The Girl with the Creel (13 page)

She was still puzzling when her mother came in again. ‘Supper's near ready,' Hannah said brusquely, and even at the sight of her daughter's ravaged face she didn't question what Willie Alec was doing to her.

‘Mother,' Lizann begged, ‘who told on me?'

‘That's between me and the body that tell't me, and if you think your father'll let you wed a divorced man, if he ever gets divorced, you can put it right out o' your head. We've aye been able to hold our heads up, and what would folk say if …?'

‘It's yourselves you're thinking about, not me,' Lizann muttered, her misery so great that the only thing that stopped her from pummelling her fists into her mother's sanctimonious face was knowing it would only make things worse. ‘If you'd just let me see George tonight I'd tell him I can't see him again till he's free, and when he is we could go somewhere else to get married, so nobody would know and you could still hold your heads up.'

Hannah sighed. ‘Face up to things, lass. You're coming between a man and his wife, a wife that he must have loved as much as she likely still loves him. You'll fall in love wi' another man some day, so forget him.'

‘I'll never forget him, and I'll never love anybody else.'

‘Have it your own way then!' Hannah snapped, her patience stretched too far. ‘Now, are you coming down for your supper or are you going to starve yourself to death ower a man you canna have?'

Recognizing the futility of further argument, Lizann watched her mother stamping out. She couldn't hate her parents for judging her by their own straitlaced standards, but it was awful to think of George standing out in the cold till it dawned on him she wasn't going to turn up. He'd think she didn't want to see him again, and … oh God, surely he wouldn't go back to Katie? She had no way of letting him know that she still loved him, that her parents wouldn't let her marry him, wouldn't even let her out. If only she could speak to him, ask him to wait the few months till she was twenty-one and could do what she liked … but she knew full well that she didn't have the courage to defy her father like that, and he would never let her do what she wanted.

A flurry of raised voices downstairs told her that Mick had come home and was being told about the disgrace she had brought on the family, but despite listening intently, she couldn't make out what was being said. She wasn't surprised, however, when her brother walked into her room.

He sat down on the bed and pulled her round to face him. ‘You haven't half stirred up a hornets' nest, little sister. Mother's flapping about like a demented hen, and Father's beside himself. Don't get your hackles up, for I think he's wrong in what he's doing, and I'm on your side.'

‘Are you really, Mick?'

‘Do you think I care who I get for a brother-in-law? I'm not as old-fashioned as they are. I wouldn't care if you married one of the French onion Johnnies that come round on their bikes, as long as I was sure he wouldn't let you down.'

‘If you met him, you'd know George wouldn't …' She halted, her eyes brightening with hope. ‘Mick, will you go and tell him what's happened? That's if you're not going to Jenny's?'

‘She's got sewing she wants to finish for the morrow, but I promised to see the lads in the Square … ach, where were you to be meeting him?'

‘Just along the road at seven. Tell him to write and let me know what his wife says. I always take in the post, so Mother wouldn't see it. Oh, and get an address for me to write to him.'

Mick grinned. ‘Any further orders, madam?'

She didn't rise to his teasing. ‘No, that's all.'

‘Right. Are you coming down for your supper?'

She was hungry now, but after considering she said, ‘I'd better not. They'll maybe see by my face I'm up to something.'

With neither Hannah nor Willie Alec feeling in the mood to go to church and face people, supper was later than usual, and at five minutes to seven, glad to leave the strained atmosphere in which the meal had been eaten, Mick lifted his jacket. ‘I'm going up the town to meet some of the lads,' he told his mother, ‘but I won't be late.'

He had not gone far when he saw a stranger kicking idly at the stones at the side of the road. ‘Are you George Buchan?' he asked.

The other man looked up, startled. ‘Yes?'

‘I'm Lizann's brother Mick. Father found out what's been going on and there's been a helluva row. He's not letting her see you again.'

‘Oh God, no!' George exclaimed, in dismay. ‘What'll we do?'

Mick passed on his sister's messages, and wrote down George's address in Buckie and his mother's in Cullen, then he said, ‘We can't go for a pint on a Sunday, but what about coming for a walk? I'd nothing special on, and it would be a chance to get to know each other.'

They went eastwards out of Buckie by the lower road, passing Cluny Harbour on their left, then the houses of Portessie on their right, the opposite direction from where Lizann had taken George the previous night. While they strode along, Mick repeated what he knew of the trouble there had been, George swore that he would always love Lizann no matter what happened, and Mick grew more convinced with every passing minute that his sister's faith in this man was not misplaced.

They had gone through Findochty and were halfway to Portknockie when George gave a low laugh. ‘We'll soon be in Cullen, at this rate.'

‘Good God!' Mick laughed. ‘I didn't notice how far we'd come.'

‘Mick,' George said, some time after they turned to go back, ‘how did your father find out?'

‘I've been wondering that myself. From what they were saying, somebody passed it on to my mother, and as far as I know, Peter Tait was the only one Lizann told.'

‘The lad she was engaged to? D'you think it was him? Is he the kind to try to get back at her for throwing him over?'

‘I hardly think so, and I know him as well as I know myself, for we've been pals for years. It must have been somebody else.'

‘Maybe somebody Peter let it slip to,' George suggested.

‘He was real cut up when he told me, but he likely felt I was the only one he could confide in. He wouldn't have told anybody else.'

‘Oh well,' George sighed, ‘the damage is done. Lizann must be feeling terrible, and I'm grateful to you for coming to tell me. If you hadn't, I'd still be waiting for her.'

Mick laughed this off, but he felt quite close to George now. There was nothing secretive about him, and he was clearly just as distressed by what had happened as Lizann was.

Back at their starting place, George held out his hand. ‘She's lucky having you for a brother, Mick. I can't thank you enough for helping us like this.'

With a brief but firm handclasp, Mick said, ‘She's lucky having you, but what's your plans now?'

‘I'd be as well going back to my mother's. There's no point in staying on here if Lizann can't get out. I don't suppose there's any chance of your father changing his mind?'

‘No chance! The sky could fall on his head and he'd not change it. Um, maybe I shouldn't give you false hope, but when you get your divorce …'

‘If I get it,' George interrupted ruefully.

‘When you get it,' Mick repeated, ‘I'd advise you to come and tell him – him, mind, before you even tell Lizann. That'll let him see you're an honourable man and he might come round to you. But you'll have to play by his rules the now. No trying to get Lizann to meet you in secret here or in Cullen, and it might be best if you didn't write to her at all.'

George looked glum. ‘I understand what you're getting at, Mick, and I'll not rock the boat. I love your sister too much to spoil what little chance I have. The thing is, I promised to let her know what Katie says, so can I write that one letter?'

Mick gave a gurgling laugh. ‘You make me sound like I've been laying down the law. I've just told you what I think, but it's up to you, and you can't break a promise. I'll have to go, though, for Lizann'll be desperate to know what's happened. Good luck, George.'

When he went home, he spoke to his parents for a few minutes then said he was going to bed, but when he went upstairs – to what had once been a loft where wives of different generations had mended the nets but Willie Alec had made into two rooms for his children – he went in to report to Lizann. As he had known, she was waiting anxiously and he told her as much as he thought she should know.

‘Maybe I'm not the right one to be dishing out advice to anybody,' he chuckled, ‘when I can't get things worked out with my own girl.'

Too concerned with her own problems to worry about any trouble Mick was having with Jenny Cowie, Lizann said, ‘You'd tell me if you knew who told Eather about George and me, wouldn't you? Peter was the only one I told, and you said he told you, and I know it wasn't you.'

‘It was Mother that was told, and I'm sure it wasn't Peter. Did you tell any of the lassies you worked with in Yarmouth?'

‘Peggy May Cordiner knew I went out with him, and it was her that told me he was married. Maybe she saw us together last night?'

‘I doubt it. She bides on the other side of Main Street, doesn't she?'

‘She didn't know everything, any road, so it couldn't be her.'

‘It's a mystery.' Mick ruffled her hair and went into his own room pensively. However much he hated to admit it, Peter appeared to be the only one who had known the whole truth, and by God, if it did turn out to be him that spilt the beans, Mick Jappy would make him pay for the trouble he had caused Lizann, old pal or no old pal.

Chapter Seven

As soon as Peter saw the glowering figure standing outside the shipyard gates at stopping time on Monday, he knew he was in for a telling-off, if not worse, but thought he'd be as well getting it over. ‘I know what you're going to say …' he began but got no further.

‘So it was you, you sneaking bugger!' Mick roared, his right fist cracking against his old chum's jawbone and splattering his spotless white collar with blood. ‘What the hell did you think you were doing?'

‘I'm sorry,' Peter quavered, casting his eyes around in the hope that nobody had seen, but several oil-streaked men, some in dungarees, some in boiler suits, had already gathered, curious to know why one of ‘they office loons' was being assaulted by a rough fisherman.

‘You're sorry?' Mick growled. ‘Is that all you can say?'

Rubbing his throbbing face, Peter looked imploringly at him. ‘Come on, Mick, we can't fight here.'

They broke through the disappointed onlookers and walked off, an ill-matched couple, one in a well-pressed navy suit, shiny on the seat from sitting so much, and the other in a finely-knitted navy ganzy with a high neck and pearl buttons down one shoulder. They kept going until they turned a corner and were out of sight, then Mick grabbed Peter by the collar. ‘What the hell did you think you were doing?' he repeated. ‘I'd have sworn you thought more of Lizann than go telling on her.'

Not so sure now that it had been a good idea to face up to it, Peter babbled, ‘I couldn't think more of her, you know that, and I didn't mean to tell your mother. I saw Lizann out with a man, and I was only trying to find out who he was. It was Hannah saying it was George Buchan that made me come out with everything, I was that jealous.'

Having been reluctant to think ill of his friend in the first place, Mick was inclined to believe this, but it still didn't excuse him. ‘For God's sake, man, didn't you think what it would do to Lizann?'

‘I didn't think, I just saw red, and I'm truly sorry, Mick.'

‘Aye, well, maybe you are, but you near finished her.'

‘Finished her?' Peter looked alarmed. ‘She didn't try to …?'

‘She's more sense than do away with herself, but if I hadn't helped her out she could easy have tried.'

‘Helped her out? What did you do for her?'

‘Never you mind,' Mick said sharply. ‘You've done enough harm.'

‘I wouldn't tell anything again, honest! I love her, Mick.'

Mick shook his head sadly. ‘You've a funny way of showing it, that's all I can say. Come on, man, we'd better get home.'

As they walked back along the road, Peter said, ‘I thought you'd have sailed this morning? You usually go on Mondays.'

Mick gave a slight frown at this attempt to take his mind off the more important subject. ‘We were late coming in so we're not sailing till the morrow, but never mind that, just listen. I know you love Lizann, Peter, and nobody would've been more pleased than me if she'd married you, but it's George Buchan she wants and you'll have to let her go.'

‘But … he's married already … isn't he?'

‘He's getting divorced …'

‘Willie Alec would never let her wed a divorced man.'

‘I wouldn't be so sure about that. George is a real decent lad.'

‘You've met him?' Peter was astonished.

‘Aye, I've met him, and that's all I'm telling you. The best thing you can do, Peter, is find another girl.'

‘I'll never stop loving Lizann.'

‘That's up to you, but you haven't a hope in hell of getting her.'

Offended as well as discouraged, Peter was dourly silent for the rest of the way, but as they parted company at the Yardie, he looked at his old friend in deep entreaty. ‘Mick, let her know I didn't mean her any harm … please.'

‘I'll tell her, but I can't see her ever forgiving you.' Mick went inside wishing that he had found out the whys and wherefores before he lashed out … but Peter should have kept his big mouth shut.

Mick had to wait until their parents went to bed before he could tell Lizann what had happened, and when she found out that Peter actually was the culprit, she said mournfully, ‘I knew he was the only one it could have been, but I didn't want to think it was him.'