Pearl Fishers

by Robin Jenkins

  Nevertheless it seemed that at Kilcalmonell Kirk on Sunday she had caused quite a sensation.

  But all that was none of Mr Rutherford’s business. His business was to carry out this unusual interment with style and efficiency, and to expect a fair price; which was why he welcomed the involvement of Hamilton, who could afford to pay.

  Mr Rutherford had reason to be pleased with himself. He had good news for Miss Williamson.

  To begin with, to his own surprise he had been granted permission for the burial by the Forestry Commission.

  The plain truth was – to be kept from Miss Williamson – no one wanted the old man’s remains. Mr Rutherford had applied tentatively to four local kirks and had been given unChristian rebuffs. The authorities who managed Towellan cemetery had been very sweirt. Superstition seemed to have contributed to their unwillingness, but the reason they had given, in ashamed mumbles, was that since the old man seemed to have been a patriarch of sorts among the tinker community there would be frequent pilgrimages to his grave, and the last thing Towellan wanted was the invasion of those pitiable but undesirable nomads.

  The Big Stone was out of everybody’s sight and it would give the old man his dying wish to be buried beside his family. For that reason his granddaughter, this Miss Williamson, had, rather heroically, brought him all the way from Sutherland, a distance of over two hundred miles.

  The police had had to be consulted. Here was another surprise. Mr Rutherford had expected pig-headed opposition from them, but no, perhaps because of secret orders from their superiors, they cooperated willingly, with the meek suggestion that there should be as little publicity as possible. They pointed out it was a single track road to the Big Stone and they didn’t want it jammed with sightseers’ cars and the passing places illegally used as car parks.

  Mr Rutherford was not sure whether to pray for a sunny day, which would mean a goodly crowd or a misty drizzly day which might reduce the attendance but would give an appropriately mournful atmosphere.

  Mr Rutherford expected at least fifty to attend. Locals were curious and holidaymakers were always on the lookout for free entertainment.

  He was interrupted in his reverie by the sound of a car stopping outside and the slamming of car doors.

  Soon there was a knock on the door and in came Hamilton and the girl, she looking very young in a simple brown dress white at the collar and cuffs.

  Mr Rutherford had instantly to revise his opinion as to their relationship or at any rate Hamilton’s to her. He gave the impression that if asked to choose between one day occupying the pulpit in St Giles’ in Edinburgh, that Church of Scotland pinnacle, or marrying this girl he would without hesitation have chosen her. But being the kind of man he was he would want both and might well get them.

  Mr Rutherford had too casually dismissed the girl as personable. He now saw she was much more than that, she had a natural grace astonishing in someone with her background.

  Mr Rutherford had been wondering what kind of religious service she would want, if indeed she wanted any. He had no idea what the religious beliefs of travellers or tinkers were. It was true that Miss Williamson had been to church on Sunday but that surely had been to please Hamilton. If they ever got married it would probably be in a church, but again it would be to please Hamilton.

  As for Hamilton he was a Christian, an over-zealous one at that, but like other ambitious young men entering the Church of Scotland ministry nowadays he had no patience with impossibilities like the Resurrection, the Virgin Birth, and other miracles. He saw Jesus Christ as a Great Example, which seemed to Mr Rutherford as rational an attitude as any.

  ‘Do you wish a short service, Miss Williamson?’ Mr Rutherford used his softest voice. He liked this girl.

  ‘My grandfather didn’t want one. He wanted me to say a poem.’

  ‘One of his own? I understand he was a poet.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Gaelic?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Its subject no doubt the sad events of eighty years ago?’

  ‘Yes. Gavin will explain first. Then I’ll say the poem.’

  Hamilton looked at her anxiously. She was very calm now but how would she be, in that place of poignant memories, with people watching and curlews calling, as they had done all those years ago?

  Not for the first time Mr Rutherford regretted not knowing Gaelic, that ancient and noble language.

  ‘Is Mr McTeague supplying bearers?’ asked Hamilton.

  ‘Four men have volunteered.’

  ‘Do you know their names?’

  ‘I believe Mr McDougall, the foreman, is one. I understand he insisted.’

  ‘You see, Effie,’ whispered Hamilton.

  They got up to go.

  ‘By the way, Miss Williamson,’ said Mr Rutherford, ‘would your grandfather have liked a piper, playing a lament or two?’

  ‘I think he would. He played the pipes himself when he was younger.’

  At Highland games, no doubt, but more likely as a beggar than a competitor.

  Hamilton and Effie drove round to the harbour and sat in the car.

  The nearest fishing boat was called Aphrodite.

  Hamilton smiled. ‘A good omen, Effie. Who’d have thought a fishing boat in Towellan would be called Aphrodite?’

  ‘What does it mean?’

  ‘Aphrodite was the Greek goddess of love. She rose up out of the sea.’

  ‘I wish I knew as much as you do, Gavin.’

  ‘One day you’ll know more.’

  ‘The foreman, Gavin, he was the one who said I was trash.’

  ‘Yes, but I’m sure he’s sorry now.’

  ‘You were angry with him.’

  ‘Very angry. So was Hugh McTeague. Some of the others weren’t pleased either. Perhaps he’s trying to make amends.’

  ‘He could call me trash if he liked but not the children. They’re not to blame.’

  They sat in silence.

  ‘What time is it?’

  She glanced at her watch. ‘Just leaving half past eleven.’

  ‘Let’s go for a walk about the town and then have lunch in the Royal.’

  He noticed her smile but not the faint shiver that went with it.

  Going for a walk about the town and then having lunch in the Royal for him and most people were ordinary everyday things, but for her they were still ordeals calling for resolution and a little defiance, with despair only a little way off.

  She must be patient. It would take time. He would help her.

  There was a great danger, though, that she might end up belonging nowhere.

  Thirty-nine

  SHEILA MCTEAGUE wasn’t able to be at the funeral, having to stay at home to look after her own two children and Morag and Eddie.

  On Thursday, at half-past two, while she knew the funeral would be in progress, her telephone rang.

  It was Fiona McDonald. Her voice was almost unrecognisable. It kept rising to hysteria.

  ‘I’m glad, Sheila, you’re not at that awful funeral.’

  ‘Aren’t all funerals awful, in the true sense of the word? Don’t we Christians believe that God is present at every death?’

  That stumped Fiona for half a minute at least.

  ‘I meant disgusting.’

  Sheila hadn’t realised how insanely and how unhappily jealous Fiona must be. She felt almost sorry for her.

  ‘That tinker bitch has got her claws into Gavin. She’s disgusting.’

  ‘That’s the last word I would have used to describe her. She’s delightful.’

  ‘We’ll have to get rid of her and send her back to the filthy dumps she came from. For Gavin’s sake. She’s bewitched him with her pretty face and big breasts.’

  Big breasts? Mrs McTeague, tempted to be bitchy herself, reflected that Fiona was flat-chested.

  ‘I wouldn’t call her pretty. She’s got too much character in her face. As for her breasts I would say she’s got a fine womanly figure.’

  ‘
She mustn’t be allowed to marry him. It would ruin him. We’ve got to stop it.’

  ‘How can we stop it if that’s what they want? Why should we want to stop it? They love each other.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. He’s only known her for a week. How can he possibly love her?’

  He had known Fiona for several years. ‘It happens, Fiona.’

  ‘What do her kind know about love? They’re no better than animals.’

  ‘I think she’s a sensitive, intelligent young woman. If you bully her and try to drive her away Gavin would never speak to you again. Neither would I. She’s done wonderfully, with help from no one. She’d make him a good wife.’

  Weeping hysterically, Miss Fiona then screamed words that as a minister’s sister and a minister’s daughter she ought not to have known, far less used.

  Forty

  MR RUTHERFORD had guessed, optimistically, that there might be as many as thirty spectators. The people who would attend could hardly be called mourners. It turned out that there were more than double that number. Their cars lined the road for half a mile, and occupied all the passing places, to the annoyance of the two constables on traffic duty. Thank God, they grumbled, it would be over in less than an hour.

  The fence had been temporarily removed so that those who didn’t mind getting their feet wet were able to venture over the wet carpet of marigolds and bog myrtle to the Big Stone, where they were rewarded with an unrestricted view of the proceedings. Those who remained on the road, dryshod, had their view obscured by the screen of stunted birches and alders, but they were able to hear everything.

  It was generally agreed that the girl in the black costume, the old man’s granddaughter, was the star turn. Everyone was impressed by her composure, remarkable in someone so young, and, most of all, by a quality they couldn’t help being aware of but couldn’t quite give a name to. In the midst of all those people she looked as if she was on her own. Even the young man with the beard, who looked like a superior sort of tinker, was excluded, though he had announced himself to be her fiancée. He kept close to her, though, and once or twice touched her shoulder.

  There were some who saw her as a wild creature, say, on the alert all the time, ready to bound off up through the trees to the hilltops, where she would feel more at home than in any house.

  She spoke the poem in a clear, steady, resolute voice. Though it was in Gaelic, the native tongue of that part of the world, it might have been in Chinese for all that most of them made of it. It had been previously explained to them that it was about a family who had been buried in that same place eighty years ago.

  When she was finished, quite a number, with tears in their eyes, went up to her to shake her hand and offer her condolences and congratulations.

  ‘Are you all right, Effie?’ whispered Hamilton.

  ‘Yes, thank you, Gavin.’

  But he could see how disturbed she was. He would have liked to take her in his arms and comfort her, but he was afraid she would repulse him, gently but firmly.

  Hamilton had seen to it that Mrs Williamson and Daniel were given places close to the grave. She wept most of the time, he held his hat in his hand.

  ‘God knows where she got it from,’ sobbed Mrs Williamson, amazed at her daughter’s calm competence. ‘It wasn’t from me and it wasn’t from her father.’

  That young ploughmen had been curly-haired and good-natured, but hardly bright.

  ‘It’s a fucking mystery, Nellie.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Watch your language. This is a funeral.’

  ‘Sorry, Nellie, I’m still thinking of what big Bella said when she read Effie’s palm.’

  ‘Effie was just a bairn.’

  ‘Our futures are in our hands, Nellie, from the day we’re born.’

  ‘You’re still jealous.’

  ‘I admit it. I’ve a right to be jealous. She was promised to me. What does he know about travellers?’

  ‘That shows how stupid you are, Daniel. She sees him as her chance to be finished with travelling, with sleeping in tents and wandering all over the country on bumpy carts. Look at her. She’s got it in her to be a lady.’

  ‘What happens when he wants rid of her?’

  ‘He’s promised to marry her. He’s given her a ring to prove it.’

  ‘A ring’s nothing. It’s as easy to take it back as to give it. She’ll end up wanted by nobody, with nowhere to go. Maybe that’s what Bella saw in her hand.’

  ‘You’d like that, Daniel. You would like her to have to come begging to you.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want her then.’

  ‘Well, shut up. She’s going to speak.’

  Everybody had gone quiet. Effie was about to recite the poem.

  When it was all over Hamilton and Effie took Mrs Williamson and Daniel back to the caravan. They had been included in the invitation to a meal in the McTeagues’ house but had declined. Daniel was impatient to get on his way. He did not like driving in the dark.

  The farewells were said at the caravan.

  Mrs Williamson took Hamilton aside.

  ‘Will you write and tell me how you’re all getting on?’

  ‘I promise. Remember Effie and I are going to your wedding and you and Daniel are coming to ours.’

  She grinned. It would never happen but it pleased her to think that it might.

  ‘I’d like to meet some of Effie’s friends.’

  He had said it before. He must mean it. He loved Effie, not just as she was now but as she had always been.

  Despite what Daniel had said Mrs Williamson knew the danger wasn’t that Hamilton might want to get rid of Effie, but that she might decide she had no right to love him, less marry him. If she got it into her head that her presence was doing him harm she would be off, even if she had no place to be off to. Also, let her think for a minute that he was sorry for her and that would be the end of it.

  ‘Look after her, Gavin.’

  It was the first time she had used his Christian name.

  ‘You can depend on it.’

  ‘She’s not as sure of herself as she makes out.’

  She had a last word with Effie.

  ‘You’ll not be sorry to see us go, love.’

  ‘I hope you and Daniel are very happy, mother.’

  ‘We’ll never be as happy as you and Gavin, but we’ll manage. Please, Effie.’ She put her hand on Effie’s arm. ‘Don’t spoil it for both of you.’

  Effie smiled. It was not an easy smile to understand.

  ‘I know you, Effie. You’ve got that thrawn bit in you. He loves you, anybody can see that. Don’t, for Christ’s sake, punish him for it. Be good to him. He needs you as much as you need him.’

  ‘Haven’t I got more reason to love him than he has to love me?’

  It was said humorously but it worried Mrs Williamson.

  It was as well that Hamilton wasn’t the kind of man who would want a docile biddable wife who’d never contradict or tease him.

  ‘Thanks again for taking care of the children.’

  ‘It’s Gavin you should thank for that.’

  ‘I know. I’ve thanked him. He still talks about going to my wedding and meeting some of your old friends. I don’t suppose he means it but it’s very nice of him to say it.’

  ‘He means it.’

  ‘You won’t try to stop him?’

  ‘Why should I try to stop him?’

  ‘I thought once you got away from travelling folk you’d never want to see them again.’

  ‘I’m not ashamed of my friends.’

  ‘You never were, love. I’ve asked him to look after you, Effie, now I’m asking you to look after him. Remember when we first met him. We couldn’t understand him. He was too kind, too simple, too easily taken in. Look how he invited us to use his house. We could have been a gang of thieves.’

  ‘I think I understand him a little better now.’

  Then Daniel called anxiously. ‘Time we got going, Nellie. It looks as if it’s comi
ng on to rain.’

  ‘He doesn’t like driving in the rain,’ said Mrs Williamson.

  Daniel helped her to climb aboard the caravan and then rather shakily followed her. He turned and gave Effie a wave. Reluctantly he included Hamilton in it.

  Then the caravan was on its way.

  Effie and Hamilton stood looking at each other.

  ‘So, Miss Effie Williamson, that’s the end of your travelling life.’

  ‘I’ve lost some good friends.’

  ‘Why should you lose them? You know where they are. We can visit them whenever you like.’

  She smiled. ‘We’ll see.’

  Forty-one

  SHEILA AND Hugh McTeague were at their kitchen window, looking out for Effie and Hamilton. The children were in the living room, Deirdre and Morag playing with dolls, and Ian trying to teach Eddie the rules of chess.

  Hugh was anxious. The rain was still heavy. All the burns would be overflowing, the roads would be flooded in places. Trees might have been blown down. There were flashes of lightning.

  Sheila was anxious too but for a very different reason. In spite of what she had said so boldly to Fiona McDonald she still had doubts about Effie and Gavin. Though she had been careful, or hoped she had, not to encourage them too much she felt some responsibility for she had done nothing to dissuade them from their engagement. On the contrary, against her better judgment she had agreed to be a witness at the announcement. If something was to be done it would have to be done soon. Gavin’s future was at risk. He had been their friend for years. Effie they hardly knew.

  ‘I’m going to say something that might shock you, Hugh. It shocks me just to think it. But I think it should be said.’

  He grinned. ‘What is it?’