The Nickum Read Online Free PDF Page A

that the bigger the farm, the more money they would get, Willie suggested the Mains first, then Ricky Muirhead at Easter Burnton, but his father just laughed. ‘I’ll see if McIntyre’ll tak’ you. He’s nae a bad boss, an’ he’ll nae cheat you.’
    Johnny McIntyre of Wester Burnton, a roly-poly of a man with a big wart on his cheek, said, ‘Ach weel, Jake, they’re a bit young yet, but if they’re prepared to work hard, I’ll gi’e them a try. My horse an’ cart goes round the cottar hooses at six every mornin’. So tell your laddie to get himsel’ to the Grants on Monday, he’ll get lifted wi’ the rest o’ the bairns.’
    There was great excitement on the big day before Willie was ready in his oldest clothes, a pair of wellies on his feet and an old peaked bonnet of his father’s on his wellbrushed hair. Emily had been at her wits’ end making him stand at peace until she made sure all his buttons were fastened, that he had a handkerchief in his pocket, that he remembered to take his dinner with him, but at long last he skipped out, leaving her to collapse on a chair and pour herself a cup of tea. Jake had already gone, taking Becky with him to help him with his ‘crop’. Connie had already left for her work at the Mains.
    Willie ran as fast as his podgy legs would carry him and was knocking on the Grants’ door before any of his fellow tattie-pickers were assembled.
    ‘You’re in plenty time ony road,’ laughed Mrs Grant, ‘but my Poopie’ll nae be lang. I made him gan to the privy to be sure …’
    Guessing why, Willie couldn’t help a little smile, but he didn’t have long to wait for his aptly nicknamed chum, who said sharply, ‘Come on, then, Willie, or we’ll be late an’ Da says they’ll nae wait.’
    By the time they reached the end of the dirt track that led to Johnny McIntyre’s clutch of houses for his workers, there were a good dozen boys of all ages already there, a motley crew in their varied modes of dress, hand-medowns from fathers or older brothers, which were mostly of the over-large size, or old clothes of their own, which were too small and too tight.
    Most of the younger boys were there for the first time, showing their nervousness by shuffling their feet (whether in Wellingtons or tackety boots) and giggling quite a lot. The older boys wore an air of boredom to prove that they had been doing this job for years and knew they were good at it. For once, Willie thought it better not to ask questions, but was somewhat disappointed to find that their transport, when it arrived, was an old cart, drawn by an equally old looking Clydesdale, not the splendid modern bus, as he had imagined.
    Still, what did it matter? It did the same job and their journey wouldn’t be very long. It was farther than he had thought, however, as they were taken to one of McIntyre’s more distant fields, a huge expanse of green vegetation among the evenly distanced furrows. The drills were marked out with branches of broom for the pickers: one length for the older boys and the few retired men who had turned up, half lengths for the younger boys and the few handicapped men. McIntyre himself came over to the two youngest. ‘I’ll let you tak’ half a dreel atween the two o’ you,’ he stated firmly. ‘You should manage that, and if you canna manage that, you needna come back anither day. Is that understood?’
    Willie Fowlie did not join the chorus of ‘Aye, Maister McIntyre.’ His eyes and his total attention were taken up by the big wart on the man’s face. ‘I’ve seen some big warts afore,’ he muttered to Poopie-Cecil as they looked for their designated area, ‘but yon’s like a … a …’ He searched for an appropriate description and finally came up with, ‘… like a bloody aipple.’
    Flabbergasted at the swear-word, for he’d never heard Willie swearing before, Cecil made no reply. He didn’t want them to lose the job before they’d even picked up one tattie.
    It was