The Girl with the Creel by Doris Davidson Page B

half a pound of bramble jam on top. I’ll be putting on weight if she goes on like that.’ Laughing, he patted his flat stomach, then asked, ‘What did your mother say about you coming out with me?’
    â€˜She said it would do me good to have another lad.’
    They were on the Arradoul road again, but this time, when they came to a gate into a field enclosed by a drystone dyke, George turned her in. ‘We’ll have a seat here for a while – nobody’ll see us.’
    She sat down on the grass, somewhat uneasy, but he pulled up his legs and clasped his hands round his knees. ‘I’m going to write to Katie. She knows about you already, and I’m going to tell her I want to marry you.’
    â€˜Will she not come here and fight to get your back?’
    â€˜No, not Katie. She knows it’s all over between her and me.’
    â€˜All right,’ Lizann sighed, ‘if you’re sure.’ She went into his arms glad that he wasn’t going to tell any lies, and his kisses gradually dispelled the vague pity that she felt for his wife.
    â€˜I love you, Lizann,’ he whispered against her ear. ‘I’ll never stop loving you till the day I die.’
    â€˜And I’ll love you till the day I die and all, George,’ she said, twisting so that their lips met once more, and she was glad that there was no fiery passion this time. It made their love seem all the purer.
    As if reading her thoughts, George murmured, ‘We’ll wait till we’re man and wife to love each other properly again, my darling.’
    Her throat constricted, she could only nod blissfully.
    It was much later when George looked at his watch. ‘It’s well after ten. What time do you have to be home?’
    â€˜Before this,’ she gasped, struggling to her feet.
    Although they went as fast as they could, it was nearly a quarter to eleven when they came in sight of the Yardie, and George left her with a breathless, ‘Tomorrow same time?’
    â€˜Aye, tomorrow.’
    She was panting when she went inside, and it didn’t surprise her when her mother said, ‘What kind of time’s this to be coming in? Does your lad not have a watch?’
    â€˜He forgot to look at it.’
    Hannah’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re awful carfuffled. I hope you havena been doing anything?’
    â€˜George and me were just walking and speaking … about old times, but we’d to hurry all the way back.’
    â€˜George? Which George would that be?’
    â€˜You wouldn’t know him, Mother. His name’s Buchan, and he bides … out Arradoul way.’ It was the only place to come to her mind.
    â€˜I never heard you speaking about a laddie from Arradoul when you was at the school.’
    â€˜He wasn’t there all the time,’ Lizann said, desperately, trapped in a web of her own lies. ‘Only about … six months.’
    â€˜Where does he work?’
    â€˜He works … on his father’s farm.’
    â€˜His father’s got a farm?’ Hannah seemed pleased about this. ‘He’ll be a real steady lad, then?’
    Sensing that her mother had already married her off in her mind to the fictitious farm boy with prospects, Lizann forced a smile. ‘We’re going out together, that’s all.’
    â€˜You like him, though?’ Hannah asked, archly.
    â€˜Aye, I like him.’ That was putting it mildly, Lizann thought, for she loved him more every time she was with him. She wasn’t that happy about his wife divorcing him, but if it was the only way he could marry her …
    Her mother and father would be horrified when they found out he’d been married already – like all fisherfolk, they considered divorce an awful disgrace that reflected on a whole family – but she didn’t need to tell the truth about him till he actually was free.
    There was bound to be trouble then, but