The Shadow of the Sycamores (26 page)

‘I take it you have a soft spot for her … or perhaps more than that? All right, Max, I will say nothing about Nora if you tell me how it was done.’

She listened carefully, her expression telling him nothing as he explained what he had planned and how Nora had made it that much easier. ‘And now I suppose you’ll want me to accompany you to Ardbirtle Police Station,’ he ended, with a grim smile.

‘I want you to accompany me to …’ she began, then gave a low chuckle, ‘to the kitchen to carry my boxes outside.’

Bewildered, he asked, ‘You mean … you’re not going to report me?’

‘Certainly not. In fact, Max, I want to thank you. You made it possible for me to make this move and I will be forever indebted to you.’

‘Well, I’ll be damned!’

He did as she asked, shaking his head in wondering disbelief several times, then stood with Beenie and Nora to wave to the departing cook as she went off in the trap to the railway station, on her way to wherever she was going.

As Beenie ran back inside to show off her knowledge to the new cook, Max whispered to Nora, ‘Will you meet me at seven behind the tool shed?’

Her clear blue eyes widened as she turned a becoming pink. ‘Aye, I will.’

He went back to work now, his conscience clearer than it had been for many months, his heart accelerating as he looked forward to seven o’clock.

Henry had just arrived home for his usual midday bowl of soup and chunk of home-made bread when someone knocked at the door. Tutting, he rose to find out who it was and what they wanted but his impatience turned to delight when he saw his old friend. ‘Max! What on earth …? I hope there’s nothing wrong with your mother. I saw her yesterday and she looked the picture of health – like she always does.’

‘Ma’s just fine,’ Max grinned. ‘I came to give her my news and I couldn’t go back without telling you and all.’

‘What news?’

With both Henry and his wife looking at him expectantly, Max sat down. ‘Any soup going, Fay? It’s damned cold outside.’

‘News first, then soup,’ she smiled, giving a reprimanding pat to the little hand that was stretching out for a biscuit. ‘Empty your bowl first, m’lad.’

Pulling an exaggerated grimace, Max said, ‘So that’s the kind of thing I’ve got to expect, is it?’

Henry’s hand halted midway to his mouth. ‘Are you telling us what I think you’re telling us? You’re getting wed?’

‘You thought correct, Tchouki,’ Max teased. ‘I’ve been keeping company wi’ Nora Petty for months now and I asked her last night and she said yes.’

‘Oh, Max!’ Fay bent down to kiss his cheek. ‘I’m so happy for you both. Nora is a really nice girl and you … well, what can I say about you?’

‘You could say I was a really nice man?’ he suggested, cocking an eyebrow.

‘I would say you’ve met the right one at last,’ Henry said, quietly.

Fay sat down now. ‘I wasn’t the right one for you, Max, any more than you were the right one for me. Yes, Henry knows all about our little romance,’ she assured him as he shot an apprehensive glance at her husband.

‘I know it wasn’t really a romance,’ Henry grinned. ‘And I know it happened before she met me – so I don’t mind.’

Max was guiltily silent for a moment but then he gave a relaxed smile. ‘Ach, you two. You’re making fun of me. I was just testing my wings at that time but Nora … well Nora is Nora and I wouldna want any other girl. I’d better go, though. I told Ma I’d just be a few minutes.’

Both Raes saw him out, Henry shaking his hand and wishing him all the best and Fay, with a demon egging her on, kissed him full on the mouth. ‘Congratulations, Max,’ she murmured, ‘and tell Nora from me she’s a very lucky girl.’

She closed the door softly and turned to her husband. ‘You weren’t jealous, were you, Henry?’

‘No, of course not.’

But he
was
jealous. Why would Fay kiss Max like that if there had been nothing between them? With her own husband standing watching? Had she not been able to help herself, was that it? Had they been seeing each other in secret after she was married? Even in the short time she was living at The Sycamores?

Taking his cap off the hook on the back of the door, he
slapped it on his head and turned to go out. He then flung his arms round his wife and kissed her in a way he hadn’t done for months. ‘I love you, my Fairy, don’t ever forget that.’

Going back to her children, Fay became occupied in cleaning the mess her little son had made by trying to pour his soup into the bowl Max had used. Then she had to wash the tablecloth before she changed and fed little Samara. Only after putting them both down for their afternoon nap did she have time to think. She had kissed Max at the door on the spur of the moment. It hadn’t crossed her mind that it could make Henry jealous but maybe it had been a good thing. For a long time now, he had not been nearly as loving as he been in the first years of their marriage. Any time she suggested having another child, he made the excuse that bringing up two was a hard enough struggle, without making it three.

There was no disputing that his last kiss had been the kiss of a lover, though – a man reawakened. But would that feeling last? Would it dwindle away to nothing by the time he finished work? She would have to wait until bedtime to find out – worse luck.

‘Will I have to go to court if Innes is sent to trial?’ Janet looked imploringly at Nessie. ‘I couldn’t face up to it if he’s standing there looking at me.’

‘If he is tried, I’d think you’d definitely have to give evidence but I’ve the feeling it will never come to that. According to all reports, he was raving mad when they took him away – that’s why he was sent to that criminal asylum. The papers say he’ll be judged insane, unfit to plead, and he’ll be locked up there for life. In a straitjacket, I hope.’

‘And there would never be any chance of him escaping?’

‘Not a chance in a million.’

Janet’s fear of having to testify against Ledingham was ended less than a week later, when it was announced that he had been certified and would remain in Carstairs, an asylum for the criminally insane, for the rest of his days.

‘What did I tell you?’ was Nessie’s first comment, then she
giggled, ‘Innes
Wellington
Ledingham? Was that what made him think he could do what he liked, gave him ideas of grandeur? God forgive him.’

‘God might be able to forgive him,’ Janet muttered, ‘but I never will.’

The mood in Oak Cottage was anything but cheery until Fay came to visit in the afternoon with her little son and daughter, a trio who always lifted the hearts of the two older ladies.

‘I had a letter from Nora this morning,’ the young mother smiled. ‘She and Max were married last Saturday in the chapel. She seems really happy and I’m so pleased for them.’

Janet nodded. ‘She’ll make him a good wife. He was a bit of a lad among the girls for a while, you know, so I hope he’s settled down now.’

‘I’m sure he has.’ Fay hoped that the faint pinprick of embarrassment she felt was not showing in her face. ‘He really thinks the world of Nora.’

The conversation was interrupted by little Andrew who, although a handful, was a most engaging child. ‘Story!’ he demanded, handing Janet the cloth book he had brought with him.

While she was thus occupied, Nessie turned to Fay. ‘Have you seen the paper today?’ Fay’s nod needed no further explanation or discussion and they turned their attention to the baby, now cooing and gurgling in Nessie’s arms.

The small item in the newspaper was the talk of the week for miles around. To those who had not known him, Innes Ledingham was a bad egg who deserved all he got. To those who had been his friends, his brain had been turned by an unscrupulous woman. To Roderick Emslie, he was a brother-in-law who had gone off the rails. And, to Joseph Leslie, he was the devil incarnate. ‘To think my daughter could have fallen into his clutches,’ he moaned. ‘I knew Henry Rae was not a suitable match for her.’

‘Henry had nothing to do with it,’ Catherine reminded him. ‘He only helped the woman after Max got her away from The Sycamores.’

‘He did not do very much for her. He passed her on to his father and his wife.’

Catherine shook her head angrily. ‘Only because he knew his house would be the first place Ledingham would look. You know, Joseph, I do not know what gets into you, sometimes. You always think the worst of everybody. We could not have a better son-in-law than Henry. He worships our Fay and their two children.’

‘Humph.’

She let it go at that. He could be so aggravating that she had, once or twice, wondered why she stayed with him.

Fay was much happier now that the worry of Janet’s safety had been taken off Henry’s mind. He was more loving towards her but, even so, he still maintained that they could not afford to have another child. She could see his point – she had to watch every ha’penny – but she still longed for another little boy. Andrew was being spoiled – Henry always let him have his own way and so did Willie, Nessie and Janet. It wasn’t good for him – he took advantage of it. He was still an adorable wee nickum, though.

Better not say anything to any of them, she reflected. She should just enjoy life, now that it was flowing on peacefully.

Her mind free of fear, Janet had something else to occupy it. The advent of the combustion engine was affecting Willie’s trade and she could see that Nessie was hard pushed to feed the three of them and pay for coal for the fire and paraffin for the lamps, as well as all the other expenses. She, herself, had worried since she had been brought there that she made no contribution to the household, even though Willie and Nessie had both told her that she wasn’t fit to take a job and it didn’t cost much more to feed three than feed two.

‘Anyway, you hardly eat enough to keep a spurdie going,’ Nessie had added.

Smiling at being compared to a sparrow when her bulk was always increasing, Janet had concentrated her thoughts on the problem but it was some time before she came up with a solution.

She waited, however, until she had it all worked out before tackling Nessie one afternoon. ‘You’re aye saying I’m a great cook so what would you say to us starting a wee shop? A home bakery?’

Somewhat taken aback, Nessie laid down the sock she was darning and gave the matter her full consideration. By the time Willie came in from his walk, the two women were eagerly discussing how it should be done and, although he was not exactly enamoured of their plan to change the parlour into a shop, their excitement started to rub off on him.

It did not take long to put into practice. The sash window in the parlour only needed a shelf put up below it and a glass shelf, level with the window-sill, would double as protection for the goods and a counter. Then Nessie painstakingly made a placard on a firm piece of cardboard to let the public know of the venture and that ‘Oak Cottage Home Bakery’ would be opening on the following Monday, hours 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. daily, except Sundays.

The two women occupied their hands furiously over the weekend. Janet baked as many scones and biscuits as the two ovens at the side of the kitchen range would hold and as many girdle scones and pancakes as the big cast-iron girdle could turn out. Meanwhile, Nessie washed and made ready all the plates, dishes and containers she could find and then washed and starched all her good linen doilies and table napkins to line them.

It wasn’t until late on the Sunday evening that Willie spotted the big flaw in their arrangements. ‘Will you not need paper bags for the customers to take away what they buy?’ he asked.

Janet looked crestfallen but Nessie was not so easily knocked back. ‘I’ll just need to put it on our notice,’ she laughed and, in another five minutes, she had added the instruction, ‘Please bring your own bags meantime.’

‘Once we see if it’s going to be a success,’ she explained, ‘we can order bags from wherever the real shops get their bags from.’

The enterprise paid off to such an extent that oatcakes and
loaves of bread were soon added to the list and, before long, by popular request, pies and fruit tarts. Nessie discovered that she had a flair for making pastry so she, too, was kept fully occupied in the evenings.

Willie pretended not to be interested in the fortune or misfortune of what was going on in his own front room but it quickly became obvious, even to him, that the home bakery was a galloping success. Even taking their expenses into account – the ingredients they needed, the paper bags, the tissue paper for the loaves, the folding cardboard boxes for the cakes, the extra rates they had to pay the council – the profits rose substantially each week.

Better still, as far as he was concerned, his wife was too busy, and too tired, to find fault with every little thing he did, as she’d been wont to do before. He could spit into the fire if he wanted to clear his throat, sit in his chair with his boots off and let the heat dry his sweaty socks, scratch his crotch when it was itchy and fart when he felt the need. Not that he felt comfortable about doing things like that. He’d been brought up to have manners, to think of other people first, and he’d had to toe the line for so long that he soon reverted to what was second nature to him. He felt easier in himself when he was behaving like a normal human being.

It was good having two women attending to his needs after the baking was done in the evenings. Nessie saw to the physical side, when she felt up to it, and Janet looked to his comforts, plumping up his cushion, handing him his pipe and tobacco tin or his glasses when he wanted to read the paper. Govey Dick! This was the life, right enough, and long may it continue.

As usual, seven-year-old Andrew was late in coming home from school and Samara, hardly two years younger and now answering to Mara, would only say that she had seen him playing tag with some other boys. Fay could never depend on her son – he was so full of boyish mischief. She had heard from outsiders before now that he’d been seen here, there and everywhere – parts of the town where he should never have set foot. He never admitted to any wrongdoing, of course, but she couldn’t help being anxious. She had warned him to keep away from the Esslemont’s place, in case he fell in the mill race; she had told him not to go into Charlie Reid’s field where the bull was; she had forbidden him to go anywhere near the quarry, but there was always this doubt of him in her heart.