Eighteen Couper Street

by Millie Gray

  This plea, to Rachel’s surprise, was answered with another vicious gleeful assault – this time into the man’s raised buttocks. The nuns then turned their attention to Rachel. “Why are you here, child?” asked the senior of the two. Being still quite dumbstruck, Rachel could only shake her head.

  The nun now looked down at Rachel’s feet and this immediately caused Rachel to think she might be taken away into care because she had no shoes, so she quickly stammered, “My auntie who looks after me sent me to ask my dad for the money to buy me shoes. She said my feet need to be shod.”

  The second nun smiled and her face lit up. “Do you go to St Mary’s School, child?”

  Rachel shook her head. “Naw, miss. I’m a Proddie.”

  Both sisters looked at each other and shrugged to indicate that Rachel’s plight was accordingly none of their business. They only concerned themselves if the child, who might be in moral danger and therefore in need of care and protection, was one of their faith. So, without a further word to Rachel, they each hid their hands in their habits, cocked their heads firmly to one side and silently glided off towards the swing bridge.

  Nothing else for it now, thought Rachel to herself as she pushed on the heavy door and entered the melée.

  The Steamboat pub was a popular watering hole for workers, immigrants and refugees from all over the world. Seeing her father holding court at the bar, Rachel immediately went over and pulled at his jacket.

  “What the hell d’you want?” growled Gabby, grabbing Rachel by the shoulder and pushing her towards the front door.

  Rachel squirmed out of his grasp. “I’m here – and I’m no leaving until you give me money for shoes. Look!” she said, holding up her right leg and exposing the cruel weals on her cold foot.

  “Och, Gabby,” urged one of his cronies, “surely ye’re no that skint that ye cannae buy your ain bairn some decent shoes? Walking on her bare feet, so the bairn is.”

  Incensed and embarrassed, Gabby slapped Rachel so hard on the side of her face that she reeled across the room and landed at the feet of the man who had had the temerity to challenge Gabby.

  Helping her to her feet and wiping her tears with a filthy red polka-dot handkerchief, the man then fished in his pocket and took out a florin, which he pressed into Rachel’s hand. “Here, hen. You take this. Sure if I had a bonny lassie like ye, I would dress her in silk and she wouldnae ever need to walk barefoot.”

  Rachel cried all the way home. “Why,” she asked herself, “did my stupid mother have to let herself die and leave me with her stinking friend who doesn’t really want me or she wouldn’t have sent me out to beg?” Sniffing and wiping her nose on the back of her cardigan sleeve, she wondered, Why doesn’t my dad love me? Suppose Freddie’s right when he says, “My mammy was fine till she had you.” Killed her, he says I did.

  Bella was seated at the table having her tea and her mouth dropped open in horror when she saw Rachel’s battered and bleeding face. “Good grief! What on earth happened to you?” she gasped, rising to comfort Rachel.

  On hearing Bella’s cry, Anna, who was making the tea, set down the green enamel tea-pot with such force that some of the boiling liquid splashed out of the spout and onto her hand. “Oh no! Who did that to you?” she asked, putting her injured hand under her oxter.

  “My dad. Who else?”

  Going over and dragging out her nurse’s bag from under the bed, Anna choked back her tears. “The unfeeling pig! I’ll get even with him for sure, so I will. Oh aye, for what he’s done to you this day, I’ll make him pay,” she muttered, bathing Rachel’s swollen eye. “And I don’t suppose you got my money out of him either?”

  Pushing Anna’s hands away and choking back her sobs, Rachel screamed and flung the two-shilling piece towards her aunt. “No from him. I got it from a stranger who was so upset about my bleeding cold feet.” Rachel hesitated, ran her hands over her swollen and bruised face, before continuing sardonically, “No to mention the battering my poor face got all for asking for your blasted money!”

  A tearful Bella stepped forward and began rocking Rachel in her arms, “Rachel,” she sobbed, “believe me when I say, from this day on you’ll never be sent out to beg again.” She paused to give Anna an unmistakable warning glower before adding, “Even if it means me working more overtime than I already do!”

  Bella’s rebuke had hit home and Anna was now visibly upset. She did try to voice an apology but no words seemed appropriate. All she could do was nod her head to acknowledge that Rachel would never again be used as a battering ram against Gabby.

  Sensing the reason for Anna’s discomfort Bella moderated her tone before saying, “Look Auntie, why don’t you give up trying to get even with Gabby? He’s no worth it.” With that Bella led Rachel into the bedroom and, as the door closed, Anna knew the girls, who were now bonded like sisters ever since Rab and Jimmy had been killed, would sleep all night long in each other’s arms.

  The church clock was striking three and Anna was still tossing and turning in her bed. She had sat up until midnight trying to figure out how she could master Gabby. She had at one point even lifted up the large carving knife from the table and imagined how good it would feel to plunge it into his cold black heart. Letting slip the knife from her grasp, she remembered only last week saying to Rye Pratt that she would like to murder Gabby. Rye had sarcastically replied, “Aye, that would be a real clever thing to dae. And dinnae worry your head about the nightmares Bella and Rachel will have when they can do nothing else but wonder if you suffered very much when they strung you up on the gallows.”

  Anna already knew Rye was right. Gabby wasn’t worth swinging for but as she clenched her hands into fists she also knew that somehow she had to get him. Turning yet again in her bed she suddenly remembered the words of the matron when she had handed Rachel into her care: “Remember, you must take her father to court and get an order against him for her upkeep.”

  Sitting bolt upright in the bed she called aloud, “That’s it. He’s back working now. So I can ask the bailie to hear my case against him in court!”

  * * *

  The day for the court hearing was now set. Gabby had been served the papers and Anna knew she would now get satisfaction when told by the court what his duty was towards Rachel and that failure to carry out the court’s demands would result in him being imprisoned.

  Days before it was necessary, Anna had vigorously brushed her coat and hat. She knew how important it was that she should make a good impression on the bailie. She also knew that when he looked at her and then at the now debauched Gabby they would find in her favour. She could see no way that she could possibly lose.

  At five o’clock Anna arose. Since midnight she’d tossed and turned as her stomach did somersaults with nerves. After cleaning out the grate and laying the fire, she again started attacking her coat with a clothes brush. Only a loud insistent banging at the outside door stopped her.

  Unlocking the door and opening it she was surprised to be faced by a distressed young Jamie Pratt. “Quick, Miss Campbell. Ma’s needing you – real bad,” the boy blurted out as he tried to grab Anna’s arm and drag her over to his house. “Ye see, there’s only you can help her. Dad’s no come hame. Listen!” Jamie paused so that Anna could hear Rye’s insistent loud shrieks.

  “Don’t tell me she’s in labour? The baby’s no due for another four weeks.”

  “Well, naebudy telt it that. So it thinks it can come right now,” replied Jamie.

  Anna turned swiftly and fished her nurse’s bag out from under the bed. “Just as well I always keep it ready. Oh, by the way, I hope ye have the money for the gaslight this time?”

  Jamie shook his head and so did Anna, before turning to snatch some coppers off her mantelshelf.

  Without even giving Rye a cursory examination, Anna knew that this was not a normal birth. There was something far wrong. She knew she should be sending Rye to the specialists up in Edinburgh’s Royal Infirmary which was situated in
Lauriston Place but not only did she not possess the twelve shillings and sixpence which was the charge imposed by the hospital doctor to deliver a baby – she didn’t even have the tram fare to get there. For three hours Anna struggled with Rye but the baby was a double-breech presentation and not only did she lack the experience to deal with such a problem but neither did she have the necessary instruments.

  By nine-thirty Anna knew that Rye and the baby would both die if she didn’t get help quickly.

  Bolting out of the house, she ran down the stairs and into the street. She couldn’t believe her luck because there, sauntering along the middle of the road, was PC Jack McIntyre – a bachelor man who happened to be one of Anna’s admirers.

  “What’s up?” asked Jack, approaching Anna and noting that her arms, right to the elbows, were covered in blood.

  “Oh, Jack, you’ve got to help me. Rye Pratt’s real bad. Believe me, she and the baby will both die if she’s not admitted to the Royal Infirmary! Please. Please call an ambulance.”

  Jack wanted to help but he knew he was not allowed to send for an ambulance for a woman in labour unless she had the necessary twelve and sixpence. “Could you no, like you usually do, have a whip-round to get the money?” he asked, stroking his chin.

  “Jack! Payday’s the morn! Nobody has a brass bean.” Anna suddenly grabbed Jack’s arm and pleaded, “Please … somebody has got to do something to help us.” Continuing to stroke his chin, Jack pondered.

  “Look Jack,” Anna urged, “it’s a quick solution we need.”

  “Here’s what we’ll do. Now as ye know, I’m allowed to summon an ambulance provided the sick person,” he looked about to make sure he wasn’t being overhead, “has fell down in the street. So, I have to go round the corner to the box and ring into the station now. And,” he stopped with a wink at Anna, “if on my way back I was to find your patient lying in the gutter here I could summons an ambulance and get her the help she needs – and free at that.”

  Anna flung her arms around Jack and kissed him on the cheek before racing back into the stair and organising a team to assist in carting Rye down the stairs and placing her in the gutter.

  They had just laid Rye on the pavement and covered her with a shawl when the ambulance screeched into view. Anna was mystified because when the ambulance appeared so also did Jack, who obviously had telephoned for the ambulance as soon as he’d reached the police box.

  Eleven o’clock was chiming when Anna raced into the courthouse on the corner of Constitution Street and Charlotte Street. “I’m late,” she panted. “Should have been here at ten – but I had an emergency to attend to.”

  “Maybe so,” the sheriff clerk replied. “But the court waits for no one.”

  “But,” Anna protested. “I’m here because I’m a witness in the Gabriel Forbes case.”

  Solemnly shaking his head, the clerk advised her, “That case has already been heard and the decisions made.”

  “What do you mean the decisions are made?”

  “Just what I say. Decisions have been made and you must ask Mr Forbes what these are.”

  She had run like a demented hen, hopping on and off the pavements as she made the short way to Gabby’s house in Coatfield Lane. She was so sure he would be holed up there licking his wounds. Reaching Gabby’s tenement, she made no attempt to go inside. Instead, she hollered up at the window. “Come right down here, Gabby Forbes.”

  The window remained firmly closed. “Freddie! Robert! Do you hear me? Open up the window and speak to me.”

  Again Gabby’s window remained closed but the window of the next flat up was flung open wide and Peter Crone, a man whom she admired because he had done well, rising from locomotive cleaner to engine driver, hollered, “He’s no in, Anna. And I’ve been on the nightshift and would like some peace.”

  “And the boys?”

  “They never came back from the court.”

  Anna realised she would now have to run all the way to the Steamboat pub, opposite Bond Nine in Commercial Street, where she was sure she would get hold of Gabby as he drowned his sorrows. “Surely,” she kept arguing with herself as she sped along the worn streets, “he didnae get away with it because I couldn’t get my part of the story heard. After all, the boys would tell the truth – I mean, why wouldn’t they?”

  On her arrival at the pub door, Anna paused to get her breath. “No use going in for a fight when you’re out of puff,” she reasoned to herself.

  Once she had calmed down, and with her hair and hat patted back into place, she forcefully opened the door and went straight over to Gabby. “Think I wouldn’t turn up, did you?”

  Gabby took another swig of his beer and wiped his chin with the back of his hand before starting to snigger. “Oh, darling Anna, ye missed yourself, so you did.”

  “Are you saying you talked them into agreeing I’m entitled to nothing for Rachel’s upkeep?”

  Rubbing his hand over his nose, Gabby nodded and then shook his head.

  “And what does that mean?” demanded Anna.

  “Just that I won and … I lost.”

  “What did you lose?”

  Gabby fished in his pocket and brought out three one-shilling pieces, which he flung at Anna. As they bounced and spun on the floor, Anna gazed at them in wonder. “So you’ll have to pay me my due every week?” she said gleefully, stooping to pick up the coins. “I really knew that somehow I’d get even with you in the end.” Unable to hide her delight, she looked upwards before remembering she hadn’t asked Gabby what he’d won. “And now,” she simpered, “what else was it you wanted to tell me?”

  Gabby drank long and hard from his pint and again wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before replying with a satisfied smile, “Just wanted to say thank you.”

  Growing wary, Anna tentatively asked, “What for?”

  “Getting the laddies taken aff my hands.”

  “What do you mean? Where are they?”

  “They now have to bide at the Industrial School in Lochend Road.”

  Anna let the three shilling pieces fall from her hand. “Why? They’re good laddies,” she protested. “Yon’s a home for bad laddies – thieves, rascals and vagabonds!”

  “The court didnae think they were guid laddies when I explained that every week, without fail, I’d given them the money for Rachel’s keep and I’d also made sure they knew they were to take it straight to you. Now, how was I to ken they used it to play pitch and toss? Frowned on by the bailie, that was. Then I had to be truthful and also tell about them buying sweeties,” he now smirked gleefully at Anna before spitting, “wi your due.”

  Anna’s breath was coming in spasms. What had she done?

  Relishing her distress, Gabby went on. “Then when the bailie asked if they were out of control I could only nod my head in agreement before wiping the tears from my eyes. The whole court was sorry for me. The bailie even said that I was a poor industrious widower trying to do my best and that Freddie and Robert should be ashamed of themselves for the disgrace they’d brought down on my honourable heid.”

  Realising that the bailie would have had no other option but to place the boys into corrective care because of Gabby’s lies, Anna was dumbstruck. I mean, she thought to herself, would anyone believe a man could tell such lies about his sons? She pictured the two boys standing huddled in the dock with no one to speak up for them. She knew Freddie would have put a protective arm around Robert as they were led away – branded thieves and felons by the very man who should have protected them against the world.

  Without another word Anna turned to leave.

  “No gonnae pick up your due?” sniggered Gabby as he kicked the three shilling pieces towards her.

  5

  THE HEADMASTER

  Leith Industrial School had been opened in 1892 and was supported by donations willingly gifted by friends and subscribers who were mostly the owners or directors of Leith’s many businesses, together with the wealthy folk associated with the
port.

  The house itself was a substantial, well-constructed two-storey building with carefully tended gardens, bounded by a low wall surrounded by railings. Being situated at 57 Lochend Road, it was no more than a fifteen-minute walk from Couper Street but Anna had travelled the distance in only ten minutes.

  Only when she reached the gates of the Industrial School did Anna stop running. Closing her eyes, she tried to compose herself by taking several deep breaths. Once calmed, she slowly raised her right hand to ensure that her hat and hair were in place, only to discover that her hat was no longer there and her hair was now sadly awry. Generally the loss of her only hat would have vexed her but all she did was shake her head and fish in her handbag for a comb. Once satisfied that she’d tidied herself up as much as possible, she opened the gate and advanced hesitantly towards the main entrance.

  As she walked up the path she thought that in contrast to the Leith Poorhouse at Seafield, this building had a welcoming and non-threatening appearance. Ringing the bell, she was surprised to find the door was being opened by one of the boys. “How can I help you?” the young man enquired.

  “I must speak to your headmaster.”

  Indicating with a nod of his head that she should enter, he then led her along the first corridor until stopping at a well-polished door. After knocking gently he turned and bowed his head to Anna before saying, “The headmaster will call you in when he’s ready to see you.”

  Anna was about to thank the boy when the headmaster did indeed call, “Come in.”

  The man was seated behind a large desk and as Anna entered he looked puzzled. “I’m Mr Guthrie. Is there something I can do for you?”

  Swallowing hard, Anna looked directly at the man. She judged he was in his early fifties. It was difficult, however, to be certain because his immaculate shirt, tie and suit were complemented by a clean-shaven face and well-groomed hair, indicating to her that he was a man who had never performed manual labour and so would not age prematurely. “I, er …”