Time Shall Reap (27 page)

Her mother was regarding her curiously, so she said, ‘It’s long past and forgotten, and David’ll never find out, for the Watsons and the Robbs would never tell him.’

‘No more would I, Eppie, but skeletons have a habit o’ coming out o’ the cupboard when you least expect it. They’ll not bide hidden for ever, you ken.’ Lizzie lifted her thin, wasted hand and studied her fingernails carefully. ‘Eppie, I’ve left written instructions wi’ Mr Reid, the solicitor, to sell up my things when I’ve passed on, and to put the ...’

‘Don’t speak about passing on, Mother, for you’ll get over this turn, and live for years yet.’

Lizzie ignored the interruption. ‘I’ve tell’t him to put the money in a trust for you. I ken you’re not needing it the now, but there might come a time when you will.’

Elspeth returned home tired and depressed. Her mother had been trying to remind her that, if David ever found out about her first child, he might cast her off without a shilling, as the saying went. She was very quiet all evening, and David, presuming that she was upset by her mother’s condition, was extra loving and caring towards her, which made her feel more guilty and more worried than ever. She didn’t deserve his love and trust. She had told so many lies in her life that she was bound to be punished for them some day.

Lizzie had another, massive, heart attack the next day, and died just before Elspeth went in to see her in the afternoon. The sister offered to telephone David’s shop, and he arrived within ten minutes to comfort his wife.

‘She was hardly sixty,’ she sobbed, ‘and when I think o’ the worry I caused her, I can hardly bear it.’

‘Most children give their parents cause to worry some time,’ he soothed. ‘Stop blaming yourself and just try to remember she’s with your father again.’ He waited until she calmed down, then took her home, remaining with her for some time before he went out to make the necessary arrangements.

Left on her own, Elspeth wept once more, reproaching herself for the things she had done, and for the things she hadn’t done, as is usual when a loved one dies.

They left Laura with Helen when they went to Auchlonie for the funeral. Elspeth had been afraid that Mrs Forrest would be there, but only Blairton himself attended, coming over to shake hands with her at the graveside.

Mr Ferguson of Mains of Denseat came up to her next. ‘It’s not a very good time to be asking, Elspeth, but I’d be obliged if you’d clear out the house as quick as you can. You see, one o’ my men’s getting wed, so he’ll be moving out o’ the bothy once I get a lavatory put in to the house.’

She smiled faintly. ‘I was meaning to clear things out the day, any road, for I’m not wanting to have to come back.’

‘That’s fine, then. Eh ... I’m sorry about your mother.’

Harry Bain – again without his wife – patted Elspeth’s back. ‘I’m pleased to see you again, though it’s a sad occasion.’ He glanced at David, standing awkwardly by her side. ‘You’ll be Elspeth’s man? See and look after her, then, for she’s had a hard life.’

Elspeth’s heart almost stopped. She had forgotten that Harry was another person who knew about her first child and was extremely thankful when he, too, moved away.

Under the circumstances, no one expected to be asked back to the little house, so Elspeth and David went there alone, and, while she sorted through her mother’s belongings – packing all the personal things into a box for Mrs Wallace to dispose of, and checking that the furniture was in a fit state to be sold – he went out to the back garden.

At the end of three hours, her task over, Elspeth looked sadly at the grandfather clock and wished that it didn’t have to be sold. If Laura had been of marriageable age, it could have been given to her, but there was no room in the bungalow to store it for that eventuality. It occurred to Elspeth that the identical one in Aberdeen should rightfully go to John Watson after she died, having been bought by his father, but he didn’t know that he was her son, and, God willing, he never would. Even if he ever needed to produce his birth certificate for anything, it was in a shortened form since the Watsons had adopted him legally, and there would be no mention of his being illegitimate.

David came in carrying a wooden box filled to the brim with vegetables. ‘We may as well take the good of them,’ he told her. ‘Are you ready? I know it’s been a difficult day for you, but it’s all over now.’

When they went outside, Elspeth turned the heavy key in the lock, handed it in to Mrs Wallace, then left her childhood home forever.

1938

In Laird and Company’s office, the conversation between the men centred on the precarious situation in Europe, but the three young clerkesses weren’t bothered that the Germans had invaded Austria – they were more interested in the latest fashions in clothes and hair styles or the private lives of the glamorous Hollywood filmstars.

Mr Steele, the chief clerk, was on his favourite hobby horse. ‘Hitler’s after supremacy in Europe.’

The head cashier, Mr McDonald, nodded gravely. ‘Yes, he’ll likely have a go at some other countries before Britain, but there’s going to be a second world war shortly, unless I’m very much mistaken.’

One of the younger clerks laughed. ‘Hitler would never be so stupid as to risk a war with us.’

His superior frowned. ‘Don’t be too sure, sonny boy.’

Laura Fullerton was glad to be handed a docket to take to the warehouse, but because there were some really nice boys there, she went into the cloakroom first to make sure that she was presentable. Her reflection pleased her. Her heart-shaped face was free of ink stains and smuts, the eyes that looked back at her were a clear blue and her rich auburn hair was still as curly as it had been when she was a child, shining like satin in the electric light. Her lips – softer and more natural looking than the cupid’s bow some girls painted on – might be better with a touch more colour, but her lipstick was in her handbag in a drawer of her desk.

Before she left the tiny room, she smoothed her tartan skirt over her hips where it had wrinkled from sitting, and pulled her jumper down. Her bust was the only thing that she wasn’t happy with, but, hopefully, it would develop a bit more.

She often wished that one of the store boys would ask her out – she was an ardent film fan and couldn’t afford to go as often as she wanted. After giving her mother five shillings for her board, and paying her bus fares, she was left with less than a shilling a week, and that had to cover make-up, toiletries and entertainment. She didn’t care for the sixpenny seats in the cinema – they were too near the screen and gave her a crick in the neck – so her visits were limited to the ninepennies, once every few weeks with her two female colleagues, who were in the same financial straits as she was.

Only one boy was in the warehouse when she went in, not one of the good-looking ones, unfortunately, but she smiled sweetly anyway, and his reaction was gratifying. ‘Hiya, gorgeous! How about you and me getting together?’

Assuming that he was only joking, she retorted, ‘No thank you, I’ve other fish to fry.’

‘We could go to the flicks.’ He sounded less flippant now.

She didn’t really fancy going out with him, but the lure of seeing a film was too great to refuse. ‘Tomorrow?’

‘See you at the Monkey House at seven. OK?’

‘OK.’ She returned to the office quite pleased, if a little apprehensive of what her parents would say if she told them she was going to the cinema with a boy. She would soon be seventeen, but they were so old-fashioned it might be best to let them believe she was going with Bunty and Ella as usual.

When she set off the following evening, she hoped that she wouldn’t be first – the Monkey House was a popular meeting place and she didn’t want to have to wait. She wondered idly how it had got its name. Perhaps it was the stone pillars in front of the insurance offices that gave the impression of bars on a cage.

Her escort was there before her, and handed her a paper bag. ‘Chocolate cubes,’ he said, off-handedly. ‘Is the Queen’s OK with you?’

The Queen’s Cinema was cheaper than the big theatres, but it was showing ‘King Kong’ and she felt very grown up waiting in the foyer while he bought their tickets. ‘Your name’s Laura, isn’t it?’ he asked, as they walked through into the auditorium. ‘Mine’s Gordon.’

She was uneasy when he led her into the back row, but lost her fears when they were watching the cartoon. They ate some of the chocolates while the B film, a Hopalong Cassidy, was showing, and had some more during the advertisements and the newsreel, because neither of them wanted to watch Hitler’s storm-troopers strutting into Austria, the country they had newly annexed. About five minutes into the main feature, she was conscious of Gordon’s hand sliding along the back of her seat but she gave all her attention to the picture, until a close-up of the huge gorilla made her move closer to the boy in terror.

Encouraged, he put his arm round her shoulders, and it felt so comforting that she let it remain there. Once, his hand slid down and touched her breast – by accident, she innocently believed, and didn’t like to say anything – but she moved and offered him a chocolate and, although he took more care after that, the National Anthem came as quite a relief to her. She had enjoyed the show, but sitting close to this sweaty, spotty youth in a stuffy cinema was not her idea of pleasure, and she breathed the fresh air in deeply when they emerged on to the street.

Fortunately, Gordon had no idea how she felt. ‘I’ll see you home – where do you live?’

She couldn’t think of a way to put him off without making it obvious that he didn’t appeal to her, and he had taken her to the cinema, after all. ‘Woodlands Avenue. It’s on the eleven bus route, off King’s Gate.’

At the bus stop, they giggled at the antics of several men who were still staggering drunkenly all over the pavement an hour after the public houses had closed at half past nine, but their laughter was brought to an abrupt halt when one man advanced towards them with his hands raised menacingly. Their bus arriving, they jumped aboard thankfully and left him mouthing obscenities on the kerb.

Laura was quite glad after all that someone was seeing her home, even if it was only a drip like Gordon, because she felt a bit nervous after seeing ‘King Kong’. When they were walking past a small clump of trees – all that was left of the original wood which had given her street its name – Gordon steered her off the pavement and pushed her against one of the silver birches. Her heart pounded with fear. She had seen films where young girls were strangled in woods and left lying dead. Was this ...?

Her eyes closed in panic as his hands moved from her waist to her neck, and she wondered if anyone would hear her if she screamed, but before she drew in enough breath to make the effort, his hot, clammy lips came down hard on her mouth and she tried to twist her head away.

‘You’ve never been kissed before, that’s for sure,’ Gordon said, as he forced her lips to meet his again.

Pushing him away with all her strength, she was amazed when he stepped back and laughed. ‘I’ll let you go the rest of the way yourself, for I don’t want to be accused of kidnapping. It’ll be a while yet before you’re ready for picking, but you’ll be a real plum some day.’

She ran along the street, puzzled as to what he had meant by his last remark, and her mother regarded her suspiciously when she went in. ‘You’re all flushed, Laura, what’s wrong?’

‘I ran all the way from the bus, that’s all.’

‘Where were you till this time of night, and who were you with?’ Elspeth persisted.

The girl heaved a sigh. ‘Oh, Mum! Must you always give me the third degree? I was with Bunty and Ella and we went to see “King Kong”, but it was kind of scarey.’

Looking up from his newspaper, David laughed. ‘You young things like to be scared, though, don’t you?’

‘You and Mum had been the same when you were my age.’

‘I never saw any pictures when I was your age,’ Elspeth said, sadly. ‘There was nothing like that in Auchlonie.’

Laura went to bed, reflecting as she undressed how easy it was to deceive her parents. She could guarantee that neither of them had ever kept secrets from the other – straight as a die, both of them. Anyway, she wouldn’t have to tell any more fibs, because she didn’t intend to go out with another boy for a long time. Tonight was enough. If it had been a boy she’d fancied, somebody nice, it might have been different. Clark Gable or Tyrone Power, for instance, wouldn’t have made her flesh creep in disgust. A kiss should be thrilling and pleasurable to both sides, and she hadn’t met anyone yet that she’d be happy to allow that privilege.

One of her childish fantasies had been John Watson kissing her, but she hadn’t seen him since he began to work at Henderson’s, the engineering firm – he had been an errand boy until he was sixteen and was now an apprentice plumber and electrician – but she could remember how hurt she had been when he started going down town every Saturday afternoon to meet some of his workmates. She had carried on going out to play with the other children in Quarry Street to show him that she didn’t care, and the boys of her own age hadn’t teased her like John and his pals had.

Even James Watson had been much friendlier when he came on holidays. He’d sat by the side of the burn with her and told her of his ambition to join the Navy, but when he had left school Margaret and Donald had been against it, so he was working in the store of some pharmaceutical firm now. Yes, James had been quite nice, but he was too far away. Still, Laura thought, turning over to settle for sleep, there must be someone who would make her heart beat faster, but maybe she wasn’t ready for love yet. That was probably what the obnoxious Gordon had meant.

At the end of September, when the newreels showed Neville Chamberlain waving a piece of paper and saying ‘Peace in our time’, the older men in Laura’s office were sceptical. ‘He shouldn’t trust Hitler,’ Mr Steele announced. ‘Even his Youth Movement’s just a front to teach boys to fight – a back-up to his army.’

Mr McDonald added his twopence-worth. ‘He’s power mad.’