
‘You’re supposed to have a partner, Sammy, man,’ somebody shouted, and he stopped in confusion until Mrs Sutherland took his hands and skipped along with him.
‘Are you enjoying yourself?’ she asked, grimacing as his heavy boot crunched down on her toes.
‘It’s fun, this,’ he beamed. ‘Dancing’s easy.’
‘Not so easy on my feet,’ she groaned.
When the music stopped, he stood waiting for it to begin again, but his partner had hobbled away and the musicians had set down their instruments. ‘Katie?’ he yelled, suddenly realizing that he was the only one left on the floor and unsure of what was happening.
She went across to him. ‘They’re all taking a rest now. Go and sit down.’
‘Gi’e’s a song, Mrs Sutherland!’ a voice called from the back of the room, and needing no further persuasion, the farmer’s wife stood up with her back to the range to face her audience. A deep contralto, she launched unaccompanied into an old favourite.
Oh, sing to me the auld Scots sangs,
In the guid auld Scottish tongue,
The sangs my faither liked to hear,
The sangs my mither sung
As she rocked me in my cradle,
Or held me on her knee,
And I wouldna sleep, she sang so sweet,
The auld Scots sangs to me,
And I wouldna sleep, she sang so sweet,
The auld Scots sangs to me.
Looking round, Katie saw that several of the men – reminded of their mothers – were wiping away sentimental tears, and she wished that she had memories of a mother singing to her. She felt even more sorry for herself when she remembered that she had nobody at all now, for she could never go home again. Thrusting aside the deeply distressing thought, she joined in the shouts of ‘More! More!’
The requested encore was forgotten when the brass clock on the mantelshelf chimed midnight. This was the moment the men had been waiting for, and flat, half-pint bottles of whisky were dug out of pockets to toast the birth of the new year and begin on the business of serious drinking. Raucous voices now vied with each other to make their good wishes echo from every corner of the room.
‘Here’s to 1924!’
‘To us, wha’s like us? Damn few and they’re a’ dead.’
‘Lang may your lum reek wi’ other folk’s coal!’
This old chestnut still raised a laugh, then a deep bass voice began to sing and everyone joined in.
A guid New Year to ane and a’,
And mony may you see,
And during a’ the years to come
Oh, happy may ye be.
Backs were thumped, hands were shaken, each man kissed all the ladies and the celebration carried on, although, as time passed, first one and then another reeled across the floor to go outside to be sick. Sammy, too, was feeling a little under the weather, but in his fear of missing something, he held himself rigidly on his chair, his fixed smile making him look more simple than ever. Katie, not drunk but quite merry, was whirling round with one man after another in the Strip the Willow, but when the dance ended, Lachie Mooney, who had been her most frequent partner, put his arm round her waist and, laughing with him, she let him lead her outside. Sammy made a move to stand up to follow them but, discovering that he had no control over his legs, he was forced to sit back with a thump.
At two o’clock, Madge Sutherland waved to the musicians to stop and addressed those of the company still there. ‘You’ll not be fit for your work unless you get away to your beds for a while,’ she said, loudly, then added with a grin, ‘And will them that can still walk, help them that can’t.’
It was Fobbie Littlejohn who hoisted Sammy up and held him steady as they staggered out. ‘Where’sh Katie?’ Sammy asked, his unfocused eyes sweeping the farmyard.
‘In her bed if she’s ony sense.’
In the bothy, Sammy looked in vain for Lachie, the boy who had disappeared with Katie, and not noticing that there were others missing – those sleeping off the drink where they had fallen down – he jumped to the conclusion that Katie was in danger. Even in his present state, however, he knew that he would be stopped from going to look for her and waited until he thought everyone would be asleep. The twenty-minute rest helped him, and he found that his legs were steadier when he attempted to walk, though he had to concentrate on avoiding the boots and trousers scattered all over the floor.
***
Her brain pleasantly hazy, Katie did not resist when Lachie took her into an outhouse, nor when he pulled her down on the floor, and she soon discovered that being kissed was even better than she had imagined. It was the most thrilling experience she’d had in all her sixteen-and-a-half years.
After about ten minutes, Lachie moaned, ‘Oh, Katie.’
Something telling her that it hadn’t been such a good idea to lie down with him, her body tensed.
‘Let yourself go,’ he coaxed, ‘I’ll nae hurt you.’
She relaxed as his hands stroked her neck, long caresses that sent exciting messages all over her body, and when they slipped down and cupped her breasts, she gave a long sigh of delight. Encouraged, he tightened his grasp until she gasped in pain. Then suddenly, instead of the handsome Lachie, it was Mr Gunn’s mad face she saw hovering over her, and she struggled in fear, but the squeezing strengthened. ‘No! No!’ she shouted.
‘You’ve never been wi’ a man afore, have you?’
The voice was Lachie’s, but it was thick with passion, and his leg was prising her thighs apart. ‘No! No!’ she yelled, again, ‘And you’re not getting to be the first.’
Recalling Susie’s remark about ‘a knee in the knackers’, Katie moved her leg sharply up, at which Lachie jerked back with a cry and she was free. Scrambling to her feet, she raced back to t
he farmhouse, past the table still in the passage and up the stairs. Susie looked at her archly when she burst into their room. ‘What’s Lachie been doing?’
‘Not what he wanted, any road. Oh, I forgot you fancied him …’
Susie grinned. ‘I wasna caring. They were shit mirack, the lot o’ them, and it’s funny the way the drink takes them – some o’them was as happy as pigs among treacle and some would’ve hit you as soon as look at you if you said a wrong word.’
‘Was Sammy fit to walk to the bothy?’ Katie had not given him a thought since she left the kitchen.
‘He must’ve been. I didna see him lying in the yard.’
Undressing quickly, Katie jumped into bed, not bothering to snuff out the candle, and both girls were asleep when their door crashed open. Susie sat bolt upright. ‘What the hell … ? Oh, it’s you, Sammy! What are you doing here?’
Intent on making sure that his beloved Katie had come to no harm, Sammy had forgotten she shared a bed, and he moved in the direction of the voice. A little afraid of him at the best of times, Susie let out a piercing skirl when his arms went round her, but believing that she was Katie, he stroked her head and crooned, ‘Don’t be scared. Sammy’s got you.’
Susie gave him a push that sent him staggering. ‘Get aff me, you great lump!’
Katie had been struck speechless by the sight of Sammy clad only in his semmit and drawers, but now she got up and ran round the end of the bed. ‘What’s the matter, Sammy? Did somebody say something bad to you?’
He turned to her, his anxious eyes clearing. ‘Katie, are you all right? Is Lachie in your bed?’
‘He must have seen you and Lachie going out.’ Susie tried to keep back a laugh at the incongruous figure he cut. ‘It’s me that’s in the bed wi’ her, Sammy. Lachie’s likely spewing his guts up some place else if he’s nae in the bothy.’
Giving a sob, Sammy threw himself at Katie, knocking her off her feet and falling on to the bed with her. Susie, not sure whether or not he was attacking Katie but too scared to intervene if he were, jumped to the floor and stepped well clear, and at that inopportune moment, the farmer ran in to find out why there was such a rumpus. He halted when he saw the bodies on the bed, legs entwined, his face registering his disgust. ‘So you two are at it again, are you?’ he roared. ‘I should damn well never have believed you that first time I saw you.’
Horrified at being caught in such a compromising position, Katie rolled out from under Sammy, quite unaware that more of her was on display than was decent. ‘Mr Sutherland,’ she gasped, ‘he just came to …’
‘I can see what he came for, you little tart, and you’ll get out of here this minute, the pair of you! I’ll not put up with your carry-ons in my house.’
Standing behind him, his wife burst out, ‘Oh, Davey, I’m sure they haven’t …’ She stopped, his heaving chest and crimson face telling her it was useless trying to make him see reason, and when he stamped out she laid her hand on Sammy’s shoulder. ‘Go and put on your clothes, lad, and take the rest of your things back to the kitchen. You’ve time for a cup of tea before the men come in for their breakfast.’
Susie, who had been cringing against the wall all the time Davey Sutherland was ranting, stepped forward when the woman went out. ‘I’m sorry, Katie. I couldna say onything. He’d his mind made up, and it did look as though … your goon was up round your hips, and Sammy’s backside was bare.’
Giving a sobbing sigh, Katie looked at Sammy. ‘Tie up your things like you did last time, we’ll have to leave.’
‘Was it Sammy’s fault?’
‘No, it was my fault. If I hadn’t …’ She couldn’t trust herself to say more.
Pulling up his drawers so that he wouldn’t trip over them, Sammy left, and Katie dressed and wrapped her clothes in her shawl again. Susie, silenced by the awful turn events had taken, sat down on the bed and watched her, but when she saw Katie ready to go, she muttered, ‘I couldna help screaming when he grabbed me. If it hadna been for me …’
‘It’s all right, Susie. I know you got a scare.’
‘I’m awful sorry, though.’
Katie shook the outstretched hand to show she bore no ill will, and went down to the kitchen, where Mrs Sutherland had set out some thick slices of bread and a pot of jam. ‘I know Davey was wrong in what he thought,’ she said. ‘Sammy’s just got the mind of a bairn, and I admire you for trying to look after him. I was thinking, though. You’ll not find another place so easily, but my brother’s the manager of a hotel in Peterhead, and I’ve often heard him saying he can’t get good workers. So I’ve written him a letter, a kind of reference, saying you and Sammy are honest and dependable. The address is on the envelope, so if you let him read it, he might give you both jobs. You’ll get a bus on the turnpike …’ She stopped and looked at the clock. ‘Oh, it’s hardly five yet, so you’ll not get a bus for a while. You’d better just keep walking and keep a lookout for one coming.’
Katie was too choked up to speak, but her eyes showed her gratitude. Sammy came in then, and when he had eaten his fill – she was too upset to take even a cup of tea – they lifted their bundles and Mrs Sutherland saw them to the door. ‘I’ve put your wages in the envelope, as well.’
‘Thank you.’ Katie had not forgotten this time to take the money she kept in a drawer with her underclothes, but more would always be welcome.
‘Good luck.’ The farmer’s wife patted Sammy’s still-smooth cheek and went inside.
Sammy said nothing for a long time, walking with his head down as if he were trying to figure out the reason for their abrupt departure from the farm, then he said, ‘Have we far to go, Katie?’
‘To the main road,’ she told him, relieved that this was all he had on his mind, for she had been half afraid that he would ask her why Mr Sutherland had been so angry. ‘I’m not sure how far.’
It did not take them very long to reach the main road, and they had walked along it for little more than thirty minutes when Katie heard the sound of an engine. When the vehicle came in sight, she was disappointed to see that it was an old lorry, not the bus she had hoped for, and pulled Sammy to the side to let it pass. The driver, however – a middle-aged man wearing a cloth cap and a jacket with holes in the elbows – stopped as he came abreast of them. ‘D’you want a lift?’ he asked, eyeing the bundles they were carrying.
‘We’re making for Peterhead,’ she told him, ‘so if you’re going that way, we’d be …’
‘I’ve a load o’ tatties for the prison, but there’s room for the two o’ you.’
He jumped out and let down the backboard for them, Sammy scrambling up first and giving Katie a hand. She was glad that they would not be sitting in the cab with the driver; he might have asked too many questions. Their journey was not very comfortable, but they leaned against the bulging sacks and Sammy, for one, was satisfied with this mode of transport. With having little or no sleep the previous night, the rocking motion made them both doze off, until Katie sat up abruptly. ‘We must be near the sea!’ she said in delight, poking her companion.
‘How do you know?’ Sammy asked. ‘I can’t see it.’
‘I can smell it.’
At the next crossroads, the driver drew the lorry to a halt. ‘I’m turning right here,’ he said, as he let them off, ‘and you’ve to turn left if you want the town.’
‘Thanks,’ she smiled, knocking lumps of dry soil off her skirt. They watched him drive away, then turned in the other direction. She felt quite excited now. She had forgotten that Peterhead was a fishing port; it would be nearly as good as being at home.
Her elation vanished when she discovered that Peterhead was much larger than Cullen; a place this size was bound to have a big police station and more bobbies. Should she risk taking a job here? But it wouldn’t matter where they went, for all the police forces in Scotland would be looking for them by this time. If they were recognized, she would tell the truth, and surely they wouldn’t hang Sammy when they learne
d what had happened? The trouble was, they likely wouldn’t believe her, whatever she said.
Her mind took another turn. Even if nobody connected them with the murders, could she trust Sammy to behave himself? But whatever it cost her in heartache, she would never ever desert him. He had nobody else to look after him, and she owed him her life, after all.
Squaring her shoulders, she stopped a passing workman and asked how to get to the Temperance Hotel.
Part Two
Chapter Seven
1924
Still not accustomed to his maroon livery although he’d worn it for three weeks, the night porter was admiring himself in one of the plate-glass doors of the hotel when Katie came out of the kitchen. ‘You look smart, Sammy,’ she smiled, ‘but you’d better not stand there or Mr Leith’ll be after you.’
Puffing out his chest, he boasted, ‘I carried four lots of luggage in last night and I took one out this morning.’
‘Good for you, but I haven’t time to speak to you just now. It’s time to start the breakfasts.’
His happy face fell. He hardly ever saw her now – he was ready to go to bed when she was just starting work – and if he did see her, she was always too busy to speak to him. She looked prettier than ever in her black dress and white cap and little apron, though, and he liked it here. A hotel was even better than a farm. He never got his hands so dirty, for one thing. The people – guests they were called – gave him money for carrying their cases and bags, and he’d a lot of shillings and sixpences in the tin Katie had given him to keep them in. When he was off duty, he built them up on top of the chest of drawers in his room, shuffling the piles about until they fell down, then he put them all back in the tin. If only he knew where her room was, he could go up and speak to her sometimes, but she wouldn’t tell him, not even though he was her brother.
The Three Kings Page 9