Catherine of Deepdale Read online

  At that he sat up and looked into her face. ‘I most certainly would.’

  ‘It was your mother.’ Mimicking Jannie, Catherine said, ‘“You’ll be no use. You should go home, give Robbie a chance to find someone as would suit him better.” Well, I wasn’t going to have that. I may not know how to milk a cow or look after sheep, but I can learn.’

  A smile spread across Robbie’s face. He kissed Catherine. ‘I love you, my little firebrand. I think Mam has met her match, but I’d better get on with the cutting.’ He picked up one of his tools and began to slice into the peat.

  ‘That’s a funny-looking spade,’ said Catherine.

  ‘It’s called a tushkar.’

  Cutting down, then lifting and turning the dark wet slab to lay it on the turf at the top of the bank, Robbie worked slowly backwards. Side by side the slabs lay the length of the bank. When he reached the end Robbie paused to rest.

  ‘When you’ve finished will you have some time off?’ asked Catherine.

  ‘Ha!’ snorted Robbie. ‘Maybe at the end of October. Summer is when the work has to be done. Winter is dark, but I shall take you dancing then.’

  ‘I shall look forward to that,’ she said.

  Robbie began to cut again. This time the slabs were laid crossways on the first ones; once more he cut a length of the bank. When several rows had been cut and he had once again reached the end he looked up at Catherine and said, ‘That’s it then, enough for today.’

  NINE

  ‘I’m sorry if I’ve been a disappointment to you, Mrs Jameson, and that you’ve had to put up with me,’ said Catherine, ‘but I’ll be out of your way now.’

  With her back to Catherine Jannie busied herself with the pots on her stove. ‘Yea, yea,’ she said, not bothering to turn round.

  Catherine stood and looked at her mother-in-law, at her untidy bun of hair and the knot of apron strings at her waist. She had lived with Jannie for two months; eight long weeks in which Jannie lost no opportunity in letting her know she was not welcome. The snide remarks were always made when neither Robbie or his father were there. Was Robbie right when he said that to fight back would only make his mother worse? It was not true that ‘the soft answer turneth away wrath’, for she had tried that and it had made no difference.

  The house at the far end of the valley was ready and she and Robbie were moving in. They had bought blankets and some pieces of furniture. Kay had given them an eiderdown and pillows. Rose had sent Billie over with a box of china. ‘Call it a belated wedding present,’ she had said. Robbie had already taken their clothes and her suitcase along. Now Catherine carried her overnight bag.

  There was no sign of the aunts or Kay as she walked along the path and Robbie was out in the boat, checking his lobster pots. Catherine was glad of that, for this was to be the very first day she could really call herself a wife, the first time she could cook a meal instead of having to eat what his mother provided.

  She opened her door, went in, walked through to the bedroom and put her bag down on a chair. Robbie had put the bed together: her ‘proper’ bed, and now it took up most of the room. There was a chair on one side of it, a small chest of drawers on the other and a larger chest against the wall. It was enough.

  In the living room Catherine lit the fire and began to prepare a meal. Her supply of pots and pans being limited, a one-pot meal would be easiest, so it would have to be stew. When the fire was going well she shut down the dampers, put the pot on the back of the stove and left it there to simmer while she went to the bedroom and made up the bed. That done she went out to watch Robbie coming home.

  Her vantage point was a little way up the hill beyond Jannie’s house. She had gone there to watch for him several times, because she could see beyond the headlands and as far as Mouat’s Craig, where he had set some of his pots. If Robbie’s boat was on the far side of it she was not able to see it.

  She scanned the ocean. White-topped waves rose and fell. Though from the distance they did not look big she knew they were; only the top of the wheelhouse of a fishing-boat further out to sea was visible when it sank into a trough. A raucous crowd of seagulls flew over it; obviously there was a catch of fish on board and the crew were gutting and throwing the offal to the birds. She pulled her coat closer round her, for though the day was fine the wind was keen. Huddled on her perch, she hoped Robbie wouldn’t be long.

  The fishing had been good and the lobsters Robbie had caught had brought good money. They had put some aside to make improvements to the house later on for there was talk of electricity coming to Lerwick and sooner or later it would come to Deepdale. Not only was there talk of electricity but of piped water too.

  ‘I told you things would change,’ said Robbie. ‘You’ll have your electric cooker and your washing-machine.’ She had laughed and said she couldn’t wait.

  Water on tap was more important than electricity, she thought, for drinking water had to be fetched in a pail from a spring halfway up the hill. Why couldn’t it have come to light somewhere in the valley? Washdays meant rainwater dipped out of a water butt and heated on the stove. Water that could be had by the turn of a tap would be a boon.

  She scanned the ocean again and was rewarded with the sight of the prow of the Deepdale Lass nosing out from behind Mouat’s Craig. She would watch till it was coming into the bay then go down. Robbie would have to put the lobsters he had caught into the keep tank till he had enough to take them to the fish market. She would have time to get his meal on the table by the time he came in.

  ‘Well, she’s gone,’ said Jannie.

  Daa was washing his hands. ‘You mean Catherine?’ he said.

  ‘Ay.’

  ‘But not far enough for you … obviously.’

  ‘That would be right.’

  ‘Do you not think that however far she went Robbie would not go wi’ her?’ Daa dried his hands then picked up the bowl of dirty water.

  ‘Well, I couldna stop him,’ said Jannie.

  Opening the door Daa threw the water on to the grass beyond the path. ‘Then be thankful she stayed,’ he said. ‘You might be glad she’s here yet.’

  ‘I cannot think why.’

  What was it that had turned Jannie into a sour old woman, thought Daa, or had she always been that way? ‘I shall be away all day tomorrow; if I’m late home will you milk the cow?’ he asked.

  Now that he had handed the boat over to Robbie, John had taken work on road maintenance with the council in order to supplement his meagre income from crofting. But sometimes the work took him far from the valley and there were jobs at home that had to be done. With bad grace Jannie agreed; she and the cow did not have a good relationship.

  ‘You’ll be glad you only have the two of us to cook for now,’ said Daa, hoping to placate his wife.

  ‘Ay,’ she said. ‘Them from south don’t eat like us. I canna think what Robbie’s going to get for his tea.’

  ‘We don’t have to worry about that,’ said Daa. ‘Ah, here’s Mina.’

  ‘I’m come to see if you have anything for the merchant, Jannie,’ said Mina as she stepped in. ‘I’m going to Lerwick tomorrow with Laura’s and mine.’

  ‘Yea, I have some. You’ll take tea?’ said Jannie.

  Mina had already settled herself on a chair. She nodded her head in answer to Jannie’s question. ‘I see the lass has a fire going, her chimney was smokin’. Has she gone from you now?’

  ‘Ay,’ said Jannie.

  ‘She was sitting up the hill waiting on Robbie coming home. I saw her.’ Mina grunted her disapproval. ‘You would think she’d have a piece of work in her hands, would you not’? But no, she was idle.’

  ‘She can’t knit.’

  ‘Can’t knit? Did her mam not teach her?’

  ‘She’s a nurse, maybe she thinks she doesn’t have to.’

  ‘She would need to know somethin’ more than nursing to be a wife.’

  ‘Yea,’ said Jannie. ‘I was just wonderin’ if she could cook, for a ma
n must have his meat.’

  ‘You would wonder—’ began Mina.

  ‘Could you not leave the lass alone?’ Daa looked from one to the other of the two women. He rarely raised his voice and neither did he now. ‘You should be good to her and not the scheming old wives you are. You’ve given her no peace since she got here. She needs time to settle in.’

  Two pairs of eyes turned on him, stared then turned away. ‘I should be going,’ said Mina. ‘I’ll not bother wi’ the tea. Where’s your stuff, Jannie?’

  The latch clicked and the door opened and Laura, still holding the door handle, stood there. ‘I’m brought you some eggs, Catherine,’ she said. ‘The hens is laying well.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Catherine. ‘Come in.’

  ‘I’ll no’ stay. Mina is gone along to Jannie’s. I’d best get back.’

  ‘Wait though,’ said Catherine. ‘Should I not pay you?’

  ‘No, no, we have too many, dey is for you.’ As suddenly as she’d opened the door Laura closed it and was gone.

  Catherine, holding a paper bag full of eggs, turned to Robbie.

  ‘What goes on there? Why does Mina treat Laura the way she does?’

  ‘Don’t underestimate Laura; she knows all too well how to cope with Mina,’ said Robbie, ‘but Mina, well, I think she’s worse than Mam. If there was no one else in the room she’d quarrel with the poker.’

  ‘Robbie, you exaggerate.’

  ‘No, I don’t. She’s the eldest and I think she brought the other two up. She had to take charge and it’s become a habit she can’t stop.’

  Catherine had been about to dish up. She had laid the table, made tea and cut thick slices of bread; now she began to ladle out the stew. ‘Now we’re on our own,’ she said, ‘I want you to tell me what life is all about on a croft.’ She had filled Robbie’s plate. ‘There’s plenty,’ she said. ‘You can come back for more when you’ve finished that.’ She put the pot back on the stove and sat down.

  ‘What do you want to know?’ asked Robbie.

  ‘Where my place is and what you expect of me.’

  Between mouthfuls of stew Robbie explained and as he did so Catherine grew quiet. At last she said, ‘It seems as though I have to be a Jack-of-all trades. But I can’t knit and I can’t make butter or bannocks. I can’t milk a cow and I know nothing about sheep. I grew up in town so I know nothing at all about gardens or animals, or how to fillet fish or salt mutton. In fact, the only thing I’m good at is nursing and I can’t even get a job at that.’ She took a long deep breath, then looked straight at Robbie. ‘I’m beginning to think your mother was right when she said I should leave and let you find someone better suited to you.’

  With a roar Robbie jumped up. ‘She had no right to talk to you like that. I’ve a good mind to—’

  ‘Sit down; I’m here, aren’t I? If I’d been going to leave it would have been then. In fact, it was what made me stay. I wasn’t going to be pushed out by her, but … well … it looks as though I’m going to have an uphill task.’

  Across the table Robbie took Catherine’s hands in his. ‘I’ll teach you. You don’t have to learn it all at once. It’s a hard life now, but when Mam grew up it was harder. The family had to pull together; things always worked that way.’

  ‘Have I judged her too harshly, then?’

  ‘No, she’s always been crabby. But she knows what living on a croft is like and likely she thinks it would be too much for you.’

  ‘Do you think it would?’

  ‘It’s getting better, I think you’ll manage. I told you I want to breed pedigree Cheviots, improve our sheep.’ He squeezed her hands tight. ‘I saw so many things while I was away, better sheep, tractors, green fields, and it’ll happen here, the hills will go green and crofters will be better off.’ He gave an exultant little laugh. ‘It’s going to be good. So don’t take any notice of Mam.’

  Catherine could see the gleam in his eyes, heard the passion in his voice. ‘I shall be with you all the way. Now I’d better wash the dishes …’

  ‘Leave the dishes, let’s go to bed.’

  ‘But it’s …’

  ‘Early, I know, but I want to make love to you.’

  Catherine had fantasized about the bed, imagined sliding her naked body between cool cotton sheets, resting her head on soft down pillows and turning to see Robbie’s head on the pillow beside her. They would talk, whispering in the dark before making love and curling up to sleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

  But the bedroom was cold and as she took off her clothes she began to shiver. Could she do this? The sheets would be cold too and to her mind came the memory of her warm body diving into an icy sea. Wouldn’t the shock dull Robbie’s ardour? And wouldn’t it be better if she put her pyjamas on? No. There was nothing for it but to take the plunge. Pulling back the covers she jumped in. ‘Aagh,’ she gasped as ice cold cotton came in contact with her skin.

  ‘I thought you told me you were tough.’ Robbie laughed as he lifted the bedclothes and slid between the sheets. His indrawn breath went on for several seconds before he let it out in a long moan.

  Catherine laughed. ‘It’s not cold, is it?’

  ‘You’ll get a hot-water bottle somewhere tomorrow,’ said Robbie as he put an arm round her to pull her close, ‘or you’ll sleep alone.’

  ‘Never,’ said Catherine. ‘I will not share my bed with anyone but you, nothing and nobody, not a teddy bear, or a cat and not even a hot-water bottle.’

  ‘You talk too much,’ said Robbie as his mouth closed on hers.

  His body was warm and pressed against him she could feel the soft curling hair on his chest against her breasts. They were alone at last, no thin walls through which others could hear the cries and moans she could not suppress when she and Robbie made love. Free of those restrictions and longing for the completeness of being one with him she snaked her arms around his neck, leaving her body for him to explore and tantalize. With his tongue he parted her lips. ‘Aah,’ she moaned. She pressed closer to him. His fingertips brushed lightly on her skin. With gentle hands he traced the length of her spine, the outline of her hip, her buttock, the back of her thigh. When he lifted her leg to lie over his, she gasped. So close, so close, she could stand it no more, rolled on to her back and, reaching for the heights of ecstasy, welcomed him into her. Lifting her legs she wrapped them tightly round him, soared to the very summit of delight at his thrusts and cried out as she climaxed.

  When it was over and he lay limp and heavy on her, she relaxed and lay supine. She traced the line of his breastbone with a finger, then laid her hand flat against his chest. Under her palm she could feel the steady beat of his heart. ‘I love you so much,’ she said. ‘I would have been a fool to walk away from you.’

  He kissed her tenderly, then laid a finger on her lips, ‘You talk too much,’ he said, then rolled away and lay beside her. ‘I love you too. Now go to sleep.’

  TEN

  A shaft of sunlight poking its finger between the curtains shone on Robbie’s face and woke him. He raised himself on one elbow and looked down at his sleeping wife. Catherine’s long dark hair was spread across the pillow, a smoky curve of eyelashes rested on soft cheeks; red lips parted as she breathed gently in and out. He kissed her temple. She stirred, opened her eyes, turned and looked up at him.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Jameson,’ she said.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Jameson,’ he replied.

  She laughed and reached up to kiss him, ‘And how are you today?’ she said.

  ‘I’m very well,’ he replied.

  She was so close, warm and soft, that desire stirred in his loins. But he had work to do, pots to set and fish to take to the merchant. He thought about it for a moment, considered it for another, abandoned the thought and drew her close.

  ‘I love you, Robbie,’ she said. ‘Don’t ever leave me.’

  ‘How could you even think such a thing? You know I never would.’

  When Robbie eventually opened
his front door Jannie Jameson stood there, hand raised, about to knock. ‘What are you doin’ here?’ he said.

  ‘Why do you lock your door?’ said Jannie. ‘You’re late.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I ah … I … I was thinkin’, if you were takin’ the catch to the town, while you were there could you get somethin’ for me?’ stammered Jannie. She was looking behind Robbie at Catherine, who was wearing a dressing-gown.

  ‘Is anything wrong?’ said Catherine. ‘Is somebody ill?’

  ‘No,’ said Robbie, ignoring the way his mother was looking at his wife, ‘Mam wants me to fetch somethin’ from the town for her.’

  ‘Well,’ snapped Jannie, ‘hadn’t you better get a move on?’

  ‘I am.’ Robbie closed the door and turned to Catherine. ‘Take no notice of her, she was just being nosy. What are you going to do today?’

  ‘I shall come and watch you away, then see if I can coax the stove to heat the oven and let me bake a cake. Maybe I’ll look for you coming home.’

  Little ripples lapped the shore. Catherine stood on the beach and watched as Robbie pushed the dinghy into the water to row out to the boat. When he was aboard the Deepdale Lass and sailing out of the bay she went back to her house.

  Coping with a temperamental stove was a new experience for her. Kettle and pots on the top were easy to manage, but how was she to keep the oven temperature constant? Somehow she did and the cake she took out of it some time later looked good to her. She stood it on a rack and when it cooled, put it on a plate and spread a cloth over it. They would have it with a cup of tea when Robbie came home. And now she would go and watch for him.

  It was one of those days when it was warm and the wind had gone away to worry someone else. Mina and Laura sat on a bench outside their house. They were there to take advantage of the better light for, as always, they were busy knitting. They nodded as Catherine passed and asked where she was going.