Chapter 4

4

Billy Dalziel had done a hard day’s work and had eaten his plain meal of vegetables and potatoes, then made his way to the Goose and Gander for a well-earned pint of his favourite beer. Winter was by far the least enjoyable season of the year, and he had spent the day slaughtering and butchering pigs in order to dry and salt their meat for the winter. He smelled dreadful, but he supposed that everyone else did too.

He sat down and ordered his drink, then gave the payment to Maura, who smiled at him sympathetically. “Hard day, Billy?” she asked, patting him on the shoulder.

“Aye, Maura.” He sighed, his voice infinitely weary. “Butcherin’ swine is no’ my idea o’ fun!”

Maura served him his usual pint, the one she had worked hard to procure. The tavern made most of its own beer, but because they could never keep up with demand, they sometimes had to use the services of an outside supplier, particularly during winter, when the tavern did most of its business. However, demand was so excessive during that winter, which was the coldest anyone could remember, that their normal brewer was simply overwhelmed. To add to their troubles, the barley harvest had been a poor one, so they had less to work with.

Consequently, Maura had had to seek a new supplier, but all the established breweries were too busy, so she had to cast her net wider. That was when she came across a newcomer called Best Beer Breweries.

Maura was always very careful when it came to sourcing suppliers, but in this case, she had no choice in the matter. She went to see the owner, Ross MacCafferty, to look around his establishment and ensure that he was using the best ingredients and making beer that met her very high standards. MacCafferty was a genial man in his mid-forties, not exactly handsome, but pleasant to look at and with an engaging manner that put her at ease at once. She wanted to take her ale and excuse herself, but he insisted that she tasted it. After that, Maura was obliged to sit through a tedious monologue about how he had started the business and what he intended to do in the future; MacCafferty did not ask one question about her or the tavern her family had established. He was completely self-absorbed.

However, the ale did seem to be quite acceptable, and that was the important thing, so when she left, Maura was quite content, even though she had been bored witless. But she had saved her business, and so she breathed a sigh of relief, watching Billy take his drink at hand.

It was then that she heard a loud shout and a splutter from Billy’s table. She turned on her heel and looked back to see him shaking his head and spitting out his ale disgustedly.

“What is this stuff?” he demanded. “Pig swill?” He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and advanced towards Maura threateningly, holding out his cup. “Taste it an’ tell me that is beer!”

Maura had been confident that the beer she had been sold by MacCafferty was perfectly fine because she had tasted it, but when she sipped the liquid, she had to admit that Billy was right. Not only was the ale almost as weak as water, but it had a flavour like the smell of wet wool, and was quite unpalatable.

A wave of anger washed over her as she realised that she had been deceived, and that the ale she had tasted at the brewery was not what she was drinking now.

“I am sorry, Billy,” she told him. “We ran out o’ our own ale because the barley harvest was so bad. We had tae buy fae somebody I had never used before, but dinnae worry. We will not be usin’ him again.”

To make up for his bad experience, Maura gave Billy a small glass of whisky, which was a rare treat. He raised his eyebrows when he saw the glass, then laughed. “Can ye give me some more o’ that, so I can spit it out again?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.

Maura had to force herself to laugh, since it was the last thing she felt like doing. She wanted to find Ross MacCafferty and strangle him with her bare hands!

Some of the other customers were complaining by this time, and Maura had to pacify them by giving each a shot of her precious whisky. It would use up most of her stock, but she knew that if she did not make amends somehow the reputation of the Goose and Gander would be ruined, and the other taverns would benefit.

Gavin, who had been watching quietly from his post, thought quickly. He stepped into the middle of the floor and clapped his hands to ask for attention. When every head had turned to look at him, he spoke up.

“This mess is all my fault,” he told them contritely, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I accidentally switched two good barrels with two that had been stored for too long and were going rancid. By the time I realised my mistake it was too late, so I apologise, Maura. Blame this on me, and I promise I will work as hard as I can and repay you every penny.”

There was a chorus of agreement and many choice insults at this admission. Gavin wished the floor would open up and swallow him, but at the same time he had to clench his fists tightly and clamp his mouth shut to hold in the boiling rage inside him. He would have dearly liked to use his fists and decorate some of these men’s faces with a few colourful bruises.

“Make sure ye do!” she snapped.

Maura looked stern and angry, but Gavin had learned to read her by now and knew that it was all an act for the benefit of the patrons of the tavern. For a while, he was too busy to speak to her, but as they were clearing up for the evening, she came up to him in the kitchen and put her hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Gavin,” she said warmly. “Naebody has ever stood up for me like that before. I didnae think anybody ever would, least o’ a’ you.”

“I have fought for you before,” he reminded her.

“Aye.” She nodded. “But when ye came here, ye were no’ exactly humble, were ye? Ye didnae treat anybody very well.”

“I’m ashamed to say that I did not,” he admitted, “but there are many reasons for that. Maybe I could be gentler and more considerate to everyone.”

Maura smiled at him. “I knew ye were a good man inside,” she said softly.

She watched his eyes soften into an answering smile and thought for the hundredth time how handsome he was. She could easily fall in love with someone like him, she thought, if it were not for his anger and arrogance, yet she sensed that behind it lurked a deep sadness.

“Can ye tell me what the reasons were?” she asked gently. “If ye want to, of course. I know we dinnae know each other very well, but you can trust me. Nothing ye tell me will ever go beyond these walls. I can see that ye’re troubled, an’ believe me, I know just how ye feel. Naebody’s life is perfect.”

He smiled at her, and all of a sudden, he knew that he could, indeed, trust this astonishing woman who had come into his life so recently and transformed it completely. He could imagine pulling her into his arms and kissing her, but somehow he knew that any show of that kind of affection would be instantly rebuffed.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “I feel as though I have been carrying such a weight on my shoulders for such a long time. It would be wonderful to share it with someone.”

Maura looked into his sad eyes and wondered how she had misjudged him so badly. Suddenly, he looked intensely vulnerable, and every one of her instincts was telling her that he needed her; not only that, but she was beginning to suspect that she needed him too, although not in the same way.

“Come wi’ me,” she said, then took his hand and led him away to the end of the corridor where his own sleeping place was and up a flight of wooden stairs. They entered a small room where a cheerful fire was burning, lending it an air of cosiness and warmth.

There was a single bed covered by a colourful patchwork quilt, a chest of drawers, a small table, and two worn armchairs on either side of the fire. Each of the chairs had a circular patchwork cushion on it, and Gavin noticed that each had been stitched and embroidered with intricate patterns. A skilled seamstress had been at work here.

“Did you make these?” he asked in wonder.

“Aye,” she answered. “My mother taught me when I was a wee lassie. She was an artist. She spun an’ dyed her own thread an’ used old clothes for the patches. But we didnae come here tae talk about her. Tell me what happened tae you.”

Gavin put his elbows on his knees and covered his face with his hands for a moment, then he looked into the fire, casting his mind back into the past.

“I was fortunate to have a very happy childhood,” he began. “My parents loved each other very much. I am their only child, and they spoiled me a lot. In fact, they treated me like their favourite doll sometimes!” He laughed at the thought, then he became solemn again. “They used to make a great fuss of me on my birthday when I was a bairn. I do not think I will ever love someone more than them.”

“You will when you have bairns o’ your own,” Maura said confidently.

“If I ever find a woman who would put up with me,” he answered, with a little laugh. “Maybe if I meet some lady who is brave enough to take me on, I will have some in the future.” However, he could never see any possibility of that.

There was silence for a moment, while Gavin gathered his thoughts. Should he tell Maura who he was? He had thought he could trust her, but what if he was wrong? He dithered for a moment, then decided that the safest course of action was to say nothing about his true identity. Maura might have the best intentions in the world, but she was only human and could let his secret slip unintentionally.

“Where is your mother an’ father now?” she asked, as she saw the glitter of tears forming in his eyes.

“They died two years ago,” he replied. “My father and mother were returning to Duncairn after visiting some friends. They were travelling back, but that was the year we had that terrible rain. There was a dreadful storm as they left Dundee and the bridge over the River Tay was only just above the river. We think they decided to risk the crossing, but it gave way and they both drowned, along with the driver. He was a farmer’s son, only seventeen years old.”

He paused to wipe his eyes, and once more he gazed into the fire, remembering. It was common knowledge that Laird and Lady Forsyth had died when their carriage had overturned, so he had changed a few of the details to make them sound quite different. His pain was no less acute as he told the story than it had been when it happened; he felt an almost physical pain assail him.

Maura reached over and grasped his hand. “I am so sorry for your loss,” she said gently. If only he knew how much she could relate.

Gavin nodded slowly. “Thank you, Maura,” he said. “I suppose you are right, but nothing will ever make up for the loss of my parents, especially my mother. She was an angel, and I miss her every day.”

“I lost some o’ my family an’ a’,” Maura told him, “but I always found the best thing tae dae was tae get stuck intae somethin’ else. Work always takes your mind off your pain, at least I think so. I told ye that my mother taught me tae sew, make the cushions an’ embroider them. When I start tae think o’ sad things, or I am worried about somethin’ I pick up my sewin’. I have taught a few o’ the other ladies in the village how tae dae it, an’ sometimes we get together tae sew an’ chatter. It is a good way o’ makin’ useful things an’ meetin’ friends at the same time. Can ye dae anythin’ like that?”

“Not anything useful,” he replied with a heavy sigh. “My father taught me how to use a sword and a bow, but those are things that need a lot of practice.”

“An’ I think half the fellows livin’ here would kill each other!” Maura gave a rueful laugh.

“You might be right,” Gavin agreed. He looked up at her thoughtfully. “When my parents died, I became so bitter that I took my frustration and anger out on everyone else, and I became the arrogant so-and-so you see before you. I lost my home because it came with my father’s job, and I couldn’t find another place to live, or paid employment, which is why I ended up here. You have helped me greatly and for that, I thank you.”

While Gavin was speaking, he watched her closely and saw that she looked surprised. In fact, Maura was absolutely stunned, feeling that she had actually inspired someone. She was a nobody, an ordinary woman who lived in a small village where no one respected her at all and thought she was weak and lived under the thumb of her uncle, a drunken bully.

“I think ye are giving me too much credit,” she told him. Maura would not let him know about her own sad story, which also involved the loss of her parents. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel sorry for her. If Gavin wanted to admire her, she would not stop him, since his admiration would likely not last for very long. “But I am glad tae have helped ye, Gavin. I want to do whatever I can for you,” she told him, then she did something very unexpected and hugged him tightly. It was only a brief, momentary contact, but it had a profound effect on both of them, since it was the first time they had really touched each other. “Now ye are my friend,” she said, smiling.

“Thank you for that,” he said gently. “I have not had a friend for a very long while, so I am glad to have you, Maura. I promise you that I will be the best and most loyal friend you ever had.”

Maura thought the words sounded a little like the vows in a wedding ceremony, but she did not say so. Instead, she yawned. “Time tae sleep,” she said wearily. Then she picked up the cushion from the chair and offered it to him.

“For me?” he asked, puzzled.

“A gift tae celebrate our friendship,” Maura answered, smiling. “I can make another one for myself.”

“I will treasure it,” he told her. “What can I give you in return?”

“Just be my friend,” she replied, smiling. “That is enough.”