The Girl with the Creel by Doris Davidson Page B

he’ll come and see you, won’t he?’
    â€˜He said he’d a girl at home, and I told him about Peter, so we’re not going to see each other again.’
    Peggy May was astonished. ‘But you’re nae promised to Peter?’
    â€˜He asked me to marry him before I came away, and I said I’d give him my answer when I got back.’
    â€˜You could tell him you’ve fell in love wi’ somebody else.’
    â€˜What’s the use? George is going to marry his Katie. He still loves her, the same as I still love Peter.’
    â€˜I canna understand you. Who d’you really love, Peter or George?’
    â€˜I know it sounds silly, but I love them both. I really do.’
    After some thought, Peggy May said, ‘You’ll soon forget George once you’re married to Peter.’
    â€˜I suppose so.’
    Peggy May clicked her tongue in exasperation. ‘You will, Lizann. You only ken’t him for a wee while, and you’ve ken’t Peter your whole life. You’ve went steady wi’ him for months.’
    Gathering that Peggy May had grown impatient with her for being lovesick over a boy she hardly knew, Lizann came to the conclusion that her friend was right. ‘Aye, I’m being daft, amn’t I? George and me had just been ships that pass in the night.’
    Peggy May grinned, ‘That’s right, so tell Peter you’ll marry him.’
    Her own decision now being endorsed, Lizann smiled and joined in the singing, but exhaustion had finally caught up with the other girls, and when they came to the end of this hymn they dispersed to their own compartments. Those who were left settled back with their eyes closed and Lizann was the only one not to doze off.
    Two years ago, when she asked if she could go to Yarmouth, her father had said, amongst other things, ‘The English are different from us, and you never know what kind of queer folk you could meet.’ She gave a faint smile at the memory. She hadn’t met any of the queer English folk, only George – tall and broad, with untidy hair and soft, loving eyes. Could she ever forget him?
    Hannah was still up when Lizann arrived home just after midnight. ‘It’s awful late,’ she said, accusingly. ‘I was beginning to think something had happened to your train.’
    â€˜It’s an awful long way. It took us over seventeen hours.’
    â€˜You must be wore out.’
    â€˜I’m ready to drop, and I’m going straight to my bed.’
    It was late afternoon before she woke, refreshed by her long sleep, and when she went down to the kitchen, Hannah said, ‘That’s better. You was like death warmed up when you come in last night. Did you tell Peter when you’d be back?’
    â€˜I wrote to him the same time I wrote to you.’
    â€˜He’ll likely come after he’s had his supper, then.’
    He came at seven on the dot, and Lizann was astonished at the way her heart jolted at the sight of his dear face. ‘You got home all right?’ he asked, unnecessarily, as he waited for her to put on her coat.
    Out in the street, he put his arm round her and observed, ‘You’re a lot thinner. Was it awful hard work?’
    â€˜Aye, it was, and I’m glad to be back.’
    Because it was November again, cold and dreich, he took her along the road instead of the shore, asking questions which she’d already covered in her letters, but at last he said hesitantly, ‘Have you made your mind up now, Lizann?’
    She had been waiting for this, but she still wasn’t absolutely sure.
    â€˜Lizann?’ he urged, anxiously.
    She hadn’t the heart to keep him waiting any longer. ‘Yes, Peter.’
    â€˜D’you mean yes your mind’s made up, or yes you’ll get engaged?’
    Burning her boats, she smiled shyly. ‘Yes, I’ll get engaged.’
    His hug nearly squeezed the breath out of her, and