Bury Her Deep by Catriona McPherson Page B

to look white again and gently I tried to urge her back to the story.
    ‘What happened then? While you were standing at your gate.’
    ‘I saw somethin’ in the field,’ Jessie said. ‘It was movin’ richt fast, running across towards the lane, and before I got a chance to shout oot, I saw it lowp over the dyke and I heard Mrs Hemingborough.’
    ‘Mrs Hemingborough?’ I echoed. ‘It wasn’t coming for you?’
    ‘Oh no,’ said Jessie. ‘Thank the Dear. It made a beeline for Mrs Hemingborough and I ran to see could I help.’
    ‘Terribly brave of you,’ I said, thinking that there was a lot more iron in the soul of this girl than I could be sure of having in mine.
    ‘No’ really, madam,’ said Jessie. ‘More like I jist didna think. I never even thocht to go in and get John. I jist took off along the lane towards them. He had gone for her jist in the shade o’ a wee bush but I could still see them, quite clear I could see them in the moon we’ve got the nicht. They were strugglin’. Mrs Hemingborough and a man all in black. And Mrs Hemingborough was shoutin’ at him so I shouted too: “Get away fae her. Get away, you filthy so-and-so.” And when he heard me, he let go of Mrs Hemingborough and he was back over that dyke and away across the fields afore you could snap your fingers at him. And Mrs Hemingborough was standin’ there, wi’ her hat torn off and her hair all hingin’ doon and those blessed feathers burst oot o’ her sack and swirlin’ aboot.’ Jessie, finally, gave a sob and then took another draught from her cup.
    ‘And where is she now?’ I said. ‘At home? Have your husbands gone after him?’
    ‘Well, this is the thing,’ said Jessie, and her face puckered with concern. ‘Mr Tait, I jist don’t know what to think. I got to her side and I asked her if she was a’richt and she telt me of course she was, she jist tripped and drapped her bundle and look at the feathers! And she was laughin’ – tryin’ to anyway.’
    ‘Laughing?’ said Mr Tait, sounding more severe than I had ever heard him.
    ‘I hardly kent what to say,’ said Jessie. ‘What aboot him ? I asked her. Did he hurt you? And she drew hersel’ up and said she didna know what I was talkin’ aboot and she didna want to hear any nonsense fae me. Well, I know my place and nobody can tell me I don’t but my dander come up at that. I saw him, I telt her. I jist saw the whole thing plain with my own two eyes, and then I telt her that I was goin’ to get her husband and mine and send them away after him. But there was no shiftin’ her. She said she didna know what I was talkin’ aboot and she was “disappointit”. She said she had never thocht I was the kind o’ lassie who would start up wi’ a load o’ silly nonsense. She said that her husband needed a good cowman and a good cowman needed a good steady wife and I should think on that afore I started tattlin’.’
    ‘Whatever did she mean?’ I said.
    ‘A threat,’ said Mr Tait. ‘Quite obviously a threat to give John Holland the sack.’
    ‘And we’re in a tied hoose, madam, with three bairns,’ said Jessie, growing visibly upset again. ‘If I lost John his place, and the lot o’ us ended up putten out on the road I would jist never forgive myself. So I never went and telt Mr Hemingborough and I willna tell John either or anyone else. Only I had tae tell somebody, so I came roond to Mr Tait.’
    ‘And you’re absolutely sure of what you saw?’ I asked her, looking very closely into her face. She nodded vigorously.
    ‘As sure as I’m sittin’ here,’ she said. ‘And I ken it’s no’ richt to let him get away wi’ it, no matter whit Mrs Hemingborough says. I dinna ken what’s wrong wi’ her.’
    ‘No more do I,’ I said, ‘but I’m going to try to find out.’
    ‘No, madam, please,’ said Jessie, looking quite stricken with anguish. ‘Oh Mr Tait,’ she wailed. ‘Please. If Mrs Hemingborough finds oot I’ve telt—’
    ‘I’ll