A Scots Quair. Lewis Grassic Gibbon

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СКАЧАТЬ a shaky laugh and called out All right, he’d soon be down. And when he came she saw him in his Sunday suit, with his new boots shining, he’d on a new hat that suited him fine. Well, will I do? he asked and Chris said You look fair brave, and he said Havers! and picked up his waterproof, Well, ta-ta, Chris; and suddenly turned round to her and she saw his face red and strange and he kissed her, they hadn’t kissed since they were children lying in a bed together on a frosty night. She wiped her mouth, feeling shamed and pleased, and pushed him away, he tried to speak, and couldn’t, and said Oh, to hell! and turned and ran out of the door, she saw him go down the Blawearie road fast as he could walk, looking up at the hills he was with the sun on them and the slow fog rising off the Howe, jerking his head this way and that, fast though he walked, but he didn’t once look in father’s direction nor father at him. Syne she heard him whistling bonny and clear, Up in the Morning it was, they’d used that for a signal in the days when they went the school-road together, and down on the turnpike edge he looked round and stood still, and waved his hand, he knew she was watching. Then a queer kind of pain came into her throat, her eyes smarted and she told herself she was daft, Will was only off for the day, he’d be back at night.

      BUT WILL DIDN’T come back that night, he didn’t come back the next day, he came back never again to John Guthrie’s Kinraddie. For up in Aberdeen he was wed to his Mollie Douglas, he’d altered his birth certificate for that; and the earth might have opened and swallowed them up after that, it seemed not a soul in Aberdeen had seen them go. So when father went into Aberdeen on the track of the two there wasn’t a trace to be found, he went to the police and raged at them, but they only laughed—had he lain with the quean himself, maybe, that so mad he was with this son of his?

      So father came home, fair bursting with rage, but that didn’t help. And ten days went by before they heard of the couple again, it came in a letter Will sent to Chris at Blawearie; and it told that through Mollie’s mother, old Mistress Douglas, Will had got him a job in the Argentine, cattleman there on a big Polled Angus ranch, and he and Mollie were sailing from Southampton the day he wrote; and oh! he wished Chris could have seen them married; and remember them kindly, they would write again, and Mrs Douglas at Drumlithie would aye be a friend to her.

      So that was Will’s going, it was fair the speak of the parish a while, folk laughed at father behind his back and said maybe that would bring down his pride a bit; and they asked Chae Strachan, that well-travelled childe, where was this Argentine, was it a fine place, would you say? And Chae said Och, fine, he’d never been actually there, you might say, but a gey fine place it was, no doubt, a lot of silver was there; and Damn’t man, young Guthrie’s no fool to spread his bit wings, I was just the same myself. But most said it was fair shameful of Will to go off and leave his father like that, black burning shame he might think of himself; it just showed you what the world was coming to, you brought bairns into the world and reared them up and expected some comfort from them in your old age and what did you get? Nothing but a lot of damned impudence, it was all this education and dirt. You might well depend on it, that coarse young Guthrie brute would never thrive, there’d be a judgment on him, you’d see, him and his coarse tink quean.

      Judgment or not on Will, it was hardly a week before his own rage struck down John Guthrie. He’d been setting up ricks in the cornyard when Chris heard a frightened squawk break out from the hens. She thought maybe some strange dog was among them and caught up a spurtle and ran out to the close and there saw father lying still in his blood, black blood it looked on his face where he’d fallen and mischieved himself against a stone. She cried out to him in fright and then cooled herself down, and ran for water from the spring and dipped her hanky in it and bathed his face. He opened his eyes then, dazed-like he seemed, and he said All right, Jean lass, and tried to rise, and couldn’t. And rage came on him again, he put out his hand and gave Chris a push that near threw her down, he tried and tried to rise up, it was sickening to see. He chaved on the ground as though something tied him there, all one of his sides and legs, and the blood veins stood out blue on his face; and he cursed and said Get into the house, you white-faced bitch! he wouldn’t have her looking at him. So she watched from behind the door, near sick she felt, it was as though a great frog were squattering there in the stour, and the hens gathered and squawked about him.

      And at last he stood up and staggered to a stone, and Chris didn’t look more, going on with her work as well as she could with hands that quivered and quivered. But when he came in for supper he looked much as ever, and grumbled at this and that, and ate his egg as though it would do him ill, syne got his gun and went off to the hill as fleet as ever. He was long up there, Chris went to the window and watched for him, seeing the August late night close in, Cuddiestoun’s sheep were baaing high up in the Cuddiestoun moor and a sprig of the honeysuckle that made the Blawearie hedges so bonny through the summer tapped and touched against the window-pane, it was like a slow hand tapping there; and the evening was quiet in the blow of the night-wind, and no sign of father till Chris grew alarmed and nearly went out to look for him. But then she heard his step in the porch, in he came and put down his gun and saw her stand there and cried out Damn’t to hell, is that all you’ve to do, stand about like a lady? So you could hardly believe there was much wrong with him then, except ill-nature, he’d plenty of that, you’d no foreseeing that next morning he’d try to get out of bed and lie paralysed.

      She wouldn’t in a hurry forget the sight of him then, nor the run she had down Blawearie brae till the new Knapp came in sight, brave with its biggings and house. But there at last was Chae Strachan, he was busied letting a strainer into the ground, smoking, the blue smoke of his pipe rose into the air, blue, like a pencil-stroke, a cock was crowing across the Denburn and he didn’t hear her cry for a while. But then he did and was quick enough, he ran up to meet her, What’s wrong, Chriss lass? and she told him and he turned and ran down—Go back to your father and I’ll get to the doctor myself and send the wife up to Blawearie.

      And up she came, the fat, fusionless creature, all she could do was to stand and gowk at father, Mighty me, Mr Guthrie, this is a sore, sore sight, whatever will you do now, eh? And father mouthed and mowed at her from the bed as though the first thing he’d be keen on doing was braining her, paralysis or not he’d still plenty of rage. For when the doctor came up at last from Bervie and bustled into the room, peering and poking with the sharp, quick face of him, and his bald head shining, and snapped in his curt-like way, What’s this? what’s wrong with you now, Blawearie? father managed to speak out then right enough—That’s for you to find out, what the hell do you think you’re paid for?

      So the doctor grinned behind his hand, One of you women must help me strip him. And he looked from Kirsty to Chris and said You, Chris lass, and that she did while Mrs Strachan went down to the kitchen to make him tea and trail around like a clucking hen, God! what mightn’t be happening in Peesie’s Knapp without her? Chris lost her temper at last, she lost it seldom enough, this time it went with a bang−I don’t know either what’s happening in Peesie’s Knapp but if you’re in such tune about it you’d better go home and find out. Mrs Strachan reddened up at that, bubbling like a hubbley- jock, that wasn’t the way for a quean to speak to a woman that might well be her mother, she might think shame to curse and swear with her father lying at death’s door there. And Chris said she hadn’t sworn, but she was over-weary to argue about it, and knew right well that whatever she said now Mistress Strachan would spread a fine story about her.

      And sure as death so she did, it was soon all over the Howe that that coarse quean at Blawearie had started to swear at Mistress Strachan while her father was lying near dead in the room above their heads. Only Chae himself didn’t believe it, and when he came up to Blawearie next day he whispered to Chris, Is’t true you gave Kirsty a bit of a damning yesterday? and when she said she hadn’t he said it was a pity, it was time that somebody did.

      SO THERE FATHER LAY and had lain ever since, all СКАЧАТЬ