by Emma Fraser
‘You knew him?’ she whispered.
‘Aye. If he’d lived, Bannatyne’s might be a different place.’
She blinked away the tears that burned once more behind her lids. So Alasdair didn’t despise all Bannatynes, then. ‘That day at the shipyard,’ she found herself saying, ‘I was shocked and horrified. I wanted to be able to help someone the way you helped Hamish.’ She smiled. ‘Now I can. I just sat my last exam as a medical student. That’s why my friend and I were in the bar. We were celebrating.’
Alasdair’s eyebrows shot up and he whistled. ‘Well, I never. A doctor. Good for you.’ For the first time she saw approval in his eyes and despite everything he’d said before, it sent a warm glow all the way through her.
She took a sip of her tea. ‘I’m starting as a House Officer at Redlands Hospital in a couple of weeks.’ She couldn’t quite manage to keep the pride from her voice.
‘Never heard of it. What kind of hospital is it?’
‘One for women. It’s all female doctors that work there.’
‘Can anyone go there?’
‘As long as they’re female – and can afford the fees.’
‘Better that you were working for those without money. They need doctors more than the women you’ll be caring for, I’ve no doubt.’
She bristled. Couldn’t she say anything without incurring his disapproval? Just when she was warming to him he said something clearly intended to provoke her. More unsettling was that he made her feel defensive – and she had no reason to feel that way.
‘If it were up to me, I would have taken a House Officer’s post at the Western or the Royal, but they give those posts to men. Don’t think the poor have the prerogative on unfairness. And, for your information, I have cared for the poor. During my training.’
‘I suspect you’ve never seen poor like those who live in the Gorbals – or Govan.’
Why was she bothering? she thought, exasperated. ‘I don’t know why you are so ready to judge me – you know nothing about me.’
‘Perhaps it has something to do with who you are and the way you are dressed. I’m no expert but I imagine the outfit you are wearing would feed an unemployed man and his family for a year.’
‘I doubt that,’ Margaret replied, stung. Although her suit was made from the finest tweed, it wasn’t even her most expensive outfit – not by a long chalk. She couldn’t help noticing earlier that his wool jacket was worn and one of his boots was coming away at the sole.
Alasdair pushed his empty tea cup aside. ‘It has been pleasant talking to you, Miss Bannatyne, but I’ve a shift to get to. At Bannatyne’s as it happens.’
‘You still work at the shipyard?’ So her father hadn’t found a way to fire him after all.
‘Aye. Night foreman.’
‘I’m surprised you continue to work there when you so clearly disapprove of my father and the way he runs his business.’
‘I work for your father because, like everyone else, I need the money. Apart from that, I make sure he runs the yard as safely as possible. Unfortunately, there are still too many like Hamish.’ He took some change from his pocket and signalled to the waitress to bring the bill.
‘Does the nightshift start so early? It’s not even four yet.’ Although she’d said everything she’d wanted to say, she was unaccountably reluctant to say goodbye.
‘It doesn’t start until eight, but I have people I need to see before then.’
‘Friends?’
Once more he gave her the slow smile that made her feel warm inside. ‘You are very inquisitive, Miss Bannatyne.’
‘You claim to know all about me. It’s only fair I should know more about you.’
‘There’s nothing about me that would interest you. But seeing as you’ve asked – I’m going to Govan to see some of the men who used to work for your father before he laid them off. And I should be getting on my way.’
He stood and held out his hand and automatically Margaret shook it. His grip was firm without being too tight, but even through the thin cotton of her gloves she could feel how rough his hands were.
‘I’d like to go with you.’ When his eyebrows rose, she added hastily, ‘To see where the shipyard workers live.’
‘You want to go to Govan?’ If anything, his eyebrows rose even higher. He might well look surprised, she had no idea that that was what she was going to say until the words were out of her mouth.
‘Why not?’ If she went she could see for herself what life was like for her father’s workers. It had nothing to do with the fact, she told herself, that she wasn’t yet ready to part from this man. ‘I’m going to the opera with my fiancé this evening, but until then I’m free.’
His eyes took on the wintry look she remembered so well. ‘I read about your engagement in the paper. Somehow I doubt Viscount Locksley would approve of his fiancée gadding about the East End.’
‘Robert no more tells me what to do than my father does!’
An expression she couldn’t read flickered across his face. ‘Nor, for that matter, would my friends be happy for Bannatyne’s daughter to drop in on them as if they were exhibits in a zoo,’ he continued.
‘Really! You are the most infuriating man I have ever met. I am a doctor. I’m used to treating the less fortunate. You seem to think I know nothing about how the poorer residents of Glasgow live, but I can assure you I have been in their homes before. They might have very little but they get by. I can’t imagine the people in Govan are less well off than the people in Partick.’
He studied her through narrowed eyes. ‘Very well then, Miss Bannatyne. If you wish to see how the people who depend on the shipyards live, I’ll take you. As long as you’re ready to go now.’
‘I can find my own way.’
‘You wouldn’t last a minute. Not dressed like that. Haven’t you heard of the razor gangs? Govan is one of the places they like to hang about and God knows what they’d do to you if you stumbled across their path.’ He shook his head. ‘They won’t touch you as long as you’re with me – I’ve helped too many of them out of a tight spot.’
‘Helped them? Why? Aren’t they thugs and murderers?’
‘They are not always guilty of what they’re accused of. Besides, every man has the right to justice.’ His mouth turned up at the corners. ‘I work nights because during the day I work at Reid’s the solicitors. I expect to qualify in a few months and after that, who knows? Perhaps take my bar exams.’ His smile grew wider and a dimple appeared in his left cheek. ‘You see, Miss Bannatyne, you weren’t the only one with a dream.’
Chapter 2
They took the Subway to Govan. Margaret had never used it before – there had never been any call to. Most days she walked to the university or hospital or, if the fog was too thick or if it was raining, the chauffeur took her.
The damp, foul-smelling tunnel was claustrophobic and the tightly packed platform worse. Once seated, she was acutely aware of Alasdair’s thigh pressing against her leg as the carriage rocked from side to side, forcing her against him. When he put his arm round her to steady her, she could smell the soap he used. She stole a glance up at him. Even with the stubble on his face, he was an extraordinarily good-looking man. She pushed herself upright. What on earth was she thinking – and what had possessed her to go with him?
She was relieved when they alighted at Govan station and once more into the daylight. Not that there was too much of that. Thick smoke hung in clouds, obscuring the sun that had shone down on the West End. In contrast to the elegant townhouses in that part of the city, the tenements here were squashed together, most of them looking as if they hadn’t been repaired since they’d been built. Towering over them were the cranes of the shipyard silhouetted against the skyline, the smell of soot and coal and the sound of steel rendering steel, reminding her of her visit there eight years ago.
The streets were jam-packed with groups of men and women standing around gossiping while children amused themselves nearby. At first
it all seemed little different to Partick but when she looked closer she noticed that most of the children were barefoot, wearing clothes that, judging by the number of holes in them, had clearly been passed down from child to child. And instead of balls and hoops, the children played in the rubbish-strewn streets with whatever they could find, using bits of broken pottery to mark out lines for hopscotch, or pushing metal rims salvaged from old prams with sticks. The games were the same as children played everywhere, but these children looked cold and gaunt-eyed and almost all of them had running noses and, no doubt, lice.
‘I’ll take you in to meet Toni and his wife Mairi first,’ Alasdair said, nodding in the direction of several people as they passed. The men doffed their caps in return and despite their laughing remarks, most of which she couldn’t follow but suspected involved her, she could tell they held Alasdair in genuine high regard. ‘I worked with Toni at the shipyard,’ Alasdair continued, ‘but he was laid off three years ago and hasn’t worked since – probably because he took part in the strike in twenty-six. Your father has no time for strikers.’
Did everything have to come back to her father? She bit back the retort that rose to her lips.
The tenement where Toni and Mairi lived was up a narrow back street which was even more full of rubbish than the last one and Margaret had to watch where she put her feet. The close had last been painted many years ago judging by the peeling paint and green algae clinging to it. The damp was immediately evident and seemed to seep almost instantaneously into Margaret’s bones.
Alasdair, however, seemed not to notice. He took the stairs two at a time, stopping by some doors to call out a greeting. On each landing was a shared lavatory, some of which were cleanish, and outside one a woman holding a pail of strong-smelling urine was waiting her turn. She looked at Margaret and blushed a deep red, doing her best to shield the pail from Margaret’s sight.
Toni and his family lived on the fourth floor. As they passed each flat, Alasdair pointed out the little brass plates on the doors, telling her that it was the ticket system. Each floor, he said, had been divided then subdivided into single rooms in order to accommodate the ever-increasing numbers of families that had flooded into Glasgow in search of work. She told Alasdair she already knew about the ticket system. In an attempt to limit overcrowding, Glasgow City Council had sent out sanitary inspectors to decide how many people could safely live in each flat. That number was on the little plaque and the sanitary inspectors would carry out periodic visits, most often at night, in an attempt to ensure that the numbers were being adhered to.
‘Of course they aren’t,’ Alasdair finished. ‘It’s not as if there is anywhere else for them to go. Except the streets. And they’d be lifted from there by the polis and sent on their way. At least this way they have a home of sorts.’
He knocked on a door. Margaret studied the plaque while they waited for it to be answered. Five. Five in a single end? Surely not?
The door was opened by a pretty woman in a well-worn dress, her blonde wavy hair partly hidden under a scarf. She broke into a smile as soon as she saw Alasdair. ‘Well now, it’s yourself. Come in, come in. Toni won’t be long. He’ll be glad to see you.’
She had the same soft Highland accent Margaret had often heard from the nurses in the Western and which she found very easy to listen to.
Alasdair introduced the two women. If Mairi recognised her name she gave no sign of it.
‘I’ll no’ be shaking your hands at the moment,’ she said to Margaret. ‘I’m just after changing the baby’s nappy and I’ve yet to wash my hands.’ While she was speaking her fingers fluttered nervously. ‘Please excuse the mess. Here now, Johnny! Am I not after telling you to get the weans outside so I can get cleared up?’
Johnny, a boy of around six with the same pudding-style haircut she’d seen on all the children in the street, wiped a hand across his mouth and stared at Margaret. ‘Who’s the posh wummun, Mammy?’
‘Ssshhh now. Don’t be rude. Go on. Out with you all.’ Mairi lifted a pile of clean laundry from a chair, looked around wildly and seeing there was nowhere else to put it, placed it back down. Margaret sat down on the vacated chair and as Mairi bustled around buttoning coats and hustling what seemed to be a gaggle of children, one of whom was in nappies and carried by his elder sister who couldn’t be much more than three years old herself, out the door, Margaret looked around the room.
There was a large black stove set against one side with a long, wide mantelpiece on top of which jars and tins of all shapes and sizes jostled for space. A sink, with a wooden worktop on either side, was set against a grimy window, a large dresser containing plates, pots and pans took up most of the wall opposite and a double bed was tucked into the recess of the third wall. Apart from the chair she was sitting on there was only one other, a large threadbare armchair next to the stove. A pulley, heavily laden with washing, hung from the ceiling. She’d seen at least five children and with the two parents that made seven. Where did they all sleep? How on earth did they manage in this tiny single room?
‘How many children do you have, Mairi?’ Margaret asked.
‘Seven. The older two are outside somewhere.’
So that made nine of them. Not just illegal to be all crammed into this space, but impossible to imagine.
The door opened and a heavyset man with a thick moustache entered. ‘Alasdair! I heard you’d come. And that you’d brought someone with you!’ He patted his wife’s bottom. ‘Have you made tea for them yet, woman?’ His accent was an unusual, but not unattractive, mix of Italian and Glaswegian.
‘They’ve just this minute arrived, Toni. I’ll get the kettle on.’
‘Use fresh leaves now,’ Toni said to his wife. He perched on the end of the bed and grinned. ‘Now who is this good lady? Aren’t you going to introduce us?’
‘This is Miss Bannatyne, Toni.’
‘Not the Miss Bannatyne?’
‘Aye the one and the same.’
The smile vanished from Toni’s face. ‘What have you brought her here for?’ He turned to Margaret. ‘Forgive my plain speaking. Nothing personal, you understand.’
Why had she come? Alasdair had been right. She had no idea people lived like this. She hadn’t lied to Alasdair when she’d told him she’d visited homes of the less well-to-do. As part of her obstetric training she’d attended twelve outdoor cases – most of which had been in the Partick tenements. Although she’d thought all the homes she’d visited sparsely furnished and cramped, they had been relative palaces compared to this one.
‘Alasdair told me a little of what it’s like for you. I wanted to see for myself,’ she said, shifting uneasily in her chair. Mairi was bound to be as ill at ease to have Margaret here as she was to be there. It was one thing having a man witness your domestic disorder, quite another having another woman. But she was here now and however much she wanted to leave, she couldn’t. It would be unforgivably rude. At least not until she’d had her cup of tea.
‘Margaret is a doctor, Toni. She thinks I’m exaggerating about conditions her father’s workers live in.’
Toni flushed. ‘Not all the workers. The time-served trades do all right.’
Margaret sent Alasdair a triumphant glance.
‘Yes, they do all right.’ Alasdair returned Margaret’s look. ‘They can afford to live in decent houses, but how many of the workers have a trade, Toni? And as for the rest? Most are just labourers or – like yourself – unemployed. They live here, crammed cheek by jowl, earning barely enough to put food on the table. Italians, Irish, Scots, Jews, Catholics, Protestants. No wonder there’s trouble, sometimes.’
‘You must miss Italy, Toni?’ Margaret said, thinking it best to change the subject.
‘Never lived there. My father came here before I was born. He thought we’d make a better life for ourselves in Scotland. He was right. But it all changed after the war. The yards have been going through difficult times since then.’
‘What do you do if
one of the children is sick?’ Margaret asked. She really wanted to know.
‘We’ve been lucky. They’ve had colds and coughs – everyone has. It’s the smog I blame, meself. There’s others no’ as lucky as us, though. There’s not a family on this stair who hasn’t lost a child. We nearly lost our Meg a year ago, but the wife pulled her through. Don’t know how she did, but she did.’
‘What was wrong with her?’ Margaret asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Mairi said over her shoulder as she fussed over the stove. ‘I think it was whooping cough. She was making this awful sound. I just kept her in my arms and walked her up and down. I can tell you I was terrified out of my wits – said a few prayers that night, that’s for sure – but somehow she pulled through.’
‘Why didn’t you take her to the hospital?’
‘They wouldn’t have taken us,’ Mairi said, placing a cup of dark tea in front of Margaret. ‘Toni doesn’t have the card, see, since he was let go from his job.’
