Catherine of Deepdale Page 21

  ‘Now,’ she said, ‘tell me what happened. What didn’t you like?’

  ‘We didn’t do anything and I didna like the others.’

  ‘You must have done something, and what do you mean by the others?’

  ‘The other bairns is silly. We was give some bits of paper and crayons and we had to do a picture. We had to sit in our desk and not get up till teacher said. We didn’t learn any letters. I thought you said she would teach me how to write.’

  The little boy was so aggrieved that he glowered at his mother and Catherine found it hard to keep a straight face. ‘She will, but I expect she was busy today,’ she said. ‘She would have had a lot of things to do for the first day of term. Was that all that upset you?’

  ‘There was a boy said I didn’t have a daa like everybody else and that I lived wi’ a lot of old wives.’

  How cruel children could be. ‘Of course you have a father,’ she said.

  ‘But he’s not here,’ said Robbie. ‘Why is he not here?’

  ‘I told you about your father. Don’t you remember?’ she said. ‘He was a good brave man. He died and will be in heaven with Kay; that’s what you must tell that boy. And as for the old wives, they’re your great-aunts and your grandma.’ She got up and went to sit by him, put her arm round him. ‘Now listen. One day you will learn about the war in which lots of men went away to fight. Many didn’t come back. You aren’t the only one whose daddy isn’t here.’

  The little boy sat thinking. ‘Could we get another?’ he said.

  ‘We could think about it,’ said Catherine with a smile. She began to clear the table. ‘School will be better tomorrow. You will like it, I promise.’

  Robbie stared at her. ‘Do you mean I have to go again?’

  She didn’t need telling that he was rubbing shoulders with dialect-speaking children for Robbie’s accent had changed.

  ‘I’m afraid so. All children have to go to school, every day except Saturday and Sunday.’ Disbelief, disappointment and anger crossed Robbie’s face. ‘Believe me,’ she said, ‘you should not judge school by this first day. You’ll not only learn to read and write but lots of other exciting things too.’

  ‘I have to go every day … all the time?’

  ‘Yes, but you will have holidays in the summer and at Christmas and Easter and there will be days off at half-term too.’

  Robbie fixed his gaze on the table while he thought about what she said, then he slid off his chair. ‘I’m going to see Daa,’ he said, and she knew he would have a long conversation about the merits of school with his grandfather.

  Norrie laughed when she told him of Robbie’s reaction to his first day. ‘What did you expect,’ he said, ‘when he has you for his mother?’ She was washing the tea things in a bowl of water on the table and turning up the cups on a tray. ‘I thought he’d like it,’ she said, ‘but he didn’t like the other children and said he’d rather stay at home with Daa. He seemed to think he could learn more from him than he could at school.’ She dried her hands and picked up a teacloth.

  ‘He could learn a lot from the old man, but he’ll be all right.’

  ‘I worried about him all day.’

  Norrie laughed. ‘That was a waste of time, then. Have you thought about what you’re going to put in the show this year’?’

  ‘It will have to be Noble, a Cheviot ewe and lambs and I thought a crossbred and lambs and perhaps some ram lambs. I thought it might be good publicity to put some crossbreds in so that folk have a chance to see what they’re like,’ said Catherine. She had been drying dishes as they talked; when the last one was done she took the bowl of water and tipped it into a slop bucket, dried the tray and put it away. She took a plate of scones from the dresser and put them on the table, then turned to the stove, poured boiling water into the teapot and made tea.

  ‘You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you?’ said Norrie. ‘You time your day so you get everything done, but when are you going to find time to wed me?’

  ‘Don’t change the subject.’

  She poured tea and as she handed a cup to him Norrie took hold of her wrist. ‘How long do you think I can wait?’ he said.

  ‘Let go of my wrist or I’ll spill the tea.’

  ‘You let go the cup.’ Norrie put his hand over the top of it and moved it away as Catherine let go and, standing up he pulled her into his arms. ‘I ken I said I’d wait for you,’ he said, ‘but you’re tormenting me.’

  Why couldn’t she let herself go, when to be in his arms was all she wanted? Why not give in to the powerful need for love that rose in her when he kissed her? Why couldn’t she tell him she loved him when she knew she did? When at last his lips left hers he said, ‘Do you know what you’re doing to me? You can’t live in the past; Robbie wouldn’t want you to.’ Catherine was tracing the pattern on his jumper. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She looked up into his face. ‘That’s just it. I want to be with you but somehow I can’t …’ she pushed him away. ‘Drink your tea.’

  ‘It’ll be cold.’ Norrie took Catherine’s hands in his. ‘I know you’re having a struggle, I’ll not push you, but when you’re ready,’ he smiled and leaned forward to kiss the tip of her nose, ‘I’ll be here. I’ll be off now.’

  She saw him out, closed the door behind him and burst into tears. She had been so near to giving in, had wanted to, but yet again she’d held back. Why?

  THIRTY THREE

  CATHERINE TOOK TIME off from the surgery when it was time for the cross-bred ewes to lamb. Now proficient at assisting at a difficult birth Catherine only called Daa out of his bed on rare occasions. There were casualties: weak lambs from old ewes, a few stillborn and a few orphans, but all in all, the crop was good.

  Summer, which had been slow to start, suddenly put on a burst of speed. The weather turned warm and grass rapidly became green. New growth also had a not so welcome effect. It caused the diarrhoea that Daa called ‘skitters’. He and Catherine herded their flocks and dosed them. Anxiously she watched Noble, hoping she could keep him free of it; she didn’t want to see him lose condition. When she wasn’t going to and from school with Robbie or working at the surgery she trudged up the hill to work the peat. In between she cooked and cleaned, washed and ironed, dug her garden or helped Daa plant potatoes. There were the hill sheep to look after too. With her dog, Fly, she and Daa and other crofters met to call the stock in for dosing, foot-trimming or shearing.

  Catherine marked off the days on her calendar as they crept closer to show day. Canny crofters eyed her warily. What was this English girl doing? She should be at home, raising a family. When she and Daa overheard some of the men talking about her they exchanged glances and grinned at each other. Fully recovered from his illness, Daa acted as though nothing had happened. His attitude towards Catherine returned to what it had been. It seemed he could not remember her nursing him, or was it that the memory embarrassed him?

  One day when Mina was away on the bus to Lerwick, Laura called on Catherine to gossip over a cup of tea. She asked when the wedding was to be and when Catherine told her she didn’t know said, ‘Well, I’ll make you a peerie shawl anyway, for it’ll likely be in winter and then you can use it for your bairn.’ The thought of having children with Norrie brought a flush to Catherine’s cheeks and made her plead work to do. Laura smiled, said thank you for her tea and left.

  Now that she knew that sheep were not paraded in the show ring in Shetland, Catherine’s work with Noble was much easier. She dosed him, kept his feet trimmed, combed his coat to free him of the bits he picked up. On the crossbred ewe she put a collar: the lambs needed no mark, but she trusted herself to be able to pick out the ram lambs when the time came.

  In summer her social life was confined to an occasional meal with Norrie, sometimes in her house, sometimes in his. Robbie liked going to Norrie’s house, once Kay’s, for Norrie had inherited everything in it and it was familiar territory for the boy. He told his elders about the orna
ments, took books from the shelf, and when Catherine said he shouldn’t he said that Kay had said he could, but to always put them back.

  ‘Now you see why I miss her,’ said Catherine. ‘She was a very good influence on Robbie as well as being my friend. She was the only one who welcomed me when I came here.’

  ‘But Jannie must have given you a welcome?’ said Norrie.

  ‘Now you know better than that, don’t you? Of course she didn’t, and I’m sure she’d still rather I didn’t exist.’ And that was where the matter was left.

  On show day she rose from her bed in the small hours. She had penned the sheep she was taking to the show the night before. She had to be ready when Norrie called to pick them up, for he hadn’t asked but had simply told her that he would. Noble had been groomed to within an inch of his life. She went up to him and gave him a handful of feed, which he nuzzled from her hand. ‘It’s up to you now,’ she said. ‘I’ve done my bit. You look like a winner, let’s come home with a cup, eh?’

  ‘So that’s how you do it, is it? You talk to them and give them titbits.’

  Catherine spun round. ‘Billie,’ she cried as she ran to throw her arms round him, ‘what are you doing here?’

  ‘I’m home for a holiday,’ he said as he hugged her.

  She leaned back in his arms and looked straight at him. ‘Oh, I’m so happy to see you. When did you come home? Nobody told me. Is your girlfriend with you? How long are you going to stay? You’ll have to tell me everything …

  ‘There you go, questions, questions, questions,’ said Billie. ‘I was just come to see what you were putting in the show and if you wanted a lift. Sally will be coming with me; you’ll be able to meet her then. Who’s taking your stuff in?’

  ‘Norrie.’

  ‘You’ve not married him yet, then?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘That’s none of your business.’

  ‘I’d better go, then, but I’ll pick you up later.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ve a feeling it’s going to be a good day, oh, here’s Norrie.’

  Catherine watched as her sheep were loaded into the back of Norrie’s van and Noble put into a trailer that Norrie’d hitched to the back of it.

  ‘Are you coming with me or do you want to go with Billie?’ said Norrie.

  ‘Billie’s going home so I’ll come with you,’ said Catherine. She crossed her fingers as Norrie, having his van in bottom gear, coaxed it up out of the valley.

  Catherine closed her eyes and prayed they would all get to the top safely.

  ‘I was wondering if we could do something to the track, Norrie. The tradesmen come down this way now, and it’s just getting worse and worse.’

  ‘Might get some stone from the quarry,’ said Norrie, ‘but that’s about all.’

  ‘Well, that would be better than nothing.’

  They were on the main road and sailing along to the showground. Catherine remembered, or thought she did, what she had to do to book in her entries. She need not have worried for Norrie was with her and it would not be the first time he had entered stock. When her animals were all penned they looked at the competition, or as much of it as was already booked in.

  ‘If nothing better comes in you’re going to do well,’ said Norrie.

  They went home then, Catherine to change her clothes and fetch Robbie from the aunts, and Norrie to pick up and take his own sheep to the show.

  THIRTY FOUR

  FOR ONCE ROBBIE was being difficult. ‘Come on,’ said Catherine, ‘put your jacket on.’ He was old enough to go to the show with her, but he wanted to stay with his grandfather. It was at a time like this that she missed Kay most of all. ‘You’re going to love it,’ she said in an effort to put him in a better mood. ‘There’ll be lots of things there besides the animals, stuff for kids, books and toys, just like in a shop.’

  ‘Will you buy me something?’

  ‘Perhaps. Listen, I can hear Billie’s car.’ Billie had driven down into the valley and stopped by her door.

  Billie’s girlfriend seemed disinclined to talk, so conversation during the short journey was mostly confined to Catherine and Billie. Robbie screwed himself into a corner of the seat and sulked.

  The showground was already crowded. It seemed to Catherine that half the population of the islands was there. But where was Norrie? She searched for him, saw him and waved her hand. He returned the wave and started towards her.

  From the moment she stepped from her bed that morning her nerves had jangled; now her stomach churned in anticipation of what might be tied to Noble’s pen. Was she going to be bitterly disappointed, or would she have cause to celebrate? She grasped Robbie’s hand and clasped it tight. ‘Mam, du’s hurtin,’ he cried as she marched along, dragging him by her side. She said she was sorry and loosened her grip.

  ‘Hold on,’ said Norrie. ‘Don’t be in such a hurry. Have you just got here?’

  ‘Yes.’ She wanted to ask how her animals had fared, but couldn’t.

  ‘So you’ve not seen what you’ve got?’

  ‘No, I was on my way there now. Do you know?’

  ‘Yes, I do, but I’m not going to tell you.’

  ‘Why not?’ Catherine’s heart sank like a stone.

  ‘It’s not for me to say.’ He wasn’t smiling so he wasn’t teasing. It must be bad and he was probably thinking she would burst into tears right where she stood if he told her. Suddenly she was angry with him. ‘All right then, don’t tell me,’ she said. ‘I’ll go and look for myself. Come on, Robbie.’ She wheeled about and walked away, stamping her feet as well as she could in the soft turf, dragging the little boy with her, so that he had to run to keep up.

  ‘Mam, Mam, don’t go so fast, du’s pullin’,’ cried Robbie.

  ‘Oh, shut up,’ she said, never slackening her pace.

  Billie and his girl had wandered off, but Norrie was right behind her. Knowing she wouldn’t look back, he was smiling. ‘I’m coming too,’ he said.

  As she walked along the row of pens Catherine had to dodge little groups of people: crofters and wives who were looking at the prizewinners, probably comparing them with their own stock. There was quite a cluster of folk round the pen that Noble was in, Billie and Sally among them. Billie’s face was wreathed in smiles. Catherine gasped and felt her heart leap.

  ‘Come and see this,’ said Billie and stood her in front of the pen.

  Fastened to the top rail was a red rosette; next to it a card proclaiming that Noble had won first prize in his class. Lost for words Catherine held her breath.

  Robbie tugged at her skirt. ‘Is he a champion, Mam?’

  ‘Yes, he is,’ said Catherine.

  ‘Happy?’ asked Billie, and grinned when all she could do was nod. ‘Now come here,’ he said. He led her along the pens till they reached the one her ewe and lambs were in. That too displayed a first-prize certificate and red rosette.

  Standing behind her, Norrie said, ‘You couldn’t do better.’

  ‘It’s all thanks to Billie and Daa,’ said Catherine. ‘They taught me as much or more than I learned from all the books.’With their help she had done it, in spite of Jannie’s opposition, in spite of Jannie’s making her already rough road even rougher. She had cleared the first hurdle in her promise to work towards realizing Robbie’s dream. When she turned to Norrie her eyes were full of tears.

  ‘Oh lass, you don’t have to cry,’ he said and swept her into his arms.

  ‘But I’m just so happy,’ she sobbed, weeping into his jumper.

  ‘Don’t make my jersey wet; you know how wool shrinks,’ joked Norrie.

  ‘Yes, I know,’ she said, lifting her head. ‘What about the lambs?’

  ‘Ah, you didn’t do so well there. Just a second.’

  ‘Just a second,’ she echoed. ‘Should I complain?’ In her excitement she had forgotten Robbie. ‘Where’s my boy?’ she said.

  ‘He’s with me,’ said Billie. ‘We’re going to look at the
ponies.’

  ‘Look after him,’ said Catherine.

  ‘Mrs Jameson.’ The man who spoke was big; his hair was black and like his beard, grizzled with grey. He carried a staff with a carved handle, a prized shepherd’s staff. ‘Are your lambs for sale?’

  ‘Yes.’ Who was this?

  ‘I’d be interested to ken how much you’re wanting for them.’

  ‘Well …’ Catherine began, then gasped. Norrie had pinched her bottom.

  ‘The lambs’ll be in the sale ring come autumn,’ said Norrie. ‘Mrs Jameson’s not wanting to sell them till then.’

  ‘By, that’s a pity, but I ken,’ said the man, ‘very wise. You should get a good price. I’ll be looking. Good day.’ He tipped his hat and walked away.

  ‘Who was that?’ asked Catherine, ‘and how dare you pinch my bum.’

  ‘That’s Hamish Inkster; he has a big place on the west side. It’s a good job I was here; you might have said the wrong thing. That’s why I nipped you.’

  ‘You mean I can’t be trusted to know the value of my stock, right?’

  ‘Ay, but put them in the ring and when you see what folk’ll pay you’ll ken fine. Now we cannot stand here all day.’

  It had been a tiring day, but by eight o’clock the sheep were home and Daa and Jannie had been shown the rosettes and certificates. Robbie was with the aunts, where he would stay the night, and it was time to get ready for the dance. Catherine dressed carefully, putting on one of the dresses her mother had given her and a precious pair of nylon stockings which she fastened to her suspender belt. She combed freshly washed hair, put on powder and lipstick, then a spot of perfume behind ears and on wrists. She was ready.

  The kitchen was quiet. Catherine sat to wait for Norrie. At last he was there. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m still on cloud nine; I can’t believe things went so well.’

  ‘You worked hard for it, lass. You deserve your success.’

  They were late and dancing was already in full swing when they reached the hall. When Catherine had told Kay she couldn’t do the Shetland dances Kay wound up her gramophone and taught her. Now she was happy to join the set of an eightsome reel, prance through the polka, the Gay Gordons and the Boston twostep, but whomever else she danced with, the slow waltz was always for Norrie.