SCENE FOUR

(MAGGIE, TOTTIE, SARA, LIZA … and ELLEN later. All working, or about to. MAGGIE working in, or for, her own house. LIZA filling baskets or a barrow with neeps to feed the beasts (or crushing the neeps in the crusher). SARA helping TOTTIE to ‘breech her claes’, i.e. kittle up her skirts, so that they’re almost like trousers, ready for work)

SARA: Has he spoken to Andra, the maister?

MAGGIE: No. Not yet. Has he spoken to you?

SARA: (shakes her head) No. Not yet. Not to anyone yet. Not that I’ve heard. (Without conviction) Well, there’s time…

LIZA: There’s hardly any time. It’s past Hogmanay.

(A pause. Uneasy)

SARA: Maister Elliott always speaks well before the Hiring. He’s good that way.

MAGGIE: Not long till the Hiring now.

LIZA: First Monday in February.

(Uneasy pause)

MAGGIE: He’s bound to keep some on. The steward; the herd. And he’s well pleased with Andra, he’ll be speaking to Andra. (to SARA) Ellen’ll see that you’re kept on, don’t fret.

SARA: Tottie’s had bad days. Too many bad days.

MAGGIE: And who’s to blame? Kello. Well, they won’t keep him on, that’s for sure. It’s a wonder he wasn’t sent packing before — straight after the kirn! Mind, the same could be said for some other — dirt!

SARA: That’s not right, Maggie, that’s not fair!

MAGGIE: You don’t know the half of it. Don’t know the half of her! Flaunty piece of — dirtery!

(SARA wants to smooth this, but can’t.

MAGGIE, SARA, LIZA, all speaking and shouting at once here:)

MAGGIE: (to LIZA) Her father must be turning in his grave. Dirt. If the maister only knew, he’d send her packing. Dirt — that’s all she is.

LIZA: (incoherent, upset) My father — aye, he must — at you — at you and your man. What do you expect me to do — what? If my father knew — if Steenie was here — he’d — if he — it’s not right — it’s not.

MAGGIE: Just like her mother. Maisie Kerr — no better than she should be. Tinkler trash!

SARA: That’s not true, Maggie, that’s not true at all!

LIZA: Liar! That’s a lie!

ELLEN: What’s all this? All this noise? Haven’t you work enough to keep busy? The maister’s sick of all this clamjamfray. Where’s Tottie — Tottie? — Tottie, come here —

(TOTTIE comes, without enthusiasm. ELLEN hugs her, but she doesn’t reciprocate)

ELLEN: Why haven’t you been working? Bad girl. Wild girl! (says this nicely, cajolingly, but TOTTIE, sulky, is trying to break away) You used to be a good worker, Tottie. You’ve got to be good. Hey, now, promise me, now — you’ll be a good girl now.

(TOTTIE retreats to stack, bale, somewhere)

ELLEN: (to SARA) The steward’s been grumbling to the maister. She deaves all the men, she throws herself at Kello.

MAGGIE: Kello shouldn’t be here. They should have sent him away.

ELLEN: Yes. I know.

MAGGIE: Then why did they not?

ELLEN: Because she wouldn’t say. Tottie wouldn’t say. (To TOTTIE.) You should have told them, Tottie, you should have told them what happened to you.

MAGGIE: She said it all to us. Don’t they believe it? There was blood on her claes.

ELLEN: I know.

MAGGIE: He should have been punished.

ELLEN: (knowing how feeble this is) They did punish him, the men.

MAGGIE: Oh — they douked him in the trough, and kicked him round the yard. But they feel sorry for him now. Some of the lads admire him, almost, some of the lassies even. It’s Tottie they’re angry at now.

(LIZA very silent, very subdued — and very resentful)

SARA: He changed Tottie. He stole her.

MAGGIE: They laugh and swear at her now.

ELLEN: ‘I keep a steward to manage my workers.’ That’s all the maister says, that’s all he’ll say. ‘I won’t keep a dog and bark for myself.’

MAGGIE: He barks when it’s lassies causing the trouble. He sent Minnie packing… almost before we’d time to find out why!

ELLEN: And the steward won’t budge. ‘It takes two,’ he says, ‘Takes two to smoor the fleas.’ You know how they are — maisters, stewards — they leave things be, till the turn of the year. They leave it till the Speaking, and let the bad ones go. Leave it till the Hiring, and let them go.

MAGGIE: (with some satisfaction) No one’ll hire Kello. That’s for sure!

ELLEN: I wouldn’t be so certain. He’s good with the horses, he’s a hero with horses.

MAGGIE: (with a venomous look at LIZA) Folk like that are left till last at the Hiring! Lads or lassies!

SARA: It’s us who’ll get left, Tottie and me.

ELLEN: You won’t need to go to the Hiring, Sara. You can stay on here, you know that surely. But see she behaves. If she won’t do any work, at least keep her quiet — and away from the men. For the maister won’t stand for all this — nonsense.

(SARA obviously feels this is easier said than done)

ELLEN: She throws up her skirts, she rushes at Kello, the other men have to pull her away.

SARA: (very quietly) He changed Tottie, he stole her.

MAGGIE: If she hated him now — if she feared him, even — well, that would make sense.

SARA: She’s angry at him — but not that way.

ELLEN: You know what they say? ‘Well, no wonder,’ they say. ‘No wonder what happened, just look at the way she behaves, poor Kello, poor man, it wasn’t his fault, he’d had a few, mind, why not, at the kirn, and what was she doing there out in the field — asking for it.’ That’s what they say.

SARA: I know.

MAGGIE: (going off, brisk, busy) Not the only one asking for it. And not just in the fields, either! Sleekit piece of dirtery!

SARA: (to TOTTIE; as she talks, she fetches TOTTIE, and ushers her reluctantly off) We’ll spoil a few moudies in the far field, Tottie, eh? You like doing that. Fetch your hoe, we’ll give the moudieworps a gliff!

ELLEN: (she has been aware of LIZA’s reactions, and the vibes from MAGGIE throughout this scene) Liza!

LIZA: I’ve the beasts to feed.

ELLEN: (signals LIZA to come nearer) There’s Mary and Jenny to see to the beasts. Tell them I needed you up at the House. It’s no more than the truth — there’s flax to be spun!

LIZA: (miserable, awkward, won’t meet ELLEN’s eye) Can’t spin. I don’t want to spin.

ELLEN: (though never sentimental, touched now by LIZA’s misery) Don’t listen to Maggie, what she said about your mother, it isn’t true. She’s jealous, that’s all. Your father was fierce — but a’body liked your mother.

LIZA: How would you know?

ELLEN: Steenie tole me. Over and over.

(LIZA wants very much to go)

ELLEN: Liza. It wasn’t your fault. About Kello and Tottie. You’re not to blame. Don’t let them blame you. Jenny’s not blamed. She holds up her head. Don’t let them blame you.

LIZA: (frustrated, near to tears) It’s not just that… It’s her!

ELLEN: Maggie?

LIZA: Him!

ELLEN: Kello?

(LIZA shakes her head)

ELLEN: Andra!

(LIZA nods)

ELLEN: (incredulous) Andra!

LIZA: (blurting this, chopping it up) It’s not my fault. It’s not. Just because I — because — because of Kello — since the kirn — Maggie — they all think — they all think I’m — word gets round — it’s not my fault — I haven’t done anything…

ELLEN: (disbelief — not tragically shocked, because she can’t take Andra all that seriously — maybe a hint of mirth already in her voice) Andra.

LIZA: (upset) She won’t — I can’t help hearing them at night — and then he — I hate it, hearing them — she won’t let him, she won’t touch him — and then he — he comes and stands by the other bed. I keep the curtains drawn, I hug the bairns close, the two on the outside, and the wee one between me and the wall — but they sleep like the dead — he stands there, I can hear him — she can hear him, that’s the worst, she can hear him, I hear her listening — but it’s not my fault — it’s not my fault — it’s not…

ELLEN: But he doesn’t — does he? — Andra? What does he do?

LIZA: Nothing. He stands there. Breathing.

(ELLEN can no longer hold in her laughter, fairly snorts with mirth)

LIZA: (outraged at this response) It isn’t funny. It isn’t my fault.

ELLEN: Andra! It would be like going to bed with a tumshie! (Beginning to laugh again)

LIZA: (in self-defence) He isn’t in my bed. (Almost in defence of him) I don’t think he’s a tumshie! He’s got awful bonny legs.

ELLEN: Oh?

LIZA: I’ve spied them through the curtains.

ELLEN: Ah.

LIZA: I like working with Andra. That wall-eyed mare, the one that kicks, she was ramming me tight against the stable wall, I was losing my breath, but Andra came along and roared and whacked her, he showed me how to roar and whack, she’s been quiet with me since.

ELLEN: (laughter threatening again) Ummm.

LIZA: I don’t want him in my bed, whatever Maggie says. I don’t want him at all. I’m not a bad girl.

ELLEN: I know that, Liza. I know you’re not bad. (Without remorse, quite fondly) Ellen Rippeth was bad, Ellen Rippeth-that-was… I was douce with Steenie, though, I wasn’t bad to Steenie… Have you heard from Steenie? (LIZA shakes her head)

ELLEN: Saskatchewan. Are they douce there, I wonder?

LIZA: You sent him away.

ELLEN: (brisk) Thistles!

LIZA: Steenie left because of you.

ELLEN: Bonnets! He set off for Canada like you set off for Coldstream brig — he never made up his mind — he’d no mind to make up. You’re two of a kind — you and your brother — fresh pats of butter still waiting on the stamp. He was ower young, Steenie. I didn’t love him, Liza.

LIZA: (muttering) You don’t love the maister, either.

ELLEN: What?

LIZA: But you love the maister, do you?

ELLEN: (very quietly) Almost. Almost.

(A pause. Each lost in her own thoughts — of the maister; of Kello)

LIZA: Kello can ride the maister’s black mare — make it dance, and turn in a ring. He stands on its rump, whilst it circles around, he keeps his balance, he takes off his jacket, his waistcoat, his kerchief. (She is moving, dancing really, as she recalls watching Kello, in the summer, in the paddock) … A red-spotted kerchief. He aye keeps his balance, the mare canters round, and around, and around, and when Kello jumps off, he turns in the air, right round in the air, and lands on his feet … A red-spotted kerchief … His eyes are aye laughing, he dances so trig. He showed me the steps. He stroked my hair.

ELLEN: Tinkler, sorner, seducer — thief!

LIZA: (taken aback, then braving it out) I know.

ELLEN: That’s all right then, so long as you know. The maister locks the doors at night to keep him away from the dairymaids. So now he meets with the hedger’s wife instead — when he’s not walking over to Langriggs at night. The parlourmaid there — they meet in the woods. Bella Menteith. Huh! Who would have thought! Well, she’s no chicken — and so perjink!

(It’s a kick in the teeth for LIZA. ELLEN didn’t mean to say as much)

LIZA: (face-saving; lying) I knew all that! A’body kens that!

(LIZA goes)