‘You’re such a good girl, Kitty, and I am so very glad of your help, both inside the house and out while I am . . . encumbered. Of course, soon it will be time for you to have a husband and a family of your own. You’ll turn eighteen next week. Goodness, I can’t quite believe it.’
‘I’m in no rush, Mother,’ said Kitty, remembering the last time the minister of the North Leith parish had come to tea with his wife and pointedly introduced her to his son, Angus. The young man had blushed every time he’d spoken through thick, wet lips about how he was to follow his father into the ministry. She was sure that he was perfectly nice, but although she still didn’t quite know what she wanted, it certainly wasn’t to be the wife of a minister. Or Angus.
‘And I will be lost without you here,’ Adele continued, ‘but one day it will be so.’
Kitty decided to grasp the moment, for it was not often she and her mother were alone. ‘I wanted to ask you something.’
‘What is it?’
‘I have been wondering whether Father would consider letting me train as a teacher. I would so very much like to have a profession. And, as you know, I enjoy teaching my sisters.’
‘I am not sure that your father would approve of you having a “profession”, as you put it,’ Adele said with a frown.
‘Surely, he would see it as God’s work? Helping the less fortunate to learn to read and write,’ Kitty persevered. ‘It would mean I was no longer a burden to you if I was earning my own keep.’
‘Kitty dear, that is what a husband is for,’ Adele said gently. ‘We must remember that even though your father has selflessly given himself to the Lord and his path has led us here to Leith, you are a descendant of the Douglas Clan. No woman from my family has ever worked for a living. Only for charity, as we both do now.’
‘I cannot see how anyone – either my grandparents or the Lord above – would think it shameful for a woman to work. I saw an advertisement in The Scotsman for young women to train as teachers and—’
‘By all means, ask your father, but I am sure that he will wish for you to carry on doing your good works in the parish until you find a suitable husband. Now, my back is aching on this hard chair. Let us go and sit in the drawing room where it is warmer and more comfortable.’
Frustrated by her mother’s lack of support for the idea she’d been harbouring for the past few weeks, Kitty did as she’d been bidden. She sat by the fire as her mother took up her knitting for the forthcoming baby and pretended to read a book.
Twenty minutes later, they heard the front door open, heralding the return of the Reverend McBride.
‘I think I will retire to bed, Mother,’ said Kitty, not in the mood to make conversation with her father. Crossing him in the hallway, she dipped a curtsey. ‘Good evening, Father. I trust you had a pleasant supper with Mrs McCrombie?’
‘Indeed I did.’
‘Well then, goodnight.’ Kitty made for the stairs.
‘Goodnight, my dear.’
A few minutes later Kitty climbed into bed, noticing how the spider had wrapped its web so thoroughly around the bluebottle that it was hardly to be seen, and praying that her father had not set his daughter in a similar trap of the marriage variety.
‘Please Lord, anybody but Angus,’ she groaned.
*
The following morning, Kitty sat at the desk in her father’s study. She had offered to take over the task of completing the parish accounts while her mother was indisposed, which included totting up the amounts from the collection plate at church, along with any other charitable donations, and balancing them against what seemed like frighteningly large outgoings. As she worked through this week’s columns of figures, she heard a loud knocking on the front door and ran to answer it before it woke her mother, who was resting upstairs.
She opened the door to a young woman whom she recognised immediately as the girl who had appeared outside the manse the night before.
‘Good morning. May I help you?’
‘I need tae see Ralph,’ the young woman said, urgency apparent in her voice.
‘The Reverend McBride is out visiting parishioners,’ Kitty said. ‘Might I pass on a message?’
‘You’re no’ lyin’, are ye? I reckon he’s bin hidin’ from me. I need tae speak to him. Now.’
‘As I said, he is not at home. May I pass on a message?’ Kitty repeated firmly.
‘Ye tell him Annie needs a word. Ye tell him it can’t wait.’
Before Kitty could reply, the young woman turned swiftly and ran off down the street.
As she closed the front door, Kitty wondered why the woman had used her father’s Christian name . . .
When Ralph arrived home two hours later, she tapped tentatively on the door of his study.
‘Come.’
‘Sorry to disturb you, Father, but a young lady came by the house this morning.’
‘Really?’ Ralph looked up, put down his pen and removed his reading glasses. ‘And what did she want? A few ha’pennies, no doubt. They all do.’
‘No. She specifically asked me to tell you that “Annie needs a word”. And it can’t wait. Apparently,’ Kitty added lamely. There was a pause before Ralph put his reading glasses back on his nose and picked up his pen once more. He began to write as Kitty hovered in the doorway.
‘I think I know the girl,’ he responded eventually. ‘She waits outside the church on Sundays. I took pity on her once and threw her some coins from the collection. I’ll deal with her.’
‘Yes, Father. I’ll be off to run some errands now.’ Kitty withdrew from the study and hurried to retrieve her bonnet, shawl and cape, relieved to escape from a sudden tension she felt but couldn’t begin to describe.
On the way back home with a heavy basket of eggs, milk, vegetables and a waxed wrapper full of the haggis her father loved and the rest of the family tolerated, the cold wind stiffened. Kitty pressed her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she walked down a narrow alley that was a shortcut to Henderson Street. The sight of a familiar figure just ahead of her in the deepening gloom made her freeze where she was. Her father was standing on a doorstep with the poor creature – Annie – who had knocked on the manse door earlier that day. Kitty shrank back into the shadows, instinct telling her she should not reveal herself.
The woman’s features were contorted in what could have been pain or anger as she whispered hoarsely to him. Kitty watched as Ralph reached out and gripped Annie’s hands tightly, before leaning in close to whisper something in her ear and planting a tender kiss on her forehead. Then, with a wave, he turned and walked away. Annie stood alone, her hands clasping and unclasping over what Kitty saw was a markedly distended belly. A second later, she disappeared inside and the door was firmly shut.
After waiting a good five minutes Kitty walked home, her legs unsteady beneath her. Mechanically, she went through her chores, but her mind was continually spinning with possible answers to what she had seen. Perhaps it hadn’t been what it had seemed; perhaps her father had simply been comforting the poor woman in her distress . . .
Yet, in the darkest corner of her mind, Kitty already knew.