Time Shall Reap (12 page)

One of the men assistants was feeding dark brown beans into a grinding machine. She hadn’t known that coffee came from beans – her mother had only occasionally bought small tins of Bantam as a special treat – and while she stood there, fascinated, she was approached by a smiling, middle-aged man in a smart dark suit and spotless white shirt. ‘Can I help you, Madam?’

‘Oh! I’m looking for the register – the register for jobs in service. Is this the right place?’ She felt like an intruder in the elite establishment and fully expected him to ask her to leave at once, but he smiled graciously. ‘Go straight through, Madam, and up the steps at the far end.’

‘Thank you very much.’ Elspeth was about to add ‘sir’ but stopped, fearing that she might make a fool of herself for the second time that morning.

She walked past a display of crusty loaves, tempting buns and cakes, counters and shelves filled with whiskies and exotic chocolates, and came to an area selling different grades of flour, oatmeal, rice and other cereals. She was afraid to stop – any hesitancy on her part might bring one of the men whose job seemed to be directing people. After the wines, teas and dairy produce, she came to a flight of six wide steps, at the top of which was a frosted glass door marked, ‘DOMESTIC REGISTRY.’ She tapped lightly on one of the glass panels and opened the door timidly.

A rather elegant woman looked up from her desk and smiled. ‘Good morning, Miss ...?’ Her voice was soft and friendly.

‘Gray. Elspeth Gray. I’m looking for a place.’

Accustomed to dealing with country girls, the woman knew what she meant. ‘What type of work? General? Laundry?’

‘Whatever there is, I’ve never been in service before. You see, I worked for the dressmaker at home, but I’m willing to take anything you’ve got.’

‘Do you live in Aberdeen now?’

‘Yes, in Rosemount Viaduct with my auntie and uncle.’

‘How old are you, Elspeth?’

‘I’ll be eighteen on my birthday.’

All the information duly recorded, the woman riffled through the pages of her large ledger. ‘This might be suitable – a doctor’s wife in King’s Gate is asking for some-one to cook and sew, and who is willing to look after two young children.’

‘I could manage that fine.’ Elspeth couldn’t believe that it was so easy to find work in Aberdeen. Before Uncle Harry had told her about this place, she had pictured herself having to trudge from house to house asking.

The woman finished writing and held out a card. ‘There’s the address. I can’t guarantee that Mrs Robb will engage you, of course, and if not, come back to me and I’ll look for something else for you.’

‘Thank you,’ Elspeth murmured, then added, hesitantly, ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t know where King’s Gate is.’

‘No, it’s my fault, I should have told you. A number three tram will take you, ask the conductor to put you off at the top of Fountainhall Road. If you turn left, you’ll be on King’s Gate, and the doctor’s house is not far up on the left hand side.’

Elspeth walked back through the shop, too preoccupied to pay attention to its treasures, and stood uncertainly in the sunshine outside, wondering if the doctor’s wife would be anything like Mrs McLean at home. She was an old dragon, and never kept any of her maids for long. Still, it would be a job, if she got it, and beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Mrs Robb turned out to be a young woman of perhaps twenty-five, with wavy fair hair and dancing blue eyes which regarded Elspeth approvingly as she took her inside. ‘I don’t have to ask if you can cook – all country girls can cook – and I see from the card that you worked with a dressmaker before, so the sewing will be easy for you, and the children are really no problem. The hours are from eight in the morning until eight at night, meals provided, with a half day off every week and a Sunday once a fortnight.’

Elspeth smiled nervously. ‘If you think I’m suitable, I can start as soon as you like, Mrs Robb.’

‘I’ve no maid at the minute, so ... is tomorrow too soon?’

‘No, that would be fine.’

‘Right! I’ll see you at eight o’clock, then. Don’t look so worried, I’m sure you’ll manage very well. I will supply your aprons, and I don’t insist on a cap as long as your hair is clean and tidy.’

Mrs Robb opened the front door for her, then asked, ‘Do you know how to get home from here?’

‘I’ll have to take the tram back to Union Street, and ...’

‘I saw on the card that you live in Rosemount Viaduct?’

‘Yes, with my auntie and uncle.’

‘Well, there’s a much quicker way to get there. You came here on the number three tram? That route is called the Queen’s Cross Circular, and it goes into town again via Rosemount Viaduct. Get on at the same stop where you came off, and no doubt you will know your aunt’s house when you come to it. Goodbye, Elspeth, and I won’t mind if you’re a little late in arriving on your first morning, but once you find out how long you take to get here, I’ll expect you at eight o’clock sharp every day.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Robb.’ Elspeth’s head was reeling as she walked to the tram stop, but she liked the look of her new employer. Mrs Robb was a real lady, very slim and stylishly dressed, but her manner was friendly and cheery, and the work didn’t sound too hard.

Janet Bain’s face tightened when her niece burst in. ‘Must you be so noisy?’

‘I’ve got a job, Auntie Janet.’ Elspeth’s excitement was too great to be squashed by the cool reception. ‘I’m to be working for a doctor’s wife, and Mrs Robb’s really nice, and I’m to be cooking and mending and looking after her two bairns, and she’s going to supply my aprons. She said I won’t need a cap, as long as my hair’s neat and tidy.’

‘Really, Elspeth, your chattering has given me a head-ache. You’ll have to remember I’m not strong.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry Auntie Janet.’ A little deflated, Elspeth kept quiet for a short time, until her high spirits could be held in check no longer.

‘The Robbs bide in King’s Gate and I’ve to start at eight the morrow morning. I’ll finish at eight, and I’ve a half day off once a week, and a Sunday off once a fortnight, and ...’ She broke off as the woman’s hands jerked up to her head. ‘I’m sorry, Auntie Janet, I forgot you’d a sore head. Will I make you a cup of tea?’

‘A cup of tea might help if you would only stop speaking.’

The hint of a whine in her aunt’s voice irritated the girl, but she said nothing until the tea had been made and drunk. ‘Is your head better now?’ she asked, knowing quite well that the headache, if it existed at all, was not nearly as bad as the woman was making out.

‘Not much. Maybe ... sometimes your Uncle Harry rubs the back of my neck for me ...?’

The words were more an order than a hinted request, and Elspeth jumped to her feet at once, thinking, as she laid her hands on the scrawny neck, that she wouldn’t mind strangling her aunt. After a few minutes, however, the woman said, ‘At least you’ve got fine, strong fingers. You’re even better than Harry.’

The compliment, if it was a compliment, did not please the girl, because she knew what it meant. From now on she would be expected to carry out the massaging whenever her aunt wanted it. Going to the sink at the window, she washed her hands, but before she could ask where to find a towel, Janet said, ‘As long as your hands are wet, you’d be as well paring some potatoes for the supper – Harry doesn’t have time to come home in the middle of the day – and when you’ve done that, you could sweep the stairs and ...’

Apart from making two poached eggs on toast at half past twelve, Elspeth’s day was taken up with doing the chores Harry Bain normally did, but she did not complain. As from tomorrow, she would be out of the house all day, and would be getting paid for the jobs she did. When her uncle appeared at ten past six, she told him her good news, keeping her voice low in deference to her ‘delicate’ aunt, and he seemed to be as pleased for her as she was herself.

Janet, of course, had to spoil it. ‘Did you tell the doctor’s wife ... does she know the condition you’re in?’

Having almost forgotten her condition, Elspeth felt her heart plunge. ‘No, I didna tell her.’

‘Hmm.’ The thin lips were compressed, the hard eyes grew even more like steel. ‘I just hope you don’t see much of the doctor, then, for a medical man would notice quick.’

Elspeth’s eyes sent a desperate appeal to her uncle, who leaned across the table and patted her hand. ‘If they do find out, you can explain, lass. They’ll not think so badly of you when they know your lad was killed.’

Janet bridled. ‘Humph! Folk are not all like you, thinking the best of everybody.’

‘And thank God they’re not all like you,’ he retorted, ‘thinking the worst.’

‘Oh!’ she moaned, suddenly. ‘I’ve got that terrible pain in my heart again.’

Rising to help her into an armchair, Harry winked at Elspeth, who did not feel any better for knowing the ‘heart attack’ was put on. She did not want to cause trouble between her uncle and aunt, but how could she avoid it when Harry took her side against his wife’s?

For the rest of the evening, she sat in silence, wondering if she should tell Mrs Robb the truth in the morning, but when Janet went down to the lavatory on the half landing, Harry said, as if he knew what she had been thinking, ‘Don’t say anything to your Mrs Robb. Just make sure you do your work the best you can, and by the time you’ve to leave, she’ll think that much of you, she’ll understand what you’re going through and why you didn’t tell her at first.’

Remembering Mrs Robb’s friendly manner and her modern dress, Elspeth felt better. Her employer would have a different outlook on life from her aunt, and would surely not condemn her for what had happened.

Next morning, Elspeth, too excited to be hungry, supped her porridge to save hurting Harry’s feelings, and set off for King’s Gate, where Mrs Robb explained that she did some Red Cross work every day. ‘That’s why I need someone to look after the children. The doctor’s out at all hours, of course, and meals have often to be kept hot for him. My last girl married a soldier, and went off to live with his parents in Huntly, so I’m glad you turned up when you did.’

While she was speaking, she had shown Elspeth the kitchen and the sitting room and now opened another door off the large square hall. ‘This is the dining room, which isn’t used very often these days. The children will take their meals in the kitchen with you to save work, and Alex, my husband, usually takes his on a tray in the sitting room. I’m like a bird, I peck at whatever’s available wherever and whenever I find time, so you won’t have to worry about setting or serving meals in here.’

The girl was relieved. ‘That’s good, it was the setting and serving I was worried about, not the cooking.’

Mrs Robb pointed through the window. ‘The children play in the garden there if it’s fine, and if it’s wet, they’re supposed to play in the nursery upstairs. They like to spend a lot of time in the kitchen, though, but don’t let them pester you. They’re really quite good, and they’ll do what you tell them – most of the time, anyway.’ She laughed as they came out into the hall, and indicated one of two doors at the far end. ‘The surgery – my cleaner attends to that – and patients come in by the side door there, so you won’t see them. Mrs Balneaves does the washing and ironing as well as all the heavy cleaning, so she’ll give you whatever needs mending. That and the cooking, and looking after the children, should keep you fully occupied.’

Mrs Robb smiled at Elspeth’s bewilderment. ‘You’ll soon get into the swing of things. You’ll be mostly on your own, as I go out a lot, and Mrs Balneaves is only here in the mornings and isn’t one to spend time talking.’

‘I’ll do my best, Mrs Robb.’

‘I’m sure you will. Now, I’ve left a note in the kitchen of the meals I’d like you to cook today, and I’ll send Alexander and Laura down to you shortly, so you can get to know them.’

The grandfather clock had been in the farmhouse for two weeks before Meg Forrest cycled to Auchlonie and called at the dressmaker’s shop. Grace Fraser gave her a welcoming smile; it was seldom that any of the farmers’ wives asked her to do anything for them – they usually patronized the tailors or dressmakers in Aberdeen. ‘Good morning, Mrs Forrest, I was very sorry to hear about your son. It must have been a dreadful shock for you and your husband.’

Meg just nodded, for she couldn’t trust herself to speak about John’s death yet. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I was only wanting a word wi’ Elspeth Gray.’

Putting two and two together, Miss Fraser came up with an answer which verified her previous suspicions about her ex-employee’s hasty departure. Poor girl. John Forrest must have been the father, but the secret was safe with her. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Forrest, but Elspeth left last Saturday for a better job in Aberdeen.’

‘Oh.’ Meg had never considered this possibility. ‘It was just ... would you have her address?’

‘No, I don’t, but she might write to Nettie or Kirsty once she settles in; she was very friendly with them. Her mother would be able to tell you, though.’

‘Aye, thank you.’ Meg did not want to go to Lizzie, in case the woman hadn’t known about her daughter and John, so she stood for a few minutes on the pavement outside, wondering how to trace Elspeth, who must feel as heartbroken as she did herself. Should she come back next week in case Nettie got a letter ... or should she wait and see if Elspeth took up the invitation to the farmhouse on one of her days off? Aye, it would be best to wait, for the lassie might not want anybody to know how far things had gone between her and John. The poor thing had likely been too upset about his death to come to Blairton before she went to Aberdeen, but they could have helped each other to get over the shock. Becoming aware of the curious glances of two passing women, Meg walked on to Sandy Moir’s shop to buy some sugar.

‘Here’s a letter from your sister in Aberdeen.’ The postman smiled as he handed it over. ‘I hope she’s keeping better.’

Lizzie returned his smile. ‘Our Janet enjoys her bad health, it’s what keeps her going.’

In the kitchen, she opened the envelope, thinking ruefully that Janet was likely complaining already about Elspeth, so the long tale of woe about the extra work the girl was causing came as no surprise, though she suspected that Harry would be doing most of it. After scanning the second page – full of details of Janet’s aches and pains, imaginary or otherwise – she dropped both of them into the fire. There was no sense in letting Geordie see it, for he would just start ranting on about Elspeth again.