‘There’ll be plenty there without me,’ Ina said carefully, ‘and I’m not a one for mixing wi’ strangers.’
George did not press her. He was quite glad that she wouldn’t be there – she’d a habit of speaking out of turn. ‘Lizann’s father got me a berth in Buckie, so I’ll need my seabag.’
‘It’s packed ready.’ His mother looked at Lizann when he went out of the room. ‘You’ll be used to driftermen?’
‘My father and my brother are both on the Silver Star.’
‘So you’ll ken about the big washings you’ll have to do for George?’
‘I do all the washing anyway. My mother’s not very strong.’
‘George never went away without his things being washed and ironed and mended, so you’d better look after him right.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ Lizann murmured.
‘I suppose you canna do better than that.’
George’s return stopped Ina from saying more on the subject, but as she made a pot of tea for them she said, ‘I’m sorry I canna offer you any dinner. If you’d let me ken you was coming, I’d have …’
‘That’s all right, Mrs Buchan,’ Lizann assured her. ‘We’ll get dinner when we go home.’
Ina looked at her son with a sad smile. ‘Aye, of course Buckie’ll be your home now.’
‘We’ll come and visit you,’ George said, hastily. ‘And when we get a house, you can come to see us.’
She pursed her lips briefly. ‘I like my own house best, so I’ll not promise anything.’
When they were leaving, she said, ‘I’ll send on a present … sheets, maybe, or something for your house when you get it?’
‘We don’t need any presents, Mrs Buchan,’ Lizann said shyly.
‘I canna let my son’s wedding go by without giving him something.’
George laughed now. ‘Whatever you think, then. Well, cheerio, Ma. The next time you see us we’ll be man and wife.’
Ina’s natural sarcasm came to the fore now. ‘I hope this marriage’ll last longer than your first.’
Frowning, he muttered, ‘This one’s for ever, be sure of that.’
‘I forgot to tell you, Katie went away yesterday.’
He made no answer to this and pulled Lizann through the door, saying as they went along the street, ‘I thought it was too good to last. She likes causing trouble.’
‘Don’t worry, George. It’s not as if I didn’t know about Katie.’ She wasn’t jealous of his first wife – a part of his life that was over and done with. ‘Do you know where she was going?’
‘I know nothing about it,’ he said, uneasily.
‘Well, wherever it is, I hope she finds somebody to make her happy.’
He hesitated for only a second. ‘So do I. She’s had a hard life.’
When they were on the bus he took her hand. ‘I meant what I said to Ma, Lizann. Our marriage will last for ever.’
‘Till we’re old and grey and wrinkled like prunes?’
‘You’ll never look like a prune,’ he smiled.
‘I might, and you’ll wonder what you ever saw in me.’
‘I’ll still see you like you are now.’
With George away on the Dawn Rose, Lizann took the opportunity to buy her trousseau – her father had been very generous in the money he gave her for the purpose. She spent a long time trying on dresses before settling on a powder blue crêpe de chine with tucks down the bodice. After a search through the hat department of McKay’s she found a pillbox in the same shade, with a slightly darker veil. Knowing it would be impossible to find accessories to match, she plumped for navy courts and handbag. In the lingerie department she bought three petticoats, three pairs of French knickers, and three nighties, one blue, one pink and one white – all Courtauld’s celanese. She was on her way out of the shop when she remembered that she would also need silk stockings, suspender belts and brassieres – no bride in the fishing community shamed herself by going to her groom in anything old – and had to go back in.
It was closing time when she eventually reached the street, loaded with bags of all sizes, but exhilaration kept her from feeling tired. She had gone down High Street and was into Bank Street when a voice said, ‘Let me carry some of that for you.’
She turned round feeling she had been caught red-handed in something she shouldn’t be doing. ‘I’ll manage myself, Peter.’
‘No, no, let me help.’
After disentangling the bundle in her arms into individual bags, Peter took all but two. ‘You’ve fairly been lashing out. Did you come into a fortune?’
‘Father gave me the money,’ she murmured, then, thinking that she may as well tell him, she added, ‘for my trousseau.’
‘Your trousseau?’ he gasped.
‘Yes, the wedding’s a week on Saturday … in the manse.’
Although she had known he would be upset, she was not expecting what happened next. Throwing down what he was carrying, and knocking her two parcels out of her hands, he grabbed her by the shoulders. ‘I’ll not let you wed George Buchan! You’re mine, Lizann! Mine!’
‘Let go of me!’ She struggled, but couldn’t break his grip.
‘I’ll never let you go,’ he cried. ‘I love you, Lizann! Tell him to go away, and come back to me.’
She felt sorry for him now, but she had to let him know how he stood. ‘No, Peter. I still like you, and I hope we’ll always be friends, but I love George … with all my heart. Now, will you please let me go so I can pick up my things?’
He looked at her for a short time in disbelief, then released her and stepped back. ‘I’ll give you a hand,’ he mumbled.
Their hands were trembling so much that one of the paper bags burst and spilt its contents on to the road in a glistening shower of white, pink and blue. Peter bent to retrieve the articles, but when he saw what they were, his face twisted. ‘Nightgowns? To wear in bed with him?’
Crimson with embarrassment, she snatched them from him and stuffed them back into the bag while he bent down again and opened another bag deliberately. He held up a pair of flimsy open-legged knickers, then, with a tortured groan, he thrust them at her and strode away. She had never felt so humiliated in her life, but she could sympathize with him as she sorted out the rest of her belongings. It must have been awful for him to look at the things she had wanted only George to see, things she thought would excite him but was ashamed of buying now.
When she arrived home she didn’t mention the incident to her mother, and showed her only the dress and hat before taking all the bags up to her room. She wasn’t angry at Peter, but she wished he hadn’t ridiculed her trousseau, for he had spoiled her pleasure in it. With a sigh she folded up the underwear and laid it in her chest of drawers, hung the dress in her wardrobe and put the hat, handbag and shoes on the top shelf. Then she collected all the paper bags and screwed them into a ball to burn in the kitchen fire.
His whole body shaking with the bitter jealousy that was eating into him like acid, Peter stamped blindly along Main Street, carrying straight on past his house. When Lizann told him her wedding was so near he hadn’t been able to control himself, but discovering what she’d be wearing on her wedding night had been ten times worse. He had wanted to strangle her so George Buchan would never see her in the transparent nightgowns with only thin straps at the shoulders and necks so low that her breasts would be almost completely on show, but he had kept his hands from going round her neck. The frilly knickers, their legs so wide and inviting, had nearly been his undoing; if he hadn’t walked away, he would have throttled her.
How could she buy things like that? His subconscious told him why, but he didn’t want to think about her parading herself half-naked in front of George Buchan. He couldn’t shut it out of his mind and found himself picturing a faceless man slipping down the straps of the nightdress and fondling her, stroking her, kissing her, mounting her. Groaning aloud, he tortured himself further by remembering that she would have been his wife if the man from Cullen hadn’t interf
ered. Until today there had always been hope that he would get her back, but now there was nothing but a void inside him that only she could fill.
Stopping to take a deep, shuddery breath, he realized that his mother would be wondering why he hadn’t come home for his supper and made his way back, slowly and wretchedly.
Bella Jeannie Tait was really worried about her son. He had been in a queer mood for over a week, and he’d been sitting staring into the fire since dinnertime … not that he’d eaten anything. He wouldn’t tell her what was wrong, but she knew there was something.
‘I’m going next door to see Mary Kate,’ she told him now. ‘She’s got her phlebitis again, and I promised I’d take her some o’ my scones. I’ll not be long.’
He turned his head listlessly. ‘You don’t need to hurry.’
Mary Kate was pleased to see her neighbour, and not just because of the scones; she had some gossip to pass on. ‘I’d Ruby Strachan in this forenoon,’ she said, her pain-filled eyes momentarily gleaming. ‘She was saying Lizann Jappy’s getting wed the day. Your Peter was engaged to her at one time, wasn’t he?’
Bella Jeannie understood now why her son was so down in the dumps. ‘He broke it off. She wasna the right lass for him, ony road.’
‘Oh?’ The older woman seemed surprised. ‘I aye thought she was a real nice wee thing.’
‘I suppose she was nice enough, but …’ Bella Jeannie shrugged as if she knew something she wouldn’t tell about Lizann Jappy.
‘Oh, well, it takes all kinds,’ the other woman said, philosophically. ‘Mind, I got a right shock when Ruby tell’t me they’d to wait till the man’s first wife divorced him.’
This was also a shock to Bella Jeannie. ‘Well!’ she exclaimed, quite pleased to have something concrete against Lizann at last. ‘That shows what kind o’ lassie she is. Hannah’ll nae be so high and mighty now, but I’m surprised Willie Alec didna stop it.’
‘It’s a wonder your Peter didna say onything about it. He musta ken’t. Him and Mick Jappy were aye great pals.’
‘I dinna think they’re so pally these days. Mick’s been going steady wi’ Jenny ower the road for a good while now.’
As Bella Jeannie had hoped, this took Mary Kate’s mind off Peter, and for the rest of her stay, they discussed how the Cowies would manage if Mick married Jenny and set up house away from Main Street.
As soon as she went into her own home again, she said, ‘Did Mick tell you their Lizann was getting wed the day?’
‘She told me herself,’ Peter muttered.
‘And you didna let on? I aye said she wasna right for you, and she’s proved it now. Taking up wi’ a man that had a wife already!’
‘That’s her business!’ he snarled.
‘Ach, Peter, you’re nae still hankering after her, are you? She didna want you, m’loon. Get yourself another lass.’
About to say he only wanted Lizann, it struck him that seeing him with somebody else might make her jealous. She would realize, too late, that it was him she loved after all. But it wasn’t too late! He wouldn’t ask her to divorce George, he would just take her away. He would easily get a job in a shipyard where nobody would know they weren’t married. His lack-lustre eyes brightened. ‘You know this, Mam? I think I will look for another girl.’
When the wedding party returned from the manse, the kitchen was packed with people. ‘I wanted this to be a day you’d never forget,’ Willie Alec crowed to his daughter, letting his eyes sweep round the people he had invited for a ‘wee dram’ to celebrate.
During the issuing of presents and congratulations, Lizann saw that the guests were all her father’s friends – fishermen and their wives – some of whom she had never met before, and she presumed, correctly, that her mother had not invited any of hers. Hurt that she was still holding George’s dissolved marriage against him, Lizann told herself that this was the happiest day of her life and nobody was going to spoil it – not even her mother.
At Willie Alec’s behest – and with the help of Peggy May Yule, who had popped in with a gift and offered her services, which had included going to the baker for boxes of fancy cakes – Hannah had made platefuls of various kinds of sandwiches. No one noticed that she sat with her mouth pursed through all the light-hearted chaffing, not even Lizann, who was delighted to see her friend there, though she didn’t stay long. Willie Alec was happily dispensing liquor from the battery of bottles on the dresser, and wouldn’t take no for an answer when George put his hand over his glass to stop it being topped up again.
Lizann wondered how her husband would stand up to the amount that he was pouring down his throat – she had never seen him drinking before – and she wasn’t surprised when his eyes glazed over just after half past eight. She was thankful when Mick said, about twenty minutes later, ‘I think it’s about time we let Mr and Mrs Buchan get to their bed. Come on, Jenny, I’ll see you along the road.’
With many knowing winks and nods, the visitors dispersed to their own homes, and Willie Alec said, slurring his words, ‘Never mind the dishes, Lizann, I’ll help your mother to tidy up.’
When George got to his feet he grabbed at the back of the chair to steady himself, and Lizann had to help him up to their room. She made him sit on the bed so that she could remove his shoes, socks and shirt, but she felt shy about taking off his trousers, and while she swithered about how to manage, her bridegroom toppled back with his mouth gaping, out for the count.
It wasn’t her mother who had spoiled their wedding night, she thought, mournfully, as she undressed herself, it was her father. He’d certainly given them a day she would never forget, though she doubted if George would remember much about the last few hours. With a sigh, she lifted her lovely white nightdress and slipped it over her head. It didn’t matter now that Peter had seen it first, for George wouldn’t notice if she went to bed in a sack; he was snoring like an old man. Heaving him over to make room, she lay down beside him.
Mick, who had purposely sipped his drinks slowly and hadn’t taken nearly as much as George, was sitting in the Cowies’ kitchen with Jenny on his knee. ‘A wedding’s a wonderful thing, isn’t it?’ she sighed, laying her head on his shoulder. ‘Lizann looked really happy.’
‘I doubt if she’ll be so happy now,’ he smiled. ‘George’ll not be much use to her the night.’
‘Ach, Mick,’ she scolded, giving him a playful slap on the side, ‘you say some terrible things.’
‘Nothing terrible about that,’ he retorted. ‘It’s natural when a man and woman love each other.’
‘It’s natural once they’re wed.’
He knew what she wanted him to say, and he would, but not yet. ‘Some folk don’t bother about getting married,’ he muttered.
‘Some folk,’ she said, disdainfully, sitting up, ‘but not me. So you needn’t think you’ll get round me like that, Mick Jappy.’
‘I wasn’t trying to get round you,’ he sighed. ‘I love you, Jenny, and I want you, but I’ll never take you by force.’ To prove that he wasn’t putting any pressure on her, he gave her a tender kiss, and she snuggled against him once more.
Earlier that same evening, to stop him wondering what Lizann and George might be doing, Peter Tait went to the dance in Buckie, and took a full thirty minutes to pick out a girl suitable for his purpose. Elsie Slater wasn’t as beautiful as Lizann; in fact, she looked real common with her bleached hair, plucked eyebrows and scarlet lips. She was an awful flirt, but so much the better – it wouldn’t bother her much when he dumped her. She seemed pleased that he claimed her for every dance, and he found he quite liked the feel of her in his arms. Elsie was clearly attracted to him and, even better, he was getting envious glances from other young men. Showing off, he pulled her closer, letting his hand slide slowly down her back.
‘Oooh, Peter,’ she giggled, ‘you dinna ken what that does to me.’
When he took her home he kissed her at her door in North Pringle Street, the way she opened her mouth to him letti
ng him know she was no novice. He was also sure that she would have let him go further if he tried. ‘It’s getting late,’ he said, breathily, after a while, ‘but I’ll see you again?’
‘You bet,’ she laughed.
He arranged to meet her on Monday evening, and walked home wondering if he had been stupid to let the opportunity pass. The thing was, he had never made love to a girl before and was afraid she would laugh at him if he didn’t put up a good show. But surely nature would tell him what to do and when to do it? Hopefully, Elsie wouldn’t know he was just a beginner, however experienced she was.
He was almost at the Jappys’ house when he realized where he was and his eyes went up to Lizann’s window. The room was in darkness, and his stomach jolted nastily as he remembered that it wasn’t her first time with George Buchan. She would be in bed with him now in one of those revealing nightgowns, or, more likely, with nothing on at all, letting him explore her body. Feeling like kicking the door in and screaming that she should have been his, Peter forced himself to move on.
His torture was so great that it was a relief to hear footsteps coming towards him. Whoever it was, he would stop and speak, to get his mind off Lizann. Unfortunately for him it was Mick, on his way home from Jenny’s. Pulling himself together and striving to sound as if it didn’t mean a thing to him, Peter said, ‘How did the wedding go?’
Mick looked at him in amazement. ‘You knew Lizann got married today?’
‘I bumped into her over a week ago. Why didn’t you say anything the last time I saw you?’
‘Well, I thought … with you and her being engaged at one time …’
Peter had to swallow before he said, ‘It was somebody else she wanted, and that’s it.’
‘You’ll not … try anything to …?’
‘If she’s happy, that’s enough for me.’
‘Thank God for that! And you’ll likely find somebody else.’
Trying to prove that he wasn’t the heart-broken wreck Mick thought he was, the heart-broken wreck he truly was, Peter boasted, ‘I think I’ve found her already.’
‘Good for you. Well, I’d better be going in. See you again, Peter.’
The Girl with the Creel Page 13