The Nickum by Doris Davidson Page A

other folk.’ Her scowl deepened. ‘You haven’t answered my question yet, Connie.’
    Having just got the joke, the girl had to straighten her face before saying, ‘I didn’t think you were serious.’
    ‘You knew she was seeing him, though?’
    ‘Aye, Mam.’
    ‘And what were you doing the time she was with Jackie Burns? Have you a lad, and all?’
    ‘Not a steady lad.’
    ‘You go out with lads, though?’
    Stung into defence, Connie blustered, ‘What if I do? I’ll be twenty-one next year and I’ll not need your permission to have as many lads as I want.’
    Taken rather aback by this, Emily was less abrupt. ‘Aye, you’re right, Con, and I’m sorry, but Becky’s still just sixteen, and she hasn’t seen much of life. She doesn’t know how many evil men there are in the world that prey on young lassies.’
    His eyes as wide open as they could possibly be, Willie said, ‘How could they pray on young lassies, Mam? Do they mak’ them sit doon an’ jump on their backs to pray?’
    Angry at passing the remark in front of the boy, Emily shook her head. ‘No, it’s not that kind of praying, it’s …’ She halted, stuck for another explanation.
    ‘Willie,’ Connie said quietly, ‘you ken when a cat catches a mouse and plays wi’ it afore he kills it, well, the mouse is the cat’s prey, spelt P-R-E-Y. And there’s men that catch young lassies and torture them. They mebbe dinna kill them, but they hurt them as much as they can. That’s what Mam was meaning.’
    The matter sorted out to everyone’s satisfaction, Emily rose to clear the table, Connie went to take her coat off the peg in the porch before setting off on her bicycle to Home Farm, where she was employed as dairy-maid and Becky as kitchen-maid. They were the only two servants in the house, as the farmer’s wife liked to do most things herself.
    Willie got his satchel from the porch, stuffed in his dinner box, his mind concentrating on one thing – what was Jackie Burns going to ask Dad tomorrow night?
    Naturally, his first question to his little chum on their way to school was, ‘Hiv you ever heard o’ men jumpin’ on lassies’ backs to pray?’
    Shaking his head vigorously, his eyes alight with naked curiosity, Poopie said, ‘I never kent men did that. I’ve never seen ony man jumpin’ …’
    ‘Neither hiv I, but that’s what my Mam tell’t Connie. Mind you, Mam often tells us things that’s nae true, jist to mak’ us dae something, or nae dae something.’
    More confused than ever, the other boy blinked several times before saying, ‘I canna understand what you mean.’
    ‘Ach, you dinna listen richt, that’s your trouble. She said men jump on …’
    ‘Aye, I got that bit, but it’s this dae something or nae dae …’
    Willie gave up. ‘Never mind. Come on, we’ll be late if we dinna hurry.’ But he couldn’t help wondering about the picture his mother’s words had conjured up. What could any man be praying for if he was sitting on a lassie’s back? Letting his mind puzzle over various things a man might want, it slowly dawned on him what he would want most if he was a man. A horse! That was it! He fancied sittin’ on horseback fighting off his enemies. But why had his mother made such a secret of it?
    Having solved the problem, he buckled down to concentrating on what Miss Bell was saying, then realising that the rest of the class already had their heads down doing whatever they had been told to do, he had to nudge his neighbour to find out which page of his sum book he should turn to.
    It had been a long hard fight – Emily had been dead set against her daughter marrying so young – and week after week had gone by with constant arguments between Becky and her parents, until Jake was won round by his daughter’s tears, and claimed his right as head of the house to give his permission. Once this had been given, Jackie dropped a bombshell by telling them that his mother wanted the wedding to be at the