The Girl with the Creel

by Doris Davidson

  ‘Come on, Lizann,’ Mick called, breaking into her reverie. ‘Why are you sitting there dreaming? It’s your engagement we’re celebrating.’

  Her father refilled her glass, wrinkling his nose at the smell of the wine. ‘You’re not having second thoughts about it, are you?’

  She laughed along with him, and looking at Peter she said firmly, ‘No, I’m quite sure.’

  Her fiancé walked across the room and pulled her to her feet. ‘I’m the happiest man in Buckie the night,’ he grinned, sliding his arm round her waist and drawing her close. ‘And I’ll be happier still on the day the minister makes her my wife.’

  Mick nudged him in the ribs. ‘It’s the wedding night that’ll make you happiest, though, eh, Peter?’

  The three men laughed uproariously at that, but Hannah frowned at her son for touching on so delicate a subject, and Lizann turned crimson.

  ‘Ach, Mother,’ Mick cried, ‘stop glowering at me. It’s only natural to enjoy the first night, isn’t it? I’m sure you and Father enjoyed yours.’

  The last remark involving him, Willie Alec considered that his son had overstepped the bounds of decency. ‘That’s not the kind of talk I like in my house, Mick,’ he said, sharply.

  ‘Ach, I was just joking, Father.’

  ‘It’s not a joking matter.’

  ‘Don’t quarrel,’ Lizann pleaded. ‘It was only a bit of fun.’

  ‘You’re right, lass.’ Willie Alec’s expression changed as he lifted the whisky bottle again. ‘You’ll have another dram, Peter?’ he grinned.

  ‘I don’t think I should.’

  ‘If you’re worried about going home drunk, I’ll tell Bella Jeannie the morrow it was my fault.’

  Sure that Lizann’s father would be a match for his mother, Peter held out his glass, and after topping it up, Willie Alec turned to Mick. ‘I was ower hasty, son, and we’ll forget about it, eh?’

  With harmony restored, the jollifications continued, and by the time Lizann was undressing for bed, she was sure she had done the right thing in promising to marry Peter.

  ‘Mam wants you to come for your supper the morrow,’ Peter told Lizann on Thursday, ‘though she says it’ll not be anything special.’

  ‘That doesn’t matter,’ she exclaimed, pleased that Bella Jeannie was being friendly. She wasn’t to know that Peter had pressurized his mother into asking her.

  When Hannah was told about the invitation she said, ‘I’m surprised Bella Jeannie hasna kicked up a fuss about this engagement. I’d have said she wouldna think there was a lassie in the whole o’ Scotland good enough for her Peter. She’s for ever telling folk about him learning to be a draughtsman.’

  Lizann smiled proudly. ‘She likely thinks he could do a lot worse than marry into a good family like the Jappys.’

  Nevertheless she was apprehensive when she was taken into the Taits’ kitchen on Friday. Bella Jeannie was dozing by the fire, her vast body jammed into an armchair, still in a stained wrap-around overall, her sleeves rolled up, revealing the wobbling blubber of her upper arms. Giving a start, she opened her eyes. ‘I didna expect you yet,’ she said accusingly. With many grunts and groans, she succeeded in separating herself from her chair, but when Lizann asked if there was anything she could do to help, she snapped, ‘I’ll manage.’

  ‘Let her see the ring, Lizann,’ Peter said, nerves making his voice rise in pitch a little.

  Shyly, she went forward and held out her left hand, but the woman gave it only a cursory glance and snorted, ‘Have you tell’t Willie Alec yet? The bride’s father’s to pay for the wedding, you ken.’

  Lizann looked helplessly at Peter, who said, still a trifle nervously, ‘He gave me his blessing when I asked him, and Hannah was pleased about it, and all.’

  ‘Hannah’s never been able to see past Willie Alec. Naebody understood why he chose her, for she was a plain wee moose, and dozens o’ lassies had their eye on him. He was a right handsome man in his young days … still is.’

  Suspecting that Bella Jeannie had been one of the girls whose eye had been on him, Lizann let the slur on her mother pass, but she still felt a bit rattled that Peter had spoken to her father before she came home.

  Taking her frosty expression as dismay at his mother’s reaction, he prompted, ‘Are you not going to congratulate us, Mam?’

  Waddling across, she put her fleshy arms round him. ‘Congratulations, son, but I hope you ken what you’re doing.’ Then she turned to Lizann. ‘You’re getting the finest man in the land. I’ve done everything for him from the day he was born, and I hope you’ll look after him right.’

  Peter stepped in before Lizann could answer. ‘We’ll look after each other, for she loves me as much as I love her.’

  Lizann expected her to sneer at this, but she said, ‘Ach well, it’ll maybe work out. Now, for ony sake, sit yourself down.’

  Taking the chair the man pulled out for her, Lizann watched the woman as she filled the plates and set them down at each place, puffing with even the slight exertion of stretching across the table. Her face was bright red from the heat of the stove, and her iron-grey hair was damp and straggly. Hoping that the stew would be less offensive than the cook, Lizann was relieved to find it very palatable.

  ‘So Willie Alec’s happy about this engagement?’ Bella Jeannie barked suddenly, a few more greasy wisps escaping from the hairpins. ‘Well so he should be, for my son’s a fine catch for ony lassie.’

  ‘Mam!’ Peter protested, embarrassed.

  ‘It’s true,’ she declared. ‘I aye hoped you’d pick somebody from your office, maybe, or a lassie … ach well, I’ll say no more.’

  Bowfer Tait – so nicknamed because his chronic bronchitis made him bark like a dog – spoke for the first time. ‘She’s a right bonnie lass.’ His leg brushed Lizann’s – by accident, she hoped.

  ‘Are you going out tonight, Dad?’ Peter asked.

  ‘I aye go to the Harbour Bar for an hour or so,’ Bowfer told Lizann, ‘but seeing you’re here …’

  ‘Don’t stay in for me,’ she interrupted.

  ‘No, Dad,’ Peter smiled. ‘Go out for your pint as usual.’

  ‘One pint?’ Bella Jeannie sneered. ‘Half a dozen, more like.’

  ‘It’s the only enjoyment I get,’ her husband complained.

  Lizann could well believe that; Bella Jeannie must wear on him. They were an ill-matched couple, the woman big in every sense of the word and the man insignificantly small and weedy. Even his sparse hair seemed to be receding to get away from her.

  When the meal was over, he stood up. ‘Well, if naebody objects, I’ll away out.’ He addressed all three of the others, but it was his wife’s permission he sought with his eyes.

  ‘Aye, away you go!’ she ordered, and as he scuttled off, she said to Lizann, ‘He’s better boozing wi’ his cronies than sitting here snoring.’

  Lizann’s offer to help with the dishes was taken up, but little was said during the operation. When everything was washed and laid past, Bella Jeannie bundled up the tablecloth, shook it out at the back door and, with not one dirty spot to be seen on it, put it in the washing basket to be washed the next day. Then she swept the floor, remarking, ‘I like everything to be spick and span, and it’s best to clean up as you go along.’

  With this evidence of pride in her house, Lizann expected her to take off her filthy overall before she sat down, but she settled herself into her armchair oblivious of her own appearance, her eyes closing almost as soon as her huge rear end came in contact with the seat.

  Afraid to speak now, Lizann looked at Peter, who grinned. ‘That’s her till Dad comes in again, and she’s as bad as him for snoring. We’d be as well leaving her to it.’ Getting up, he went over to his mother and gave her arm a poke. ‘We’re going out for a walk, Mam, and then I’ll just take Lizann home.’

  ‘Thank you for having me, Mrs Tait,’ Lizann murmured, deeming it best not to address her by her Christian names, although it was how she was co
mmonly known.

  ‘You’ll have to come back some time,’ Bella Jeannie mumbled vaguely, before her eyelids drooped again.

  ‘I don’t think she’s pleased about the engagement,’ Lizann remarked when they were outside.

  Slipping an arm round her waist, Peter said, ‘It wasn’t that. She was annoyed I’d spoken to your father and never said anything to her, but she’ll get over it. She’ll be a good mother-in-law to you when the time comes, I’m sure.’

  Lizann shuddered at the prospect of having Bella Jeannie Tait as a mother-in-law – something that had slipped her mind until then – but Peter couldn’t choose his relations any more than anybody else could.

  ‘We’re not going to live there when we’re married?’ she asked.

  ‘God no! She’d never stop interfering. We’ll look for a house … up the town, not in Buckpool, but there’s plenty of time.’

  Before she went to sleep that night it crossed Lizann’s mind that she hadn’t thought of George the whole day. She could hardly believe it, but it was surely a good sign. She’d had the feeling, on their last night, that if she’d given him the slightest hint that she might not marry Peter he’d have thrown over his girlfriend and come to Buckie to court her. But he probably wouldn’t have, and he’d be engaged to his Katie by now, so it was best to forget him.

  If she married Peter … when she married Peter, she corrected herself, she would be ecstatically happy. She hadn’t told him a lie when she said she still loved him, for she did … didn’t she?

  Chapter Four

  ‘It’s time I tidied out the foot o’ the lobby press,’ Hannah observed, one dull morning, after Willie Alec and Mick had left. ‘Your father just chucks everything in there.’

  ‘I’ll do it if you like.’ Lizann was glad of a change from polishing the brasses and washing and ironing clothes, and there was always a possibility that she would come across something interesting.

  She smiled ruefully when she opened the door. The two shelves where her mother kept articles only needed for occasional use were neat and tidy, but the bottom of the cupboard was in a proper mess. She lifted everything out and laid it on the linoleum behind her, then scrubbed out the wooden floor and, waiting for it to dry, looked to see what could be thrown out. There were tins of nails and screws, a box of the tools her father used for the jobs around the house and a cardboard box with old door handles and lots of other items he obviously thought might come in handy. She sifted out the things she thought were past being useful, and put the rest into the carton neatly before she returned boxes and tin to the cupboard.

  Next she set an old storm lantern in its original place, also two old rolls of wallpaper her mother used for lining drawers. Lastly she came to a thick bundle of old newspapers dated 1908 and tied with a piece of string. Wondering what was so interesting in them that they’d been kept twenty-two years, she undid the knot and felt something hard and flat inside. Carefully opening out the yellowing pages, she uncovered a gold-framed picture of a fishergirl with a creel on her back, standing on the shore looking out to sea.

  It was a sketch, not a photograph, but it fascinated her because she could see a likeness to her mother in the girl’s face and the way she was standing. She could be a sister, but Auntie Lou was Hannah’s only sister and she had never mentioned going round with a creel when she was young. Maybe this was a younger sister who had died … or got into some kind of trouble that had made her run away in disgrace?

  Intrigued, Lizann took the picture through to the kitchen, but when Hannah saw it she let out a horrified gasp. ‘Ach, I forgot I’d hid that thing in there.’

  This increased Lizann’s curiosity. ‘It’s not a thing, Mother, it’s a lovely picture. Why did you hide it away?’

  ‘Never you mind. Put it back and leave it.’

  But Lizann couldn’t drop the subject. ‘Who is she?’

  ‘It’s me!’ Hannah snapped. ‘So now you know.’

  This was a great surprise to her daughter. ‘I didn’t know you’d ever sold fish. Were you ashamed of it? Was that why you hid the picture?’

  ‘Aye, I was ashamed. I wasna brought up to earn my living. My father was like Willie Alec; he didna believe in lassies going out to work. But he was a terrible drinker and he died wi’ some disease on his liver when I was sixteen, and Mother pined that much, she passed on less than three weeks after him. Lou got the house in Rannas Place and I was to get the money, but there was hardly nothing left when the funerals was paid for. Lou’d been going steady wi’ Jockie Flett, so they got wed, but they couldna afford to keep me for nothing, and … well, Mother’s old creel was still in the loft, and Lou said I could easy sell fish round the doors like Mother did when she was single. I didna argue, for Lou was aye a lot stronger than me.’

  ‘Selling fish round the doors wasn’t a disgrace,’ Lizann said, gently.

  ‘I was just a hawker, and the country folk looked down on me.’

  ‘You just imagined that.’

  ‘Then Willie Alec … well, he took a fancy to me, and after we got wed, he got … a man he ken’t to draw that picture of me.’

  Detecting a faint unease in her mother now, Lizann asked, ‘Who was he, the man that drew you?’

  Hannah’s eyes darted away. ‘He was … ach … he was just somebody your father ken’t.’

  ‘Did you not know him?’

  ‘Not till Willie Alec took him to the house after we was married.’

  Her mother’s patent reluctance to talk about it only made Lizann want to hear more. ‘You must have got to know him when you posed for him.’

  Clearly embarrassed, Hannah refused to be drawn out any further. ‘Your father hung it up above the fireplace, but I didna like being reminded of … of things, so when he was at sea one time, I put it away.’

  Sensing a mystery here, Lizann said, ‘But he must have noticed …?’

  ‘He ken’t why.’

  Lizann gave up. ‘Can I take it and hang it up in my room?’

  ‘Ach, do what you want wi’ it!’

  When Lizann had placed the picture to her satisfaction, she stood back to admire it. It looked as if the artist had thought a lot of her mother … maybe loved her, but it would have been all on his side, for she had never looked at any man but Willie Alec, everybody said that. She would have sent this other man packing and had hidden the picture because it reminded her of him … or had she been drawn to him in spite of herself?

  Wishing she knew the truth, Lizann reflected that whatever the story behind the picture, she would treasure it for ever.

  When she returned to the kitchen her mother tutted irritably. ‘Ach, I should have got another bag o’ flour yesterday, though I’d have had plenty for this pie if your father hadna wanted scones last night.’

  ‘I’ll go and get some.’ Putting on her coat, Lizann opened the door and stepped out into the frosty January air. The new year of 1930 had started very cold.

  ‘Lizann!’

  Her heart started palpitating at the sound of the familiar voice, and, praying that her ears hadn’t deceived her, she spun round. ‘George!’ she exclaimed in wonder. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’ve come to see you.’

  ‘What about Katie? Does she know?’

  ‘I broke off with her. What about you and Peter?’

  The bubble burst. ‘I’ve promised to marry him.’ She couldn’t back out now, not when all their friends and relations knew they were engaged.

  There was a pause before he said, ‘Congratulations! And I hope you’ll be very happy together.’

  Although it was heartily said, Lizann could tell he was downcast, and when he made to walk away, she grabbed at his arm. ‘You can’t go just like that.’

  ‘I think I’d better, before I forget myself and kiss you.’

  ‘George, I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

  ‘Don’t be. I’m pleased for you.’

  ‘But I still love you, and all.’

  ‘Don’t say
it, Lizann,’ he groaned.

  ‘It’s true, and I wish you could kiss me.’ She also wished with all her heart that she wasn’t wearing Peter’s ring. If she had known George would come back to her, she would never have got engaged.

  They gazed at each other, the same pain stamped plainly across both faces, then a voice from inside the house broke the spell. ‘Who’s that you’re speaking to, Lizann?’

  Startled, she whispered, ‘It’s my mother,’ and called in answer, ‘It’s a man asking how to get to Portessie. I’ve been trying to tell him, but it would be easier if I took him up and showed him.’

  ‘Aye, that would be best, and you’re going up the town, ony road.’

  Over aware of each other and unable to let even their hands touch, they walked along the street. ‘My mother’s waiting for flour. I’ll have to hurry. I’m sorry, George.’

  He looked at her sadly. ‘I should never have come. We said all that had to be said in Yarmouth.’

  ‘I’m awful glad to see you.’

  ‘Forget about me, Lizann. Marry your lad and be happy.’

  ‘Will you marry Katie now?’

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. I said things to her that … maybe I expected too much.’

  They had come to a junction – where Low Street leads to the harbour and the seafront, and High Street, to the right, goes up to the central shopping and housing area – when Lizann whispered, in alarm, ‘Oh, here’s my auntie. You’d better go down that way.’ She pointed to the low road, and raised her voice. ‘Straight along there. You’ll see all the big houses up on the brae, that’s Portessie.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, politely, walking off.

  With her aunt’s inquisitive eyes fixed on her, Lizann had to drag hers away from George, but his slumping shoulders had told her that he was as miserable as she was at their being riven apart with no chance to say goodbye. ‘He wanted to go to Portessie, Auntie Lou,’ she explained, ‘and Mother said I could show him. She needed me to get flour.’