by Millie Gray
Also Available by Millie Gray
Silver Linings
Moving On
Eighteen Couper Street
In A Class of Their Own
In A League of Their Own
Crystal’s Song
The Tangling of the Web
When Sorry is Not Enough
First published 2017
by Black & White Publishing Ltd
Nautical House, 104 Commercial Street
Edinburgh EH6 6NF
www.blackandwhitepublishing.com
This electronic edition published in 2017
ISBN: 978 1 78530 173 5 in EPub format
ISBN: 978 1 78530 152 0 in paperback format
Copyright © Millie Gray 2017
The right of Millie Gray to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Ebook compilation by Iolaire, Newtonmore
For my daughter Rosemary
Acknowledgements
Special thanks go to May Steele, for willingly sharing her memories of her hairdressing apprenticeship and career with me; Diane Cooper, for assisting me with a first edit and tweaking a certain bit of the story; my sister, Mary Gillon, who has an encyclopaedic knowledge of our formative Leith days, and last, but certainly not least, all the very professional and supportive staff at my publishers, Black & White.
Contents
Title Page
Acknowledgements
One: July 1962
Two: September 1966
Three: December 1966
Four: January 1967
Five: February 1967
Six: April 1967
Seven: September 1967
Eight: July 1970
Nine: July 1972
Ten: October 1973
Eleven: December 1973
Twelve: June 1974
Thirteen: June 1975
Fourteen: October 1976
Fifteen: July 1979
One
July 1962
By continually rubbing her hands together, fifteen-year-old Freda hoped she would be able to keep her rushing, bubbling excitement under control. She just couldn’t believe that, at long last, she was sitting in Michael’s, her favourite ice cream parlour on Easter Road, with two of her long-time school friends, Molly Duncan and Hannah Lindsey. All three were impatiently awaiting the fourth member of their unique circle, Angela McDonald.
Surely, Freda thought as she began biting on her lip, she cannot have forgotten that this was the day the four of us are to have a sitting with Meg Sutherland. Meg Sutherland the renowned clairvoyant fortune-teller, who they not only had to beg for a sitting with, but also had to book at least a year – yes, a full calendar year – in advance.
‘Freda,’ exclaimed Molly in a rather posh voice. This affectation did not surprise Freda because Molly had been speaking with a posturing accent ever since being offered a trainee seamstress position at the exclusive famous ladies’ outfitters Greensmith Downes, on Princes Street. Sighing, Molly continued, ‘What are we going to do? If you wish to know what I think, then it is that we should be making our way down to Iona Street to meet up with Meg Sutherland. After all, I am fifteen years old now and will be starting work . . .’ She paused as she began to giggle, ‘Oh Freda, did I tell you that Greensmith Downes have . . .’
‘Yes you did,’ Freda grunted with disdain, whilst resisting the urge to add ‘at least eight times in the last two days’.
Ignoring Freda’s lack of enthusiasm, Molly blithely continued, ‘In that case you will understand that I must know immediately what else my wonderful future holds for me.’
Before Freda could respond, Hannah chipped in with, ‘And that goes for me too . . . even if it isn’t as bright as Molly’s.’
‘Okay, I accept that both of you are looking forward to the sitting but we have to give Angela another five minutes. And before you say anything else, you know that because we are all still at school—’
‘Until next Friday,’ Molly reminded.
‘Point taken, but as we are not wage-earning yet, Mrs Sutherland agreed to give us twenty minutes each for ten shillings, so that means we all have to pay a half-crown share.’
‘So?’
‘Don’t be so huffy, Hannah. It’s just that I only have my own half a crown, so I can’t pitch in with as much as another penny if Angela doesn’t turn up.’
Before either Molly or Hannah could reply, their attention flew to the café entrance, where they were confronted with Robin. Dapper Robin, who really believed he was the fifth member of the gang, jumped towards the girls, exclaiming, ‘Olé!’
‘Olé to you too,’ snivelled Molly.
‘Problem?’
Freda scowled before nodding. ‘Angela’s not turned up . . .’
Giving a short demonstration of a bullfighter swinging an imaginary cape, Robin swaggered and danced. ‘But surely,’ he chortled, ‘you guessed when you heard that our late developer, brainy Ewan, had been invited down to Leith Academy Senior Secondary School to discuss transferring to a course more suited to his mammy’s vaulting ambitions that our lovesick Angela—’
‘And what does his mammy want?’
Robin shrugged. ‘Och Molly, you ken fine she wants him to be a lawyer.’
‘Right enough, the snobby bitch does. And I see what you mean that our too-smart-by-half pal Angela will be down there too. Aye, she will not be asking but begging them to allow her to change her mind and stay on at school there until she’s eighteen.’
All the banter between Molly and Robin diverted Freda’s attention from her money worries. Back she was to remembering what seemed to be such a long time ago, when they were all just eleven years old.
It was the year that they had to sit the Eleven-plus Qualifying Examinations. The papers had just been collected in when confident Angela, the brightest of the ‘fabulous four’, as the girls wished to be known, announced that even though the papers were still to be marked, she knew she had passed well above average.
On the day they were to be told their results and which school they would each be transferring to – this would be either a Senior Secondary School, which was the equivalent of the English Grammar School, or to a Junior Secondary School – the children were all lined up in the playground after the mid-morning break. It was then that the headmaster, Mr Sanders, appeared on the school steps, accompanied by the class teacher, Miss McLeod. Mr Sanders pulled on the lapels of his academic gown before he graciously invited Angela and four others to follow him back into the school.
However, before he was out of earshot, Miss McLeod said, ‘Headmaster, what shall I have the other children do in the meantime?’
Halting to look back disdainfully over the playground, Mr Sanders curtly announced: ‘Just have them pick up all the litter until I am ready to speak to them.’
Before Angela left to follow Mr Sanders back into the school, she turned to Robin and his friend Ewan Gibson, who were both to remain behind. The boys hunched their shoulders and shook their heads before Ewan snapped, ‘Well, folks, we now ken that us dunderheids are all for Norton Park Junior Secondary School. And oor dear heidmaister has just telt us that aw we will ever be good enough for in life is picking up rubbish.’
‘Aye, I agree that’s what he thinks,’ huffed Robin, ‘but know something, we can all make our minds up here and now that the stupid bald-headed old pig will
eat his words when we prove him more than wrong.’
Not surprisingly, it turned out that Angela was offered a place at Leith Academy Senior Secondary School. It was also true that she was thrilled at her success. However, as she had developed a crush on Ewan, she thought that it was in her best interests to transfer to the same school that he would be attending. This meant that Angela, who was being reared solely by her father since her mother had died, had to persuade her dad that she just really wished to go to Norton Park Junior Secondary School. It came as a surprise to him when Angela went on to explain that she wished to be a secretary when she left school, so the superior commercial course being offered at Norton Park would suit her needs better than the academic course at Leith Academy. Of course, Mr McDonald meekly agreed – but then he would, because Angela, like her mother before her, ruled the roost. Poor Mr McDonald was quite incapable of standing his ground where the women in his life were concerned.
By the time the group reached fourteen, they had all worked very hard at school and were succeeding in the paths they wished to follow. Naturally, Angela excelled in everything she studied, but she remained convinced she had done the right thing in following the commercial course at Norton Park. This was all true until Ewan, as he matured, started showing signs of being as intelligent – or more so – than Angela. Indeed, to everybody’s amazement, he advanced so quickly that by the last month of term, only four short weeks before he was due to leave school and possibly take up a trade, the headmaster had summoned him to his office.
Mr MacLean’s commanding voice, asking Ewan to come into his private province and stand to attention in front of his imposing desk, held no terror for Ewan. He knew that he had done no wrong and he was more than able to defend himself. However, Mr MacLean explained that he had had a chat with three of Ewan’s teachers: Mr Anderson, Mr Mack and Dr Muir, who was affectionately known by the pupils as ‘Docky’. All three were of the opinion that Ewan should be afforded the opportunity to transfer to Leith Academy Senior School and continue his education there. The matter had also been discussed with the rector of Leith Academy, Mr Drummond – or, as all the pupils called him, Bulldog – and he had agreed to interview Ewan.
As soon as the news about Ewan’s possible transfer to Leith Academy reached Angela’s ears, she was devastated. Immediately she started to hound her father, begging him to contact Bulldog and have him grant her an interview also. This meeting would of course result in Angela saying that she now realised she had made a terrible mistake in opting for anything other than the superior and privileged education she had once been offered at Leith Academy Senior School – an education that she now realised would assist her in her desire to go to Moray House Teacher Training College.
Freda’s trip down memory lane was abruptly brought to an end when Robin called out her name.
‘Here, Freda, now you know that Angela is away to beg Bulldog at Leith Academy to allow her in, how about letting me take her place at the spooky meeting?’
‘Have you got half a crown?’
‘I’ve got ten bob.’
‘How have you got ten bob when you don’t get paid your paper delivery boy’s wages until tomorrow?’
Before he could reply, Molly started for the door and called out for the others to follow her.
*
Iona Street was a modern, spacious, well-designed tenement street. Meg Sutherland’s ground-floor flat was situated at the Easter Road end of the thoroughfare. Freda shrugged and shivered as she noted that Meg’s house was very different to what she had been led to believe mystics lived in. In the stories she had heard, mystics sought to dwell in basements – dank, dark, eerie places – because that was where the spirits of the world beyond felt most comfortable. It was true that she was pleased that Meg lived in a bright, airy house but, unlike the others, she was not so concerned with what life held for her in the future. No, she had her very own personal reason for visiting a spiritualist and she hoped that Meg Sutherland would be able to help her, despite not living in a gloomy basement. If Meg Sutherland was as good as her reputation, she would be able to work out exactly why Freda had come.
Before Freda could contemplate further, Molly pulled the doorbell. The door was immediately opened by a sprightly, twinkling-eyed, middle-aged woman who exuded charm and self-assurance.
Freda’s jaw dropped. Last week one of her other schoolmates, Ida Spence, had told her about her own visit to a gypsy fortune-teller called Madame Isabella, who lived down darkest Salamander Street. According to Ida, the woman was like the dark, damp, dingy hovel she lived in with her mangy, scrawny, venom-spitting cat. This weird and ghoulish woman was a legend. She was so good at her job that only last week she had refused to tell a lassie her fortune, returning not only her four-bob fee but also her shilling deposit. It turned out the lassie didn’t have a future and therefore Madame Isabella couldn’t tell her anything. Naturally the lassie was upset, but not for long, because while meandering her way home along Albert Street she was knocked down and killed by the number 13 Edinburgh Corporation bus.
Freda felt suddenly hesitant about her appointment with Meg Sutherland. If all that Ida had told her was true about Madame Isabella, who Ida also claimed was a genuine Romany Gypsy, could someone as seemingly ordinary and engaging as Meg Sutherland – even if she was of Highland lineage and the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, meaning she should have the second sight – ever be as good as spooky Madame Isabella?
The three girls had just got themselves seated on the three chairs in the hallway, leaving Robin to support himself against the wall, when Meg said, ‘Now, who is coming in first?’
Freda nodded to Molly, who jumped into Meg’s living room before Hannah could protest. As soon as the door closed Freda whispered to Hannah, ‘Look, you are next, then Robin. I am last because I have the money to pay her and I will only hand it over if everybody thinks she has been worth it.’
‘Worth it!’ exclaimed Hannah. ‘But she normally charges five bob each and she is doing us a cheapo.’
‘Yes I know we are getting it half price and she assured me that we wouldn’t be getting short-changed, but you never know.’
The trio then sat in silence. All were lost in their own contemplations. Hannah’s thoughts were on what she was going to do with her life. She conceded that it was probably a mistake to be taking the clerkess/typist job with Edinburgh Corporation, even if she did – as her mother hoped – end up getting courted and married to a white-collar man. She would much prefer to become a shop assistant.
Robin’s mind, on the other hand, was on how his mother would cope with telling his father about his choice of job. He also worried about how Joey, who his mum and dad now communicated through, would cope with their inane bickering about it.
As to Freda, well, her thoughts were suddenly put on hold as the door to Meg Sutherland’s office opened and a flushed and excited Molly bounced out.
Freda and Robin wanted so much to ask Molly how she had got on, but they had agreed that nothing was to be said until they were all back outside in Iona Street. However, in order for Freda to know whether Meg was worth the money it had been suggested that after each sitting, if the recipient was happy with Meg’s service they would nod their head and give a ‘thumbs up’ signal. If they were not impressed, they would just shake their head. When Molly emerged, she nodded so vigorously that Freda and Robin were left in no doubt that Meg had more than met Molly’s expectations.
Meg did not keep to the twenty-minute time slot and although Hannah and Robin gave the thumbs up, it was a nerve-wracking hour before Freda was invited into the inner sanctum.
She had just closed the door behind her when Meg, who was sitting at a small table, smiled at her and signalled to her that she should take the seat opposite her. As soon as she was seated Freda noted that her seat faced into the room and that Meg’s chair was positioned so that she faced the bright, sunlit window.
‘Now,’ Meg began in a low, soft voice, nodding
her head, ‘you are welcome.’
Freda was startled as she became aware that Meg was not speaking to her, but to someone standing behind her. Instinctively she moved to see who the other person was, but she felt Meg’s hand grasp hers and she turned back to face her.
‘No,’ Meg whispered. ‘You won’t be able to see him, not unless he wishes you to. You see – Freda, isn’t it?’ Freda could only nod her head as Meg continued, ‘Freda, when you came into my home today, the man who walks every step of your life with you followed you in.’
Freda was now panting. Fear was choking her. It was true that unlike the others she had not really come to Meg to find out what lay in store for her in the future. No, she had come in the hope that her deceased father would send her a message. Freda had been just five years old when her darling daddy died from complications of influenza. Sitting before Meg, she found herself vividly recalling her very early years. Every night her special daddy would sit her on his knee and tell her tales that transported her into the land of make-believe. He always had her believe she was a beautiful princess and when danger threatened, a handsome prince – the image of himself – would gallop to her rescue. All this took place before he would tuck her safely up into bed and kiss her – his special princess – good night.
Placing her elbows on the table, Freda supported her drooping head with her hands and mumbled, ‘Are you saying my dad is here?’
Meg nodded. ‘Yes. Now come on, he doesn’t wish to see your tears today. He has seen them so often of late.’
This was true, and it was because of her mother’s second husband. A few years after her father passing – too soon, in Freda’s opinion – her mother, Ellen, had married Drew Black, an uncouth brute of a man who Freda feared. A couple of years later, Ellen gave birth to Susan, who was now a tender and lovely five-year-old. Susan was the reason that when life became so unbearable for her older brother Stuart and herself at home, she had decided to stay instead of joining Stuart in going off to live with Jack and Rosie Scott, their loyal and supportive paternal grandparents.
