The Girl with the Creel (59 page)

The three boys did get a bit noisy once it was past their normal bedtime, and Mrs Slater eventually whispered to Jenny, ‘I'd better take our lot home before they get out of hand. But before we go, I want to thank you for what you've done for Peter. I never saw him like this before, so proud … and his love for you's shining out of his face for everybody to see. I'm really delighted for him.'

Jenny understood the meaning behind this. Mrs Slater must have known that Peter hadn't loved Elsie and couldn't have been proud of her, and she was, in her own way, giving her blessing on his second marriage. ‘He did a lot for me, and all,' she murmured, ‘and I love him just as much.'

The three Tait children were to be spending another night with their grandparents, and Robbie and Pearl, who lived not far from the Slaters, said they might as well all go along the road together. Babsie made Georgie go upstairs for the bag with his and Lizann's night clothes, because they were to sleep at the Berrys' house for this one night … and at long last, the newly-weds were alone.

Peter was strangely silent as he turned from the door and went to sit by the fire, and Jenny, who had expected him to take her in his arms as soon as he had the chance, took the seat at the opposite side, trying to hide her disappointment. Presently she asked, ‘What's the matter?'

‘I can't help thinking this is all wrong,' he mumbled. ‘I can't stop thinking about Mick. I can't … touch you … you're his wife.'

‘No, Peter, I've been his widow for quite a while now, and Mr Lawrie made me your wife this afternoon.'

‘But what would Mick think about it?'

Standing up, she crossed to sit on the arm of his chair. ‘I couldn't sleep last night for worrying about that myself, but when you put the ring on my finger, a calmness came over me. I'm sure Mick was letting me know he approves.' She slipped an arm round Peter's shoulder. ‘But he wouldn't want us to spoil our wedding night thinking about him.'

He turned towards her now, and after only a few kisses, pulled her to her feet and took her through to their bed-room, where a new double bed – Robbie's wedding gift – was waiting to be tested.

Waiting for the kettle to boil for a last cup of tea one night a few weeks later, Pearl could see by her brother's face that he was up to something. ‘What are you hatching up now?' she asked, sharply.

‘You're worse than a wife,' he grinned. ‘I haven't reached a definite conclusion yet, but I might as well tell you what I was thinking. D'you remember that letter I got this morning? It was from Perry Fry, the art dealer. When I was getting my London house ready for selling, I showed him all the drawings and sketches I had lying about, and he offered to try and sell them for me. I didn't think he'd get much for any of them, not with a war on and everybody having to tighten their belts, but the crafty beggar got an American army colonel to take them to New York.'

‘Did he manage to get some of them sold?'

‘Some of them?' Robbie gave a loud guffaw. ‘Apparently they could have sold fifty times as many. The Americans were clamouring for them, and he's asking if I've any more, but that was the lot, worse luck.'

‘The sketches you did before are still in a tea chest in the attic.'

‘None of them were much good. If only I had the one I did of Hannah Jappy. Of all the drawings I ever did, even after my training, that was my masterpiece. It would probably fetch a fortune if I knew where to lay my hands on it, though I wouldn't sell it, even if it were mine to sell, which it isn't.'

‘You might as well send that dealer the ones upstairs, though.'

‘I suppose so. I could always tell him to destroy them if he doesn't think they're worth anything. Now, I'm going to tell you what I was planning. He sent me a cheque for ten thousand pounds, and what am I needing with that kind of money … or you? We've both got enough already to see us out comfortably.'

‘Jenny and Peter won't take any of it,' she pointed out.

Robbie gave a sly smile. ‘There are ways and means of … that wee house is bursting at the seams already with seven of them in it, and I don't think it'll be long till they need something a lot bigger … like this.'

‘Peter couldn't afford anything as big as this.'

‘That's where my plan comes in. I'll say it's too big for us, and we want to buy a small house but we don't like the idea of strangers being here. Then I'll ask if they would do us a favour and move in.'

‘Well,' Pearl said, thoughtfully, ‘that might work, but for any sake, don't say anything for a while yet.'

‘Not till they mention the overcrowding themselves,' he nodded. ‘By the way, have you made out a will?'

‘I've left everything to you, and this house is yours, anyway.'

‘And I left everything to you, but I'm going to change it. I'm going to leave it to Jenny and Peter … on condition that they divide it with Lizann if she ever turns up. That way, I'll feel I've done something for Hannah Jappy at last.'

Pearl looked shocked. ‘But it was through her you left home and …'

‘… and made my fortune in London,' Robbie smiled. ‘I do owe her and her family something, Pearl. And by the time they learn about it I'll be dead, and they can't refuse to accept it.'

Pressure of work at the farm made it impossible for Dan to get away as often as he would have liked, and he had only managed to get to Aberdeen three times in the past three months. Every morning at breakfast, cooked and served by Alice because Meggie Thow was growing increasingly frail, he glanced at the front page of the
Press and Journal
to see if there had been any more raids on the city. For security purposes, all that appeared in the headlines day after day was ‘Raid on North East town', which told him nothing. He did hear that Peterhead had got it on such-and-such a night, or Fraserburgh, or Aberdeen, but nothing more than that, and his sister's letters gave few details. He supposed that she was taking heed of the slogan: ‘Careless talk costs lives'.

Knowing that he would not have another chance until after the harvest, he set off early one morning at the beginning of August, and took up his search from where he had left off on his list. He had combed the various quays in previous weeks, so he started on North Esplanade East. Meeting with no success there, he tried North Esplanade West, and once again, although there were yards on only one side of the road – the River Dee being on the other – time caught up with him, and he had to leave Torry for another time.

‘Don't you feel like giving up?' Ella asked him when he went back to pick up his lorry.

He shook his head. ‘I'll never give up.'

She smiled affectionately. ‘You've got it bad.'

‘I love her,' he said, simply.

‘She's the first girl you've ever had, isn't she?'

‘The first and last.'

As he drove home, he began to wonder if he should give up. Even if he did find Lizann, would she want to leave the friends she must have made, the new life she had spun for herself? It could be that she was in love with another man. It could be that she was already married. This last thought, although it turned a knife somewhere deep inside his breast, made him determined to keep on with his search. He had to find out, no matter how unpalatable the truth turned out to be.

Chapter Thirty-three

‘You're mad,' Ella told her brother, when next he appeared, one stormy day in November. ‘Why don't you leave it till after the winter? It's an awful strain on you, driving two ways in this weather.'

‘I can't leave it,' Dan admitted. ‘I can't sleep or concentrate on anything for worrying about her, but I've been so tied up, today was the only opportunity I had.'

She touched his cheek fondly. ‘Oh, Danny boy, I don't know what I'm going to do with you. You'll make yourself ill if you don't stop.'

‘I'll be worse if I can't find her. You've no idea how much I love her, Ella.' Putting on his coat and cap again, and drawing his leather gloves over his fingers, not yet thawed out from the long drive in the draughty lorry, he went out to catch the tramcar to Market Street. He had tried every fish house and fish-curing yard on this side of the Dee, so he would go over the bridge into Torry today. If he still didn't find Lizann, he would ask Ella to make a list of all the fish shops for him to start on. He wouldn't give up, however long it took him.

It had been dull and overcast when he left the farm, and the sleety rain which had kept the sky dark had become huge flakes of snow, but he marched along his chosen route doggedly, slithering on the iced rail tracks and cursing when he actually fell. Picking himself up, he brushed the knees of his trousers, but with the snow falling like a blanket now, it made little difference. Despite the weather there was the usual activity of coal boats being unloaded along the harbour, but there were more trawlers in the Albert Dock, probably moored up because of the bad weather and packed like sardines, he thought, amused.

Just over the bridge now, and here was Sinclair Road, a long curving street which, according to the map he'd looked at before he left Great Western Road, went towards the Bay of Nigg. At the first yard he came to he didn't bother asking any of the workers if they knew Lizann; he had found it better to go straight to the office, although there was often no one there and he had to wait some time before the clerkess or manager came hurrying in from an errand to the fish house.

A small man was perched on a high stool at a sloping desk, a paddy hat sitting at the back of his head, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. Looking up from the papers he was turning over, he muttered, ‘If you want to buy some fish, you'll have to ask at …'

‘No, I don't want any fish, thank you. I was wondering, if it's not too much trouble … can you tell me if Lizann Buchan works here?'

The little man slid back a panel in the glass partition in front of him and shouted, ‘Hey, Sandy! Have we got a Lizann Buchan here?'

A burly elderly man came forward, his sleeves rolled up, a rubber apron covering him from neck to feet. ‘Nae Lizanns here.'

‘Sorry.' The little man on the stool bent his head to the papers once again, and saying a quick. ‘Thank you,' Dan went out.

He had no more luck at the next place, but at the third the middle-aged clerkess, a tall, scraggy woman, answered his question positively. ‘Yes, that name rings a bell.'

Dan's throat tightened with excitement and he had trouble saying, ‘Where can I find her?'

‘Wait till I look up …' She lifted a ledger marked ‘Wages' and after flicking through some pages she said, ‘She's in the gutting shed, but you'll have to wait till she's finished work if you want to speak to her. The boss is real strict about that.'

It was hardly four o'clock, a whole hour from stopping time, but Dan didn't care. ‘I'll wait.'

‘You can't wait here,' the woman snapped indignantly.

Dan was ecstatic at finding Lizann at last, but after standing out on the street for five minutes in the blinding snow, he realized that he would have to keep moving. For the next three quarters of an hour, he walked up and down, his heart beating at twice its normal speed, the rest of his body, especially his nose, numb with the cold.

To be sure that he wouldn't miss her, he took up his position outside the yard again, stamping his feet and thumping himself with crossed arms to keep up his circulation. When the hooter blew, he tried to watch each exit, stepping back as a horde of men, women and girls surged out.

‘Lizann!' he called, desperately, because he couldn't see her and was afraid that she would go past without him noticing. ‘Lizann! Lizann!'

The throng reduced to a trickle, the trickle came to an end and still there was no sign of the girl he loved, but he kept standing, refusing to admit defeat, although bitter, bewildering disappointment was making him feel sick.

In the first aid room, Gladys looked at Lizann. ‘Off you go, there's no need for you to wait. It's just a wee cut.'

‘It looks more than a wee cut to me, and I'm not in any hurry.'

Gladys let out a sharp squeal as the nurse dabbed at her finger with cotton wool soaked in iodine. ‘It's not as bad as it looks,' the woman pronounced as she rolled on a bandage. ‘It'll sting for a while, but it'll soon heal. Don't let any salt into it tomorrow, though, or you'll know about it.'

‘Thanks, Mrs Martin,' Gladys murmured, slipping her uninjured hand through Lizann's arm.

The big doors were already closed, and they were forced to separate to get through the narrow opening left for stragglers. ‘Oh, look, Lizann!' Gladys exclaimed as they emerged into the street and linked arms again. ‘Somebody's built a life-size snowman along there.'

The sound made the snowman move forward stiffly, and both girls were alarmed as it approached them. ‘Lizann?' it croaked. ‘Oh, thank God I've found you!'

Terrified, she clung to Gladys and recoiled when it tried to touch her elbow. ‘Don't be scared,' the apparition soothed, ‘it's Dan Fordyce.'

‘Dan?' she gasped.

‘Do you know him?' Gladys looked from one to the other.

‘I used to work for him,' Lizann murmured.

‘D'you want me to get rid of him for you?' Gladys whispered.

‘No, it's all right. What are you doing here, Dan?'

‘I've been looking for you for months. Oh Lizann, I can't tell you how glad I am to find you.'

Gladys blew into her hands. ‘Is it okay if I leave you with him? I'm blooming perishing.'

‘No, I'm coming with you.'

She grabbed her friend's arm again, and Dan had no option but to walk alongside them. Not one word was spoken until they reached Union Street, where Gladys said sotto voce, ‘Will I wait with you till your tram comes?'