Pearl Fishers

by Robin Jenkins

‘Wouldn’t Gavin be better off with Fiona?’

  ‘Better off? What do you mean? He doesn’t need her money.’

  ‘I’m not talking about money. You know how ambitious he is. He’s not going to be any ordinary minister. He’s going to be famous. He’s not going to be minister of a small parish like Kilcalmonell. His church is going to be one of the biggest ones in Glasgow or Edinburgh. Isn’t that what he’s told us?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Wouldn’t Fiona be a great help to him? She’s got lots of influential Church connections. Her uncle was Moderator. She’s a university graduate.

  ‘We like Effie. We admire her. We wish her well. But she’s quite uneducated. I’m sure she can hardly read or write. She’s been a tinker all her life, and if her mother’s an example she’s got connections that would be disastrous for him.’

  Hugh said nothing. He was shaking his head, though.

  ‘Is it too late?’

  ‘Too late for what?’

  ‘To prevent it. To convince them it would be an awful mistake for them both. To convince her anyway.’

  ‘But I don’t think it would be an awful mistake. It would be if he married Fiona.’

  ‘Are you so sure? Fiona’s got a kind side to her nature if she would only show it oftener. She’s well liked by the ladies of the church. She’s in love with Gavin and has been for years. She might well bloom if she married him.’

  ‘I don’t want to say anything against the woman, but Gavin will never marry her. For one thing, she doesn’t like children and he does. For another thing he’s completely in love with Effie.’

  ‘I sometimes think he’s just sorry for her.’

  ‘If she thought he was just sorry for her she’d be off. You know how proud she is.’

  ‘Yes, and it’s a bit silly. What’s she got to be proud about?’

  ‘A great deal. I thought you liked her. You said you thought she’d make him a good wife.’

  Before Sheila could find an answer to that the car appeared out of the mist and rain.

  Sheila and Hugh were at the door to greet their visitors.

  Hamilton had his arm round Effie. They were laughing at the sheer malevolence of the wind that buffeted them and the rain that soaked them.

  Sheila kissed Effie on the cheek. She did not think she was being hypocritical.

  ‘Hugh said you did very well at the Big Stone. So calm. So brave.’

  ‘She was marvellous,’ said Hamilton.

  ‘I was terrified,’ said Effie.

  Then Deirdre and Morag rushed up to Effie to show her their dolls.

  In the hubbub Sheila snatched an opportunity to have a quick word with Effie.

  ‘We saw the caravan going past about half an hour ago.’

  ‘Didn’t it stop?’

  ‘No. You’ll miss your mother.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you never think of going back with her?’

  ‘No. Do you think I should?’

  It was a justified rebuke. Sheila felt ashamed but was still determined to save Gavin from this unsuitable young woman.

  Her chance came when they were all at the table.

  Deirdre wanted Effie to show them her engagement ring. Shyly, Effie held up her left hand.

  ‘A handome girl like you, Effie, must have had lots of admirers,’ said Sheila.

  She ignored Hugh’s shake of the head and Gavin’s frown.

  ‘Lots of men wanted Effie,’ said Morag, ‘but they didn’t want me and Eddie.’

  ‘Effie kept a knife under her pillow in the tent,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Good heavens, why?’

  ‘A man came into the tent once and tried to tear off her clothes. He was drunk.’

  Sheila thought there must have been many such unsavoury episodes in Effie’s past. No doubt they accounted for the traces of coarseness in her face.

  ‘Farmer Mitchell said he would take us, me and Eddie, if Effie would go with him. He had a big farm.’

  ‘How would you have liked being a farmer’s wife?’ asked Sheila, laughing.

  ‘He didn’t want to marry me. He was over sixty.’

  ‘Still, you must have seriously considered his offer, for the children’s sake.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I don’t think Effie’s enjoying this conversation,’ said Hamilton.

  He was jealous of a man he had never seen and would never meet.

  It would not be easy to make him see sense where Effie was concerned. Even if Sheila had been able to tell him something very much to her discredit, such as that she had had a child by someone like Farmer Mitchell, he would still have wanted her.

  Later, when Sheila and Effie were in the kitchen washing and drying the dishes Effie herself brought up the subject.

  ‘You don’t think Gavin should marry me, do you, Sheila?’

  ‘Well, to tell the truth, Effie, I’m inclined to think it could be a big mistake, for both of you.’

  Effie wasn’t huffy or sulky, but she wasn’t humble either.

  ‘I can see why you might think it a mistake for Gavin, but how could it be for me? I would have a home, for the first time in my life; so would the children. I would have a husband who loved me and would take care of me and the children. How could that be a mistake?’

  Sheila was disconcerted. She had not expected irony.

  ‘If he was content to be a forestry worker all his life, Effie, it would be different. You would suit him well then. But he wants to become a minister. I don’t mean any disrespect, Effie, but you have to admit that if he married you he would have to give it up. He would be terribly disappointed.’

  ‘I don’t have to admit that at all. Marrying me wouldn’t stop him from becoming a minister. He says I could help him, and so I would. We’ve talked about it. I’m only just twenty. I’ve got plenty of time to learn what I need to learn.’

  Sheila was again astonished. Somehow she had no difficulty in imagining this young woman in ten years’ time, confident, and accomplished, fit to be the wife of any minister, however big his church.

  There was a knock on the door. It was Gavin, looking for Effie.

  ‘Effie, Hugh and I think we ought to be leaving soon, before the road’s impassable.’

  ‘You can stay the night here if you like,’ said Sheila.

  ‘Thanks, Sheila, but I think we would all like to go home. What do you say, Effie?’

  ‘You can stay the night here if you like,’ said Sheila.

  ‘Thanks, Sheila, but I think we would all like to go home. What do you say, Effie?’

  Effie could have said that she had made longer journeys in worse weather on an open cart drawn by an exhausted pony. What she did say, quietly, was, ‘You’re the driver, Gavin. It’s up to you.’

  But you think we should try?’

  ‘Yes. We can always turn back.’

  Ten minutes later, as Sheila, under an umbrella, stood in the doorway watching them get into the car she felt touched when Morag, clasping the doll Deirdre had given her, told Eddie he was to sit in the back with her. The seat in the front beside Gavin was for Effie. That was how families travelled.

  The car set off into the storm.

  ‘Will they make it, Hugh?’

  ‘I think so. Gavin’s a capable driver and he doesn’t panic. Besides, he’s got Effie with him. She’ll back him up.’

  Because Hamilton kept calm and cheerful, showing no sign of being afraid or losing his temper, all the others, including Effie, were able to look on the journey as an adventure.

  In her quiet unassertive way Effie was a considerable help. She kept reassuring the children. Without being asked she got out and helped Hamilton to drag out of the way a fallen tree. With her skirts held up she waded into a flooded part to see how deep it was; it came above her knees. When at last they reached the Old Manse gate she got out and opened it, though the wind blowing off the loch was at its fiercest and branches of trees thrashed above her head. She was soaked when she came back i
nto the car.

  At last they were safely home, greatly relieved and pleased with themselves.

  ‘Well done, Gavin,’ said Effie. ‘Didn’t Gavin do well, children?’

  Eddie had been frightened. ‘Gavin’s a good driver,’ he shouted. ‘I’m going to be a good driver when I grow up.’

  ‘Don’t boast,’ said Morag, but she kissed him as she said it.

  When they were all in the kitchen Effie hurried off to the bathroom for towels. Then she busied herself making them all comfortable. She put on the kettle, saying they could all do with a cup of hot tea.

  Hamilton looked fondly on those maternal and wifely ministrations.

  She noticed and was embarrassed. It was all right for her to be motherly but premature for her to be wifely.

  They sat and sipped the tea, chatting about the visit to the McTeagues and the journey home.

  Hamilton was concerned about the effect the experience might have on Morag’s cough.

  ‘I’ve coughed only three times today,’ she said. ‘The medicine you brought has done me good.’

  This was how it would be, thought Effie, if Gavin and I were married; no, she should say when they were married. Sheila would be proved wrong.

  Afterwards, at Hamilton’s suggestion, they held a ceilidh in the big room, where the velvet curtains were drawn and a peat fire burned in the grate.

  Effie played her accordion, Hamilton his fiddle, and Eddie his mouth organ though parts of it were missing. With her doll clasped in her arms Morag danced a sedate little dance, while singing a sedate little Gaelic lullaby.

  At Eddie’s request they played several games of snakes-and-ladders and ludo.

  Effie asked Gavin to teach her how to play chess.

  Twice Effie went to the back door and looked out on the storm.

  * * *

  Later when the children were asleep Effie and Gavin chatted in the kitchen.

  ‘They’ve never been happier in their lives,’ said Effie. ‘Thanks to you.’

  ‘No, Effie, most of the credit belongs to you. You’ve looked after them heroically.’

  ‘I think I was about to give up.’

  ‘Effie Williamson giving up? I don’t believe it.’

  ‘Effie Williamson’s no heroine. I think we should have a serious talk, Gavin.’

  ‘About what Sheila said to you? What did she say to you anyway?’

  ‘She asked if I’d thought of going back with my mother.’

  ‘That was none of her business.’

  ‘She seems to have changed her mind about me. She thinks now that I’m not suitable.’

  ‘Suitable for what?’

  ‘Suitable to be married to you.’

  ‘Mrs Gilmour and the ladies in the church thought you were suitable. So did the people at the Big Stone today.’

  ‘I’ve always been good at pretending.’

  ‘You weren’t pretending. They saw the real Effie Williamson. My Effie Williamson.’

  ‘But, Gavin, I’m not sure myself that I’m suitable.’

  ‘You’re not already married, are you?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Not even to Farmer Mitchell?’

  ‘Especially not to Farmer Mitchell.’

  ‘I’m not married either, especially not to Fiona McDonald. I love you, Effie.’

  He waited for her to say it and she said it, quietly but earnestly.

  ‘I love you, Gavin.’

  ‘So we’ll get married.’

  ‘Is it as simple as that?’

  ‘It is.’

  They listened then in silence to the roaring of the wind in the big beech trees.

  It was his turn to tease her. ‘What did you think of Eddie’s suggestion?’

  ‘Which one? He’s always making suggestions.’

  ‘That you and I should sleep together.’

  ‘He meant just sleep.’

  She had thought about it. She had imagined it happening. With Daniel or Farmer Mitchell it would have been an agony and degradation. With Gavin Hamilton it would be a liberating, uplifting joy. It would really be making love.

  ‘When we’re married, Effie.’

  ‘Yes, Gavin, when we’re married.’

  But would it ever happen? Would any of it happen?

  In a few weeks would she really cease to be Effie Williamson, pearl-fisher, and become Mrs Gavin Hamilton, accepted and respected in the community? Would she go on living in this fine big house, with Morag and Eddie, and Gavin at weekends, looking after the children from Glasgow? Would she, able to drive by then, meet him in Towellan and bring him home? Would she, having worked very hard, no longer uneducated and ignorant, be able to help him achieve his ambitions, whatever they were? Would she decorate his church with flowers and on his behalf visit the sick? Would there be three children, one with brown eyes and two with blue? Would she and Gavin visit her old traveller friends?

  Going up the stairs she paused and asked those questions.

  In her room she stood in front of the mirror. It was still Effie Williamson who looked back at her, it was Effie Williamson who was to answer.

  For a minute or so there was a tumult in her mind, like the storm outside, and then a great calm.

  ‘Yes,’ she murmured, ‘yes, yes, yes.’

  It could all happen.

  Other titles by Robin Jenkins

  Dust on the Paw

  Leila

  Love is a Fervent Fire

  Lunderston Tales

  Matthew & Sheila

  The Missionaries

  Poverty Castle

  Sardana Dancers

  Some Kind of Grace

  The Thistle and the Grail

  A Very Scotch Affair

  Willie Hogg

  Copyright

  This ebook edition published in 2011 by

  Birlinn Limited

  West Newington House

  Newington Road

  Edinburgh

  EH9 1QS

  www.birlinn.co.uk

  First published in 2007 by Polygon, an imprint of Birlinn Ltd

  Copyright © the estate of Robin Jenkins 2007

  The moral right of Robin Jenkins to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by his estate in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form without the express written permission of the publisher.

  ebook ISBN: 978–0–85790–022–7

  British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library