The Good Provider Read Online Free Page A

hugged her awkwardly while she whispered to him in a voice so low that not even Gordon could make it out. Madge Nicholson observed the display of intimacy, heard the whispering and began to have an inkling of the girl’s purpose here. When Craig’s gentleness turned to sudden fury she knew that her guess was correct.
    ‘Damn him, damn the bastard,’ Craig raged.
    ‘Clegg?’ said Bob, nodding.
    ‘Damn the filthy swine. He tried, the old bastard.’
    ‘Tried?’ said Gordon from the corner. ‘Tried what?’
    ‘Never you mind,’ said Madge.
    ‘I’ll – I’ll kill him, so I will,’ Craig cried.
    Madge put a hand on her son’s shoulder, offering what seemed at that moment like comfort and understanding. She pushed him away from the girl and leaned forward.
    ‘You led him on, I suppose,’ she said.
    ‘Mother, for Christ’s sake!’ Craig exploded.
    ‘He just – just came,’ said Kirsty. ‘I’d been down to Bankhead to borrow the horse. I was soaked so I went into the bothy to change into somethin’ dry. He – he was at the window. Starin’ at me. At the bothy window.’
    ‘You knew he was there?’
    ‘No, no, I swear.’
    ‘Madge, leave her alone, for God’s sake,’ Bob said.
    ‘Keep out of it, you,’ Madge said, without turning. ‘Did he touch you?’
    ‘Aye, he threw me – threw me down on the floor.’
    ‘Where?’
    ‘In the kitchen, in the cottage.’
    ‘Jesus, I’ll kill him,’ Craig hissed.
    ‘Did he do it?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Do not play coy wi’ me. You know fine what I mean.’
    ‘No,’ said Kirsty. ‘No, he didn’t – didn’t manage.’
    ‘When you went into the kitchen after he’d ogled you, what were you wearin’?’
    ‘What’s that got to do—?’ Craig began.
    Madge ignored him.
    ‘This, what I’m wearin’ now,’ Kirsty said.
    ‘Sunday best,’ said Madge Nicholson, vindicated.
    ‘I’ve nothin’ else, Mrs Nicholson. It’s all I had dry.’
    ‘You led him on.’
    ‘Enough, Madge.’ Bob heaved himself out of his chair.
    The unexpected movement provoked Madge to withdraw a little.
    ‘We’ll see what Mr Clegg has to say in respect of your accusations,’ she declared.
    Craig, a little calmer now, scowled. Mr Clegg! He had never before heard his mother refer to their neighbour with such formality. She had always been scathing about the tenant of Hawkhead.
    ‘Please, please, don’t send me back,’ Kirsty begged.
    ‘Where else are you to go, may I ask?’ said Madge. ‘Besides, you’re Mr Clegg’s servant.’
    ‘Aye, but he canna do what he likes wi’ me.’
    Bob Nicholson, who had slipped away without anyone in the kitchen noticing, returned at that moment with a glass in his hand. He offered it to Kirsty who, with a questioning glance at Craig, accepted.
    ‘What’s that you’re givin’ her?’ Madge enquired.
    ‘Medicine,’ Bob said. ‘Knock it back, lass. It’ll steady your nerves.’
    Kirsty closed her eyes, obediently tipped the small quantity of liquor into her mouth and swallowed. She gasped, coughed and handed the empty glass back to Mr Nicholson.
    The man said, ‘Is that no’ better?’
    ‘Aye, Mr Nicholson.’
    The effect of the whisky was startling. It seemed to loosen a knot of shame and embarrassment in Kirsty. She put her head into her hands to hide her face and began, once more, to weep.
    The sight of the girl’s distress stirred Craig’s temper once more. He strode out into the hallway, whisked his jacket from the cupboard and snatched his boots from the rack and carried them back into the kitchen.
    ‘Where do you think you’re goin’?’ his mother asked.
    ‘Up the hill to wring the truth out o’ that dirty bastard.’
    ‘Easy, son.’ Bob put a hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘No point courting trouble because of the likes o’ Duncan Clegg.’
    ‘Do you not believe what Kirsty told us?’
    ‘Och, aye, I believe her. She’s got no reason to lie. But throttlin’ Duncan Clegg’s no’ the