The Girl with the Creel (42 page)

At last Lizann said softly, ‘You should sit down, Adam, you're as white as a sheet.'

‘So are you.' Nevertheless, he did sit down, his hands shaking so much that he hid them under the tablecloth.

Lizann stared at him with wide, sorrowful eyes. ‘We'll have to get a doctor to …' she whispered. ‘Has Mr Fordyce got a telephone?'

Too overcome to speak now, Adam gave a slight nod but, as she went out, his head dropped down and she could hear his deep sobs even from the foot of the garden. She ran all the way to the farmhouse, but when she asked the housekeeper to phone the doctor, the woman jumped to the wrong conclusion. ‘He didna look well last time I saw him. He shouldna be working so hard.'

‘No, no!' Lizann gasped. ‘It's not Adam! It's Martha!'

‘Martha? What's wrong wi' her?'

‘I think she's … dead.'

‘Dead? Oh, dearie me! Dearie me! That's terrible!'

Meggie was so affected by this unexpected tragedy that Lizann had to remind her why she was there. ‘Please phone … right now. I don't want to leave Adam on his own too long.'

Meggie's hands fluttered nervously. ‘Oh, lassie, I'm nae use wi' that contraption. I'll have to get Mr Fordyce.'

She disappeared inside and Dan came running out in just a moment, his mouth still full. ‘Meggie says Martha's …?'

‘Please, Mr Fordyce, will you phone and ask the doctor to come?'

He gripped her elbow. ‘Come inside. You look as if you need a seat.'

The telephone was on a small table in the hallway, and he made her sit on the chair beside it. He asked the operator for the number, and while he waited to be put through, he said, ‘Adam didn't say she was ill.'

‘She wasn't ill. I thought she was sleeping and …'

A reedy, metallic voice brought her to a halt, and the farmer turned his head away. ‘Dr Munro? It's Dan Fordyce, Easter Duncairn. Could you call at my cottar houses as soon as possible? The name's Martha Laing.' Laying down the receiver, he looked at Lizann again. ‘He'll come as soon as he can. Now, you were telling me, she was asleep …?'

‘I thought she was sleeping, but I couldn't get her to waken for her dinner … and when I felt her wrist, there wasn't a pulse.'

Trembling with delayed shock, Lizann was not aware how near she came at that moment to being taken in another man's arms, nor how hard Dan had to fight against the urge to crush her against his chest. All she knew was that he was looking at her with a strange expression. ‘I'm sorry I've bothered you in the middle of your dinner,' she whispered.

‘Don't be silly.' The sharpness covered his concern. ‘I had better take you back.'

Calling to Meggie not to keep his meal hot, he pulled Lizann's arm through his and propelled her outside. ‘I'm really sorry about Martha, Lizann,' he said, when they were on the rough track. ‘I know you thought a lot of her. And how is Adam taking it? He hasn't been looking too good himself these past few weeks.'

‘No, he hasn't, and he was sobbing fit to break his heart when I left him. He'll miss her something awful … and so'll I.' Lizann blinked in an effort to stop a tear, but it still spilled over and she knew, by the extra pressure he put on her arm, that the farmer had seen it.

Knowing that both Lizann and Adam were too shocked, Dan promised to arrange everything. He also told Adam to take a whole week off, which he considered, if not enough time to let him get over his loss, should help him to build up his strength a little.

When at long last they were left on their own, the doctor having helped Dan to carry Martha's body through to her bedroom, the old man and the young woman sat down at the fireside, thankful that the stir was past for the time being. After staring for a short time at the bowl of flowers Lizann had set in a corner the previous day, Adam looked across at her, tears brimming in his eyes. ‘What am I going to do without her?'

‘We'll both miss her, but we'll have to carry on.'

‘For as long as I'm able to carry on,' he muttered, morosely.

‘Oh, Adam, you're good for a lot of years yet.'

He fixed his faded eyes on the flowers again. ‘What's going to happen to you when I …?'

‘Oh, Adam, don't think about it.'

After a long pause, he mumbled, ‘Any road, Dan Fordyce sees fine I'm on my road out, and …'

‘He's a good man, he won't sack you. Look, it's daft sitting here, we should go to bed.'

Rising, she helped him to his feet, and he grasped her hand. ‘You'll never leave me, will you, Lizann?'

‘Never! Get some sleep, for we've the funeral to get through yet.'

She saw him through to his room, and in her own bed she prayed that the funeral wouldn't be too much for him. Her thoughts turned in spite of herself to her mother. She wasn't as old as Martha, but she had been in a far worse state of health. Was Lou attending to her properly? But it would be Jenny who was looking after her now, for she and Mick must be married by this time.

Tears coursed down Lizann's cheeks as she remembered all the dear ones she had left behind, the dear ones she had tried so hard to banish from her memory, and when her mind touched on Peter Tait, she had to clap her hand over her mouth to stop her from sobbing aloud. She still loved him, but it was only the pure, simple love for a very close friend, a friend who had been a deep source of comfort to her more than once. If he had been here today … but his wife had put an end to all that; they could never be friends now, even if they ever met again.

She had been happier with Martha and Adam than she'd thought possible after losing George, and now it looked as if it wouldn't be long till she was homeless and friendless again.

Work at Easter Duncairn went on as usual, the harvesting of the potato crop in October, the ploughing in November, but Dan Fordyce made sure that Adam was given only light jobs. Since Martha's death, he had been quiet to the point of taciturnity, speaking when spoken to only if an answer was expected, and even then in as few words as he could.

As the winter drew in, Lizann grew more anxious about his health, but she knew that it was no use saying anything. All she could do was to make sure he was well wrapped up when he went out and have warm clothes ready for him when he came in. In the evenings they normally sat in silence, listening only to the news bulletins on the wireless, for Adam did not think it was fitting to be laughing at comedy shows or enjoying the big bands when they were still in mourning.

‘Martha used to like Henry Hall,' Lizann said, tentatively, one night. ‘She wouldn't mind us listening to him.' But Adam shook his head, and she didn't suggest it again.

Chapter Twenty-three

When she made her Thursday visits to the Yardie, Elsie was always afraid that Hannah might unthinkingly reveal the ‘secret', but as time passed – with the elderly woman glowering at her for a minute and then ignoring her – she came to the conclusion that it had joined all the other things buried beyond recall in what passed now for Hannah's brain.

With 1940 wearing to a close, Jenny was well through her eighth month and still in the best of health. Elsie couldn't understand why some women seemed to bloom when they were carrying, while she'd blown up like a balloon both times. Still, as Lenny Fyfe had told her after Tommy was born, she'd got her figure back real quick. Lenny had the knack of making her feel good, though she still sometimes hungered for a man that would dominate her like she had always secretly yearned to be dominated.

On 20 December, Elsie asked her neighbour to keep an eye on her sons till she went to the Yardie. ‘They're just a pest wi' Jenny so near her time,' she explained. ‘She's nae due for a few days yet, but she wasna looking great yesterday, and I'm feared it'll come early.'

Rosie McIntosh smiled. ‘I'll ken what's up if you're nae back, and dinna worry about your bairns. I'll keep them like we arranged.'

‘Thanks.' Elsie hurried off gratefully.

‘Yoo-hoo!' she called, as she opened the Jappys' door and walked in. ‘It's just me.'

To her surprise, Hannah said, ‘Thank God you've come! I think she's started.'

Jenny was curled over the sink, her face ashen when she turned round. ‘You'd best get Tibbie, Elsie.'

Elsie nodded, then, looking at the wee mite in his high chair, his eyes round with terror, his thumb in his mouth as a comforter, she said, ‘And I'll put wee Georgie in to Babsie Berry's, out of the road.'

Jenny wished that her mother-in-law could also be sent out of the way, but another pain tore at her, and she gave a quick nod before hugging the sink again.

When Elsie returned, she was accompanied by the middle-aged woman who acted as the local midwife. Tibbie Taylor took one look at Jenny, then said, ‘I'll help you ben to your bed.'

‘It's Hannah that sleeps ben there,' Elsie pointed out. ‘Jenny's bed's up the stair.'

Another pain beginning, Jenny gasped, ‘I don't … think I'll manage … to get up …'

‘I'm nae having a bairn born in my bed!' Hannah burst out.

‘Nobody's asking you!' Elsie snarled.

Her eyes wild, Hannah cried, ‘You … you … it was you! It was you!' Her words deteriorated into a series of unintelligible grunts, but no one was paying any attention to her.

Past caring where she would go as long as the infant came out, Jenny said, ‘I'll have to … have it here. You can put … the rubber sheet on … the mat …'

Tibbie scowled. ‘And have me breaking my back bending? I suppose … if you was on the couch …?'

She took a large waterproof apron out of her bag and tied it round her as she waited for the sofa to be made ready, and then Elsie helped Jenny to put on an old nightgown of Hannah's she had found in the press when she was looking for the rubber sheet.

The confinement under way at last, Hannah – her mind momentarily taken off her previous agitation – directed operations from her ringside seat like a queen from a throne, and after ignoring her for some time Tibbie turned on her angrily. ‘Be at peace, for ony sake, Hannah, or I'll get Elsie to carry you through to your bed.'

Hannah was having none of this. ‘Lizann's my lassie, and I've to make sure nothing goes wrong!'

‘Lizann?' Tibbie shouted. ‘Naebody's seen your Lizann for months. It's Jenny that's having the bairn! Mick's wife!'

Tibbie having brought Lizann's disappearance back to her mind, and how she had previously been told about it, Hannah tottered to her feet, her outraged face as red as the tartan rug which slid off her knees. Elsie jumped to support her but wasn't quick enough to stop her landing in a heap on the floor. Unable to lift her, she looked at the midwife in desperation. ‘What'll we do with her?'

Rattled by all the commotion, Tibbie snapped, ‘Leave her there. She'll maybe keep her mouth shut now.'

Hannah certainly stopped interfering, but kept saying, ‘It was her! It was her! I mind now!' Her finger pointed at Elsie for a moment, then her memory left her again, and dropping her hand, she kept up a steady flow of low moans, which, although more disturbing to Jenny and Tibbie, wiped the look of apprehension off Elsie's face.

After a while, piqued that no one would help her, Hannah whined, ‘I could get my death lying here and naebody cares.'

‘Never heed her,' Tibbie whispered, and Elsie turned to Jenny as she let out another agonized scream.

At least two of the occupants of the room would never forget the next few hours. Jenny was too intent on forcing the infant out of her womb to hear Hannah's sporadic accusations, and Hannah herself was no longer aware of what was going on, but at one point Elsie put her hands over her ears and groaned, ‘It's like a bloody circus in here,' and Tibbie muttered, ‘I've never heard nothing like it.'

At last the sweating midwife gave a triumphant cry. ‘Ha! The head's crowning,' and concentrated on guiding the infant out. ‘It's a girl,' she announced in a few minutes. She got the slimy, blood-streaked baby crying and then handed her to Elsie. ‘I'll wash her when I've finished wi' Jenny.'

As Elsie wrapped the infant in a towel, Hannah looked up at her slyly. ‘Lizann …' she began, and an evil smirk crossed her face as she ended, ‘… and Peter!'

‘Shut up!' Elsie screamed. ‘It's a bloody asylum you should be in, you mad old bitch!'

The afterbirth having come off, Jenny lay back weakly and Tibbie took the baby. ‘Get some water ready,' she told Elsie, ‘and stop carrying on. You're as bad as the auld wife.'

Elsie went over to the fire and lifted the kettle to fill the basin. ‘You wouldna like her saying your man was taking up wi' somebody else.'

Tibbie looked surprised. ‘She never said nothing like that to you.'

‘It's what she meant.'

‘Stop it,' Jenny pleaded. ‘Her mind's back to when Lizann was engaged to Peter. That's all it is.'

‘Lizann and Peter,' Hannah repeated, grinning vacantly.

Moving towards the sink, Tibbie said, ‘That's enough, Hannah. Just lie there and be quiet, and once I've got the bairnie clean, Elsie and me'll lift you back on to your seat. You're ravelled wi' falling, but you'll be fine when we get you up off the floor.'

The soft voice soothed Hannah, but she glared at Elsie again as soon as she was returned to her chair. The venom gradually left her eyes, and she lay back and closed them.

When Jenny was changed and settled in her own bed with the baby at her breast, Tibbie went home and Elsie sat down to recover, her thoughts on what Hannah had said … too dangerous for comfort, though she hadn't come out with anything specific. The old besom was sleeping now, but when she woke up she might remember a lot more. It would have been a blessing if she'd had a seizure in her rage … but maybe that could be arranged yet. All it needed was to goad her into losing her temper, and with any luck it might be the finish of her.