The Girl with the Creel (7 page)

Out in the street, he put his arm round her and observed, ‘You're a lot thinner. Was it awful hard work?'

‘Aye, it was, and I'm glad to be back.'

Because it was November again, cold and dreich, he took her along the road instead of the shore, asking questions which she'd already covered in her letters, but at last he said hesitantly, ‘Have you made your mind up now, Lizann?'

She had been waiting for this, but she still wasn't absolutely sure.

‘Lizann?' he urged, anxiously.

She hadn't the heart to keep him waiting any longer. ‘Yes, Peter.'

‘D'you mean yes your mind's made up, or yes you'll get engaged?'

Burning her boats, she smiled shyly. ‘Yes, I'll get engaged.'

His hug nearly squeezed the breath out of her, and when he let her go, he fished in the breast pocket of his jacket and produced a small velvet box. ‘I bought the ring last week after I spoke to your father.'

Feeling a niggle of irritation that he'd taken her answer for granted, she nevertheless opened the box as if it contained the crown jewels. It wasn't an expensive ring, she could see that even in the feeble rays of the moon – just one tiny diamond on a raised shank – but it was likely all he could afford. ‘Oh, Peter, it's right bonnie,' she assured him.

‘Let me put it on,' he said, lifting her hand. ‘The jeweller said he'd change it if you didn't like it, or if it didn't fit.'

She did like it, and when he slid the ring down her finger it fitted as if it had been made for her. His arms came round her again, and his kisses were all a young girl could have desired – if she hadn't been comparing them with another man's. ‘My dearest darling,' Peter muttered hoarsely, ‘you'll never regret this.'

Already half regretting it, she could only say, ‘I know I won't.'

‘I love you, Lizann. I love you with my heart, my soul and my body. I'd wed you tomorrow if I could.'

‘My mother'll want me to fill my bottom drawer first, so it'll be a year or so yet.'

‘A year or so yet?' He grabbed her again. ‘What if I say I can't wait another year? Will you let me …?'

His heavy breathing alarmed her. She wasn't ready for this. It did seem like a sin when it was Peter. ‘No! I'll not let you, not till you put the wedding ring on.'

‘Is the engagement ring not enough?'

She pulled away from him. ‘No it's not, and if you're going to carry on like this, Peter Tait, you'd better take it back.'

He took a deep breath. ‘I'm sorry, Lizann. It's just that I haven't held you for so long … I didn't mean it, and I'll not do it again.'

‘You'd better not!' She was on the point of saying she wasn't a girl like that when she remembered that it would be a downright untruth. Less than a week ago, she had … No! She mustn't think of that! ‘It's better to wait,' she said, gently.

‘Aye, and as long as I know you love me …' He broke off and gazed earnestly into her eyes. ‘You do still love me?'

‘Yes, Peter, I still love you.'

His breath came out in a long contented sigh. ‘That's all I wanted to know.' Slipping his arm around her waist, he pulled her forward. ‘We'd better move; we'll be frozen to the spot if we stand here much longer.'

Just before they reached Portgordon, Peter swivelled her round to make the return journey. ‘I wish there was a place we could sit down and have a real cuddle … and I just mean a cuddle,' he added, hastily.

‘There'll be plenty time for cuddling once the better nights come in,' Lizann murmured, already apprehensive as to where cuddling might lead. She didn't want to spoil their marriage by giving in to him beforehand.

‘It's funny,' Peter reflected, ‘a couple of years ago, if anybody had said you'd be my wife some day, I'd have laughed in their face.'

‘Was I so ugly?'

‘That's not what I … you were Mick's wee sister, always there.'

‘Like the furniture?' She couldn't resist teasing him.

‘You know what I mean. I didn't realize you were growing up till I saw you in that pink frock.'

She was seventeen and a half now, but it was still difficult for her to accept a compliment. ‘You fell in love with the frock?'

He stopped and pulled her against him. ‘I fell in love with the lovely young girl inside the frock. Your lips were quivering like you weren't sure whether to come right into the hall or turn and leave, and when I took you up to dance and felt the curves I'd never noticed before, my heart galloped like it's galloping right now.'

His long searching kiss started her heart galloping, too. ‘Peter,' she gasped, when he drew back. ‘I wish we'd got engaged before I went away.' If she'd been fully committed to him, she thought wryly, she wouldn't have done what she did, and there wouldn't be this little voice in her head now, telling her she was making a terrible mistake.

When they went into her house, her parents were waiting to celebrate the engagement, and the slap on the back Willie Alec gave Peter was so hearty that it made him stagger. Hannah tutted at her husband. ‘You near knocked him flat on his face. You dinna ken your own strength.'

Laughing gustily, Willie Alec broke open the bottle of Drambuie he had bought for the occasion. The
Silver Star
had landed two hours earlier, and he'd been waiting to toast the betrothed couple. ‘You've a nose like a blood-hound,' he joked to Mick, who came in at that moment. ‘You can smell drink a mile away.' But he filled a third glass. The two women, not being whisky lovers, especially not the sweet liqueur, made do with some of the Hall's Wine Hannah bought to fortify herself every winter.

Willie Alec held his glass aloft. ‘Here's to Lizann and Peter,' he boomed. ‘May they have health, wealth and happiness, and he blessed wi' as fine healthy bairns as me and Hannah.'

‘Ach, Willie Alec,' she reprimanded, ‘you shouldna be speaking about bairns and them just new engaged. And I think they shouldna set the date till Lizann's nineteen.'

‘That's a year and a half yet,' her husband protested.

‘It'll gi'e them time to be sure o' their feelings.'

‘Aye, well, maybe that's best.'

When the laughing and joking began, Lizann couldn't help thinking how lucky she was in her parents. Hannah, slim and dainty, with only a few silver hairs shining through the black, did voice her opinion sometimes, but let her man have his own way over most things. Peter's mother was a big fat lump who domineered her husband. Bowfer was a puny little man who hardly ever opened his mouth when his wife was anywhere near. He was a joiner to trade, working in the same shipyard as his son, and his evenings were spent swilling beer down his throat. He likely needed Dutch courage to go home and share a bed with Bella Jeannie, Lizann reflected in some amusement. Not that he would get much room, for she must take up about three-quarters of it. Willie Alec, on the other hand, was master in his house when he was not at sea. He never bullied his family, but he could be real strict if he thought it was necessary.

‘Come on, Lizann,' Mick called, breaking into her reverie. ‘Why are you sitting there dreaming? It's your engagement we're celebrating.'

Her father refilled her glass, wrinkling his nose at the smell of the wine. ‘You're not having second thoughts about it, are you?'

She laughed along with him, and looking at Peter she said firmly, ‘No, I'm quite sure.'

Her fiancé walked across the room and pulled her to her feet. ‘I'm the happiest man in Buckie the night,' he grinned, sliding his arm round her waist and drawing her close. ‘And I'll be happier still on the day the minister makes her my wife.'

Mick nudged him in the ribs. ‘It's the wedding night that'll make you happiest, though, eh, Peter?'

The three men laughed uproariously at that, but Hannah frowned at her son for touching on so delicate a subject, and Lizann turned crimson.

‘Ach, Mother,' Mick cried, ‘stop glowering at me. It's only natural to enjoy the first night, isn't it? I'm sure you and Father enjoyed yours.'

The last remark involving him, Willie Alec considered that his son had overstepped the bounds of decency. ‘That's not the kind of talk I like in my house, Mick,' he said, sharply.

‘Ach, I was just joking, Father.'

‘It's not a joking matter.'

‘Don't quarrel,' Lizann pleaded. ‘It was only a bit of fun.'

‘You're right, lass.' Willie Alec's expression changed as he lifted the whisky bottle again. ‘You'll have another dram, Peter?' he grinned.

‘I don't think I should.'

‘If you're worried about going home drunk, I'll tell Bella Jeannie the morrow it was my fault.'

Sure that Lizann's father would be a match for his mother, Peter held out his glass, and after topping it up, Willie Alec turned to Mick. ‘I was ower hasty, son, and we'll forget about it, eh?'

With harmony restored, the jollifications continued, and by the time Lizann was undressing for bed, she was sure she had done the right thing in promising to marry Peter.

‘Mam wants you to come for your supper the morrow,' Peter told Lizann on Thursday, ‘though she says it'll not be anything special.'

‘That doesn't matter,' she exclaimed, pleased that Bella Jeannie was being friendly. She wasn't to know that Peter had pressurized his mother into asking her.

When Hannah was told about the invitation she said, ‘I'm surprised Bella Jeannie hasna kicked up a fuss about this engagement. I'd have said she wouldna think there was a lassie in the whole o' Scotland good enough for her Peter. She's for ever telling folk about him learning to be a draughtsman.'

Lizann smiled proudly. ‘She likely thinks he could do a lot worse than marry into a good family like the Jappys.'

Nevertheless she was apprehensive when she was taken into the Taits' kitchen on Friday. Bella Jeannie was dozing by the fire, her vast body jammed into an armchair, still in a stained wrap-around overall, her sleeves rolled up, revealing the wobbling blubber of her upper arms. Giving a start, she opened her eyes. ‘I didna expect you yet,' she said accusingly. With many grunts and groans, she succeeded in separating herself from her chair, but when Lizann asked if there was anything she could do to help, she snapped, ‘I'll manage.'

‘Let her see the ring, Lizann,' Peter said, nerves making his voice rise in pitch a little.

Shyly, she went forward and held out her left hand, but the woman gave it only a cursory glance and snorted, ‘Have you tell't Willie Alec yet? The bride's father's to pay for the wedding, you ken.'

Lizann looked helplessly at Peter, who said, still a trifle nervously, ‘He gave me his blessing when I asked him, and Hannah was pleased about it, and all.'

‘Hannah's never been able to see past Willie Alec. Naebody understood why he chose her, for she was a plain wee moose, and dozens o' lassies had their eye on him. He was a right handsome man in his young days … still is.'

Suspecting that Bella Jeannie had been one of the girls whose eye had been on him, Lizann let the slur on her mother pass, but she still felt a bit rattled that Peter had spoken to her father before she came home.

Taking her frosty expression as dismay at his mother's reaction, he prompted, ‘Are you not going to congratulate us, Mam?'

Waddling across, she put her fleshy arms round him. ‘Congratulations, son, but I hope you ken what you're doing.' Then she turned to Lizann. ‘You're getting the finest man in the land. I've done everything for him from the day he was born, and I hope you'll look after him right.'

Peter stepped in before Lizann could answer. ‘We'll look after each other, for she loves me as much as I love her.'

Lizann expected her to sneer at this, but she said, ‘Ach well, it'll maybe work out. Now, for ony sake, sit yourself down.'

Taking the chair the man pulled out for her, Lizann watched the woman as she filled the plates and set them down at each place, puffing with even the slight exertion of stretching across the table. Her face was bright red from the heat of the stove, and her iron-grey hair was damp and straggly. Hoping that the stew would be less offensive than the cook, Lizann was relieved to find it very palatable.

‘So Willie Alec's happy about this engagement?' Bella Jeannie barked suddenly, a few more greasy wisps escaping from the hairpins. ‘Well so he should be, for my son's a fine catch for ony lassie.'

‘Mam!' Peter protested, embarrassed.

‘It's true,' she declared. ‘I aye hoped you'd pick somebody from your office, maybe, or a lassie … ach well, I'll say no more.'

Bowfer Tait – so nicknamed because his chronic bronchitis made him bark like a dog – spoke for the first time. ‘She's a right bonnie lass.' His leg brushed Lizann's – by accident, she hoped.

‘Are you going out tonight, Dad?' Peter asked.

‘I aye go to the Harbour Bar for an hour or so,' Bowfer told Lizann, ‘but seeing you're here …'

‘Don't stay in for me,' she interrupted.

‘No, Dad,' Peter smiled. ‘Go out for your pint as usual.'

‘One pint?' Bella Jeannie sneered. ‘Half a dozen, more like.'

‘It's the only enjoyment I get,' her husband complained.

Lizann could well believe that; Bella Jeannie must wear on him. They were an ill-matched couple, the woman big in every sense of the word and the man insignificantly small and weedy. Even his sparse hair seemed to be receding to get away from her.

When the meal was over, he stood up. ‘Well, if naebody objects, I'll away out.' He addressed all three of the others, but it was his wife's permission he sought with his eyes.

‘Aye, away you go!' she ordered, and as he scuttled off, she said to Lizann, ‘He's better boozing wi' his cronies than sitting here snoring.'