The Road to Rowanbrae Read Free

you’ll need to stand up for yoursel’. I was just sayin’ to Jake, that’s my man, I hoped Jeems had picked a lass wi’ a bit o’ spunk in her, for he’s needin’ to be held in aboot a bit. He’s been here on his ain ower lang, for it’s aboot five year since his mother passed on, an’ her man a good five year afore that, so he’s got set in his ways.’
    Noticing that her rigmarole had made the girl’s mouth fall open, Jess gave a shrill laugh. ‘Ach, I’m sorry. Jake says my tongue’s as lang as the road to Timbuctoo, but he’s a great ane for teasin’, my Jake.’
    Mysie smiled. ‘I’m real pleased to meet you. I’m Mysie Lonie that was, an’ my father’s a blacksmith at Drumloanin’s ootside Turra. Come into the hoose an’ I’ll mak’ us a cup o’ tea.’ As soon as Jess sat down, she said, ‘Turra, you say? An’ was that where Jeems met you?’
    â€˜Aye, at the Show. He gi’ed my father thirty pound to get me for a wife.’ Mysie hadn’t meant to tell anyone this degrading fact, but it was out before she thought.
    Jess was impressed. ‘Thirty pound? My God, Mysie, that’s a fair bit.’
    â€˜That’s what Father thought as weel, so they shook hands an’ the bargain was made.’
    â€˜Weel, you didna get muckle o’ a bargain,’ Jess laughed, ‘for Jeems has a face like a sow’s erse, an’ you’ll ha’e your work cut oot settin’ this place to rights, for a man doesna bother cleanin’ up ahin’ him. I’m aye tellin’ Jake to lay things by when he’s finished wi’ them, but it’s like water aff a duck’s back. You’ll need to let Jeems ken you’ve a mind o’ your ain, right fae the start, or he’ll glory on like he’s aye daen.’
    â€˜Oh, I couldna say onything to him. I’ve never been able to stick up for mysel’.’
    â€˜If you dinna, you’ll be makin’ a stick to br’ak your ain back.’ Jess took a gulp of tea. ‘It beat me what ony lassie could see in him, but it was what your father saw, eh? Ach weel, it’ll maybe turn oot a’ right in the end. You’ll maybe mak’ a decent man o’ the ill-mannered de’il yet.’
    Mysie laughed. ‘An’ hens’ll maybe lay duck eggs.’
    Clapping her hands, Jess cried, ‘Here’s me thinkin’ you’d naething in you, but that’s the road, lass. Keep your he’rt up, an’ mind, if you ever need a friend, you’ve only to come to me.’
    â€˜That’s good o’ you, Mrs Findlater.’
    â€˜Jess.’
    â€˜It’s awfu’ good o’ you, Jess. I’ll mind that.’
    â€˜I’d best get back to Downies, for Jeems’ll nae be pleased if he sees me here.’ Jess patted Mysie’s shoulder sympathetically before she strode out, the wind flapping her black skirt and making wisps of her mousey hair fly in all directions.
    Before Jeems came in again, Mysie had made the bed in the other room, given the kitchen a tidy up, scrubbed the table and had potatoes and cabbage boiling at the fire. He lifted his spoon as she set his dinner in front of him, then disgusted her by wolfing the food down as though he hadn’t seen any for days. It wasn’t until he’d finished eating that he looked round the room appraisingly. ‘Aye, it needed a real wumman aboot the place. I whiles had the miller’s quine in, but she didna dae very much. Did you mind to feed the hens and milk the coo?’
    â€˜Aye did I, an’ I had Jess Findlater in for a cup o’ tea.’ She deemed it best to tell him in case he found out.
    â€˜Jess Findlater has nae business comin’ inside my hoose when I’m nae here,’ he roared, his beetling eyebrows almost meeting over his bulbous nose.