The Girl with the Creel

by Doris Davidson

  ‘And he saw me home.’

  ‘Oh!’ This obviously put a new aspect on it for the other girl, but she sneered, ‘He’d to pass your house, any road, and I bet he didna even kiss you.’

  Lizann couldn’t say he had, but she did have an ace up her sleeve. ‘I was with him last night, and all, and we’re going out on Wednesday.’

  Peggy May looked impressed now. ‘So he is your lad?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Lizann said, deciding to be perfectly honest, ‘but I hope so.’ She changed the subject. ‘Are you not working just now?’

  ‘I start tomorrow at the yard again. We get a few days off when we get back from Yarmouth, you see. You should come next year, Lizann. I’ve told you before, it’s great fun, and you’d meet dozens o’ nice lads.’

  Several of the girls who had been at school with them now followed the herring fleet, some from the beginning of the season in March, when the fish were landed at Lerwick, and some, like Peggy May, working in one of the fish houses for most of the time and just going to Yarmouth to gut and pack the last catches of the year. Lizann had asked her father last summer if she could go, but he’d been horrified. ‘God kens what some o’ they lassies get up to when they’re down there away from their mothers and naebody looking after them.’

  Lizann had tried to sidetrack him. ‘I can gut as fast as any of them,’ but he had said, with decisive finality, ‘Your mother needs you here.’

  That was why she hadn’t asked him this summer, and she didn’t think she would ask him ever again. She had Peter now, so she wasn’t jealous of Peggy May getting away from Buckie for a while. She was likely hoping to find a lad.

  ‘I’d better get on,’ Lizann said now. ‘I’ve a lot of things to get.’

  ‘See you some time,’ Peggy May smiled.

  It wasn’t quite so cold on Wednesday night, so Peter suggested walking in the other direction this time. They didn’t say much as they ambled along, but when they came to Portessie, the moon was playing over the stretch of sand, turning it to shimmering silver. Stopping to admire it, Lizann turned to him, her eyes shining. ‘It’s really lovely, isn’t it? The sea’s so calm, not like it was on Sunday.’

  The dream she had nurtured since Saturday night suddenly came true. Peter’s arms enfolded her, and his tender kiss left her longing for more. ‘I never knew it could be like this,’ he said, softly.

  ‘Neither did I,’ she whispered, but another kiss proved that it was.

  They made slow progress now, stopping every few yards to savour the wonder of blossoming love, until Lizann’s throat was tight with emotion and she thought her heart would burst with happiness.

  ‘We’d better turn back,’ Peter said at last. ‘You look cold.’

  She was unwilling to put an end to the rapture, but she was grateful that he was considering her well-being, for she hadn’t realized before that her feet were freezing.

  When they returned to the Yardie, Peter took her round to the seaward side of the houses so they wouldn’t be seen from the street, and with the icy wind which had sprung up howling around them and the crashing of the waves on the shore in their ears, he kissed her so fervently that her frozen toes thawed out and curled up. Then he stepped back with a sigh. ‘You’ll have to go in, Lizann, it’s getting late.’

  ‘Oh, Peter, I don’t want to go in yet.’

  ‘Your mother’ll blame me for keeping you out. Um … Lizann will you … go steady with me?’

  It had come at last. ‘I’d like that,’ she whispered, ‘but it’ll have to be just twice a week.’

  ‘You haven’t another lad, have you?’

  ‘No, there’s nobody else.’

  ‘Thank God for that, for … I love you, Lizann.’

  Her legs were in danger of giving way, but she whispered, ‘And I love you, Peter,’ before turning to let him kiss her once more. This time, new thrills started deep inside her, something she had never experienced before and hoped was part of being in love.

  He let her go so soon that she said, anxiously, ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing’s wrong, but you’d better go in. I can’t stand any more.’

  Too innocent to know what he meant by this, or to recognize her own jagged emotions as frustration, she felt as if he’d rejected her. What had she done that he couldn’t stand? Her spirits sank even lower when, instead of giving her another loving kiss, he gave her a peck on the cheek. ‘We’d best make it Saturday and we can go dancing again … if you want to.’

  ‘Yes, I want to.’

  ‘Goodnight, then … my darling.’

  He walked away and she went inside where Hannah eyed her knowingly. ‘I can tell he’s kissed you.’

  Blushing, Lizann nodded. ‘And he’s asked me to go steady with him.’

  ‘Och well, your father said as long as it was Peter … Be careful, though, for if he loses his head, he could land you in trouble.’

  Snippets Lizann had uncomprehendingly overheard as a schoolgirl came back to her mind, yet she still didn’t fully understand the kind of trouble she could land in. She knew she should be thankful that Peter had put an end to the kissing before he lost his head, but she wasn’t. She would have preferred to find out what came after – she could have stopped him if he did anything she didn’t like.

  In bed she snuggled round the hot water bottle. It had never crossed her mind before Saturday to think of Peter as anything other than Mick’s pal. She had always liked him, and looked up to him because he was so much older, but five years didn’t seem such a big difference now. What she couldn’t get over was how quickly the liking had turned to love … in a flash. Was that how it always happened? A removal of blinkers? A sudden blinding revelation?

  She called up an image of him in her mind. Before she danced with him, she hadn’t noticed that his blond hair was so silky, nor that his hazel eyes were so tender … but maybe they hadn’t looked at her so tenderly before. He was taller than Mick, and though he wasn’t so broad, he still made her feel daintily fragile. Oh, it was good to be loved!

  * * *

  Having lain awake into the early hours of Thursday morning thinking of Lizann, Peter’s mind was not on the blueprints in front of him that day. He could remember how, at five years old, he had admired the new baby girl who had appeared in Mick’s house. He had seen her progressing from toddler to schoolgirl; he’d played all kinds of board games with her; he had always been fond of her … as the sister he didn’t have. But he had never, ever, thought he would feel like this about her. Love hadn’t just crept up on him, it had exploded over him, knocked him senseless – he hardly knew what he was doing any more.

  Mick had been making love to girls since he was sixteen and had often told him he didn’t know what he was missing, but he had never felt the urge before. He’d even wondered if he was one of the pansies folk made fun of, and it was a great relief to know he wasn’t … anything but!

  Having banished his latent fear, he allowed his thoughts to proceed a little further. Lizann was still too young for him to think of defiling her. Well, maybe he would dream about it, but he would wait till they were married before he touched her in that way. He’d have to ask her father for her hand, but he was sure Willie Alec would agree, though he’d probably make them wait till she was eighteen.

  Peter’s thoughts wavered here. Would he manage to keep his hands off Lizann for a whole year and a half? It would be difficult, but if he slipped, bang would go any chance of making her his wife. He would have to be damned careful every time they were alone together.

  On Saturday night, Mick being home every weekend, the four young people walked back together from the dance, Mick carrying on to Main Street with Jenny when Peter stopped at the Yardie with Lizann. He led her round to the sea side again, where he kissed her circumspectly for ten minutes until she flung her arms round his neck and pressed herself against him. For a few moments, he forgot his resolve and kissed her so passionately that a savage need arose in him and he had to th
rust her from him. He could see that she was hurt by this, but he couldn’t explain. He would be far too embarrassed to tell her about the birds and the bees, and in any case, it would likely disgust her.

  Holding himself so that his body did not come into contact with hers at any point, he took her face in his hands. ‘Don’t ever forget I love you, my darling,’ he murmured, huskily, ‘but you’d best go in.’ Brushing her lips gently with his, he walked off.

  He looked across at the Cowies’ house before going into his own, but there was no sign of Mick or Jenny. Remembering that her mother was a chronic invalid and her father nearly as bad, he guessed they would be in bed, and Mick would likely be making love to Jenny in the kitchen – the lucky blighter!

  Peter was not entirely wrong in his supposition. Mr and Mrs Cowie were in bed, Mick was alone with Jenny in the kitchen, but she was not one of his easy conquests. She had let him take the hairpins out of her long, chestnut hair and run his fingers through it; she had let him kiss her, had even been kissing him back quite ardently … until he tried to open her blouse. ‘No,’ she said, firmly, shoving his hands away.

  Other girls had refused his first advances and he had always persisted until he got his way, but he liked Jenny far too much to go against her wishes. He would bide his time; she had promised to be his steady girl, and she’d give in eventually. ‘Sorry, Jen,’ he said, nuzzling her neck.

  She showed her forgiveness by kissing him again, then said, ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have let you come in. I should have known what would happen.’

  ‘I won’t do it again,’ he murmured, ‘not unless you want me to.’

  ‘I do want you to,’ she whispered, ‘but I can’t risk it. I don’t want to land with a bairn – I’ve my mother and father to think on.’

  Mick could see her point. Her parents depended on her, and her mother especially was so frail that the shock of being presented with a bastard grandchild could kill her. It did not occur to him that, if Jenny were to fall pregnant, he could make the baby legitimate by marrying her. He wasn’t ready to be tied down to marriage … not yet.

  Over the winter, Peter’s kisses came no closer to meeting Lizann’s expectations, but his declarations of love seemed genuine, so she blamed the cold weather for his lack of passion. Besides, because of the rain or snow, many of their evenings together had to be spent in the Yardie under her mother’s watchful eye, which, she supposed, would be enough to dampen any suitor’s ardour.

  When spring arrived, Lizann suggested going farther afield on their Wednesday walks, hoping to find a secluded spot where they could sit down for a while, but even though they found several, Peter got edgy after a few minutes and wanted to move on. She longed for him to kiss her as a man should kiss the girl he loves – he had done it once, so she knew he could – but he didn’t do it again. Her love for him had grown even deeper, and she occasionally tried to show him that she had a woman’s feelings now, but he always pulled away from her, his face scarlet.

  She said nothing at first, believing that he was afraid to go on in case he went too far, but she was sure that he would have to give way to his feelings some time. After some weeks of waiting for the miracle to happen, she made up her mind to force him into it.

  The next Wednesday, therefore, she pulled him down to lie beside her on a mossy bank they had found behind some trees, and when he drew away uneasily, she put her arms round his neck to hold him there. ‘You don’t have to stop, Peter.’

  His lips came down on hers in a way she had only dreamed of. Was she about to find out what came next? Pulling her hair back, he nibbled her ears then began to kiss all over her face and neck. She could hardly breathe with the thrill of it, and his breathing was harsh and erratic, but suddenly, he gave a hoarse cry and sprang back.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she wailed.

  ‘You know what’s wrong,’ he muttered. ‘Lizann, I can’t touch you.’

  She couldn’t shame herself by confessing that she had been longing for him to touch her, to do more than touch her, and she sat up, frustrated.

  Throughout the summer she tried unsuccessfully to make him respond to her as she wanted, bewildered by the reserve she could sense in him, and at last, one night in August, she asked, plaintively, ‘Have you stopped loving me, Peter?’

  ‘Oh, don’t think that, my darling,’ he groaned. ‘I love you too much, that’s what’s wrong. I can’t trust myself when you kiss me like that.’

  She was desperate to experience what she believed to be the ultimate pleasure, but she could see that he was determined not to be tempted into it. When he took her home that night, his last kiss was so brief that she went inside upset as well as frustrated, and couldn’t get rid of the suspicion that he was tired of her.

  She was in a despondent mood next morning, and Hannah, sensing that something was wrong, despatched her to the shops to take her mind off whatever was bothering her. Lizann was going up High Street when she spotted Peggy May Cordiner coming out of West Church Street. Not feeling like talking, she wished she could hide in a doorway out of sight, but her friend had already seen her.

  ‘You’re looking down in the dumps,’ Peggy May observed. ‘Have you fell out wi’ Peter Tait?’

  ‘Not really, but … ach, it’s nothing.’

  ‘Dinna tell me, if that’s how you feel. I’ve other things to think on. They’re leaving for Yarmouth the morrow, six crews of three from our yard – that’s two gutters and a packer – but Janet Reid’s expecting so my crew’s one short, and we canna go unless we find another gutter the day.’ Peggy May’s round face brightened. ‘I just minded. You can gut, can’t you? You could come … or do you nae want to leave Peter Tait?’

  The hint of sarcasm made Lizann say, impulsively, ‘It might do us good to be away from each other for a while. All right, Peggy May. I’ll come … if my mother lets me.’

  ‘Tell her my Dad’ll be there to look after us and she’ll maybe agree. You’ll need to let me ken by dinnertime, though.’

  On her way home again, Lizann wondered if she had been too hasty. What would Peter say? He’d likely be angry at her for going away, but there was always the chance that he’d miss her so much that when she came back he’d … She gave her head a shake. She should stop worrying about it, for she couldn’t really see her mother letting her go.

  Sure that Peter had done something to upset her daughter, Hannah wished she could separate them for a while. Lizann was getting far too serious, and Peter was a man, after all, with a man’s inclination to lust. Willie Alec had been the same, though she’d never let him touch her till they were man and wife. But Lizann might give in to Peter and land in the family way, and her father would go off his head.

  Hannah let out a deep sigh. She would have to speak to Lizann again, to make her understand how Peter could be tempted by her slender body and blossoming bosom. It was strange how a man was always fascinated by a woman’s breasts – handling hers still fired Willie Alec – and Lizann was only seventeen; she shouldn’t be subjected to that kind of thing.

  Looking up when her daughter came in, Hannah saw that she seemed much happier and thought it would be a good time to get the lecture over, but before she could say anything, Lizann burst out, ‘Peggy May Cordiner was saying they’re one short in her crew this year, and she asked me to go.’

  ‘To Yarmouth?’

  ‘Can I, Mother? They’re leaving the morrow morning.’

  Hannah felt at a loss. Her husband always made all the decisions and he wasn’t at home to discuss this. She knew he wouldn’t agree to it, but it would give Lizann and Peter time to cool down … or would their love build up so they wouldn’t be able to control themselves when she came home? It was a risk Hannah decided she would have to take, and Willie Alec would surely let them get married … if they had to.

  ‘Peggy May’s father’s going,’ Lizann urged. ‘He’s a cooper.’

  Trusting that this would satisfy her husband, Hannah muttered, ‘All right. You can go �
�� this once.’

  Lizann’s anxious face lit up. ‘I’ll have to let her know.’

  Hannah watched her skipping out, then rose to sort out some clothes for her. God knew what her father would say, but it was done now.

  * * *

  As Lizann had known, Peter was not pleased at her news. He had been surprised to see her on a Thursday night, and had looked at her warily when she asked him to come out for a few minutes so she could tell him something. ‘Yarmouth?’ he gasped, in dismay, as they walked from his house to hers. ‘I’m surprised your mother didn’t stop you, and what’ll your father say?’

  ‘I’ll be away before he’s home. We’re leaving in the morning.’

  ‘As soon as that? Oh, God, Lizann, what am I going to do without you?’ He grabbed her, and when his lips came down with all the passion she had been longing for, she clung to him and wouldn’t let go. His hands slid down and pressed her against him so hard that, for the first time, she felt his need grow, then he thrust her away from him abruptly. ‘I can’t, Lizann! No, don’t touch me. You’ll have to let me be for a minute.’

  He wheeled away and she waited resentfully until he turned back to her. ‘Please don’t go, Lizann.’

  ‘I can’t back out now. I’ve told Peggy May.’

  ‘Well … will you promise to marry me when you come home?’

  This took her by surprise. ‘If you’d asked me that before …’

  ‘I was waiting … I thought your father wouldn’t let us get wed before you were eighteen, but we could be engaged now.’

  ‘I’ll have to think about it. I’ll tell you when I get back.’

  His last kiss made her go inside wishing she hadn’t been so childish. She had kept him dangling to punish him for not giving way to his feelings, and she’d ended up punishing herself as well. She loved him with all her heart, and now he had actually asked her to marry him, she wished she hadn’t agreed to go with Peggy May. Two months was an awful long time to be away from him. Anything could happen.

  Chapter Two