‘He was to be mendin’ the thatch,’ Mysie explained, hastily, feeling guilty for no reason, ‘but it was ower cauld, so I took him in for a cup o’ tea.’
Rather stiffly, Jess said, ‘I thought you’d be glad o’ some company, but I can see you’ll nae be needin’ me the nicht.’
Her expression was innocent enough, but a shiver of fear ran through Mysie. Jess surely didn’t think that she’d asked him to sleep with her – that had never crossed her mind. She was greatly relieved, therefore, when Doddie drained his cup and stood up. ‘I was just leavin’, Jess, so you can bide.’
‘No, I’d best get back. I’ll walk alang the road wi’ you, though, if you’ve nae objections?’
He smiled. ‘Nane at a’. I’ll be back on Friday, Mysie.’
Pouring herself another cup of tea, Mysie wondered why Jess wanted to get Doddie on his own. Was she going to tell him about the packman? Or, worse still, what they had done with Jeems? If Doddie hadn’t killed him, he would think she had, and he would never come back. Frantically turning it over in her mind, she decided that it must be a guilty conscience that was making her so nervous. Jess had sworn solemnly never to tell a soul, and she wouldn’t break her promise, for she was a good woman – the very best.
The good woman was struggling with her own conscience. She had said that she would never mention that terrible night to anybody, but she had a duty to Mysie. If Doddie had killed Jeems, he was a poor man to leave the lassie to dispose of the body and take the blame. He should realise that working a bit on her croft was scant recompense for the ordeal he had made her suffer. If only she could be certain, Jess thought. Doddie might be quite innocent, just trying to help, as he had said, so it would be best to wait for further developments before she tackled him. But she could put out a feeler. ‘Mysie was in a awfu’ state the nicht Jeems … walked oot,’ she began, studying his face for any sign of guilt.
‘Aye, she must ha’e been, poor lass.’ There was nothing in his expression except sympathy, but she persevered. ‘She come runnin’ to Downies, an’ me an’ Jake had to quieten her doon, an’ tak’ her hame.’
‘She’s lucky she had you. You ken, Jess, I think a lot o’ Mysie, but she’s still Jeems’s wife. If he’d died, instead o’ just walkin’ oot, I’d ha’e been free to court her an’ …’ He drew in his breath sharply. ‘Ach, I dinna ken what you must think o’ me, Jess.’
She couldn’t make up her mind what she thought. He could be telling the truth, but he was the only man Mysie had allowed to help her, and how often had he been in the house? ‘I dinna think Jeems’ll ever come back, Doddie,’ she said, slowly.
‘If he doesna, Mysie’ll ha’e to work that croft on her ain for the rest o’ her days, an’ …’
‘Sandy’s aye growin’ aulder, though, an’ once he leaves the school, it’ll be easier for her. He’ll be able to dae a’ the heavy jobs.’
‘I suppose so, but … oh, Jess, I might as well tell you. I love Mysie wi’ a’ my he’rt, an’ I’ll never be able to wed her, nae wi’ things the way they are.’
Had she misjudged the man? Was he as straightforward as he sounded? She’d heard of men who could swear the moon was blue and have everybody believing it, but she couldn’t help feeling that Doddie wasn’t one of them. ‘It’s a nasty business,’ she agreed. ‘I can see you’re in a bad position, but you’ll just ha’e to put up wi’ it. You’d baith be the speak o’ the place if you went to bide at Rowanbrae.’
‘I ken that. Maybe I should look for another fee, though it would br’ak my he’rt to leave her.’
Jess, having made up her mind about his honesty, wished that she could let him know that Jeems was dead, but it might shock him to know that Mysie had claimed to be responsible.
When they reached Downies, Doddie grasped her hand. ‘Thank you for listenin’ to me, Jess. I ken you’ll nae tell onybody what I’ve been sayin’.’
Compassion for him welled up inside her. ‘Would you like to come in an’ ha’e a word wi’ Jake? He’d be glad o’ a man body to speak to for a change.’
‘I’ll nae come in, if you dinna mind. I’ve said mair than I should already, an’ I’m nae feelin’ very sociable.’
Jake looked up when his wife went inside. ‘You didna bide wi’ Mysie very lang.’
‘Doddie Wilson was there.’
‘Weel, he’s a fine lad, Doddie, an’ I’m sure he thinks a lot o’ her. He’ll be good for her.’
‘He would that, but he wouldna bide, an’ I wanted to get him on his ain. I’ve aye wondered if it was him that killed Jeems, for I never thought it was …’
‘Oh, no, Jess, nae Doddie. He’s a decent man.’
‘I’m sure o’ that mysel’ noo, just as I’m sure it must ha’e been some other man that did it.’
‘Did you nae believe what Mysie tell’t you?’
‘Did you?’
Jake considered for a moment. ‘Weel, aye, I did. She was feared Jeems was goin’ to cut her, kill her, an’ she tried to stop him, an’ it could ha’e happened like she said.’
‘It could, though I’m near sure it didna. But the terrible thing is, Jake, Doddie loves her an’ he’ll dae naething aboot it, for he thinks Jeems might come back.’
‘A lot o’ folk still think that.’
‘I was that sorry for him, I near tell’t him Jeems was dead, but I managed to haud my tongue.’
‘That’s something new.’ Jake gave a short, snorting laugh, then said, gently, ‘Leave it alane, Jess, there’s nae sense in meddlin’. Let things tak’ their ain road, that’s the best way.’
Chapter Eleven
‘They say Doddie Wilson’s workin’ a lot at Rowanbrae at nichts.’ Jean Petrie looked very pleased that she’d been right.
Jess shrugged. ‘She needs a man aboot the place.’
‘We a’ need a man aboot the place, but we’re decent weemen an’ stick to the man we’re wed on.’
‘Mysie’s a decent wumman, a better wumman than you, wi’ your nasty mind. It’s near six month since she …’ Jess caught her runaway tongue and went on lamely,’ … six month since Jeems walked oot on her, an’ he’ll nae be back … noo.’
Like lightning, the sneer on the woman’s face changed to a fawning smile. ‘I’ll let you go in front o’ me, Jess.’
Dougal Mennie sighed. Mrs Petrie was the bane of his life, and he had thought she would be leaving his premises in a few minutes, but he put on a smile for Jess. ‘What can I dae for you the day, then, Mistress Findlater?’
Jess made her purchases and left, but as soon as she went out, Jean Petrie leaned over the counter to Rosie. ‘What did you mak’ o’ that?’
‘Mak’ o’ what?’ Mrs Mennie was as mystified as the other two customers, who were listening eagerly.
‘Jess said it was six month since Mysie did something. She stopped hersel’ and said it was six month since Jeems walked oot, but I’m near sure she was goin’ to say something else.’
The shopkeeper’s wife raised her eyebrows. ‘Like what?’
‘Like Mysie had put him oot, maybe. Would it have been Jeems that had been takin’ up wi’ another wumman?’
Rosie shook her head. ‘A’body ken’t aboot Jeems an’ Nessie White an’ I dinna think Mysie cared.’
Tutting impatiently, Jean said, ‘I didna mean Nessie – I meant a right wumman.’
‘Nessie’s never been particular what man she lies doon wi’, but nae other wumman would look at Jeems Duncan.’
‘Mysie did.’
‘Aye, but my cousin in Turra tell’t me he’d made a bargain wi’ her father, an’ she’d nae say in it.’
‘Oh, d’you tell me that?’ This was obviously news to Jean, who chewed it over for a few moments before going on. ‘Jeems must ha’e been takin’ up wi’ somebody, for if he’d found oot that Mysie was seein’ Doddie, he wouldna ha’e went awa’ an’ left them free to carry on like they’re daein’.’
Rosie nodded. ‘He’d mair likely ha’e punched her
… oh! Her face was black an’ blue that day she tell’t me Jeems had left her, an’ she said he’d hit her.’
Jean’s eyes narrowed speculatively. ‘You see? He’d found oot aboot her an’ Doddie, an’ he’d punched her an’ walked oot.’
Dougal jumped in at her slight pause. ‘It’s nae oor business what Jeems did, or what Mysie an’ Doddie are daein’. Will you be needin’ onything else, Mistress Petrie?’
‘No, that’s the lot.’ Somewhat abstractedly, she paid him and left the shop.
Looking across the fireside at Doddie, Mysie wondered why he always shied off saying anything personal. For weeks now, she had given him a cup of tea after he had done the work he came to do, and he always thanked her, but he had never once paid her a compliment. He was friendly, like he would be with any woman he knew, but that was all. Sometimes, when they were saying goodnight at the door, she thought that he was on the point of kissing her, but he always sighed and walked off.
Tonight, however, it seemed that he was trying to make up his mind to say something, and she wished that he would come out with it, whatever it was. She hoped he wasn’t going to tell her that he’d taken another fee and would be going away, but if he did, she could do nothing about it. She had no claim on him, he was free to go wherever he wanted, and it might be as well if he did leave Burnlea, for Jeems, even though he was dead, would always be between them.
‘Mysie.’ Doddie had obviously made his decision.
‘Aye?’ Her spirits lifted at the softness of his voice.
‘It’s a damn shame you bein’ here on your ain, an’ me …’
‘I’ve got Sandy.’ She didn’t want him to feel sorry for her, but her heart was fluttering at the thought of what he might be intending to say.
‘Aye, you’ve got Sandy.’ He fell silent again.
Angry at herself for interrupting him, she waited for him to continue, but he said no more and stood up in a few minutes. ‘It’s time I was gettin’ back to Waterton.’
She could hardly hide her disappointment. ‘Aye.’
After seeing him out, she sat down and leaned back in her chair. If he had meant to ask if he could move in with her, she had spoiled it, and being the kind of man he was, he would never ask again. Not that she would agree if he did, for there were too many people waiting for him to do just that, waiting to point a finger at her for committing adultery, and she could never tell them that they were wrong.
She didn’t hear the door opening quietly, and jumped to her feet when he said her name. What he saw in her eyes made him go straight across to her. ‘I couldna go awa’ withoot tellin’ you what I come to say … I love you, Mysie. I ken we can never be wed, but would you let me come an’ bide at Rowanbrae?’
‘It would set a lot o’ tongues waggin’.’
‘A’ the tongues in the place can wag till they fa’ oot, as lang as I ken you love me.’
‘I love you, Doddie, an’ I’d be happy for you to bide here.’
‘I’ll ha’e to go back the nicht, for they’re expectin’ me, but I’ll tell Robertson in the mornin’ that he’ll need to look for another cattleman, though I’ll likely need to work for him till the end o’ the term.’
When he had left, Mysie undressed and went to bed, her spirits soaring, until she began to think. How could she find out if Doddie knew that Jeems was dead? If she were to tell him that she had stabbed her husband, he might ask why, and she could never tell him about the young packman. Hopefully, though, he might admit that it was he who had done the killing, but if he didn’t, she would never know for sure. It was best to leave things the way they were. They would be happy together – as good as married – and he wasn’t the kind of man to let gossip worry him. He loved her as much as she loved him, and nothing could happen to spoil that.
Jess could see that all the wives were anxious to know, but, as usual, Jean Petrie was spokeswoman. ‘Doddie tell’t Robertson he’d be leavin’, an’ he’s nae sleepin’ in the bothy, an’ he took his claes awa’, so …’ she looked round triumphantly at the other customers, ‘so he must be bidin’ at Rowanbrae.’
‘What’s wrang wi’ that?’ Jess demanded angrily.
Jean made a face. ‘What’s wrang wi’ that, she says? An’ Mysie still wed on Jeems Duncan?’
Having almost forgotten that this was what most people would still believe, Jess racked her brains for a way to justify the situation. ‘Jeems walked oot on her, dinna forget, so he canna expect her to …’
‘Thou shalt not commit adultery,’ quoted Mrs Petrie, shaking her head reprovingly. ‘An’ if Mysie’s nae committin’ adultery, I’m a Dutchman.’
‘You’re nae a Dutchman,’ Jess burst out, ‘you’re a narra’-minded hypocrite. You’re just jealous, the lot o’ you, for nane o’ you would turn Doddie Wilson awa’ if he come knockin’ on your door.’ As she moved away, she added, ‘Nae mair would I.’
Calling in at Rowanbrae, she told Mysie what she had said in her anger, and when Mysie passed it on to Doddie that evening, he burst out laughing. ‘Weel, I’ll ken to go to Downies for comfort if you ever tire o’ me, lass.’
Mysie didn’t feel like laughing. ‘Oh, Doddie, I’ll never tire o’ you, but does it nae worry you, folk sayin’ that?’
‘De’il the bit.’
Her own conscience was clear as far as this was concerned, for how could she be committing adultery when her husband was dead and buried? But no one else, except Jess and Jake, and perhaps Doddie himself, was aware of that.
The outbreak of war against Germany took all Burnlea minds off the scandal at Rowanbrae for a short time, even Jean Petrie’s vituperous outpourings being directed solely at the Kaiser. Mysie was happier than she’d been in her whole life, though she sometimes felt guilty that it was because of a war that she was being left to live in peace, and it was Sandy who shook her out of her euphoria one morning. ‘Doddie’s nae goin’ to be bidin’ here a’ the time, is he, Mam?’
‘Aye is he, my loon.’ The dimming of the bright eyes in the innocent young face made her say, sharply, ‘He’s a fine, decent man, Sandy, an’ I wouldna manage withoot him.’
‘But I dinna want him here.’ He regarded her mournfully. ‘We was a lot better when we was just oor ain twa sel’s.’
‘I thought you liked him.’
‘I liked him weel enough afore he come to bide, but …’
‘You’re nae used to him yet, an’ you’ll feel better aboot him once you get to ken him right.’
The unhappy expression on his face as he trailed out warned his mother that there would be trouble once Doddie took over the running of the croft full time, but she couldn’t understand what Sandy had against him. It wasn’t as if the boy had loved his father – Jeems had been hard on him though he had thought a lot of him – but things would surely work out come time.
*
Mysie was sorry for Doddie, who was trying hard to make Sandy like him. He had shown the boy how to do various jobs about the croft, telling him why they had to be done and praising him if he did them well, but the boy remained dour. Even when Doddie helped him with his home lessons, patiently going over again and again anything he couldn’t understand at first, her son was uncommunicative. She was certain that he had learned more in the past two months than he had done in the whole of his time with Mr Meldrum, but his manner towards her lover was still as distant as ever.
That night, as usual, Doddie proved his love to her in bed, but when, also as usual, he pulled out of her abruptly, she murmured, ‘I wish you would let me gi’e you a son o’ your ain.’
A few seconds elapsed before he answered. ‘I canna let you dae that, Mysie, an’ if you think aboot it, you’ll see I’m right. He would be a bastard, an’ you wouldna want him to go through life wi’ that hangin’ ower him.’
‘But he wouldna …’ She stopped, appalled at how closely she had come to telling him that Jeems was dead. What Doddie said was true, in any case. She wasn’t married to him by law, could never marr
y him with people believing Jeems was still alive, so any child they had would be a bastard.
Doddie stroked her hair. ‘I feel as tied to you as though I’d put that ring on your finger mysel’, an’ I consider we’re wed in the eyes o’ God, but other folk wouldna … I would gi’e onything for you to ha’e my son, lass, but it would likely set Sandy mair against me.’
The following morning, when Doddie carried in the two pails of water – he hadn’t let Mysie do it since he came – he said, ‘Pattie White was sayin’ Andra an’ Rab’s goin’ in to the toon the morn, an’ I said I’d go wi’ them. I’ll be platin’ next week, an’ I’ll ha’e to get grain an’ a puckle mair seed tatties.’
‘See an’ nae come hame fu’, then.’ Mysie could have kicked herself for saying it. No doubt he had heard that Jeems had always come home drunk from Aberdeen, and she hated reminding the man she loved about the husband he probably thought was still alive. Doddie, however, was supping his porridge with the same zest as usual.
When Sandy came through on his way to school, he held his head down. ‘I’m awa’ noo, Mam.’
Doddie looked pensive when he’d gone. ‘He never says a word to me, but I suppose he thinks it’s Jeems should be here, nae me. It’s only natural, for he must miss his father.’
Mysie was vaguely uneasy, but she told herself she was being stupid. Doddie was only trying to find an explanation for Sandy’s behaviour, nothing else, though he must wonder sometimes about the suddenness of her husband’s departure.
That night, Sandy’s rejection of him made Doddie show his hurt for the first time. Laying down the school book he was holding, he stood up. ‘There’s nae much point in me tryin’ ony mair, is there? You’ve made up your mind you dinna like me, an’ I admire you for stickin’ to your guns, but I wish you’d understand I’m nae trying to tak’ your father’s place. He left you an’ your mother, an’ I’m here because I wanted to help an’ because I love you an’ her baith. She loves me, but if you canna bring yoursel’ to even like me a wee bit, weel, that’s it. I’ll nae force you.’
The Road to Rowanbrae Page 11