All right, Effie, face up to it. You’ll have to return to Sutherland, to travelling and pearl-fishing. You’ll have to agree to the children being put into a home, for a little while anyway. How long, though, was a little while? Six months? A year? Five years? Perhaps the home would be close enough for her to be able to visit them, once or twice a year at least.
She would have to forget that such a place as the Old Manse, Kilcalmonell, ever existed.
She would weep but she had learned long ago that there had to be an end to weeping.
She would never marry and would never have children of her own. Would one of those children who would never now exist have had Gavin’s blue eyes?
She took off the ring and put it in her pocket.
At the pier a crowd of people were waiting for the steamer. It could be seen in the distance, with its red and black funnels and its escort of clamorous gulls.
The women were in their summer dresses, the men in flannels and open-necked shirts. One old man wore a Panama hat. Strangers talked to one another. A tight hold was kept on toddlers. Faces were sunburnt. A band played.
Effie was given more than her share of smiles. Some had admiration in them, all had goodwill.
They did not know she was an impostor.
When the steamer had come and gone, and the pier was deserted she decided to pass some time by visiting the old castle.
As she went up the steep path she met a family coming down. There was a girl, a little older than Morag, with a big dog on a lead. It was called Rex.
It growled at Effie. She thought, rather bitterly, that she might deceive people but not dogs. It smelled the traveller in her.
She patted it on its head.
Immediately its growl changed to a friendly bark.
‘That girl,’ said the little boy, ‘isn’t afraid of dogs.’
In her mind she heard Eddie crying, ‘Effie isn’t afraid of anything.’
Thanks, Eddie, but I’m afraid of lots of things.
As she wandered among the ruins it struck her that the lords and ladies who had lived there hundreds of years ago must have had to suffer some of the hardships that travellers did today. They had no bathrooms for instance, no flush toilets, no toilet paper, no showers, and no electricity.
She sat on a bench painstakingly reading what it said in the brochure about the castle and other places of interest. Kilcalmonell was mentioned and the Old Manse. It said that the Old Manse was soon to be taken over by Glasgow Council to be used as a holiday home for city children.
Effie felt a great longing to be a part of that holiday home. She would scrub floors, make beds, wash dishes, peel potatoes, and want no wages if only the children and she were allowed to stay there, in safety.
Gavin would be at college in Glasgow. But she mustn’t think of him.
After lunch in a café, not the hotel, she would hire a boat and row out to the swans. She would ask their advice.
Twenty-eight
‘GIVE GAVIN my regards,’ said Willie, ‘and mind, if you need a change, you’re welcome anytime. There’s plenty of room.’
‘Thank you.’
Morag and Eddie were waiting for her at the gate. She was especially glad to see them after being among so many strangers.
Eddie did not notice the anxiety in her smile, but Morag did.
‘Did anything happen, Effie?’ she asked.
She meant, were you insulted, jeered at, made to feel cheap and worthless?
‘No, pet. Everybody was very nice.’
Because she had succeeded in deceiving them.
They went up the drive to the house.
‘Daniel’s come,’ said Eddie, resentfully. ‘Me and Morag hid in the bracken.’
‘His caravan’s very nice,’ said Morag.
‘Did you go in it?’
‘No. Mother took him up to see Grandfather, but Grandfather was sleeping. Is there anything wrong, Effie?’
Effie could not truthfully say there was nothing wrong.
‘It’s because Daniel’s come,’ said Eddie. ‘He wants to marry Effie. Well, he can’t because she’s going to marry Mr Hamilton. What did you bring me, Effie?’
‘A toy motor car.’
‘Is it the kind that winds up?’
‘I think so.’
‘What colour is it?’
‘Red.’
‘Good. What did you bring Morag?’
‘A little doll.’
‘You shouldn’t have brought us anything,’ said Morag, sternly. ‘We need all our money for food.’
‘Mr Hamilton’s got lots of money.’
‘We can’t ask Mr Hamilton for money. Can we, Effie?’
‘Why can’t we? He’s going to marry Effie. Then his money will be hers too. That’s what being married means, doesn’t it, Effie?’
There was no one at the caravan. Effie decided to put off going to greet Daniel.
‘I’m going upstairs to change my dress. Will you come with me, Morag? Eddie can stay downstairs and play with his car.’
‘You just want to tell her something without me,’ said Eddie, ‘but I don’t care.’
Effie felt guilty. The cheap presents were poor compensation for their having to leave this comfortable house where they felt so happy and safe.
Morag sat on the bed watching Effie take off her dress and hang it up in the wardrobe. She did not notice Effie making sure the ring was still in the pocket.
Effie put on the slacks and white blouse that Mrs McTeague had given her.
‘Gavin likes you better in a dress,’ said Morag.
‘Does he? How do you know?’
‘I can tell. He’s always looking at you. What is it you want to say to me, Effie?’
Effie sat on the bed and put her arm round Morag’s neck.
‘How do you know, you little witch, that I want to say something to you?’
‘I know you, Effie.’
‘I want your advice, Morag. I asked two swans for their advice. I want to know if you agree with them.’
Morag smiled. ‘Did they speak to you?’
‘They didn’t have to.’
‘I’m only ten and I’m not clever, but I’ll tell you what I think.’
‘You know we’re travellers. That’s what people call us because we move about from place to place. Some people call us tinkers but we don’t mend pots and pans.’
‘Tinkers move about too, Effie.’
‘And they sleep in tents like us. We’re often dirty and smelly. We can’t help it because we have to wash ourselves in cold burns. When I was your age I was ordered out of a school because the mothers of the other children said I gave them nits and lice. So I did. We’re called trash. We’re not allowed to camp near houses. People throw stones at us. They get their dogs to chase us away. We’re terribly poor.’
‘Why are you telling me all this, Effie? I know it.’
‘It’s what I should have said to the people I met today. I wasn’t brave enough.’
‘You didn’t have to tell them anything, Effie. It was none of their business.’
‘But I wanted to be one of them. I wanted them to respect me.’
Morag wasn’t convinced. ‘Was this what you wanted to talk to me about?’
‘I wanted to tell you that we’re leaving the day after tomorrow.’
‘Leaving here? Leaving this house? Leaving Gavin?’
‘Yes, pet. We’ve been here long enough. It’s not fair to Mr Hamilton.’
‘He’s not Mr Hamilton. He’s Gavin. Did he say we have to leave?’
‘He’s too kind, too polite, ever to say it. People will be saying bad things about him. They’ll be saying how can he become a minister if he lets a trashy tinker girl live in his house.’
‘You’re not a trashy tinker girl.’
‘That’s what they’ll think I am. The ladies in his church. The men who work with him. Everybody he knows.’
‘But you don’t sleep with him, Effie.’
Effie blinked. This was her ten-year-old sister speaking.
‘If you were older, Morag, you’d understand.’
‘I’m old enough. Have you told him we’re leaving?’
‘I’m going to tell him when he comes home from work.’
‘You can tell him, Effie. I won’t. Where will we go?’
‘Willie the bus driver said we could camp at his place for as long as we liked. It’s not far.’
‘After that where will we go?’
‘I thought we’d go to Inverness. I know people there. They could find me a job.’
‘What about me and Eddie? Will we have to go into a home?’
‘Maybe for a little while.’
‘That’s what you said last time, Effie. We were in for nearly a year.’
‘I promise it won’t be as long this time.’
‘How do you know? You’ve got no money. And who’s going to tell Eddie? He’ll run away. Why shouldn’t Eddie and me stay here with Gavin. We don’t have to go with you, if we don’t want to. I can cook. I can make beds. I can scrub floors.’
‘But I don’t want us to be separated. When families break up it’s not easy for them to get together again.’
‘It’s you that’s breaking us up, Effie. If Eddie and me have to go into a home I’ll never speak to you again.’
Morag then got off the bed and rushed out of the room.
Effie had never felt more miserable and useless. All the many doors between her and happiness, and her family’s happiness, were shut and locked.
She went downstairs to help prepare the evening meal but she did not stay to share it. She had no appetite and had a headache.
Eddie was sympathetic and suggested she should take an aspirin.
Morag would not speak to her. It couldn’t be dismissed as a childish huff. She was being deserted by someone she loved and had trusted.
Eddie had not yet been told. He was happy and carefree playing with his new toy.
Morag had put her doll back into its box. It was a symbol of her sister’s treachery.
Effie went upstairs and cried.
She hated feeling sorry for herself but she could not help it. She was too young to have all these responsibilities. Many girls her age were still at college.
In the camps they all said how capable she was. She had saved a child from drowning. She had beaten off a savage dog. She had faced up to officious policemen. She had confronted farmers trying to cheat her and her friends out of what they had earned.
She had no close friend in whom to confide. She had had one but Shona had died of consumption, aged eighteen.
She must not give in. She got up and went into the bathroom to wipe away all traces of tears. She put on a little lipstick.
She stared at herself in the mirror.
‘Who are you?’ she asked, contemptuously. ‘You’re not Effie Williamson. She doesn’t cry when things go wrong.’
She would not tell Gavin that they were leaving. They would steal away when he was at work.
She said by the window, waiting for him to come home.
She heard him putting his bicycle in the shed at the gate.
Eddie must have gone down to meet him. She heard them talking and laughing. Eddie would be showing him the toy car.
He always had a shower and change of clothes before he ate. He was pernickety about cleanliness. He would have had an awful time as a traveller.
She smiled but was close to tears again.
At last he was coming up the stairs. Her heart was beating very fast.
He knocked on the door, quietly, as if he thought she might be asleep.
‘Come in,’ she called.
She had decided to speak humorously.
He came in. ‘Eddie said you were not feeling well.’
Eddie, not Morag. Morag still hadn’t forgiven her. Perhaps she never would.
He went over and put his hand on her shoulder.
‘Well, how did you get on? Did you find what you were looking for?’
‘Was I looking for something?’
He laughed. ‘I got that impression. Your hair’s very nice.’
‘The girls in the shop send you their regards. They seemed to know you.’
‘Well, I occasionally have my hair trimmed. Did you buy a ring?’
‘I told Mr Lojko you’d pay for it on Saturday.’
‘You’re not wearing it. Are you saving it for Saturday?’
Suddenly she changed her mind. She must tell him that they were leaving. Sneaking off without telling him would be cowardly and dishonourable. She would feel ashamed all her life.
She tried to speak light-heartedly, as if what she was saying was no more than a casual by the way.
‘I’ve got something to tell you. We’re leaving the day after tomorrow. We can’t leave tomorrow, there are too many things to see to. It’s not fair to you, us being here, me being here. Miss McDonald was shocked. They all will be.’
He said nothing.
‘We’ll go to Willie’s place. He said we could stay as long as we liked. So we’ll stay till after the funeral. Then I think we’ll go to Inverness. I know people there. They’ll find me a job. If not I’ll go back to pearl-fishing for a little while. I might be lucky and find a lot of valuable pearls. The children may have to go into a home. It wouldn’t be for long. I don’t want us to be separated but it can’t be helped.’
She managed to stop. It wasn’t like her to babble on, self-pityingly.
He still said nothing. He must be relieved but was too polite to say so.
‘Is that how you see the future, Effie?’
She nodded.
‘It’s not quite how I see it.’
She pretended to be interested in a yacht out on the loch. She wasn’t going to listen to him. What was between them, whatever it had been, was gone.
‘First of all, you’re not going anywhere. You’re my future, you and the children. We’ll announce our engagement on Saturday. Hugh McTeague and Sheila have agreed to be our witnesses. After that we’ll be able to get married in four weeks, when the banns have been called. I’m assuming you have no objection to being married in church. If you have we’ll be married in any way you please.
‘You know that this house is going to be used as a holiday home for children. I was asked if I could find suitable staff locally. You would be perfect for the job, Effie.’
‘Wouldn’t they want someone better educated?’
‘Children like you, Effie. Besides, as my wife you’d have a better right than anyone. You and the children would live in the house.’
‘Where would you live?’
‘Here too, with you. I expect I’d be at university in Glasgow, but I’d come home at the weekends. Sometimes you could bring the children to visit me in Glasgow.’
It was too much for her. All those doors between her and happiness were unlocked and thrown wide open. She burst into tears.
He was reassuring her when Morag came in. She had come to make her peace with her sister.
Twenty-nine
HAMILTON TOOK her hand as they were about to cross the field to the caravan.
She was trembling. ‘We don’t have to go in.’
‘Are you afraid of him?’
‘No, but he’ll remind me of things I’d rather forget.’
‘Would you like me to go and tell him you’re not ready to see him yet?’
‘I’ll be all right if you’re with me. He’ll say things that aren’t true. He’ll say I promised to marry him. I was just fifteen at the time. I didn’t. They all wanted me to marry him. It was for my own good, they said. He gave my grandfather money. I never felt safe.’
‘Dear Effie, you’re safe now.’
‘I hope you believe me, Gavin, when I tell you he never touched me. No man’s ever touched me, in that way. I used to sleep with a knife under my pillow.’
‘Good God! Of course I believe you.’
‘Shall we go and get it over with?’
<
br /> Hand in hand they approached the caravan.
‘He likes gaudy colours,’ said Hamilton.
‘He’s quite a peacock.’
A curtain was drawn aside. A face peered out.
‘He’ll be very interested in you, Gavin.’
She knocked on the door.
Her mother opened it, looking flustered. Two buttons on her blouse were unfastened. Her skirt was on back to front. She was drunk, amiably so.
‘Would you like to come in? It’s worth seeing. He’s got it up like a bridal chamber. He meant it for you, Effie, but he’s having to make do with me instead.’
Effie was shaking her head. She did not want to go in.
‘If you don’t mind, Mrs Williamson,’ said Hamilton, ‘we’ll stay outside. Effie’s not been so well today.’
Daniel appeared then, showing a mouthful of bad teeth set in a diffident, ingratiating leer. He was drunk too.
His hair was white, his nose purple, his cheeks bright red.
His pale-blue trousers were held up by an ornate belt, his pink shirt was caught in his trouser zip.
His speech was slurred.
‘Hello, Effie. You’re looking marvellous. Isn’t she looking marvellous, Nellie?’
Mrs Williamson adjusted his zip.
‘This is Mr Hamilton, who’s been so kind to us.’
‘Nellie’s been telling me about you, Mr Hamilton. What she didn’t say and what I want to know is what a man like you wants with a little traveller lass like my wee Effie.’
‘She’s not wee,’ said Mrs Williamson, ‘and she’s not yours.’
‘I’ve known her all her life. I nursed her on my lap when she was a baby. How long have you known her, Mr Hamilton? Hardly a week. I hope you’ve not been taking liberties with her. I hope you’ve not been harrying her sweet little nest.’
He began to sob.
‘They’re getting married, Daniel. Just like you and me. Tell you what, Effie, if you and Mr Hamilton come to our wedding Daniel and me will come to yours.’
Effie looked aghast, but Hamilton enthusiastically agreed.
‘Where will you be married, Mrs Williamson?’
Pearl Fishers Page 10