Time Shall Reap (4 page)

Guessing shrewdly what was going through the girl’s mind, Lizzie murmured, ‘Midnight’s late enough, lass, especially when you’ve your work to go to the next day. Goodnight now, and don’t lie wakened all night thinking about it, for you’ll not want John Forrest to see you looking washed out.’

‘Goodnight, Mother, and thank you.’

Elspeth was far too excited to sleep and lay awake for some time thinking about John and wishing that it was time to go to the dance.

‘What’ll I wear the night, Mother, seeing I haven’t got a frock?’ Helping her mother to clear the breakfast table, Elspeth could think of only one thing.

‘Och, your Sunday blouse and skirt’ll do fine. I’ll give them a run over wi’ the iron, and you can buy a bonnie bit of ribbon for your hair when you’re at the workroom the day. I’m sure he’ll not worry what you’re wearing, any road. Hurry now, or you’ll be late for your work.’

The dressmaker’s shop was very busy that Thursday. Several of the village girls wanted quick alterations done to what they were wearing that night, and wives from the farming community called to have their children’s clothes let out or let down – even taken up and taken in, if they’d been handed down from older brothers or sisters – so Elspeth had no time to think.

During their half-hour break in the middle of the day, Miss Fraser having gone out, she asked Nettie and Kirsty to help her choose a piece of ribbon. They were excited, too, at the prospect of her rendezvous with John Forrest, but were inclined to pick colours they liked themselves – pinks and reds – which did nothing for her. Finally, after some rummaging in a box of remnants she had found at the back of a shelf, Kirsty produced a length of beautiful, deep blue satin ribbon. ‘It’s the same colour as your eyes, Elspeth,’ she exclaimed, proud at having solved the problem.

Nettie took it from her and held it up to Elspeth’s face. ‘It’s the exact same,’ she pronounced, sighing enviously as she rolled it up again.

When their mistress returned, Elspeth asked her how much the ribbon cost, explaining that she wanted it to make a bow for her hair because she was going to her first dance.

‘Your first dance?’ The magic words conjured up a memory of a far-distant evening for Grace Fraser, and a servants’ ball in Gordon Castle where she had once been a sewing-maid. She would never forget the thrill of it, but the young footman who had set her pulse racing when he kissed her, had been lost to the Boers just after the turn of the century and no other man she had ever met had measured up to what she remembered of him.

Sighing soulfully, she gathered her thoughts together. ‘This ribbon’s a remnant, and you can have it for nothing since it’s your first dance.’ Waving aside the girl’s profuse thanks, she went on, ‘I’ll make it up for you. It’ll not take long, but there’s a real knack to it, you know.’ With a few stitches strategically placed, she soon produced a professional floppy bow. ‘It’ll fix on with a hairpin, but see what it looks like in the mirror.’

The effect delighted Elspeth. The ribbon made her hair seem more golden and her eyes a deeper blue, and John must surely fall in love with her tonight, if he hadn’t already done so. She could hardly bear to wait until half past seven.

Having run all the way home after the shop closed, Elspeth was so breathless that Lizzie shook her head in wry amusement. ‘I won’t have time for any supper,’ the girl told her, ‘for I want to wash my hair and have a sponge down.’ She carried kettles of boiling water through to the back kitchen and when she had finished, she towelled her head vigorously and dried it at the fire. Then she gave her hair one hundred strokes with her brush and ran upstairs to change.

She was ready early, the wide blue ribbon pinned daintily at the back of her head, her shining hair bearing evidence of the attention bestowed on it. Regarding the bright eyes glowing with happiness, Lizzie had to swallow the lump which had come up in her throat – her daughter was too young and vulnerable to be going out with a young man. Her fears were stifled when she opened the door to John, his curls plastered down with water and his head held stiffly in embarrassment. Although he was wearing the uniform of a soldier, he was still only a boy, she reflected, and there was no need to worry about them.

‘Good evening, Mistress Gray.’ His mouth lifted nervously at the corners, but his eyes were seeking Elspeth’s.

Smiling shyly, she said, ‘I’ve to be home by midnight.’

‘That’s fine wi’ me.’ He would have agreed to anything as he held up her coat.

‘Put your shawl round your head, Eppie.’

Elspeth did as her mother told her, taking care not to crush the cherished bow, and once they were outside, John drew her arm through his. ‘I’m sorry we’ll have to come away so early,’ she remarked ruefully. ‘I hope it doesna spoil things for you.’

‘I’ll be happy having a few hours with you.’ He pulled her round and kissed her with lips icy from the frost, then hurried her on towards the village.

The dance was well under way when they entered the Masonic Hall, two fiddles and an accordion making the rafters echo with the lively strains of an eightsome reel. Open-mouthed, Elspeth looked at the whirling, skirling figures in the centre of the circles, and her face fell in the next minute when she saw the intricate pattern the participants in each set were weaving through each other.

‘Oh, John, I don’t know the steps for any o’ the dances,’ she whispered, somewhat tearfully. Not having given a thought to this before, she turned stricken eyes to him, expecting him to be angry, and was quite put out to find him laughing at her.

‘I haven’t done much dancing myself, so we’ll pick it up together. We’d best take off our coats first, though, before we start.’ Leading her into a side room to hang up their outdoor garments, he made her sit down while he removed her boots and helped her to fasten on the strapped shoes she had been carrying in a bag, and when she stood up he said, ‘Your ribbon matches the blue of your eyes.’

Pleased that he had noticed, she felt more at ease, and when they entered the main hall again, she was relieved to see that most of the girls were wearing skirts and blouses too. She was thankful that her mother had been a laundry maid during her days in service, and had set the ruffles at the neck of her blouse with the goffering iron, for it looked as good as new, which was more than could be said for some of the others.

John was not the only soldier, she discovered. Several kilts were flaring out as the young men swung their partners round over-enthusiastically, the girls screeching with delight, or perhaps with the fear of being swung off their feet altogether? When the music stopped and changed to a more sedate rhythm, she placed her hand trustingly in John’s and they moved on to the slippery floor to try their steps in a Scottish waltz.

‘It’s just one two three, one two three,’ he told her.

A few of the girls simpered at John coyly, and Elspeth felt a surge of pride at being his partner, and, with his guidance, she soon stopped having to count in her head. She had a pang of jealousy when he took Tibby Leslie as his second partner for the Dashing White Sergeant, though the girl was the daughter of one of Blairton’s men, but Tibby kept them right until they learned what to do, and Elspeth enjoyed this dance as much as the waltz. The workings of the Strip the Willow took her more time to fathom, and her arm was chafed from rubbing against the men’s rough jackets as they whirled her round, but it was good fun.

During the interval, John led her over to the long trestle tables where refreshments were being served – porter for the men and home-made lemonade for the ladies – and she accepted a tall glass thankfully, after the exertion of the past ten minutes. As they stood, John was approached by several young Gordon Highlanders, and, during the ensuing talk, Elspeth gathered that he was as proud of her as she was of him.

One gangling boy with spindly legs which weren’t enhanced by the kilt, gave him a playful poke in the ribs. ‘I see you’ve got yourself a lass, John?’

He grinned. ‘Looks like it, Donald.’

A second youth, with prominent teeth and a long, thin nose, said, ‘You fair ken how to pick ’em.’

John slipped his arm round Elspeth’s shoulders. ‘Oh, aye, Willie, only the best’s good enough for me.’

Elspeth, pleased at what he was saying, felt ill at ease at being the centre of their discussion, and looked away when the third soldier glanced at her questioningly. ‘I havena seen you here before?’

‘This is Elspeth Gray, Alex. Her father’s grieve at Mains o’ Denseat.’

‘Big Geordie Gray?’ Donald remarked. ‘I heard he kept his lassie under lock and key.’

John grinned wickedly. ‘I must have the key then, lads, and I’m real pleased he saved her for me.’

‘Oh, aye?’ Willie exchanged knowing glances with the other two soldiers. ‘It’s serious, is it, John?’

Thumping John on the back, Donald said, ‘When’s the wedding, lad? We’ll be looking for an invite.’

The butt of their teasing joined in the laughter for a few minutes, then led the girl over to the chairs which were placed around the room. ‘I’m sorry about that, Elspeth, but we’re all leaving on Sunday forenoon for France, and we’re not looking forward to it. It was just a bit o’ fun for them, for you’re the first lass I’ve asked out.’

‘It’s all right, John.’ Although it had embarrassed her, she had enjoyed the banter as much as any of them, and knew there had been nothing spiteful in their remarks. What had pleased her most was hearing John openly declaring that she was his lass, leaving her in no doubt that he loved her.

He hesitated, nervously studying his nails. ‘Mind, they’re right about it being serious. I never met a lass like you before, Elspeth, and I’m real sorry for what I did on Tuesday. I hope you didna think I was just a coarse beast?’

As she shook her head in denial, he blurted out, ‘No, I’m not sorry! I couldna help myself, for I was wanting you more than I ever wanted anything in my whole life, and you’re as good as my wife now, so we’ll need to make it legal as soon as we can.’ Tilting her head up with his hand, he raised his eyebrows. ‘What do you say?’

Her eyes were shining, but she could not find the words to say what she felt, and he gave a short laugh as the band struck up again. ‘I have to ken, lass, and we can’t speak here. We’ll have to go into the passage.’

She felt bewildered as he led her through the dancers, but as soon as they were in the corridor, he said, earnestly, ‘I’ve been thinking, you see, and I’ve no notion now for leaving Blairton when the war’s over. I love you, Elspeth, and I want to wed you when I come home the next time, and we’ll settle down here when I’m back for good. Tell me you feel the same.’

‘Oh, aye, John,’ she breathed, her throat constricted with love, but there were other things to consider. ‘What’ll your folk say?’

‘They’ll have to like it or lump it. I’ll not change my mind, for you’re the only lass I’ll ever want. I’ll speak to your father on Saturday, and he’ll surely not refuse when he sees how much we love each other. You do love me, Elspeth?

‘Oh, aye, John. I love you wi’ my whole heart.’

About to kiss her, he drew back as someone came out of the hall. ‘We’d best go back to the dancing for we’ll get no peace here, an’ we’ve the rest o’ our lives in front o’ us.’

The remainder of the evening was a pleasant blur to Elspeth, and the hectic reels and strathspeys left neither of them any breath to talk, but mindful of Geordie’s stipulation, they left the hall at twenty minutes to twelve and made their way towards her home, laughingly recalling their first, rather awkward, attempts at dancing.

They were more than halfway to their destination before John touched again on the subject of their future. ‘I’m sure my father’ll let us have one of his cottar houses. There’s one been sitting empty since Bobby Brough went to bide wi’ his son in Dundee, for the new man’s single and bides in the bothy. I could maybe get the key before Saturday, and you could be cleaning the place out and getting it ready for me coming back. You’re not saying anything, Elspeth, do you not like the idea?’

‘You havena given me much chance to speak, and besides, I can hardly take it in, it’s happened that quick.’

‘We’ve the storm to thank for that, and fate must have meant for us to meet. I’m a great believer in fate.’

‘So’s my father,’ Elspeth remarked. ‘He aye says what’s in front of you’ll never go by you ... oh!’

Her little exclamation went unnoticed by John, who went on eagerly, ‘That’s what I mean, so he’ll understand.’

‘No, John, he won’t.’ Elspeth hated to disillusion him, but she could not let him carry on thinking that her father would agree to their marriage. ‘He’ll say I’m not old enough to be any man’s wife.’

‘I’m quite prepared to wait for you, maybe another year? Would he agree then, do you think?’

‘Oh, John, I don’t know.’ Elspeth couldn’t stop the tears which spilled out suddenly. ‘I don’t want to wait at all ... I love you and I want to marry you ... but ... I can’t go against my father.’

He pulled her to him then. ‘I’m not asking you to go against him, Elspeth. I’ll wait for as long as it takes. He can’t hold out for ever.’

‘He could, you don’t know what he’s like.’

She had lifted her face to speak, and suddenly his arms tightened round her, his lips came down hard on hers, and she could taste the salt of her tears in her mouth, and was ashamed that John must taste them, too. He didn’t seem to care, for, in spite of the cold, he kept on kissing her for a long time. When he stopped, he said, his voice thick, ‘I don’t think I can wait, Elspeth, do you know that? I love you too much. I’ll ask him on Saturday, and if he says no, I’m taking you away with me. My mother’ll look after you till I come back.’

Her tears, stopped for a while, began to flow again as he declared the depth of his love. ‘He’ll try to stop you,’ she sobbed. ‘He might even hit you.’

John gave a derisive snort. ‘He’d come off worst, then, for I’ve been trained to fight, but I’m sure it’ll never come to that. He’s a sensible man and he’ll give in when he sees we’re determined. Stop crying, my darling, everything’s going to work out. Now we’d better get on, for I don’t want to anger him by taking you home late.’