The Girl with the Creel (16 page)

Lizann snuggled down to think of being George's wife, of having his children, of scrimping and saving so that he could have a boat of his own again, though she wouldn't tell him that's what she had in mind till she could put the money into his hand.

While Lizann – and George, in Mrs Clark's front bedroom again – slept peacefully, Mick was wondering if he should ask Jenny to marry him. What she earned from the sewing she took in was all that went into the house; if she left, Mr and Mrs Cowie would be destitute. He couldn't even suggest moving in as her husband because, from what he had gathered, she slept in what was little more than a boxroom. Besides, living in the same house as two invalids wasn't his idea of marriage. If he ever did manage to get her away he would be expected to pay for the wedding, the furniture, the bedding and dishes, as well as the rent of wherever they found, and to provide for her mother and father. He had started to save, but it was a slow business and it would take him years to get enough to let them set up house. He just hoped that Jenny wouldn't meet a man who could afford to buy a house big enough for her parents, too.

In Main Street, Peter Tait was still trying to get over the shock of seeing Lizann, his Lizann, strolling past his house with George Buchan again. It had been just by chance that he'd looked out of his bedroom window before closing the curtains, and there they'd been, gazing into each other's eyes as if they were the only two people in the world. His heart aching, he had watched them kissing, long kisses with their bodies rubbing together, which had driven him mad with jealousy.

He wondered if her parents knew and contemplated going to tell them in the morning, but Mick would punch him in the face again if he did. And it looked like Lizann didn't care who saw them. George Buchan must have got his divorce, after three whole years, and, though it was hard to believe, her father must have given permission for them to marry.

His head pounding and his insides whirling, Peter paced the floor. His chest-expanding exercises had gained him nothing. He was going to lose the only girl he would ever love … but wait! He had a sort of ally in Hannah, hadn't he? She wouldn't be happy about Lizann marrying George. She would make them wait – give him enough time to do something.

Sitting down on his bed, Peter tried to think what he could do.

‘Did you tell Mr Lawrie you'd been divorced?' Hannah asked, when George and Lizann returned from arranging a date for their wedding.

‘I did that, Mrs Jappy,' George answered, knowing she had thought the minister would refuse to marry them – he had thought that himself. ‘He said the Church of Scotland left it up to individual ministers, and he didn't mind, seeing we were happy for it to be in the manse.'

‘Old Mr Crawford wouldna have agreed,' Hannah muttered, ‘but this new man's … ach! It's nae right that a man can throw off his wife when he wants somebody else.' Her voice turned sepulchral as she misquoted, ‘Them that the good Lord hath joined together, let nobody pull asunder.'

‘Nobody's going to pull George and me asunder.' Lizann looked at her husband-to-be adoringly.

Hannah tutted impatiently. ‘I meant him and his real wife.'

‘Katie's not my wife now,' George pointed out quietly.

Hannah couldn't resist one last hit. ‘You must have promised to love, honour and keep her … but I'd better hold my tongue seeing I'm odd man out. I'll be ashamed to walk down the street after this, though.'

George shook his head at Lizann to prevent her arguing any more. It was clear that his future mother-in-law resented him, but he would show her. This marriage would endure till long after Hannah herself was dead and buried.

When Willie Alec returned from visiting an old friend who, in his opinion, ‘wouldn't see the winter out', and Lizann told him that the ceremony would take place in four weeks, he looked more down-hearted than ever. ‘I'd have liked to give my only daughter a big do,' he said, sadly, then shrugged off his melancholia to avoid spoiling things for the radiant girl. ‘Ach well, there's other things to consider and it canna be helped.'

Lizann didn't care. A big wedding was a waste of money, and marrying George was all that mattered to her.

Her father looked at his soon-to-be son-in-law. ‘Will you be biding here after you've tied the knot?'

George coloured. ‘If it's all right with you … just till I can afford to furnish a rented house.'

‘There's no hurry.' Willie Alec smiled expansively. ‘You're welcome here for as long as you want.'

‘The first thing I'll have to do is find a berth in Buckie.'

Willie Alec looked smug. ‘I was speaking to Heck Lindsay of the
Dawn Rose
when I was out, and he says old Johnnie Ledingham retired this trip, so that would be a deckie's job for you, if you want it.'

‘But George has his skipper's ticket,' Lizann protested.

Her father nodded. ‘Aye, he tell't me he'd had his own boat. It'll be a come-down for you, lad, but it'll do till something else turns up, will it nae?'

George had worked as mate on a Cullen boat since he sold his own for scrap, so a deckhand's job was not what he was after, but, as Willie Alec said, it would do till he found something better. ‘Thanks for letting me know, Mr Jappy,' he smiled. ‘Where do I go to see about it?'

Willie Alec grinned mischievously. ‘Heck's expecting you to turn up on Monday. He aye leaves the same time as the
Silver Star
. Have you got your gear wi' you?'

‘It's at my mother's, but I'll go and get it the morrow. I'll have to tell her about the wedding, any road.'

George took Lizann with him on the bus the following morning, though she was dreading meeting his mother. He was another only son, and Mrs Buchan might be another Bella Jeannie Tait. George himself wasn't relishing the thought of making the introduction. His mother hadn't been pleased about his first marriage, but that was because there had been a mystery about Katie's birth and there was no mystery about Lizann's. Surely it would be different this time?

They didn't talk much on the short journey, but when they came off the bus and were walking towards the house, Lizann whispered, ‘I'm scared.'

George squeezed her arm. ‘Ma'll not bite you.'

She discovered that George's mother was the exact opposite of Bella Jeannie in appearance – very thin, pure white hair drawn neatly back, black dress spotless. ‘So you're Lizann?' she smiled. ‘I've heard plenty about you.'

Unaware of how two-faced she was, Lizann warmed to her. ‘I'm pleased to meet you, Mrs Buchan.'

‘We've set the wedding,' George grinned. ‘Four weeks from yesterday. There'll just be the four of us at the manse – Lizann's brother's going to be best man, and his girl's going to be bridesmaid – but you'll come to the Jappys' house for the wee do after, eh, Ma?'

‘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.