She couldn’t think of anything to say which wouldn’t sound prudish or childish, and wriggled out of his encircling arm, fastening her buttons as he sat up with a sigh.
‘Aye, maybe you’re right, for I’ve done more than I should already.’
She was relieved when he turned away and glanced round the room – he would find nothing wanting though he compared this homely kitchen with the one at Blairton – but she was glad when his eyes came to rest on the tall grandfather, standing sentry at the side of the fire. ‘That’s a fine clock.’
This pleased her even more. It was the pride of the Gray household, and looked magnificently beautiful tonight, she thought, the Spanish mahogany reflecting the glowing coals in the range. ‘My father bought it as a wedding present for my mother at a sale in Findhavon House when Lord Hay died, and he got their initials engraved on the pendulum. He must have been real romantic when he was young, though it’s hard to believe when you look at him now.’
Jumping up, she opened the door in the long case to show him the brass disc, and he hoisted himself round on to his knees to make out the letters as they swung from side to side. ‘GG – EW. That would be George Gray and ...?’
‘Elizabeth Watt, that was my mother’s single name.’
‘Aye, right enough, that was real romantic.’ He glanced idly up at the clock face. ‘My God! It’s half after eight.’
Clambering to his feet, he lifted his steaming bonnet and coat from the fenderstool and put them on, then held a lighted taper to the wick in the lantern. ‘Your father would have a fit if he came in and found me here,’ he laughed, walking to the door.
Standing with him in the tiny porch, Elspeth wished that he didn’t have to go, but his last kiss made her heart sing with joy again, and she went inside happily to pin up her hair and to wash before her father came home. In the cold, corrugated iron lean – to which her mother referred to as the ‘back kitchen’ – it had been erected a few years previously so that a sink with running water could be installed – her blood cooled down quickly, and she was sitting by the fire again, outwardly calm but inwardly reliving every moment of her time with John, when she heard her father at the porch and stood up to ladle out his soup, her hands trembling.
Geordie Gray removed the snow from his boots by thumping his feet on the stone step before coming into the room, a huge white figure. Taking off his coat and bonnet, he looked around him, his eyes widening when he saw that his wife was not there. ‘Where’s your mother?’
‘She’d to go to Aberdeen.’ Elspeth pointed to the note still lying on the table, accompanied now by the large steaming bowl.
He grunted when he read it. ‘Janet would have your mother running after her though it was only a sore head she’d got. She’s aye been the same.’
He said nothing else until he finished his broth. ‘Well, lass, how did you fare coming home? I’d a bit o’ a struggle, just the wee bit I’d to come.’
Elspeth thought it would be best to tell him at least part of the truth. ‘I went past our house without seeing it, and I’d have been lost if I hadna met John Forrest. He made sure I got back here.’
Geordie’s brows shot down, his piercing blue eyes full of suspicion as he said sharply, ‘And since when did you ken John Forrest? You’ve never let on that you ken’t him before.’
‘I didna, but he told me who he was.’
‘You should ken better than speak to a man you’ve never been introduced to.’
Her heart sinking, Elspeth tried to defend herself. ‘I thought I was lost ... I thought I’d perish in the snow if I’d to keep on wandering about ...’
‘Perish? Havers! You’ve two sturdy legs, so what made you think you would perish?’
‘I was getting awful tired, and when I saw the lantern, I just asked if ...’
‘You spoke when you didna ken who the man was?’
‘I ... I didna think, Father, I was that worried.’
‘So I’ve raised a weakling,’ Geordie growled. ‘A lassie that can’t even find her way home without asking a strange man to help her.’
‘John Forrest’s not a strange man.’
‘He was a strange man to you ... or so you said.’ He eyed her with renewed suspicion.
‘I didna ken him, truly I didna.’
‘If I ever find out you’ve been lying to me, Elspeth, I’ll leather your backside till you’ll not be able to sit down for a week.’
Flustered, she turned away and concentrated on breaking up the coals with the heavy poker, so that the guilty scarlet of her cheeks could be attributed to the heat, and when she looked round again, her father had lifted the big family bible from the dresser and taken it over to the table. When he bent his head to read his daily passage, she took the opportunity to study him. Nearing fifty, he had the erect bearing of a far younger man; his white hair – she couldn’t remember it being anything else so he must have turned white when he was quite young – was wiry and unruly; his lined face and rough hands were weatherbeaten from years of working out of doors.
At ten o’clock, Geordie stood up. ‘It’s time we were housed up, so get to your bed now. I’ll bank the fire wi’ dross before I come up.’
She rose obediently. ‘Goodnight, Father, and I’m sorry for making you angry.’
He nodded gravely. ‘Aye, and you’d best ask God to forgive you, and all.’
Climbing the narrow stairs, Elspeth wondered what he would have said if she had told him everything, for, as far as she was concerned, her father’s wrath was even worse than God’s.
Chapter Two
At five o’clock the following morning, Elspeth was awakened by the sound of Geordie Gray clearing snow from the door before he set off for the farm, but she lay on for nearly another hour, remembering how she had dreamt of John Forrest’s kisses, of his gentle caresses, of his growing passion ... and hers. At last, ashamed of her dreams and of her own part in what had happened the night before, she flung back the blankets and got out of bed. The bedroom was ice-cold, so she did not linger over dressing, and went down to cook the porridge for her father. The coarse oatmeal was soft after soaking in the pot all night, so he would have no complaints about lumps when he re-turned for breakfast at half past seven.
Having to stir the grey mass until it came to the boil, she gave herself up to daydreams. Would John want to court her? If only he would, it would be all she would ever want, and she was practically certain that he loved her. Not that he had said it, but he hadn’t needed to. What he had done was proof enough for her. She did not know how long he would be at home, but surely it would be long enough to let them get to know each other properly, to avow their love, to make plans for the future. She could just imagine herself keeping their little house clean and tidy, laundering his clothes, cooking for him ... making porridge as she waited for him to come down to kiss her good morning after a heavenly night of passion. He would take her in his arms for so long that she would forget what she was supposed to be doing, and it would be John who noticed that the pot was boiling ... the pot! The lovely pretence evaporated in a flash as she jerked the fiercely bubbling pot off the fire and laid it on the hob. Thank goodness she had noticed it in time; her father would go mad if his breakfast had the least taste of singeing.
The kettle also having come to the boil, she took it into the back kitchen and gave herself a wash. Then she filled it again and put it on the hob, moving the porridge pot farther away from the heat, for it only needed to be kept warm now. At last she was ready to set off for work, a little earlier than usual in case there were drifts. It was still dark, but her father had cleared a passage from the porch to the gate, and much of the snow had been blown off the road into the fields overnight, and what was left was crisp now and easy to walk on.
Early as Elspeth was, Nettie Duffus and Kirsty Tough were in the little anteroom behind the workroom when she arrived, hanging their heavy coats and shawls on the hooks provided by their employer, Miss Fraser.
‘What a st
orm last night.’ Kirsty lived just along from the shop and couldn’t really have known how bad it was.
‘How did you manage home, Elspeth?’ Nettie asked.
‘It took me a long time,’ Elspeth admitted, ‘and I’d went right past our house without seeing it. I thought I was lost, but I met John Forrest and he saw me home.’ As she had hoped, the other two girls pricked up their ears at this, and wee Kirsty, only fourteen, listened with open curiosity when Nettie, a year older, plied Elspeth with questions. ‘John Forrest? What’s he like? What did he say? Did he ask to see you again?’
Elspeth blushed. ‘He’s awful nice, and I asked him in.’
Kirsty’s large brown eyes widened, and Nettie’s breath was so taken away that it was a few seconds before she said, ‘What did your mother say about that?’
‘She wasna there, and my father wasna back from seeing to the beasts.’ Elspeth savoured their shocked wonder to the utmost.
Nettie was first to recover. ‘Elspeth Gray! You were never in the house wi’ him on your own? Did anything happen?’
Fortunately for Elspeth, Miss Fraser put her head round the door at that moment. ‘Stop chattering, girls. It’s turned half past seven and there’s work waiting to be done.’
In the workroom, three box-topped treadle sewing machines stood against one wall, and two long benches in the centre of the floor. Elspeth was now trusted with some cutting, she and Nettie carried out all the machining, while Kirsty, as well as basting for them, had been learning how to sew buttonholes and invisible hems. Grace Fraser herself added braid or frogging to the heavier costumes after they were assembled. She was a strict taskmistress, but her young assistants accepted any reprimands from her in the same way as they accepted the low wages and long hours – with gratitude for being taught their trade by such an excellent needlewoman. Only when their employer was closeted with a material salesman, or a valued customer, did the girls talk in whispers, discussing the plots of the cheap love stories Nettie got from her older sister, or turning over the gossip of the area.
As soon as she could, Nettie returned to the attack. ‘I’m near sure somebody tell’t me John Forrest was in the Gordons, but maybe it wasna him. Did anything happen, Elspeth?’
‘He’s home on embroc ... embarkation leave, for he’s being sent to France, and he’s going to Canada when the war’s finished.’
Nettie was obviously disappointed. If he was intending to go away, there was little chance of him allowing himself to become serious about Elspeth or anyone else, but that didn’t mean that he hadn’t tried something when he was presented with such an opportunity. ‘Did he not even kiss you?’
Flushing deeply, Elspeth kept her head down.
‘Aye, I can see he did.’ Nettie was triumphant. ‘You wouldna have went all hot and bothered like that if he hadna.’
‘All right, then, he did kiss me, and ...’
‘Was it like it was in the Awakening of Emma?’ Nettie interrupted eagerly, referring to a romance they had all read recently. ‘Did you get shivers up your back and the shakes in your legs?’
‘Aye, and my stomach was going round and round and all, but ...’ Elspeth broke off, then said, earnestly, ‘Oh, I can’t describe it, it was that exciting, but I think he loves me ... and I ken I love him.’
Young Kirsty, who had been drinking everything in, shocked them suddenly by saying, ‘Did he seduce you, Elspeth, and take you against your will?’
Nettie gasped, and Elspeth’s cheeks flamed guiltily but Miss Fraser’s appearance saved her from having to reply.
‘Your face is as red as a beetroot, Elspeth. What’s wrong with you?’
‘I’ve been coughing a bit, Miss Fraser.’ She was conscious of the suppressed mirth of the other two girls, but they had their heads down, seemingly engrossed in their work.
It was almost an hour before Nettie had the chance to press Elspeth for an answer to Kirsty’s question. ‘Well, did he?’
Elspeth didn’t pretend not to know what Nettie meant. ‘No, he didna,’ she said, trying to sound as indignant as she could.
‘Was you disappointed?’
‘Och, Nettie, that kind o’ thing just happens in stories.’
‘It doesna just happen in stories. Our Aggie said she’d to fight her Chae off the very first time she went out wi’ him.’ Nettie’s eyes danced as she added, ‘She must have stopped fighting him off damn quick, though.’
Knowing that Nettie’s sister, married three months before, was already six months pregnant, they dissolved into fits of muffled laughter. They had learned the facts of life early, from what they heard passing between the women of the village, and from watching the animals on the farms.
At mid-day, they sat round the fireguard in the anteroom to sup the hot soup they carried with them in flagons which had been left sitting at the fire. Conversation at this time was rather limited, however, because Miss Fraser sat with them. ‘You got home all right last night, then, Elspeth?’
‘Yes, Miss Fraser.’ Elspeth kicked Nettie’s foot under the chair in retaliation for an elbowed nudge.
‘That’s good. I was quite worried about you having to walk so far in that dreadful blizzard, and I was glad that your brother came for you, Nettie, not that you’d so far to go. Of course, you’re only a door or two along, Kirsty,’ Miss Fraser went on, to show that there was no favouritism, ‘so I suppose you got home safely, as well?’
Kirsty, always tongue-tied when their mistress spoke to her, nodded her head so vigorously that her soft, dark hair escaped from its restraining ribbon and the woman tutted impatiently. ‘You can’t see with that mop over your eyes, get Nettie to tie it back properly for you.’
Only the clatter of the sewing machines and the thump of the goose iron broke the silence of the afternoon, and Elspeth allowed herself to return to the daydream of a torrid romance with John Forrest; a romance which, if it ever did transpire – there was her father to reckon with – would be short-lived if he carried out his plan to emigrate after the war.
At six o’clock, the girls put the lids on the machines and swept up the threads and clippings that littered the floor, so it was almost twenty past before they went outside, where the darkness of the village street was illuminated somewhat eerily by a scattering of gas lamps. The two younger girls walked off in the opposite direction, and Elspeth turned to make her way home alone, thankful that it wasn’t snowing. It was still very windy, however, and, bending her head against the biting cold which stung her cheeks, she jumped nervously when a voice spoke close beside her.
‘Are you not going to speak to me?’
‘Oh! Hello, John.’ She had been afraid that he might think she was a trollop, as her father described any woman with loose morals, and was pleased that he still wanted to see her. She was also glad that the dim light hid her blushes.
He tucked her arm through his when they left street and gas lamps behind, and they made their laboured way along the ice-rutted road towards the Denseat cottar houses. She felt rather uncomfortable that he had said nothing more, but guessed, quite correctly, that he was just as embarrassed as she was, and was relieved when he stopped walking and turned towards her. ‘There’s a dance in the Masonic Hall tomorrow night ... eh ... would you like to come wi’ me?’
‘My father wouldna let me.’ She could foresee the trouble there would be if she as much as mentioned it.
‘I’ll wait outside when you get home till you let me ken what he says. You’re old enough to go dancing.’
She was old enough, she thought sadly, but John didn’t understand how strict her father was, and he wouldn’t approve of dancing, she was sure. When she went into the house, she found that Geordie wasn’t yet home – she hadn’t been able to think clearly about that – but her mother was sitting by the fire, cutting off the tail of one of his flannel shirts to make a new collar. ‘Mother, would Father let me go to the dance tomorrow night? John Forrest’s asked me to go wi’ him.’
Lizzie Gray was take
n aback by the request, and the name of her daughter’s intended escort completely disconcerted her. ‘John Forrest? How do you ken him?’
‘He’s waiting outside for me to tell him.’
‘He’s not standing out there in the cold?’ Lizzie’s kind heart forced her to add, ‘You’d best ask him in.’ Bundling up the mutilated shirt and pushing it behind the cushion at her back, she turned in time to greet the young man who was standing shyly just inside the door. ‘Now, what’s this about a dance?’
Holding his cap in both hands, John pleaded, ‘Can Elspeth come wi’ me to the Masonic Hall the morrow night, please?’
Lizzie had no idea how Elspeth came to be on such friendly terms with John Forrest, but he came of a respected family and they were obviously very attracted to each other, so her sense of romance overrode her anxiety for her daughter. ‘You’ll see she gets home safe?’
‘Oh, aye. She’ll come to no harm wi’ me, I promise you.’
‘She’d better not.’ Lizzie smiled to take the sting out of the words. ‘I’ll get your father to agree, Elspeth.’
The girl’s anxious face cleared. ‘He kens John helped me to get home last night, for the storm was that bad I was lost.’ She conveniently overlooked Geordie’s reaction to John’s good deed.
‘Is that right?’ This information astonished Lizzie even more, but she turned gratefully to the boy. ‘It was awful good o’ you, John, and I’d like you to come to supper one night, for I’m sure Elspeth’s father would like to thank you as well ... that is, if you want to come?’
‘I’ll be pleased to come, pleased and honoured.’
His manners impressed and warmed Lizzie. ‘You’d best come on Saturday, then, when Geordie’s not so late in finishing.’
‘Thank you, I’ll look forward to that, but I’ll have to get home now. Goodnight, Mistress Gray.’
‘Goodnight, John, and thank you again for taking care o’ Elspeth last night.’
The boy and girl looked at each other, a fresh awareness springing up between them at the memory of just how well he had taken care of her the previous evening. In the porch, he gripped her hand briefly before walking rather jauntily down the cleared path and disappearing into the darkness, leaving Elspeth wishing that he had at least kissed her.
Time Shall Reap Page 2