SCENE ELEVEN

(mary, liza, sars. Evening. SARA is working quietly — in her garden or her house (sewing? hoeing?), near enough to hear/overhear LIZA and MAGGIE. MAGGIE is busy (so is her tongue, she scarcely draws breath during the first part of this scene). She could be churning butter — it calls for steady rhythmic movement) she wouldn’t be able to leave her work till the milk was turned. LIZA is not so busy: adding ribbon to her petticoats, or rucking to her bonnet.)

MAGGIE: You must draw all the milk off each milking. Well, I’ve told you before, it’s no use milking if you don’t milk her right — she’ll draw all the milk that’s left back into herself, and come next milking she’ll give a bit less —

LIZA: Coo, coo, I’m sick o the coo.

MAGGIE: — you’ll only get the same next time, as you took from her the time before. We need all the milk she can give. I can’t bake flourocks without good cream —

LIZA: I could eat a coo, I’m starving!

MAGGIE: — Andra’s fond of flourocks. You eat them fast enough — And what about the teats, Liza? I said wash the teats with alum and water —

LIZA: Horses — aye. Coos — no.

MAGGIE: — I said to wash the warts on her teats. Poor coo. A’ you bondagers are the same. You know nothing of coos, or kitchens or bairns —

LIZA: Bairns — never!

MAGGIE: The milking’s important, Liza, can’t you see. I can’t feed the family without it!

LIZA: You’ve plenty of your own if your coo runs dry.

MAGGIE: (stops short, at last, for a moment anyway) Aye, I have. And don’t think I’m not proud of it. Oh, you wait. Wait till you’re wed. Wait till you’ve a man to feed —

LIZA: Oh, wait. You wait. You’ll ken! You’ll see!

MAGGIE: Wait till you’ve bairns. You’ll ken. You’ll see! Canna bake, canna milk, canna sew, canna spin. Wait till you’re wed!

LIZA: I’m not getting wed. I’ll be a cottar wife like Sara.

SARA: (more to herself than to them) You want to be like Sara? It’s day and way for Sara. Every year gets harder for Sara.

LIZA: (coming in over SARA’s words) I’m not getting wed. Not yet. Not for years. The sooner you wed, the more bairns you get.

MAGGIE: That’s what you wed for — bairns!

LIZA: Why?

MAGGIE: Why? Why! (Can’t think what to say, can’t see why she can’t think what to say) Why, they keep the roof over you when they’re older, that’s why. They keep things going. Wull and Tam will soon be half-yins, getting halfpay, and when they’re grown there’ll be Jim and Drew, and the girls will make bondagers in time. Meg can work with her daddy. Netta can work with Wull or Tam. It’ll be grand. We’ll can take our pick at the Hiring. Ay, we’ll be easy then. Soon enough.

LIZA: All in the one house — all in the one room? And what about him (Indicating the cradle), he’ll not be grown, and Rosie’s still wee — and how many more? Easy! You’d be easier without.

MAGGIE: Without what?

LIZA: Bairns.

MAGGIE: Fields aye need folk.

LIZA: Bairns for the maister?

MAGGIE: What’s a hoose without bairns?

LIZA: If you think they’re so bonny, what are you greeting for?

MAGGIE: Me?

LIZA: What do you greet for nights?

MAGGIE: No, not me — it must have been one of the wee ones — Rosie cries —

LIZA: ‘Bake, cook, sew, spin, get wed, have bairns.’ Natter, natter. Nothing about fighting him off in the night!

MAGGIE: (a gesture: meaning ‘you’re havenng’) Now… where was I… what was I going to do next…

LIZA: I hear you! I hear you nights! Do you think I don’t hear you?

MAGGIE: Now, what was I doing…

LIZA: You sit on by the fire, hoping he’ll sleep. You fetch moss from the peat moor to stuff up your legs, I’ve seen.

SARA: (calling out from her own house, or garden) Liza, fetch me some water, would you?

LIZA: It’s bad enough listening when folk are — happy. But when they’re pleading, crying — giving in —

SARA: Liza! Go to the pump for me, there’s my lass!

MAGGIE: (very upset, loath to admit it to herself) What’s day is day… and night is night.

SARA: Liza!

(LIZA insouciant, unrepentant, fetches some receptacle for water, and goes off to the pump)

MAGGIE:… and the bairns are my days! (She starts — or resumes — some piece of work, then stops, goes to the cradle) Aye… wee lamb… my wee burdie… (Picks him up.) She doesna ken ought. Just a muckle great tawpie, that’s all she is. (Begins to nurse the baby) Dinna go to sleep my burdie. Tak your fill.

(It is she who is being comforted by the nursing, rather than the baby)

Now… Now… I ken where I am now. I canna feel dowie when you tug like that. A’ the bairns at the breast. A’ the folk in the fields. A’ the bonny folk. A good harvest is a blessing to all. That’s right. Tak yer fill, burdie, I ken who I am when you’re there.