Chapter 11
Kitty Muirhead
ICLUTCH THE BASKET OF COAL, blinking away stubborn tears that keep gathering in my eyes.
It’s boggin work at the saltpans. I’ve covered my dress with a long apron to try and keep off the worst of the filth, but it’s no use – the fabric is smeared with thick black lines of coal dust. I’ve only got two decent dresses and this one’s ruined.
They think I’m a slouster – well, now I look like one.
I can’t believe I’m back here again, carrying baskets from the coal pile into the saltpan hoose. After all I did for Jamie Bogge, my soul ruined – where has it got me? Nowhere.
Inside the hoose, there’s salt in the air, like sweat and the sea.
I lower my eyes to avoid the lusty eyes of Finn Drummie as I empty the load onto the hot shallow fire under the iron pans of seawater.
It’s humiliating – he kens I only come up to earn a few extra coins when I’m desperate.
And I’m desperate again, despite everything.
Hunger rumbles in my belly, along with something else.
‘You’re a bright lass. If you stick at it, we could get you working on the sieves after a few weeks,’ Finn said when I first worked here, and I scoffed.
Imagine thinking sieving salt was something to aim for in life.
I only come here when there’s nothing left to eat, back to the lowest job at the pans.
But there’s nothing left most days now Ma’s dead.
Everyone knows what happened at Dunrobin so nobody trusts me enough to offer me better paid work.
The coal is heavier than usual. My legs are thick and sluggish as I heave the basket. My breasts ache and I’m out of breath – my body is full of fatigue and it’s getting harder to hide my situation. I’ve been in some terrible situations but this might be the worst yet.
When I’ve poured the basket of coal into the fire, I take a deep breath. There’s only one man who could be responsible for the state I’m in. I need to find him; he must make good on his promises to repay me. I look down at my filthy dress and apron, straining over my already swelling body.
‘Kitty Muirhead,’ Finn says, my name a leer in his mouth.
I want to knock that look off his face but make myself swallow the anger – I ken full well he’s one of the figures in the kirkyard.
I ken what he’s done, and what I’ve done too now.
The clang of metal against metal; metal against stone; the scraping of the gravestone away from the space beneath; the stench as the box is prised open; Jamie Bogge, with the wolf at his side, ordering what had to be done to the stinking, rotting mass within. I shake away the thought.
Finn stares at me. There are salt crystals on his eyelashes.
‘Finn.’ I make myself smile. ‘How are you?’
He looks at me with suspicion, lechery replaced by mistrust at my friendliness. ‘Well enough. What’s it to you?’
I look him in the eye – there’s no point beating around the bush here. I can’t go and look for Jamie Bogge at Dunrobin, not after what happened there. I need Finn’s help. ‘I need to speak to Jamie Bogge. Where can I find him? And not . . . not at one of the kirkyard meetings.’
Finn shrugs. ‘Had enough of you, has he? He’ll find you if he wants you. There’s only one person he trusts – and that’s me.’
I roll my eyes; I can’t help it. ‘Do you even ken who he is? I mean, who he really is?’
Finn looks unsure. ‘Y-e-s . . .’ he stammers. ‘Yes, of course I do.’
I laugh. ‘You don’t, do you? He doesn’t trust you at all.’
‘If you know so much, why not find him yourself?’ Finn takes a step forward.
I lower my eyes. ‘I can’t. I need . . . I need you to ask him to meet me.’
Finn shakes his head. ‘The Culmaily coven is not his only congregation. He travels all over Sutherland – all over Scotland. A man like Jamie Bogge’ – he moves his face closer to mine – ‘doesn’t live by the same rules as the rest of us.’
His breath smells of fish and ale, and I take a step backwards. ‘If you don’t know, just say so, Finn Drummie. You’re one of his underlings too, and embarrassed to admit it.’
He laughs. ‘Me, embarrassed? In front of you.’
I swallow the shame – there’s nothing he can say that will make my situation worse, and I must find Jamie Bogge. ‘He’ll want to see me,’ I say firmly. ‘Tell him if he doesn’t, I’ll tell folk who he really is.’
Finn looks me up and down and steps closer, the leer returning to his face. ‘Perhaps if you were to show me some of the same . . . generosity you show him, I’ll tell you.’
‘So you do ken where I can find him?’ I shoot back. ‘You’d better tell me or I’ll tell him about your proposition. Something tells me he’s not a man who likes to share.’
A moment of worry crosses Finn’s face but he waves it away dismissively. ‘He wouldn’t care. You’re nothing to him. A peasant who’s too poor to pay him in money.’
‘Can you take that risk?’ I counter. ‘He’ll see me or I’ll expose him – and I’ll expose you. Everyone knows what happened to John Gunn was no accident. You should not refuse me.’
The hardness of Finn’s gaze turns into something else – perhaps resignation, perhaps fear. ‘All right then, I’ll tell him. You can meet him at my hoose tonight.’
‘I’m not coming to your hoose,’ I snap back.
Wherever I imagined meeting Jamie Bogge, with his well-cut clothes and voice dripping with aristocracy, it certainly wasn’t in the home of someone like Finn Drummie.
And who knows, Finn might use this opportunity for his own ends, luring me to his hoose alone.
‘It’s that or nothing,’ Finn states.
I stare at him then take a deep breath and nod – I have no choice.
‘Come to my hoose at sunset,’ he instructs. ‘I’ll tell him you insisted. But, believe me, you are the one taking risks here, Kitty Muirhead, far greater risks than you ken.’
I blink back tears. I want to tell Finn how hopeless I feel, how everything has gone so wrong, but I force away the thought and scrunch my eyes tight – I won’t let him see me cry.
When I look up again, his gaze is cauld and he shoves me in the arm. ‘Now, you’re here to work – go and fetch more coal.’