At least he had tried, when business permitted, to instil into Annabella religious instruction. He had also done his best to make sure she was treated with strictness at school. He remembered taking her on the first day and warning the dominie, ‘I’ve brought you our Annabella; see ye thrash her weel.’ But nothing seemed to daunt the girl. She grew worse instead of better. Even now, sitting in God’s house, she was sporting her fan and tipping her head this way and that, flaunting herself as if she were in a dancing salon and hoping that some fop would ask her to jig or minuet.
‘Annabella, can you no’ hear the preacher?’
‘How could I not hear him, Papa? I swear one day the man will take a stroke.’
‘Mind your tongue.’
He resolved to waste no more time and when they left the church he stopped to have a word with the Reverend Blackadder at the door.
‘We would be verra pleased, Blackadder, if you would come and sup with us tonight.’
‘Uh-huh, and there’s Mistress Annabella. Weel, I’ll come if God spares me.’
‘If you’re dead, sir,’ Annabella flung at him as she swept past, ‘we’ll not expect you.’
Ramsay strode after her.
‘You’ll be lucky if he’ll have you after all your snash.’
‘Papa, you can’t really, honestly, truly see that horrible black crow as a husband for me?’
‘In my day you would have been flogged to death for making a fool of the minister. And so it should be yet. That’s what’s wrong with young folks now. They’re treated far too soft.’
She sighed in exasperation.
‘I wish somebody would do something, or something exciting would happen. I’ve never known such a prodigiously boring time in all my life. It’s the day before Christmas and no one has arranged one assembly or party or anything. And there’s going to be the same deficiency at New Year. It’s fearfully hard to bear, Papa.’
Suddenly her brother gave one of his high-pitched excited snickers.
‘Isn’t she the limit, Papa? One has to be amused.’
‘No,’ his father growled. ‘One has not to be amused. If you can’t talk sense, sir—hold your tongue!’
The afternoon stretched before Annabella like death itself. And an evening in the company of the Reverend Blackadder promised to be no more cheerful.
She sighed when they arrived back in the house. The best she could do was to busy herself with a little embroidery while her father sat muttering over the Bible, and Douglas endlessly polished his nails. After a time she went through to the kitchen, hoping for some gossip with Nancy. But the maid never could thole being watched while she cooked and she was in the midst of preparing a special supper because Mr Blackadder was coming.
‘Hm! That smells good,’ Annabella said, taking a peep into the pot hanging on the swee above the fire.
Nancy glowered and said nothing.
‘You’re an ill-mannered bitch,’ Annabella remarked, swishing aimlessly around the kitchen. ‘Did you know that?’
Still Nancy did not speak, but her resentment was so strong it could almost be seen as well as felt.
Annabella selected a sweetmeat from a plate, popped it into her mouth, then daintily licked her fingers.
‘That table’s filthy. See that it’s washed today.’ As she sauntered past the dresser she kicked at a woollen plaid. This was what covered Nancy during draughty winter’s nights while she slept on the kitchen floor. ‘And get this tidied away at once.’
Nancy’s hatred followed her like a dagger twisting in her back as she left the room and returned to where her father was still poring over the Bible. Douglas had gone.
‘Shall I light a candle, Papa?’
‘Is there something wrong with your eyes, mistress?’ He tried to squash her with a look not unlike Nancy’s. But Annabella was not so easily suppressed.
‘No, Papa, but there will be something wrong with yours if you persist in reading in such poor light.’
‘Aye, it’s your tongue that’s your trouble.’
She laughed and went over to gaze out of the window, determined not to be cast down by her father’s sarcastic tone or the gathering gloom or the fact that Mr Blackadder would soon be arriving.
Letitia Halyburton was coldly furious. She had always been a conscientious and thrifty housewife. Never as much as an oatcake had ever gone missing before. She kept the keys of the food cupboard and the linen kist hanging on a chain round her waist along with her snuffbox and perfume bottle. Her sharp eye kept constant watch on her daughters as well as the servants. No one was allowed to waste anything and a meticulous household account was kept. To lose or have stolen nearly half of all the linen she possessed was unthinkable. She could not, she would not, accept such a calamity.
Summoning the servants to her room, she sat rigid-backed, tapping her closed fan against her palm, too angry to speak.
‘Weel, ma’am,’ Tam said at last. ‘What ails ye?’
‘Aye, well may you ask.’ Her words squeezed through tight lips and her fan increased its rhythm.
‘Weel, then?’
‘What about my good linen?’
‘What about it?’
‘You ken fine.’
Kate squinted up through leathery wrinkles.
‘It’s your ain fault. You should have made her do it.’ She jerked a thumb towards young Nell.
Nell murmured under her breath: ‘You know I’m always willing and able to do anything I can to help, ma’am.’
‘Liar, liar!’ Kate screeched out. ‘You couldn’t wash a puddock’s bum.’
‘This is not getting me my fine linen.’
Kate simmered down again. ‘Do you think one o’ them Highlanders could have run away with Jessie?’
Tam shook his head.
‘He wouldn’t run very far with a one-legged auld witch like her. Naw, I shouldn’t think they’re that hard stuck for doxies.’
‘Tuts,’ Letitia said irritably. ‘They can’t be anywhere near Woodside. That’s only about a mile out of town. Tam, you go down to her house this very minute and see if she’s there.’
‘Why can’t the lassie go? Why must I trail away doon there when I’m busy setting up the table for the denner?’
‘Stop your arguing, man.’
‘Aye,’ cackled Kate. ‘He’s like an auld witch himself.’
‘I’m sick and tired of your snash as well, Kate, I’ve a good mind to terminate both your employment.’
‘No, no, ma’am.’ Tam shook a finger for emphasis. ‘I’m no’ having that. If you don’t know a good servant, I know a good place.’
‘And I’ve been with you since we were both wee bairns,’ Kate said. ‘And I’ll be with you till I die.’
‘Tuts, why am I plagued with such devils o’ servants? I can’t send young Nell to Tannery Wynd, Tam. There’s harlots and all kinds of wicked creatures down there. I should have known better than to trust somebody from such a place with my fine linen.’
‘Just the right place for her,’ Kate said. ‘She’s a wicked, sly, lazy besom.’
‘That may be so,’ Tarn conceded grudgingly, ‘but the mistress is right enough.’
‘And I can’t send Nell out to Woodside, either,’ Letitia said. ‘I need her here to do my hair. So, Kate, you’ll have to go and have a search around.’
Kate clenched her fists and shook them in the air.
‘I’ve done your hair all my life. That sly wicked besom’s trying to steal you away from me.’
‘What nonsense! Go away and do as you you’re told. Nell, you stay. I want my hair dressed before the gudeman comes home.’
Kate shuffled out muttering oaths under her breath. Once through in the kitchen, she draped her plaid over her mutch and down to cover her grotesque hunchback. Then she pinned it across her chest and repeated to Tam:
‘That wicked besom’s trying to steal the mistress away from me.’
‘Ach, woman,’ Tam said, ‘you’re just getting too old for th
e job.’
‘Too old?’ Kate echoed incredulously. ‘You dreepy-nosed dunner-heed. I’m only a handful o’ years older than yourself.’
‘Away and do as you are telt.’
‘Away yourself.’
Mumbling and muttering, they both left the house to go their separate ways. Tam turned left towards the Cross and Gallowgate Street. Kate took the opposite direction and was soon past the Shawfield Mansion and had turned up the winding path that led through empty countryside to Woodside.
She talked to herself most of the way. Or carried on imaginary conversations with Nell.
Her face twisted in mimicry. ‘ “You know I’m always willing and able to do anything I can to help, ma’am!” Sly, wicked besom. I’ll get her out of there yet. Think you’ll get rid of me, do you? Think you’ll steal my good job and my good home and my good mistress, do you? Well, just you wait, my lass. Just you wait. We’ll see. I’ll get rid of you first. Aye, I will. I will. I’ll get rid of you first.’
Suddenly she stopped. The thought of Nell Nesbit’s hands brushing and fondling Mistress Letitia’s hair was unendurable. And fears of what else she might be whispering in the mistress’s ear built up to a terrible crescendo of distress until the insecurity of not knowing what harm Nell might be causing in her absence proved too much for Kate. She turned and hurried back to town again without having reached the woods.
But she had seen them in the distance. The burn where Jessie did the washing sparkled in the winter’s sun. The fields ruffled in the wind. But of Jessie there was definitely not a sign.
‘I looked and looked,’ she told Letitia afterwards, ‘and there was neither hunt nor hare of her. Or your linen.’
‘I knew it!’ Letitia said. ‘They’re all rogues and vagabonds from Tannery Wynd. I told Adam Ramsay. This is his fault and I’ll never forgive him. He recommended Jessie Chisholm. Almost begged me indeed to give her employment.’
Kate nodded sagely.
‘He’s always been a bit queer since the burning of Jessie’s mother. His sister was to blame, remember. They’re a family worth a’ watching. Take your auld Kate’s advice, mistress. Think twice before letting his Douglas wed our Griselle.’
5
MOST of the man’s ear had been hacked off, and a swelling under one eye like a giant egg blocked out sight. He cocked his head and with the other eye peered at Gav and Regina who were viewing him with undisguised horror.
‘You see that, do you?’ He pointed at the pieces of torn flesh where the ear had once been. That’s what’ll happen to you if you don’t do as Quin tells you. Quin cut it off himself. The hangman nailed Quin by the lug and gave him a knife and told him if he wanted to get free he’d have to cut his own lug off and he did.’ He made wild slashing motions and the children shrank back. He pounced on them and this time caught one of their ears in each hand and twisted it until they howled with pain. ‘Quin still has that big knife in his coat. Which of your lugs will he hack off first, eh?’
‘No, please don’t,’ Regina squealed. ‘We’ll do as you say, won’t we Gav? We promise.’
‘You’d better. Quin’s got Auld Nick to help him, and if Quin can’t catch you, he will, eh? He was talking to Quin the other day. He came in the guise of an auld man with splits in his shoes to fit his hoofs and “Quin,” says he, “Quin, I’m giving you verra special powers. I’m giving you a magic eye.” ’ He jerked his head to one side and rolled his eye nearer, first to Gav and then to Regina. ‘See it, eh? “Quin,” says the devil, “Quin, you’re a verra lucky man. With that magic eye you’ll be able to see into any place—even when your body’s no’ able to go.” What do you think o’ that, eh?’
The children said nothing.
‘Have you eaten, eh?’
With difficulty they moved their heads.
‘Quin’s got a dod o’ salmon.’ He let go of their ears, plunged inside his coat and came out with two filthy hands in which were squashed a mixture of cooked fish, dust, threads and hairs. He thrust one hand towards them. They stared at it in disgust.
‘Come on, come on,’ he urged. ‘Quin’s no’ got all day.’
‘Mammy makes us porridge,’ Gav said.
‘She can’t any more, eh?’
‘Why not?’
‘She’s away with Auld Nick. Auld Nick turned her into a black hen, tucked her under his arm and trippit away with her.’
Gav’s lips trembled.
‘Right,’ said the man. ‘Are ye going to eat or are ye no’?’ Slowly Gav and Regina picked at the proffered food and stuffed it into their mouths.
‘Now,’ said the man. ‘Time to go, eh?’
‘Go where?’ asked Regina.
‘Everywhere,’ said the man. ‘And mind, Quin’s yer faither.’
‘We haven’t got a father,’ Gav protested. ‘We’ve never had a father.’
‘Well, ye have noo.’
‘I’m thirsty,’ Regina said.
‘Quin’s thirsty. That’s where we’ll make for first, eh?’
He prodded and hustled them out of the close and into Trongate Street. Watery light spread over tenement buildings. The spires of the Tolbooth on one side of the road and the Tron Church on the other pierced silver clouds. High on its pedestal, the pawing horse bearing the victorious King William sweated ice. The plainstanes were empty, but along the road from all directions came barefooted serving girls with stoups and jugs to fill at the public draw-wells. Along trundled a cart heaped with the yellow sand that housewives sprinkled on their kitchen floors and stairs. Pulling the cart was an old horse with its head drooping low and sitting among the sand a man was sadly chanting:
‘Ye-sa! Ye-sa!’
Hustling past were the sutie men with their faces blackened by going down chimneys head first. The town cowherd, blaring his horn, drove cattle towards the green pastures of the Cowcaddens. A man in a blue bonnet came riding a black horse with his gudewife sitting side-saddle behind him. And Moothy McMurdo swaggered by ringing his bell.
‘Pin back your lugs, pin back your lugs!
A Parcel o’ juicy Lisbon lemons
Has arrived in the shop of Johnny Spuds!
There is likewise to come here
A variety of stoneware
And fine boiling green peas
Best mustard and English cheese.’
Quin and the children took a drink at the well.
‘Oh-ho!’ Quin gave a little dance as he spied the hangman emerge from the Tolbooth building, pulling behind him a woman with long tousy hair. ‘Oh-ho—now we’ll see some fun, eh?’ He hustled the children nearer. Already other people were gathering around to watch with interest. Hangy Spittal tied the woman to the back of a cart waiting in front of the Tolbooth for the purpose.
Hangy’s uniform consisted of a long blue coat with yellow buttons and with collar, cuffs and other facings in scarlet and a cocked hat with white edging to match his white stockings. He had buckles on his shoes and at his knees, and frills from his wrists reached down over the knuckles of his fingers. The uniform looked splendid, but the man inside it was a miserable specimen, lank and shrivelled with a small head and a wizened countenance from which hung lips that continually dripped spittle.
A rabble of people had now collected and Quin and the children were roughly punched and squeezed and jostled about.
Suddenly recognition dawned on Regina.
‘Gav,’ she said, ‘that’s one of the women who lives upstairs from us.’ She felt uneasy and disturbed. The woman looked helpless. With her arms stretched out and her wrists tied and her head twisted awkwardly to one side she was not in the least menacing or frightening.
Inside the rabble and forming a circle round the prisoner were the town’s officers in full dress and armed with halberts. The town’s drummer appeared too. Then on tuck of drum a gasp of excitement swirled about as the hangman began to tear at the woman’s white shirt until she was naked to the waist with milky breasts hanging soft and vulnerable. The drumming swelle
d to crescendo. The hangman lifted his cat-o-nine-tails and before the children’s horrified gaze proceeded to lash the woman until blood spurted from her back. Regina was standing so close she could look into her eyes and they contained such anguish and appeal it made the little girl weep and wail at her own inadequacy.
‘What’s wrong with you, eh?’ Quin asked in surprise.
Gav stretched a protective arm round his sister.
‘We know that woman.’
‘So you know harlots, eh? Quin knows a few as well. Follow them around the streets, will we? They’ll whip her along the Gallowgate down the Saltmarket and back here again. Or to business right away, is it? Eh?’
He cocked his head, making his greasy hair fly about.
‘Right, come on, then. There’s no money here. It’s down to the bridge, eh? There’s a toll down there and folks are having to open their pouches. After that Quin has two good stands up the High Street. First at the Cathedral and then at the College.’ He winked his only eye, making his face look like a speckled stone with sharp edges and round bulges in strange places.
‘Maybe we’ll manage to do a wee bit of pickering. Get a pouch or two for ourselves, eh?’
‘Is that the reason they nailed you to the pillory?’ Gav asked.
Quin nodded enthusiastically. ‘Quin wants to hang on to his other lug. That’s why he needs help.’
‘I’m not going to steal.’ Gav glowered at him. ‘And my sister’s not going to steal either.’
‘Maybe Auld Nick can persuade you. Sometimes he comes as a great bee and buzzes round Quin. Other times he’s a black dog. Oh-ho!’ His eye immediately perceived Gav’s look of fear. ‘You’ve seen him, eh?’
‘We know a dog called Spider.’
‘The verra one. The verra one! Down to the bridge before he comes, eh?’
Dragging the children with him, he jogged along, bouncing from one foot to the other, his hair and his coat-tails flapping.
* * *
The noise alerted Jessie again. It was footsteps. Immediately she renewed her cries and was confused as well as relieved when the branches above her rustled open and two or three faces peered down. Then a voice called in the Gaelic:
The Tobacco Lords Trilogy Page 6