‘You dinna need to worry about her.’
‘I wouldn’t, but I don’t want to go back to Peter. I’d never be able to love him as much as I loved George.’
‘But you still love him a bit?’
‘Who, Peter?’ Lizann considered this for a moment. ‘Yes, I suppose I do,’ she said, at last. ‘A bit, but not enough.’
‘A bit could be plenty,’ Peggy May said, triumphantly. ‘Think about it, Lizann. You loved him more than a bit at one time.’
‘Peter’s aye been a real nice lad,’ Lizann said, thoughtfully.
Suspecting that she was weakening, Peggy May wisely did not press the matter any further.
Polishing the stairs one afternoon the following spring, Lizann was seriously contemplating going back to Peter, having given it much thought over the winter, but Hannah’s plaintive voice broke into her train of thought. ‘Lizann, I need some corn plasters. My little toe’s throbbing that bad, I’m sure we’re in for rain.’
‘I’ll go in a minute, Mother, when I’m finished this last step.’
Getting up off her knees, she laid the dusters and tin of polish past in the lobby cupboard and took her coat off the row of pegs on the opposite wall. ‘Here’s a ten-shilling note,’ Hannah said. ‘Get me this week’s Friend, and all.’
Lizann was at the door when another order came. ‘And something fine out o’ Mrs Campbell’s … maybe a quarter o’ chocolate gingers.’
‘Corn plasters, the People’s Friend and chocolate gingers,’ the girl repeated dutifully.
She had gone only about a hundred yards when she met Babsie Berry, one of their neighbours, who stood up to speak. Only half-listening to the woman’s account of things her grandchildren said, Lizann’s eye was caught by the familiar gait of a man walking towards them. It couldn’t be, she thought, but when he came nearer her stomach turned over. ‘I’m sorry, Babsie,’ she said, tremulously, breaking into Mrs Berry’s flow, ‘but I’d like to have a wee word with this man coming along. I haven’t seen him for a long time.’
The woman gave a quick glance round. ‘An old flame, is he?’ Her house being next door to the Jappys’, she went on chuckling to herself.
Wanting to run to George, to tell him how much she had missed him, to kiss him till her lips were swollen and sore, Lizann had to keep telling herself that he was another girl’s husband. The trouble was, he looked the same, his hair still stuck up in the same places, his clothes were still untidy … he couldn’t have a wife looking after him. Peggy May must have got hold of the wrong end of the stick! This last thought gave her the power to move, but her trembling legs refused to hurry, which was maybe just as well, for she could be taking things for granted that weren’t really so.
He too was walking slowly, as if unsure about what he was doing, and she felt like shouting to him that she loved him more than ever, but all that came out when she opened her mouth was a weak, ‘I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, George.’
He gripped her hands and she was sure that his eyes were telling her what she wanted to know, but she needed him to say it and they couldn’t talk properly here. ‘I’m on my way to the shops if you want to …’
Letting her go, he turned and walked alongside her, both seemingly struck dumb, but very soon she knew she couldn’t wait much longer to find out, and tried to think how to phrase her question. At last, giving up all pretence, she whispered, ‘I was told you married Katie.’ His quiet, ‘I did,’ drained the colour from her face. Why had he tortured her by coming back?
Obviously anxious not to prolong her agony, he said quickly, ‘But I found her out in something I can’t forgive her for.’
She was ashamed of how her heart had started to pound in what she could only describe as excited anticipation; what he was saying really made no difference to anything, Katie was still his wife when all was said and done, and nothing either of them could do would change that. Nevertheless, she murmured, ‘I didn’t marry Peter.’
‘Oh, thank God!’ He looked at her beseechingly now. ‘I wish I hadn’t … but I’m going to ask her to divorce me. The thing is, I’ll have to give her grounds.’
Too ecstatic about his marriage being over to take in the meaning of what he was saying, she asked idly, ‘Grounds?’
He looked embarrassed. ‘I’m going to book a room in a hotel for you and me to …’
This shocked her out of her euphoria. ‘George Buchan!’
‘It’s the only way. I’d never have married her if I’d known the awful things she’d done, and when she divorces me …’
‘Divorce?’ Her horror made the word come out louder than she meant, and she looked around her in agitation, but thankfully no one was near enough to have heard. ‘I never thought … oh, George, you can’t let her divorce you.’
‘It’s the only way I’ll get free of her,’ he protested.
‘I can’t help it. Divorce isn’t something that happens to nice men …’ Realizing that he might take this as a slur on him, she said, quickly, ‘I didn’t mean that like it sounded. You’re the nicest man I know, but … I can’t sleep with you. I couldn’t get away, even for one night …’
‘It doesn’t need to be at night,’ he urged, ‘and we don’t actually need to … to sleep together. It’s just … I have to get a hotel receipt to prove I’ve been unfaithful to her. We could go some afternoon.’
She could feel her face flaming. ‘No, I couldn’t! I couldn’t!’
‘We don’t have to do anything, Lizann. All I need is just for you to be there.’
‘I couldn’t come to some room …’ She stopped, utterly woebegone. ‘I couldn’t, not like that! Besides, somebody might see me, and it could get back to my mother … Oh, I just couldn’t!’
They had left all the shops and houses behind and were now out of town on the road to Arradoul. Her senses reeling, she let him pull her to a halt and slide his arms round her. ‘I shouldn’t have asked,’ he said. ‘I didn’t really think you would … I don’t know if I even wanted you to. Don’t cry, Lizann, I’ll think of another way.’
It felt so good to have him holding her again that it was some time before she whispered, ‘I’m sorry. I suppose you hate me now for not …?’
‘Hate you? I could never hate you, whatever you did. It was a terrible thing to ask any girl, never mind the girl I love. Look, I’d better take you home …’
She gasped. ‘Oh, I forgot! I’m supposed to be buying some things for my mother. She’ll wonder why I’ve been so long.’
George accompanied her to the various shops, then walked most of the way to the Yardie with her. He would have taken her to her door but she said he’d better not. ‘My mother’s got some funny ideas. She wouldn’t be pleased if she saw me with a married man.’ It didn’t occur to her that Hannah didn’t know George existed, let alone that he was married.
‘Will you meet me tonight, Lizann?’
‘Are you not going back to Cullen?’
‘I need some time to myself so I can work out what to do. I’ll take lodgings here for a week, so we could see each other every night.’
‘Not at your lodgings,’ she said, hastily.
‘We could walk out into the country again, for an hour or two.’
The prospect of being with him for an hour or two every night for a week was too great a temptation. ‘I’ll see you here at seven.’
‘What took you so long?’ Hannah asked when she went home.
Lizann had already thought of an excuse. ‘I was speaking to a boy that was in my class at school, and he’s asked me out after suppertime.’
‘So you’re definitely nae going back to Peter?’
‘That was finished long ago.’
‘I thought you might … oh, well. It’ll do you good to start seeing another laddie.’
With her mother deep in the People’s Friend, Lizann prepared the supper, though she knew she wouldn’t feel like eating anything herself. She could hardly believe that George had really come b
ack to her, but this divorce business …! She had been about ten at the time, but she could still remember the furore there had been when Cassie Duthie from Main Street married a Buckie man whose wife had divorced him. It had been the talk of the place – the poor things had been more or less driven out of their home and never seen since. Lizann had always considered it a tragedy, but it came to her now that it was no such thing. The young couple had been truly in love, and they were likely living happily together somewhere else. What did it matter what other folk thought? She loved George and if the only way he could marry her was to ask his wife to divorce him, that’s how it would have to be.
When she met him that night, he said, ‘I got lodgings in East Church Street with a Mrs Clark, she’s a real nice body. Her man was a skipper and his boat went down fourteen years ago. He’d left her comfortable, but they didn’t have any family and she likes company.’
‘I’m glad you found somewhere nice,’ Lizann smiled.
‘It’s great! I’d a plate of tattie soup, and enough stew and veggies to feed two, then sponge pudding with about half a pound of bramble jam on top. I’ll be putting on weight if she goes on like that.’ Laughing, he patted his flat stomach, then asked, ‘What did your mother say about you coming out with me?’
‘She said it would do me good to have another lad.’
They were on the Arradoul road again, but this time, when they came to a gate into a field enclosed by a drystone dyke, George turned her in. ‘We’ll have a seat here for a while – nobody’ll see us.’
She sat down on the grass, somewhat uneasy, but he pulled up his legs and clasped his hands round his knees. ‘I’m going to write to Katie. She knows about you already, and I’m going to tell her I want to marry you.’
‘Will she not come here and fight to get your back?’
‘No, not Katie. She knows it’s all over between her and me.’
‘All right,’ Lizann sighed, ‘if you’re sure.’ She went into his arms glad that he wasn’t going to tell any lies, and his kisses gradually dispelled the vague pity that she felt for his wife.
‘I love you, Lizann,’ he whispered against her ear. ‘I’ll never stop loving you till the day I die.’
‘And I’ll love you till the day I die and all, George,’ she said, twisting so that their lips met once more, and she was glad that there was no fiery passion this time. It made their love seem all the purer.
As if reading her thoughts, George murmured, ‘We’ll wait till we’re man and wife to love each other properly again, my darling.’
Her throat constricted, she could only nod blissfully.
It was much later when George looked at his watch. ‘It’s well after ten. What time do you have to be home?’
‘Before this,’ she gasped, struggling to her feet.
Although they went as fast as they could, it was nearly a quarter to eleven when they came in sight of the Yardie, and George left her with a breathless, ‘Tomorrow same time?’
‘Aye, tomorrow.’
She was panting when she went inside, and it didn’t surprise her when her mother said, ‘What kind of time’s this to be coming in? Does your lad not have a watch?’
‘He forgot to look at it.’
Hannah’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re awful carfuffled. I hope you havena been doing anything?’
‘George and me were just walking and speaking … about old times, but we’d to hurry all the way back.’
‘George? Which George would that be?’
‘You wouldn’t know him, Mother. His name’s Buchan, and he bides … out Arradoul way.’ It was the only place to come to her mind.
‘I never heard you speaking about a laddie from Arradoul when you was at the school.’
‘He wasn’t there all the time,’ Lizann said, desperately, trapped in a web of her own lies. ‘Only about … six months.’
‘Where does he work?’
‘He works … on his father’s farm.’
‘His father’s got a farm?’ Hannah seemed pleased about this. ‘He’ll be a real steady lad, then?’
Sensing that her mother had already married her off in her mind to the fictitious farm boy with prospects, Lizann forced a smile. ‘We’re going out together, that’s all.’
‘You like him, though?’ Hannah asked, archly.
‘Aye, I like him.’ That was putting it mildly, Lizann thought, for she loved him more every time she was with him. She wasn’t that happy about his wife divorcing him, but if it was the only way he could marry her …
Her mother and father would be horrified when they found out he’d been married already – like all fisherfolk, they considered divorce an awful disgrace that reflected on a whole family – but she didn’t need to tell the truth about him till he actually was free.
There was bound to be trouble then, but she’d be prepared for it, and wasn’t there an old saying, ‘Love conquers everything?’ Surely she and George would win through.
Chapter Six
In a well-furnished, very comfortable room in East Church Street, George Buchan was deliberating on what he should do. He had loved Katie once – he had given Lizann up because of that love – but he had been utterly disillusioned and couldn’t trust her any more. It wasn’t so much the discovery of what she had done – the men she’d been with – it was her not telling him before their wedding that he couldn’t forgive. Worse, she wouldn’t have told him at all if old chickens hadn’t come home to roost and it had been forced out of her, bit by gut-twisting bit.
Remembering that last sickening revelation, and how it had come about, George felt the same disgust that had made him tell her, as he stormed out, that the next time she heard from him would be through a solicitor. It had been said in the throes of a white-hot anger, but even after two weeks spent trying to cool down in his mother’s house, he still hadn’t changed his mind. He had come to Buckie on an impulse, purely to satisfy himself that Lizann was happily married and never dreaming that she was still single; now all it needed was for Katie to divorce him and he could marry the girl he should have married in the first place. Only … could he be sure that Katie would agree to divorce him if he just asked politely? If Lizann had only … maybe he should look for a girl who’d be willing to go to a hotel so he could give his wife grounds?
After racking his brain half the night for another way out, he could think of nothing, and went down to breakfast still preoccupied.
‘Is something bothering you, m’loon?’ his landlady asked in concern when he pushed back his chair. ‘You’ve hardly eaten a thing.’
He hadn’t meant to confide in anybody, but, even though she’d never had any children, she was such a motherly person that he found himself telling her. He had expected her to condemn him, but she bobbed her head knowingly. ‘You’ve loved this other lassie for a while? Maybe before you married your wife? Maybe you were torn between them?’
Amazed at her perception, he mumbled, ‘I suppose I was.’
‘And you chose the wrong one?’
‘It turned out that way.’
He told her now how he had met Lizann and how they had fallen in love, and Mrs Clark – a small, jolly woman with white hair in a softly-styled bun at the nape of her neck – listened with an occasional nod and one slightly disapproving shake of her head. Then he told her shame-facedly what he had asked Lizann to do, adding, ‘But she wouldn’t.’
‘Nor would any decent girl!’ his landlady declared. ‘And you should be right pleased she wouldn’t. So … what are you planning to do now?’
‘Goodness knows!’ George said, morosely. ‘I was going to tell Katie I wanted to marry Lizann, then I wondered if I should find some girl that would come to a hotel with me and …’
The old woman clicked her tongue disapprovingly. ‘No, that wouldn’t be very wise. You’d maybe find you’ve started something.’
George lifted his shoulders expressively and let them sag again. ‘I didn’t really like the idea, anyway.’
&n
bsp; Her brow wrinkling in thought, Mrs Clark poured his cold tea into a slop bowl and filled his cup again, and her own. ‘You know, George,’ she observed after a quick sip, ‘maybe you’ll not believe this, but I wed the wrong man, and all.’
‘You?’ he gasped, taking an absent-minded mouthful himself.
She smiled a little sadly. ‘It’s too long a story, but I know what it feels like to be parted from the one you love. Now, if you’re sure you don’t want anything to eat …?’
He shook his head and watched her piling the dirty crockery on to a tray then disappearing into her tiny scullery. His mind returned to his problem. If Lizann wasn’t such a … no, he was glad she had strong morals … but if she hadn’t, he could maybe have rented a furnished room and persuaded her to move in with him.
His pain-laden heart gave a tentative jump. Lizann would definitely turn down the idea, but if he told Katie they were living together, she might believe it. Surely that would make her give him up … and if he could make the correspondence official, a letter from a law firm, say, it would give even more weight to the lie.
When Mrs Clark appeared again he asked if there were any solicitors in Buckie, and she gave him the name and address of the man who had conducted her late husband’s business.
George was very much taken aback when he was ushered in to see the solicitor. Mr Sandison was a thin, balding Englishman, who looked, and talked, as if he had a marble in his mouth, but he could not have been more helpful. After hearing what George had to say, he put the tips of his long thin fingers together. ‘You refuse to name the girl you are living with?’ At George’s stubborn nod, he continued, ‘That will make it rather more difficult, but … hmm … can you supply any proof?’
This was what George had feared. ‘I’m afraid not.’
Mr Sandison thought for a moment, then said, ‘Would anyone else be prepared to swear to it?’
Knowing that Lizann would refuse, George remembered how sympathetic Mrs Clark had been, and, thankful that he hadn’t told the solicitor where and when the ‘adultery’ had taken place, he decided to jump in with both feet. ‘Would my landlady do?’
The Girl with the Creel Page 8