Pearl Fishers

by Robin Jenkins

  ‘She’s beautiful, but what’s better she’s happy. Come and look.’

  Daniel dragged himself to the window. ‘She’s happy all right but she’ll pay for it.’

  ‘What do you mean? She’s already paid for it, all her life.’

  ‘I’m remembering when old Bella read her palm. She wouldn’t tell us what she saw in it. It must have been something terrible.’

  ‘She was a drunk old fraud.’

  ‘She was often right, Nellie.’

  ‘She was often wrong.’

  ‘But there have been other signs.’

  ‘Signs of what?’

  ‘Signs that she could have a great misfortune in front of her.’

  ‘Are you hoping she does?’

  ‘God forgive you, Nellie. I wish her nothing but good.’

  ‘You’re rotten with jealousy.’

  ‘I would give every penny I have to save her from whatever it is.’

  ‘Liar.’

  ‘Look what happened to her grandmother, your mother, Nellie.’

  ‘God forgive you for bringing that up.’

  ‘It happened, Nellie.’

  ‘My mother was married to a man who had little respect for her and not much affection. Effie’s going to be married to a man that’s very fond of her and admires her immensely. There’s no comparison.’

  Thirty-four

  THAT NIGHT, when Effie and Hamilton were having their cup of tea before going to bed – it was going to be a nightly habit of theirs – Hamilton startled her by saying, ‘Would you like to come to church with me tomorrow?’

  She had thought about asking him to take her but had decided it was too soon. She wasn’t ready herself yet and the ladies with the hats had to be given more time to get used to the idea of a tinker girl being engaged to, and likely to marry, someone highly respected in the community. Some of them were bound to disapprove. From their point of view Effie was a brazen, unscrupulous, designing young adventuress, using her lucky good looks to seduce a man whose reckless and sometimes simple-minded desire to show himself a good Christian made him susceptible. They would honestly believe that she would mean ruin for him. Had she not thought so herself?

  Her hand was on the table, the left one with the ring. He put his hand over it. ‘Does it take all that thought?’ He laughed. ‘They’ll be fascinated by you. They’ve never met anyone like you before.’

  ‘Not all of them.’

  ‘Most of them.’

  ‘Not Miss McDonald and her friends.’

  ‘You’ll never forgive her, will you, Effie?’

  She was indignant. She withdrew her hand. ‘If you think I have a grudge against her for showing you those pictures you’re wrong. She wasn’t trying to hurt me. I didn’t matter, she was trying to save you.’

  He put his hand back. ‘You keep surprising me, Effie Williamson.’

  ‘It would be the second time I’ve been in a church.’

  ‘When was the first time?’

  ‘Years ago, when I was ten. It was in Inverness.’

  Where the churches were substantial and the congregations solidly respectable.

  ‘The door was open. It was a hot day. I suppose I was wearing a ragged dress, not too clean. Lots of well-dressed ladies wearing hats. One, with a kind face, came up to me and said I was in the wrong place. She took me to the door. They were all staring.’

  ‘Poor Effie!’

  ‘I wasn’t being impudent. I was just curious. I wanted to know how other people lived. I wanted to learn.’

  She was quite excited.

  ‘It would be very different tomorrow.’

  She smiled. ‘I’ll be properly dressed. I’ll try to look as if I had a right to be there. But I’ll not say anything to anybody. Will you sit beside me?’

  ‘Won’t I want to show off my beautiful fiancée?’

  ‘No, you mustn’t do that.’

  Suddenly he realised what an ordeal it would be for her.

  ‘Perhaps it’s not such a good idea, Effie. Let’s wait till another Sunday.’

  ‘But I have to know if I’m doing right. Mrs McTeague doesn’t think so. She didn’t say it but I could tell.’

  ‘In what way doing right?’

  ‘In becoming engaged to you, in letting you talk about us getting married.’

  ‘But, Effie, I thought that was settled.’

  ‘I have to be very sure.’

  ‘Are you saying that if a few narrow-minded silly women are unpleasant to you you’ll give me back my ring?’

  ‘They might not be narrow-minded and silly. They might be sensible and wish me well. They’ll just think that if you marry me it will be a terrible mistake.’

  ‘Effie Williamson, I’m going to ask you just one question. Do you believe that if you married me it would damage my career as a minister? Look at me, Effie.’

  She looked at him. She spoke quietly. ‘No, I don’t.’

  Thirty-five

  MORAG WAS watching Effie getting dressed for church. Hamilton had already left to pick up the ladies in their distant glen. He would come back soon for Effie.

  Morag would never have admitted it, she would have died first, but she was hoping, well, was letting a tiny hope enter her mind, that Effie would not go to the church.

  She had become afraid that Effie was growing further and further way from her and Eddie. At the church she would meet people whom Morag and Eddie would never be able to meet.

  Here was Effie singing happily and yet she must surely know that Morag was worried. It seemed as if she didn’t care.

  Morag could not resist saying, ‘The people you’ll meet in the church, Effie, will they know you’re backward, like me and Eddie?’

  Effie turned to stare in astonishment. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, you are backward, Effie, aren’t you? I can read quicker than you and everybody knows I’m backward.’

  ‘Why are you saying this, Morag?’

  Effie felt devastated. She wanted to creep into a corner and weep. Here was her most loyal, most loving ally, turned against her, so cruelly, so unfairly.

  ‘Don’t you want me to do well, Morag? For all our sakes? Don’t you want me to marry Gavin so that we’ll have a home of our own, you, me, Eddie, and Gavin?’

  ‘Maybe Gavin will meet somebody else, somebody that’s been to college. That could happen, couldn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it could.’

  Effie went over and sat beside her sister.

  ‘Do you want to go back to sleeping in a tent for the rest of your life?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You like it here, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then you’ve got to help me.’

  ‘How can I help you, Effie? I’m only ten.’

  ‘Just love me. Just be on my side. Just help me not to feel frightened.’

  ‘Do you feel frightened, Effie?’

  She didn’t have to ask. More than once she had heard Effie weeping in the night.

  ‘Are you frightened for Eddie and me?’

  ‘Yes, pet, and for myself too.’

  ‘But Gavin wouldn’t let anything happen to you.’

  There were things, though, nameless things, which even Gavin couldn’t help.

  Still, it was a great comfort to be able to depend on him.

  At the church she would do her best to make him proud of her.

  Thirty-six

  ON SUNNY Sunday mornings the congregation of Kilcalmonell Parish Church, a small select company, liked to arrive early so that they could enjoy a chat in the kirkyard overlooking the loch, among the six ancient yews and seventeenth-century tombstones. It was a beautiful peaceful place where it felt pleasant to be alive and where it would be a privilege to be buried. However, those well-to-do middle-class matrons who made up the majority never gave a thought to the historic bones under their shoes. They were much more interested in the gossip, decorously exchanged.

  On that particular Sunday there w
as an unusually large turnout and an air of anticipation among them, hardly to be attributed to their looking forward to Mr McDonald’s sermon which, as always, would be worthy but uninspired. No, what was causing the excitement was that someone, no one was quite sure who, had started a rumour that Gavin Hamilton had got himself engaged to the tinker girl who was living in his house and was bringing her to the kirk that morning.

  It was the kind of quixotic gesture he was fond of making. Another example had been his giving of his unopened pay packet to a passing tramp.

  Those who carefully measured their own charity thought he had a damned cheek trying to show himself more Christian than anyone else.

  This exploitation of the unfortunate girl was the kind of thing that would appeal to him. The dirtier, smellier, stupider she was, the better for his purpose.

  Nevertheless their arrival was eagerly awaited.

  Whenever a car arrived those with a good view of the car park would shake their heads at those who hadn’t.

  It was, one woman said, oblivious to the irony, a bit like waiting for royalty.

  Then the headshakings became vigorous nods, followed immediately by gestures of surprise and disappointment.

  It was soon seen why. Coming through the gate, arm-in-arm, were Hamilton and a girl, no, a young lady, who was no tinker slut. In a black outfit, bareheaded, with hair magnificently dark, she carried herself with enviable grace. She looked a little shy but quite composed.

  It was just like Gavin, champion of the poor and the despised, to have found for himself a fiancée whose family evidently had money and distinction. It was never forgotten that old Mrs Latimer had more or less made him her heir.

  They were all keen to be introduced to the girl but there were too many of them and besides it was time to proceed into the church, where Miss Fiona had been playing the organ for the past ten minutes.

  Miss Fiona looked up and saw them. She of course recognised the girl as the tinker, but she could not very well stand up and, as it were, unmask the impostor.

  It wasn’t she therefore who did the unmasking. It could have been someone who had seen the girl on Willie’s bus. Whoever it was, it spread through the small church until almost everyone knew.

  There was silent consternation. What was to be done? They had greeted this scruffy girl as if she was a person of consequence. But really she could hardly be called scruffy. Indeed they had thought her beautiful and they still had to think of her as beautful, she hadn’t changed all that much in the past few minutes. How to remedy their mistake without looking foolish? Hamilton had played a trick on them. They could hardly apologise. It needed one of them, one with authority to sort things out on behalf of all of them. There was Muriel Gilmour, but she was unpredictable.

  Though a stalwart Tory she was no snob. She was capable of seeing a person’s worth however lowly that person’s status.

  When the kirk was skailing Mrs Gilmour pursued Hamilton and his girlfriend.

  ‘Just a minute, Gavin. Aren’t you going to introduce me?’

  ‘With pleasure.’ He introduced them.

  ‘Congratulations to you both.’

  Those listening wondered if Muriel had understood. She was sometimes not that quick on the uptake.

  ‘Bring her along to Rhubaan one of these days. I’d like a chat with her.’

  Mrs Gilmour then went off to the car park where her friends were waiting. ‘I don’t give a damn what she is or what she’s been, she’s got character. I like her.’

  Thirty-seven

  THAT SUNDAY evening Morag went upstairs to go to the bathroom and look in on her grandfather. She thought he was dead and ran downstairs to tell Effie and Hamilton.

  They were in the big room. He was helping her to improve her reading.

  Effie had noticed that Morag hadn’t yet asked her how she had got on at the church.

  Effie and Hamilton hurried upstairs.

  Effie was still feeling a certain pleasure after her triumph that morning. She kept holding on to Hamilton.

  The old man wasn’t dead but was very close to it.

  ‘If we’re going to give him his wish to die in a tent we should take him down now.’

  ‘He doesn’t know where he is, Gavin.’

  ‘Still, we promised.’

  ‘I promised. You didn’t.’

  ‘Your promise is my promise, Effie.’

  Their shared experience in the church had brought them closer. They knew each other better.

  ‘Will we wait for my mother and Daniel?’

  ‘No need. We’ll manage. The bed’s ready, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Hamilton had no difficulty picking up the frail old man, carrying him downstairs, and laying him on the bed where Effie made him as comfortable as she could.

  She felt strange seeing Hamilton in the tent with her.

  ‘I’ll not miss him. That’s a terrible thing to say, but it’s true. He tried to sell me once. He didn’t want me to get away. He wanted me to pay for what he did to my grandmother.’

  ‘If it hadn’t been for him, Effie, I would never have met you.’

  They stood outside the tent. He had his arm round her. Her body was still unfamiliar to him.

  ‘I’ll wait here for a while,’ she said.

  ‘No, you go and rest.’

  He felt a great desire, a great need, to protect her, but from what? Her enemies were memories, not easily got rid of.

  Morag came slowly up to them. It seemed to Hamilton there was menace in the little girl’s manner, but surely that was ridiculous.

  He noticed, though, that she smiled at him but would not look at Effie.

  ‘Where’s Eddie?’ he asked.

  ‘Hiding.’

  ‘Hiding? Why is he hiding? Who is he hiding from?’

  ‘Effie.’

  ‘Is it some kind of game?’

  ‘I told him she wants to put us, me and him, in a home.’

  ‘That’s silly,’ said Effie, weakly.

  ‘You said it, Effie.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s different now. I didn’t know what we were going to do.’

  ‘What’s this about?’ asked Hamilton.

  ‘It’s something she’s got into her mind.’

  ‘You put it in my mind, Effie.’

  Effie burst into tears and ran towards the house.

  ‘You’ve upset her, Morag. I won’t let anyone upset Effie.’

  ‘It’s not my fault she’s weepy. She cries in her sleep.’

  He remembered the doctor’s warning.

  ‘Wait here for your mother and Daniel,’ he said. ‘I want to talk to Effie.’

  He found her in the big room with the book they had been reading open on her lap.

  He sat beside her. He took out his handkerchief and wiped her tears.

  ‘You’ve got to let me make a fuss of you, Effie.’

  ‘I did tell her that she and Eddie might have to go into a home.’

  ‘But that was when you didn’t know what else to do. She’s confused, Effie.’

  ‘It’s not her fault.’

  ‘She said something that alarmed me. She said you often cry in your sleep.’

  ‘Not often, I hope. My mother used to say that since I never cried when I was awake I made up for it by crying in my sleep.’

  ‘It’s not a joke, Effie.’

  ‘No, it’s not a joke.’

  ‘Why, Effie, why?’ But it was very stupid of him to ask why.

  ‘You helped to cause it, Gavin.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘I used to dream of someone, some kind man, like you, who would come and take me away and marry me. Not on a white horse, an old blue car would have done. You never came.’

  ‘I’ve come now.’

  ‘I’m still not sure you’re real.’

  She touched his cheek.

  ‘Do you know what else she said? She said that if I slept with you you wouldn’t cry.’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t want to
wake you, would I? Do you want to sleep with me, Gavin?’

  ‘Very much, after we’re married. That’s what we agreed, wasn’t it?’

  She seemed to hesitate. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking that we ought to invite Mrs Gilmour to the wedding.’

  Effie was laughing a little when they heard a loud wailing outside.

  ‘Your mother, Effie. Your grandfather must be dead.’

  Tearing her hair, as well as wailing, Mrs Williamson rushed in, with Daniel behind her.

  ‘He’s gone, Effie. Do you know, Mr Hamilton, if people knew hundreds would come to the funeral. He was a famous man among his own people.’

  ‘We could put a notice in the local Tain newspaper, with an account of the funeral.’

  ‘I’d appreciate that very much.’

  Daniel sighed. ‘There will be lots of expenses, Effie. You’ll have used up all your pearls.’

  ‘I’ve still got some left.’

  ‘Keep them as souvenirs,’ said Hamilton. ‘I’ll take care of the arrangements; you and I together, Effie.’

  ‘One thing I can be sure of, Effie,’ said her mother, ‘when I leave I won’t have to worry about you and the kids. I’d like to thank you again, Mr Hamilton.’

  Effie was staring in wonder at Hamilton. He would do anything to oblige not just her, but her mother too; he was even friendly to Daniel. Yet he was still a stranger.

  Surely he must have doubts. In putting off their sleeping together was he avoiding that commitment and so giving himself time and opportunity to change his mind?

  She would not blame him.

  As for herself she had not yet got rid of a guilty feeling, not that she was not worthy of him but that she had no right to love him or be loved by him.

  Thirty-eight

  MR RUTHERFORD, undertaker, was waiting in his office for Miss Effie Williamson, tinker girl, so that he could tell her of the arrangements he had made for the burial of her grandfather at the Big Stone.

  She would be accompanied by Gavin Hamilton, in whose house she was at present staying. Their relationship was not quite clear. That they were engaged to be married, as was rumoured, Mr Rutherford just could not believe, though he wished them both well. As far as he knew Hamilton was too ambitious and self-sufficient to saddle himself with a girl who, however personable, was dirt poor, uneducated, used to living in tents, and, to be indelicate, used to lavatories that were the outdoors.