stood between the door from the porch and the door through to the back kitchen, its overmantel broken up by shelves and niches which displayed the ornaments Lizzie had amassed over the years. Some had been gifts, some had been picked up at the sales held when houses had to be given up due to the death of the occupants, and some had even been bought in shops in Aberdeen, for Lizzie was a great collector of knick-knacks.
Looking at a little woolly lamb made of bone china, Elspeth admired again the perfectly sculpted curly head and body, and the sweetness of the face. Next sat a very delicate Chinese teapot, another of her favourites, an unusual grey in colour with hand-painted oriental flowers, and a wicker-work handle arched over the top. Then came the huge bible, leather bound with two brass clasps, wherein the births, marriages and deaths in the Gray family had been recorded for over a hundred years. She flipped over the pages filled with faded spidery writing to look at the last three entries – the deaths of her paternal grand-father and grandmother and her own birth. A thrill shot through her as she thought that her marriage would be next.
When the clock boomed seven times, Geordie took his silver watch from his waistcoat pocket, the chain and fob jingling on his chest. ‘Dead on,’ he remarked, as he did every day at some point, although his daughter was never sure whether it was the watch or the clock he was checking. Her restless legs took her over to the window, where spotless white lace was almost hidden by thick, deep red curtains. In front of the window, a tall round table held a healthy aspidistra in an earthenware flowerpot. Automatic-ally poking her finger into the soil to check if it needed water and finding that it didn’t, she went back to sit at the fireside, where the high mantelshelf held more ornaments and two tall brass candlesticks.
Elspeth was thankful that she had persuaded her mother to remove Geordie’s flannel linder and drawers from the string under the shelf where they usually hung to air, ready for him to change into if he had an unexpected soaking. The girl had wanted to set the supper in the best room – the green plush chairs and sofa would give a better impression – but Lizzie had said, ‘He’ll have to take us the way we are.’
Glancing round, Elspeth felt satisfied with the kitchen, after all. It was more friendly than the other room, and they would all feel more at ease, including John. What was keeping him? She had said seven, and it was after ten past now. Had something happened to him; had his parents found out what had gone on in their absence; or had he never intended coming at all?
Her stomach turned over at this last thought, and she pushed it hastily away from her.
Time dragged past while she counted the seconds ticking away and laid one finger on her knee each time she came to sixty. She had reached eighteen minutes when she became aware of her mother’s eyes on her and stopped.
At half past, Geordie lumbered to his feet, his hoary eyebrows lowering. ‘I’m waiting no longer, the lad’ll not be coming after this time. We should have ken’t better than ask a farmer’s son to eat in a cottar house.’ He stamped through to the back door to go to the outside privy, and Lizzie took a thick, flannel cloth from its hook at the mantelpiece and removed the large tureen from the oven at the side of the fire. The macaroni and cheese was meant as a special treat, but each mouthful tasted like sawdust to the disappointed women. Geordie, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying his, finishing his plateful quickly and asking for a second helping. He was the only one to have any of the apple pie – made from their own apples, stored in a barrel – and Lizzie brewed some tea while he was eating it.
By the time the dishes were washed and everything had been tidied away, it was almost nine o’clock, and Elspeth could bear her mother’s silent sympathy no longer.
Looking at a little woolly lamb made of bone china, Elspeth admired again the perfectly sculpted curly head and body, and the sweetness of the face. Next sat a very delicate Chinese teapot, another of her favourites, an unusual grey in colour with hand-painted oriental flowers, and a wicker-work handle arched over the top. Then came the huge bible, leather bound with two brass clasps, wherein the births, marriages and deaths in the Gray family had been recorded for over a hundred years. She flipped over the pages filled with faded spidery writing to look at the last three entries – the deaths of her paternal grand-father and grandmother and her own birth. A thrill shot through her as she thought that her marriage would be next.
When the clock boomed seven times, Geordie took his silver watch from his waistcoat pocket, the chain and fob jingling on his chest. ‘Dead on,’ he remarked, as he did every day at some point, although his daughter was never sure whether it was the watch or the clock he was checking. Her restless legs took her over to the window, where spotless white lace was almost hidden by thick, deep red curtains. In front of the window, a tall round table held a healthy aspidistra in an earthenware flowerpot. Automatic-ally poking her finger into the soil to check if it needed water and finding that it didn’t, she went back to sit at the fireside, where the high mantelshelf held more ornaments and two tall brass candlesticks.
Elspeth was thankful that she had persuaded her mother to remove Geordie’s flannel linder and drawers from the string under the shelf where they usually hung to air, ready for him to change into if he had an unexpected soaking. The girl had wanted to set the supper in the best room – the green plush chairs and sofa would give a better impression – but Lizzie had said, ‘He’ll have to take us the way we are.’
Glancing round, Elspeth felt satisfied with the kitchen, after all. It was more friendly than the other room, and they would all feel more at ease, including John. What was keeping him? She had said seven, and it was after ten past now. Had something happened to him; had his parents found out what had gone on in their absence; or had he never intended coming at all?
Her stomach turned over at this last thought, and she pushed it hastily away from her.
Time dragged past while she counted the seconds ticking away and laid one finger on her knee each time she came to sixty. She had reached eighteen minutes when she became aware of her mother’s eyes on her and stopped.
At half past, Geordie lumbered to his feet, his hoary eyebrows lowering. ‘I’m waiting no longer, the lad’ll not be coming after this time. We should have ken’t better than ask a farmer’s son to eat in a cottar house.’ He stamped through to the back door to go to the outside privy, and Lizzie took a thick, flannel cloth from its hook at the mantelpiece and removed the large tureen from the oven at the side of the fire. The macaroni and cheese was meant as a special treat, but each mouthful tasted like sawdust to the disappointed women. Geordie, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying his, finishing his plateful quickly and asking for a second helping. He was the only one to have any of the apple pie – made from their own apples, stored in a barrel – and Lizzie brewed some tea while he was eating it.
By the time the dishes were washed and everything had been tidied away, it was almost nine o’clock, and Elspeth could bear her mother’s silent sympathy no longer.
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