The Girl with the Creel (40 page)

‘No, no! I'd love to do it!'

‘I'd better tell you … if Mr Fordyce makes Adam retire, we'll have to get out of the house. It goes with the job.'

Lizann wiped her eyes. ‘I'll come with you, wherever you've to go.'

Martha leaned back, her own eyes suspiciously moist. ‘Now we've got that settled, you'd best tell me your name.'

Her future taken care of, Lizann gave her real name this time – Liz Benzies was dead and buried under the snow – and told Martha a little of her history.

‘Oh, you poor thing!' the old woman exclaimed, when she learned of the double tragedy. ‘I don't know how you came through that.'

‘I hardly know myself,' Lizann gulped. ‘I was in a terrible state, and then somebody … two folk … said things … and I just had to get away.'

‘Have you never thought on going home?'

‘What would have been the point?'

‘You'd have saved being near starved to death for want of food.'

‘I didn't want to upset my mother again. It's best I stay away, and I'll be with you and Adam now and I'll never go hungry again.'

‘Not if I can help it,' Martha beamed.

‘I'll let Lizann get dressed to come down for a wee while the day,' Martha told her brother one morning in the middle of March. ‘She's been up an hour every day this week, and I think her legs are strong enough now to try the stair.'

‘Aye,' Adam smiled, ‘she looks better every day.'

‘There's a bit more flesh on her now, and her face has filled out and all. Besides, she's desperate to try herself. Once I've tidied up down here, I'll look through Margaret's things with her and she can choose what she wants. They're out of fashion, but they'll be better than what she used to have on.'

Recalling the ancient black shapeless coat and the threadbare skirt the girl had been wearing when he took her into the kitchen, Adam nodded his agreement to that.

Lizann was astonished when Martha turned out the contents of what had once been Margaret Laing's wardrobe, a cupboard at the side of the fireplace. Even after five years, the skirts, jumpers and blouses seemed as good as new. ‘It doesn't look as if Adam's daughter ever wore them,' she exclaimed.

‘She was aye awful extravagant. Her man had plenty of money, and he'd promised to buy her new clothes when they got to Australia, so she left all this with us, the best of quality and all. There's four sets of underwear, and goodness knows how many pairs of stockings; thick lisle for the winter, chiffon lisle for the summer, and silk for the parties they went to. And look at all that shoes! She never saved a ha'penny.'

Gathering that Martha had not thought much of her niece, Lizann said, ‘They're too good. I can't take …'

‘They're lying here going to waste.'

Lizann let a silk stocking slide across her fingers, no longer red and rough. ‘It's like getting years and years of presents all at one time.'

Martha couldn't hold back a sniff. ‘Get dressed,' she said, a little sharply to cover her emotion, ‘and I'll help you down the stair.'

Lizann chose a London tan skirt and mustard twin-set, both of which suited her colouring, chiffon lisle stockings and a pair of brown shoes, all of which fitted her perfectly. ‘I feel like a duchess,' she told Martha when she was ready.

Having walked several times across her room on previous days, she had thought she would need no help, but she found that her legs were not as strong as she thought and had to grip Martha's arm on her way down to the kitchen. Sitting by the fire, she gave a gasp of surprise at what was propped up near the window. ‘How did my creel get here?'

‘Mr Fordyce handed it in weeks ago.' Martha hadn't mentioned it at the time because she was afraid that the girl, in her weakened state, might think the farmer had his eye on her. He was quite concerned for her, but he would feel responsible since she'd been found on his land. There was nothing else in it!

Dan did not recognize the girl working in the Laings' garden at first, and wondered if the daughter Adam had once told him about had come back from Australia. Sensing that someone was watching her, she raised her head, and his heart jolted. The young fishwife! She looked so different from how he remembered, willowy but not skinny, and her black curls sat round her sweet face most becomingly. Adam had said her name was Lizann, a beautiful name for a beautiful girl! He pulled himself together. ‘It's a lovely morning,' he called.

She smiled shyly. ‘Yes, it is.'

‘I'm glad to see you up and about. Are you feeling better now?'

‘Yes, thank you.'

He could prolong the moment no longer and, giving her a nod, he walked on, wondering why she was still with the Laings when she looked the very picture of health. Not that he wanted her to leave; he would rather she stayed here for ever so that he could see her occasionally.

When he came to where Adam was furring soil round the potato shaws, he stopped to speak to him. ‘I see you've still got Lizann with you?'

Adam's smiling face changed. ‘She's going to stop with us, if you've no objections, Mr Fordyce?'

‘None. She'll be better with you than trailing round the countryside selling fish. That was no job for a young girl.'

‘She's not so young as she looks,' Adam volunteered. ‘Her birthday was three weeks ago, and she said she was twenty-eight.'

Dan's spirits lifted. He'd thought she was much younger, and sixteen years wasn't insurmountable. But he looked much older than forty-three and she wouldn't consider him as a prospective husband, even if he ever plucked up the courage to tell her how he felt.

When Martha carried out a cup of tea, she said, ‘Was that Mr Fordyce I heard speaking to you?'

She watched Lizann closely for any sign of confusion, but her smile was perfectly open. ‘Yes, he was just passing. Oh, should I have thanked him for handing in my creel?'

‘I thanked him at the time. You've made a real good job of staking the peas, but watch and not do too much.'

Lizann's laugh was loud and clear. ‘I'm as fit as a fiddle now.'

‘Aye, well, I'm not wanting you to have a relapse. Oh, it's that warm I think I'll take out a chair and sit a while.'

Enjoying the sunshine, Lizann straightened up to admire what she had done. Never having done any gardening before, she'd had to depend on Adam to show her what to do, but everything was in good shape now, though she had a steady job keeping down the weeds. It was hot for May, but she would much rather be wielding a trowel, or even a spade, than lugging a heavy creel around. Her present life was paradise compared with that, and Martha and Adam were as good as mother and father to her.

Her thoughts wavered for a moment, but she pulled them resolutely away from the past. She had found contentment and happiness with the Laings, and she wouldn't let anything spoil it, not even old memories.

When one of his collies had pups, Dan Fordyce couldn't help wishing he could give one to Lizann, but it would be difficult to give her a gift without causing talk. The puppy was six weeks old before he thought of giving him to Adam. Neither he nor Martha were fit to do much walking – the old man shouldn't really be doing any work, but he hadn't had the heart to tell him so. The day would come, of course, when he would be forced to lay him off, but sufficient unto the day …

‘What would I do with a pup?' Adam asked in surprise, when the offer was made. Then, rubbing his nose, he muttered, ‘I suppose Lizann would like him. He's a real taking wee thing.'

Lizann was delighted, and called the black and white handful Cheeky. ‘He's got such a cheeky face,' she explained to Martha, who wasn't at all pleased about having an untrained puppy in the house.

‘As long as you keep him under control,' she warned. ‘If I find any puddles or such on the floor, or if he chews up anything, out he goes.'

And so Lizann had another chore to attend to twice a day, sometimes three times, when she took Cheeky out to make sure his bladder or his bowels didn't evacuate indoors. Not that she regarded it as a chore; she loved the small bundle as much as he loved her, and he frisked round her as she weeded and hoed, or jumped away when she ran the old mower over the tiny patch of bleaching green at the back. She varied the direction of their walks, but her favourite, and Cheeky's, was to follow the burn that ran along the far end of one of the fields, until she judged that they'd gone far enough and turned back.

Dan Fordyce often watched them, the puppy racing ahead and taking a stick back for Lizann to throw, and he longed to join her, to be part of her life like the dog. Sadly, she wasn't aware of how he felt. Any time she met him, accidentally as she thought, she just gave a shy smile and hurried on, but the smile remained with him for the rest of the day. She was like a ray of sunshine brightening his dull existence, and he found himself waiting expectantly for her to appear and weave her magic round him. When she didn't come, he felt bereft.

Lizann paid no attention to what was going on in the world. She did hear Adam speaking about thousands of soldiers being evacuated from Dunkirk, but it meant nothing to her. Her days revolved round Cheeky. Sometimes she saw the farmer when they were out, but he never gave any indication that he had seen them. She wondered if he was angry at her for going along the burn, which ran quite near his house, but he never looked angry and the puppy wasn't destroying anything. Maybe she should pass the time of day with him some time, but he made her feel shy. He was Adam's boss, after all, and it had been good of him to allow her to live with the Laings. Some farmers wouldn't have.

‘I saw Mr Fordyce again,' she told Martha when she went home one day. ‘I don't think he knows I see him, but he … watches me, sometimes.'

Having often stood at the window watching girl and dog cavorting like two bairns, Martha wasn't in the least surprised by this. ‘There's no harm in Dan,' she told Lizann. ‘You're a sight for sore eyes, you're that taken up with the pup.'

‘I was wondering if I should speak to him, but I don't like.'

Martha nodded wisely. ‘It's best you don't. Bosses don't mix with the workers.'

It did not occur to either of them that Lizann did not work for Dan Fordyce, and it would have made no difference if they had. As far as they were concerned, he was gentry, and the gentry were a class apart.

When Adam came in for his supper, he thumped down in his chair. ‘God dammit, but I'm tired the day,' he sighed.

‘Watch your language,' his sister snapped, worrying that he would lose his job if his health failed.

Lizann went across to him. ‘I'll take off your boots for you.'

Looking at the crown of her head as she knelt on the floor in front of him, he said, ‘This is the first time in my life anybody's ever taken my boots off for me.'

‘And she'll not be making a habit of it,' Martha declared. ‘What would Mr Fordyce say if he thought you weren't fit to take them off yourself?'

‘Oh, don't rage him,' Lizann begged. ‘He didn't ask me to do it.'

Letting Cheeky off his lead, Lizann sat down to watch him bounding away through the trees at the side of the burn. He would soon come back to her and push his cold nose into her hand, urging her to get up and play with him. Sure enough, he padded up again in a few minutes, somewhat bigger than when Adam brought him home first but still not fully-grown, and danced around her with his dark eyes pleading with her to get up and have some fun. He had a short, fat stick in his mouth, and when she tried to take it from him he hung on to it, his head going this way and that in his delight that she was playing his favourite game. She knew the rules and waited a short time before letting it go, at which he laid it beside her, his tail wagging as he waited for her to pick it up and throw it for him.

‘You're a torment,' she laughed. ‘I'm too lazy to play with you.'

He cocked his head to the side, looking hopefully from the stick to her and back again, then a sound made him prick up his ears. ‘Somebody's coming,' she told him, wondering who it was, because nobody ever came here in the evenings. Cheeky rushed off to investigate, and she heard a male voice saying, ‘You've come to meet me, have you, boy?'

Lizann stiffened. It sounded like the farmer, and she was always a bit scared of him, though he'd only ever spoken to her twice.

Coming into sight, Dan smiled. ‘What's his name?'

‘I called him Cheeky, Mr Fordyce,' she murmured timidly, thinking now that it sounded childish.

‘That's a good name for him. He's as cheeky as they come. Do you mind if I sit down?'

‘Oh no, I don't mind.' It was his land, after all, and he could sit where he liked.

Hitching up the legs of his trousers he sat down at her side, still fondling the dog's ears in a way that had Cheeky almost bursting with contentment. ‘You're Lizann?' he observed. ‘Adam said you were living with them now.'

‘Martha and him have been awful good to me,' she said earnestly.

‘You're looking better than the first time I saw you.'

He was regarding her moss green skirt and jumper with approval, and remembering how untidy and ragged she had been before, she felt ashamed that he had seen her. ‘Martha gave me Adam's daughter's things to wear,' she explained.

‘Green suits you,' he smiled.

She was flustered by the compliment, and they remained silent for a few moments, Cheeky paying more attention to the man than to her, and he to the dog. She didn't know if he expected her to say anything or not, but felt obliged to. ‘Thank you, Mr Fordyce.'

He looked at her again, his eyes holding hers until she dropped them in confusion. ‘My name's Dan,' he said, softly. ‘Mr Fordyce makes me sound like an old man.'