Time Shall Reap (2 page)

‘Your mother’ll be worried about you if you’ve been away that long. You’d have been better to come right back.’

‘Och, she’ll guess what’s happened, and she’s not the kind to try to smother me wi’ mother love. She wasn’t against me going to Canada, for she said I’d be better to try my wings a bit, but my father wants me to carry on Blairton after him, me being the only son.’

‘I can’t understand why you wanted to leave when your life was planned out for you.’

John pulled a face. ‘I wanted to plan my own life, and I’m determined to go some day. I want some excitement before I’m too old to enjoy it, and besides, it would be a good thing to learn how the farmers over there manage their land. If things don’t work out, I can always come back.’

‘I’ve heard stories about men going to Canada and not finding any work. They’ve no money to pay their fares home, and they end up down and out.’

His laugh was hearty. ‘Folk are aye ready to tell stories, whether they’re true or not. Can you see me ending up down and out?’

Shuddering, she switched her mind away from the awful picture he had evoked. ‘I wonder where my mother can be?’

‘She’s maybe in wi’ one o’ your neighbours.’ John stroked her ankle idly, making her draw in her breath as her pulse raced and his eyes danced with impish devilment. ‘Are you feared at being here on your own with me?’

‘Oh, no!’ She was feared he would leave if he thought she was so childish. ‘It’s not like her, she’s aye here.’

‘Has a lad ever kissed you, Elspeth Gray?’

The suddenness, and directness, of the question startled her, but she answered honestly. ‘I’ve never been out wi’ a lad.’ What could she say if he asked if he could kiss her? Worse, what would she do if he kissed her without asking?

‘Your mouth’s just waiting to be kissed,’ he said, softly. ‘Like a flower ready to bloom.’

When his fingers brushed her lips, she turned away, not knowing how to cope with the emotions he had aroused, and only then saw the paper propped up against the glass of the grandfather clock. As she jumped to her feet, she knocked John off balance and laughed as he sprawled on the rag rug.

Unfolding the note, she read it aloud. ‘“Dear Eppie”,’ she began, then stopped to explain. ‘That’s what my mother calls me. “I got word this morning that your Auntie Janet is ill again, so I am away to catch the ten to two train to Aberdeen and I will try to come home tomorrow. See your father gets some broth when he comes in at nine, and steep the meal all night for his porridge in the morning, for he does not like lumps in it. Your loving mother.”’ Elspeth laid the sheet of paper on the table. ‘My Auntie Janet’s aye got something wrong wi’ her.’

‘Your father’s not to be in till nine?’ The words came thoughtfully from the floor. ‘That’s near two hours yet.’

Elspeth’s heartbeats quickened even more, but she tried to postpone his departure in case she was reading more into his remark than he intended. ‘Will you have a cup o’ tea to heat you up before you take the road again?’

‘I’m needing no tea to heat me up, as well you ken.’ His lips were smiling, but his eyes seemed to be boring right into her soul as he took her hand and pulled her down beside him.

Carried away by the wonderful feelings within her, she said nothing as he removed the pins from her hair, and when the long wavy tresses cascaded to her waist in ripples, he touched them reverently and breathed, ‘It’s as soft as silk. Spun gold silk.’

She held her face up quite naturally, but, as she savoured her first kiss, gentle and tender, his lips suddenly became demanding. ‘You’re so bonnie, Elspeth,’ he groaned, ‘enough to set a man’s body on fire.’

Her own body had also been set on fire, and she responded passionately, but he drew away from her suddenly. ‘Oh, it’s more than I can bear, lass.’

Certain that her heart would burst from her ribcage in her frustration, she pulled his head down and kissed him with an abandonment which astonished them both.

‘Oh, God! Elspeth, Elspeth.’

His husky, throbbing voice stilled any doubts she may have had as his hands fumbled with the buttons on her blouse and bodice, and shafts of sheer, shivering delight sped swiftly downwards when his icy fingers uncovered her skin. Silently, she willed him to keep fondling her, quite unaware that her body was telling him exactly how she felt.

When his hands moved urgently lower, she murmured, weakly, ‘No, John,’ but his mouth stopped her feeble pro-test and she gave herself up to her turbulent emotions, until, when she thought that her heart must explode altogether, there came an ecstasy she had never imagined – wilder, more satisfying than anything that had gone before. Wilder even than the storm outside.

Elspeth had often felt cheated when, just at the crucial moment, the writers of the cheap novelettes she read put a row of asterisks instead of describing what was taking place, but now she understood. There were no words to describe to anyone who had never experienced it the unadulterated bliss of being served by a man.

As if doused by cold water, her thoughts came to an abrupt halt. Served? As the bull at Denseat served the cows? No, no! It wasn’t the same at all! She loved John, and he loved her, for a man didn’t do... that to a girl if he didn’t love her. A coldness in her nether regions made her realise that her clothing was in shameful disarray, and she sat up, most embarrassed, to cover herself.

John’s eyes were studying her from under his dark lashes, and he gave a soft laugh. ‘You’re a funny wee thing, do you ken that, Elspeth?’

Alarmed, she asked, ‘What d’you mean?’ Surely he wasn’t comparing her with some other girl?

‘There’s nothing wrong wi’ me seeing you like that.’

She couldn’t think of anything to say which wouldn’t sound prudish or childish, and wriggled out of his encircling arm, fastening her buttons as he sat up with a sigh.

‘Aye, maybe you’re right, for I’ve done more than I should already.’

She was relieved when he turned away and glanced round the room – he would find nothing wanting though he compared this homely kitchen with the one at Blairton – but she was glad when his eyes came to rest on the tall grandfather, standing sentry at the side of the fire. ‘That’s a fine clock.’

This pleased her even more. It was the pride of the Gray household, and looked magnificently beautiful tonight, she thought, the Spanish mahogany reflecting the glowing coals in the range. ‘My father bought it as a wedding present for my mother at a sale in Findhavon House when Lord Hay died, and he got their initials engraved on the pendulum. He must have been real romantic when he was young, though it’s hard to believe when you look at him now.’

Jumping up, she opened the door in the long case to show him the brass disc, and he hoisted himself round on to his knees to make out the letters as they swung from side to side. ‘GG – EW. That would be George Gray and ...?’

‘Elizabeth Watt, that was my mother’s single name.’

‘Aye, right enough, that was real romantic.’ He glanced idly up at the clock face. ‘My God! It’s half after eight.’

Clambering to his feet, he lifted his steaming bonnet and coat from the fenderstool and put them on, then held a lighted taper to the wick in the lantern. ‘Your father would have a fit if he came in and found me here,’ he laughed, walking to the door.

Standing with him in the tiny porch, Elspeth wished that he didn’t have to go, but his last kiss made her heart sing with joy again, and she went inside happily to pin up her hair and to wash before her father came home. In the cold, corrugated iron lean – to which her mother referred to as the ‘back kitchen’ – it had been erected a few years previously so that a sink with running water could be installed – her blood cooled down quickly, and she was sitting by the fire again, outwardly calm but inwardly reliving every moment of her time with John, when she heard her father at the porch and stood up to ladle out his soup, her hands trembling.

Geordie Gray removed the snow from his boots by thumping his feet on the stone step before coming into the room, a huge white figure. Taking off his coat and bonnet, he looked around him, his eyes widening when he saw that his wife was not there. ‘Where’s your mother?’

‘She’d to go to Aberdeen.’ Elspeth pointed to the note still lying on the table, accompanied now by the large steaming bowl.

He grunted when he read it. ‘Janet would have your mother running after her though it was only a sore head she’d got. She’s aye been the same.’

He said nothing else until he finished his broth. ‘Well, lass, how did you fare coming home? I’d a bit o’ a struggle, just the wee bit I’d to come.’

Elspeth thought it would be best to tell him at least part of the truth. ‘I went past our house without seeing it, and I’d have been lost if I hadna met John Forrest. He made sure I got back here.’

Geordie’s brows shot down, his piercing blue eyes full of suspicion as he said sharply, ‘And since when did you ken John Forrest? You’ve never let on that you ken’t him before.’

‘I didna, but he told me who he was.’

‘You should ken better than speak to a man you’ve never been introduced to.’

Her heart sinking, Elspeth tried to defend herself. ‘I thought I was lost ... I thought I’d perish in the snow if I’d to keep on wandering about ...’

‘Perish? Havers! You’ve two sturdy legs, so what made you think you would perish?’

‘I was getting awful tired, and when I saw the lantern, I just asked if ...’

‘You spoke when you didna ken who the man was?’

‘I ... I didna think, Father, I was that worried.’

‘So I’ve raised a weakling,’ Geordie growled. ‘A lassie that can’t even find her way home without asking a strange man to help her.’

‘John Forrest’s not a strange man.’

‘He was a strange man to you ... or so you said.’ He eyed her with renewed suspicion.

‘I didna ken him, truly I didna.’

‘If I ever find out you’ve been lying to me, Elspeth, I’ll leather your backside till you’ll not be able to sit down for a week.’

Flustered, she turned away and concentrated on breaking up the coals with the heavy poker, so that the guilty scarlet of her cheeks could be attributed to the heat, and when she looked round again, her father had lifted the big family bible from the dresser and taken it over to the table. When he bent his head to read his daily passage, she took the opportunity to study him. Nearing fifty, he had the erect bearing of a far younger man; his white hair – she couldn’t remember it being anything else so he must have turned white when he was quite young – was wiry and unruly; his lined face and rough hands were weatherbeaten from years of working out of doors.

At ten o’clock, Geordie stood up. ‘It’s time we were housed up, so get to your bed now. I’ll bank the fire wi’ dross before I come up.’

She rose obediently. ‘Goodnight, Father, and I’m sorry for making you angry.’

He nodded gravely. ‘Aye, and you’d best ask God to forgive you, and all.’

Climbing the narrow stairs, Elspeth wondered what he would have said if she had told him everything, for, as far as she was concerned, her father’s wrath was even worse than God’s.

At five o’clock the following morning, Elspeth was awakened by the sound of Geordie Gray clearing snow from the door before he set off for the farm, but she lay on for nearly another hour, remembering how she had dreamt of John Forrest’s kisses, of his gentle caresses, of his growing passion ... and hers. At last, ashamed of her dreams and of her own part in what had happened the night before, she flung back the blankets and got out of bed. The bedroom was ice-cold, so she did not linger over dressing, and went down to cook the porridge for her father. The coarse oatmeal was soft after soaking in the pot all night, so he would have no complaints about lumps when he re-turned for breakfast at half past seven.

Having to stir the grey mass until it came to the boil, she gave herself up to daydreams. Would John want to court her? If only he would, it would be all she would ever want, and she was practically certain that he loved her. Not that he had said it, but he hadn’t needed to. What he had done was proof enough for her. She did not know how long he would be at home, but surely it would be long enough to let them get to know each other properly, to avow their love, to make plans for the future. She could just imagine herself keeping their little house clean and tidy, laundering his clothes, cooking for him ... making porridge as she waited for him to come down to kiss her good morning after a heavenly night of passion. He would take her in his arms for so long that she would forget what she was supposed to be doing, and it would be John who noticed that the pot was boiling ... the pot! The lovely pretence evaporated in a flash as she jerked the fiercely bubbling pot off the fire and laid it on the hob. Thank goodness she had noticed it in time; her father would go mad if his breakfast had the least taste of singeing.

The kettle also having come to the boil, she took it into the back kitchen and gave herself a wash. Then she filled it again and put it on the hob, moving the porridge pot farther away from the heat, for it only needed to be kept warm now. At last she was ready to set off for work, a little earlier than usual in case there were drifts. It was still dark, but her father had cleared a passage from the porch to the gate, and much of the snow had been blown off the road into the fields overnight, and what was left was crisp now and easy to walk on.

Early as Elspeth was, Nettie Duffus and Kirsty Tough were in the little anteroom behind the workroom when she arrived, hanging their heavy coats and shawls on the hooks provided by their employer, Miss Fraser.

‘What a storm last night.’ Kirsty lived just along from the shop and couldn’t really have known how bad it was.

‘How did you manage home, Elspeth?’ Nettie asked.

‘It took me a long time,’ Elspeth admitted, ‘and I’d went right past our house without seeing it. I thought I was lost, but I met John Forrest and he saw me home.’ As she had hoped, the other two girls pricked up their ears at this, and wee Kirsty, only fourteen, listened with open curiosity when Nettie, a year older, plied Elspeth with questions. ‘John Forrest? What’s he like? What did he say? Did he ask to see you again?’