The Betrayal of Maggie Blair - By Elizabeth Laird Page 0,11

Pick up what you can find."

Scavenging along the soft wet sand, where the weakened edges of the waves rolled like curls of white hair up to my feet, was my favorite part of the day. Usually Granny spoiled it by coming with me, and it was a treat to be alone except for Sheba, who picked her way along beside me, patting at clumps of seaweed to make the little crabs jump out.

The whale was stinking worse than ever, so I worked as far away from it as I could, walking backwards and forwards along the beach, my eyes down, looking for anything that might be useful. Pieces of driftwood were the most precious things. They made fine burning if they were not big enough for other uses. Sometimes they were tangled and half hidden in hanks of brown seaweed. Lengths of rope and pieces of netting might drift ashore and even bottles. Once I'd found a whole one, corked and still full of wine.

After half an hour my apron, bunched up in one hand, held a few whelks and a good-size length of wood, whitened and smoothed by the sea. I was about to make one last sweep before heading reluctantly back to the cottage, when I heard voices and laughter in the distance. I looked up and saw a crowd of people walking down from the upper glen.

The christening party, I thought. They're on their way to Macbean's.

The sight of thirty or more people on our narrow lane was so rare, and the times when we saw strangers were so few, that I was desperate to watch them go by. I took off fast, sprinting up the beach, over Blackie's field, and in through the gap in the straggly thorn fence to arrive panting just as the procession came within a bowshot of our gate.

Mr. Robertson the minister was walking out in front, striding awkwardly on his long black legs, with Mr. Macbean strutting along beside him, quite shiny with pride and satisfaction. Mrs. Macbean came next, riding on the horse, with Ebenezer bundled in her arms. The other children trudged along behind, little Robbie dragging on his sister's hand. They must have gone out very early, slipping past our cottage while I was still asleep. It was a long walk to the church at Kingarth, and the children were tired.

Behind them came a crowd of guests, the men in their good coats and tall hats, the women in gowns with brightly colored best plaids. I knew most of them by sight. They came from the town of Kingarth as well as from the farms around Scalpsie. Mr. Macbean was the big man in our neighborhood. No one would want to offend him by turning down his invitation. In any case, there would be good food and drink at the farm—sides of beef, and red wine, and wheat bread, and even custards.

I'd wanted to watch the procession without being seen. I'd meant to hide behind the hedge and peer through the gap in it, but I saw, with a lurch of my heart, that Granny was standing outside the gate, half blocking the lane. Her arms were crossed on her chest, and the scowl on her face would have turned a whole bucketful of Blackie's milk sour.

I ran to the hedge and crouched down. Now I could only see the back of Granny's head, but the faces of all our neighbors and the good folk of Kingarth were in full view, and on them I read scorn and a kind of glee, as if they were glad to see the humiliation of the old woman they had despised for years. Even Mrs. Macbean, who had been so grateful when Ebenezer was born, looked away as if something had caught her eye up on the hill, while Annie beside her was grinning with open delight.

I felt a rush of anger at the lot of them, all dressed up in the good clothes we had never had, all so pleased with themselves, all salivating over the feast they were about to enjoy, and before I knew it I had stood up and run out to stand beside my grandmother and face them.

Mr. Robertson had stopped. He said awkwardly, "Now, now, Mistress Elspeth. Will you stand aside and let the good people pass?"

Granny took no notice of him. She lifted her arm and pointed her forefinger at the bundle in Mrs. Macbean's arms.

"I brought that child into this world." The finger