The Girl with the Creel (3 page)

Her eyes moved idly round the room now, to the mantelpiece, crammed with ornaments and fancy shells and edged by a strip of scalloped lace, changed every wash-day; to the lace-screened window that had a geranium on the wide sill; to the little stool she had upturned and pretended was a boat when she was small; to the couch, obviously bought at a different time from the two leather armchairs, whose sagging, cracked seats were covered with lumpy cushions; to the lace antimacassar on the back of her father's chair – her mother had been a great one for crocheting at one time; returning to the fireplace and the heavy poker resting on a trivet inside the iron fender.

Willie Alec came home just after quarter to five, had a quick shave, the second that day, and was changing into his Sunday suit in his room when Mick walked in, so Lizann was able to tell him what had happened. ‘And it was thanks to you he changed his mind.'

‘Well, well,' he grinned, ‘wonders'll never cease. I thought I'd made things worse, sticking my oar in.'

When their mother and father went to church, Mick put on his jacket. ‘I'm going to see if Jenny'll get out. When are you meeting Peter?'

‘He's coming for me about seven.'

‘Don't do anything I wouldn't do,' he teased as he went out.

After washing her face, she went up to her room to brush her hair, then, remembering the papier poudre she had bought at the same time as the lipstick, she took the small packet out of a drawer and removed one leaf. She hadn't had the courage to use any before the dance, but she found it put a velvety bloom on her face, enhancing the effect of the thin layer of lipstick she applied last. Back in the kitchen, she sat down by the fire to wait for Peter, her insides wobbling like jelly. When the knock came, she was glad he was prompt, for she wanted to be out of the house before her parents came home.

As they walked westward along the street there was a reserve between them that hadn't been there the night before, making Lizann sure that he regretted having asked her out, but, once they were clear of Buckpool, he said, ‘I've been looking forward to this all day.'

Relieved, she whispered, ‘So've I.'

‘Honest?'

‘Honest.'

‘Did Mick say anything about … about us?' He sounded anxious.

‘He teased me a bit. He said you stuck to me like glue.'

‘I couldn't bear to let anybody else … were you angry?'

‘No, I liked dancing with you.'

‘I never cared much for it before, but it was different with you.'

They strolled along the open road, with the golf course on their left and the sea on their right, and had almost reached the first houses in Portgordon, about a mile beyond Buckpool and completely independent of Buckie, when he burst out, ‘I'd things I wanted to say, but I can't.'

‘Why not?'

‘It's too soon, and you'd think I was off my head.'

‘I wouldn't.'

He drew to a halt and turned to face her. ‘You're the first girl I've ever gone out with, Lizann, and I'm not used to saying what I feel. You'll have to let me take my own time.'

Wishing that he wasn't so shy, Lizann said, ‘My father thinks I'm too young to be going out with a lad.'

‘And he likely thinks I'm too old for you.'

‘He did say that, and all, and Mick argued with him.'

‘Mick stuck up for you? I thought he might be annoyed at me for taking possession of his sister.'

Thinking she was getting somewhere with him, Lizann was disappointed when Peter made an about turn. ‘We'd better go back. I don't want to keep you out in the cold too long.'

The return journey was made in the same restrained manner until they were passing his house in Main Street. ‘My Mam and Dad were pleased when I said I was going out with somebody,' he observed. ‘I think they've been a bit worried that I'm twenty-one and never had a girlfriend.'

She couldn't understand why this had worried the Taits; her parents worried because her brother had so many. ‘D'you think Mick's going to stick to Jenny Cowie?' she asked.

Peter laughed. ‘Goodness knows. He never sticks long with any of them, but it did look last night as though he was serious about her. I hope he is, for she'd be a good wife to him, she'd steady him.'

When they arrived at the Yardie again, they stood up outside her door, and she thought that nothing that had gone on tonight would have upset her father. ‘Goodnight, Peter,' she said, a little regretfully.

‘Will you … come out with me tomorrow again?'

He hadn't asked her to go steady, but her father's rule had still to be observed. ‘Not tomorrow. Wednesday, maybe?'

‘Oh.' His voice was flat. ‘That's a long time away … but Wednesday it is. Goodnight, Lizann.'

Willie Alec looked surprised when she went inside. ‘You're back early, it's not half past eight yet.'

‘Peter didn't want to keep me out in the cold.'

‘Aye,' Hannah smiled, ‘he's a sensible laddie.'

Willie Alec nodded. ‘Are you to be seeing him again?'

‘He asked me out tomorrow, but I said not till Wednesday.'

‘It's the best way, lass. Now sit down at the fire and get a heat.'

It had gone half past nine when Mick came in. ‘Is my seabag ready for morning?' he asked his mother.

Accustomed to both her men depending on her to do everything for them, Hannah smiled. ‘Your gear's all in, washed and ready. Your ganzy's on its last legs, but I'll have your new one finished for your next trip.' She knitted all the heavy jerseys for her son and her husband, but only Willie Alec let her knit wheeling wool drawers for him; Mick said they made him scratch and besides, he wasn't an old mannie yet.

Yawning, Lizann stood up. ‘The sea air's made me sleepy.'

The coldness of her room made her undress quickly, and she was glad of the ‘hot pig' her mother had put in to take the chill off the linen sheets. But the little warm spot soon cooled down when she shifted the earthenware hot-water bottle down to heat her numb feet, so she took it in her arms and curled round it to try to get warm. She'd had such high expectations for tonight, and Peter hadn't kissed her yet.

When the men left in the morning, Hannah wrote out a list of things she needed from the town, and Lizann, having done most of the shopping since she left school two years earlier, set off willingly. She would have loved to have a job of some kind, but her father wouldn't hear of her going out to work. ‘Mick and me take in enough to keep the house going,' he said, any time she brought up the subject. ‘A woman's place is in the home, and your mother'll learn you everything you need to ken so you'll be as good a wife to some man as she's been to me.'

And so Lizann had been taught how to knit the long seaboot stockings and heavy jerseys, to patch and darn, and she was now as proficient as Hannah at cooking and baking. She had learned how to gut the fish her father and brother took home, and how to salt the large haddocks and dry them on wire grids until they were bone hard. They kept for a long time, and before being used they were soaked in water to soften them, then boiled and mixed with mashed potatoes and a mustard sauce to make what was known as ‘hairy tatties', a great favourite with the men.

Despite these accomplishments, Lizann often wished she could earn some money for herself instead of getting a little pocket money to buy odds and ends, and having to depend on her parents for everything else she needed. This morning, however, as she walked to West Church Street – where there was a better selection than in the small shops in Buckpool – she had something different on her mind. She was convinced that Peter felt more than liking for her, and she could hardly wait till Wednesday when, surely to goodness, he'd have got over being shy with her. Nobody could say it was love at first sight for them, she had known him as long as she could remember, but their eyes had been shuttered until Saturday night.

She was smiling to herself when she met Peggy May Cordiner, a friend from her schooldays who lived a few doors along Main Street from Jenny Cowie, on the opposite side from the Taits. ‘What are you looking so happy about?' Peggy May asked. ‘Have you found a lad?' Lizann's blush made her go on, eagerly, ‘Who is he? Do I ken him?'

‘It's Peter Tait,' Lizann told her, rather proudly.

Peggy May's green eyes widened. ‘But he's a lot older than you!'

‘Just five year, and he danced every dance with me on Saturday night.'

Tossing her long blond hair, Peggy May said, ‘Och, is that all you're on about? I thought …'

‘And he saw me home.'

‘Oh!' This obviously put a new aspect on it for the other girl, but she sneered, ‘He'd to pass your house, any road, and I bet he didna even kiss you.'

Lizann couldn't say he had, but she did have an ace up her sleeve. ‘I was with him last night, and all, and we're going out on Wednesday.'

Peggy May looked impressed now. ‘So he is your lad?'

‘I don't know,' Lizann said, deciding to be perfectly honest, ‘but I hope so.' She changed the subject. ‘Are you not working just now?'

‘I start tomorrow at the yard again. We get a few days off when we get back from Yarmouth, you see. You should come next year, Lizann. I've told you before, it's great fun, and you'd meet dozens o' nice lads.'

Several of the girls who had been at school with them now followed the herring fleet, some from the beginning of the season in March, when the fish were landed at Lerwick, and some, like Peggy May, working in one of the fish houses for most of the time and just going to Yarmouth to gut and pack the last catches of the year. Lizann had asked her father last summer if she could go, but he'd been horrified. ‘God kens what some o' they lassies get up to when they're down there away from their mothers and naebody looking after them.'

Lizann had tried to sidetrack him. ‘I can gut as fast as any of them,' but he had said, with decisive finality, ‘Your mother needs you here.'

That was why she hadn't asked him this summer, and she didn't think she would ask him ever again. She had Peter now, so she wasn't jealous of Peggy May getting away from Buckie for a while. She was likely hoping to find a lad.

‘I'd better get on,' Lizann said now. ‘I've a lot of things to get.'

‘See you some time,' Peggy May smiled.

It wasn't quite so cold on Wednesday night, so Peter suggested walking in the other direction this time. They didn't say much as they ambled along, but when they came to Portessie, the moon was playing over the stretch of sand, turning it to shimmering silver. Stopping to admire it, Lizann turned to him, her eyes shining. ‘It's really lovely, isn't it? The sea's so calm, not like it was on Sunday.'

The dream she had nurtured since Saturday night suddenly came true. Peter's arms enfolded her, and his tender kiss left her longing for more. ‘I never knew it could be like this,' he said, softly.

‘Neither did I,' she whispered, but another kiss proved that it was.

They made slow progress now, stopping every few yards to savour the wonder of blossoming love, until Lizann's throat was tight with emotion and she thought her heart would burst with happiness.

‘We'd better turn back,' Peter said at last. ‘You look cold.'

She was unwilling to put an end to the rapture, but she was grateful that he was considering her well-being, for she hadn't realized before that her feet were freezing.

When they returned to the Yardie, Peter took her round to the seaward side of the houses so they wouldn't be seen from the street, and with the icy wind which had sprung up howling around them and the crashing of the waves on the shore in their ears, he kissed her so fervently that her frozen toes thawed out and curled up. Then he stepped back with a sigh. ‘You'll have to go in, Lizann, it's getting late.'

‘Oh, Peter, I don't want to go in yet.'

‘Your mother'll blame me for keeping you out. Um … Lizann will you … go steady with me?'

It had come at last. ‘I'd like that,' she whispered, ‘but it'll have to be just twice a week.'

‘You haven't another lad, have you?'

‘No, there's nobody else.'

‘Thank God for that, for … I love you, Lizann.'

Her legs were in danger of giving way, but she whispered, ‘And I love you, Peter,' before turning to let him kiss her once more. This time, new thrills started deep inside her, something she had never experienced before and hoped was part of being in love.

He let her go so soon that she said, anxiously, ‘What's wrong?'

‘Nothing's wrong, but you'd better go in. I can't stand any more.'

Too innocent to know what he meant by this, or to recognize her own jagged emotions as frustration, she felt as if he'd rejected her. What had she done that he couldn't stand? Her spirits sank even lower when, instead of giving her another loving kiss, he gave her a peck on the cheek. ‘We'd best make it Saturday and we can go dancing again … if you want to.'

‘Yes, I want to.'

‘Goodnight, then … my darling.'

He walked away and she went inside where Hannah eyed her knowingly. ‘I can tell he's kissed you.'

Blushing, Lizann nodded. ‘And he's asked me to go steady with him.'

‘Och well, your father said as long as it was Peter … Be careful, though, for if he loses his head, he could land you in trouble.'

Snippets Lizann had uncomprehendingly overheard as a schoolgirl came back to her mind, yet she still didn't fully understand the kind of trouble she could land in. She knew she should be thankful that Peter had put an end to the kissing before he lost his head, but she wasn't. She would have preferred to find out what came after – she could have stopped him if he did anything she didn't like.