A Cut Above

by Millie Gray

  It was the only time in their socialising in that majestic hotel that Freda cringed. But then Angela was Angela and she wouldn’t ever change, and therefore she would always steal the limelight. However, Robin whispered in her ear, ‘Know something . . . as far as I’m concerned I did make the haughty pig look not so much like a silk purse, but an unfeeling cow!’

  The first to leave the hotel was Hannah, and as she donned her coat, Freda pulled her into a tight cuddle and whispered in her ear, ‘Thanks for all you did to help me win that prize. Now, if there is ever anything I can do for you, believe me you just have to ask.’

  Hannah began to tremble and Freda instinctively tightened her grasp on her.

  ‘There is something I would like you to do, Freda.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Go with me to an appointment in the Eastern General Hospital next Thursday.’ She hesitated. ‘You see, I have something awful wrong with me and they just might . . .’

  ‘Something wrong? Like what?’

  ‘I don’t want to say anything here in case we are overheard . . . Look, Freda, it’s just that I was born with something missing.’

  ‘Well, it can’t be your intelligence. Look how well you are doing at your job in the Edinburgh Corporation – already promoted and you are just nineteen, and a woman.’

  By now Angela and Molly were looking quizzically at them so Hannah released herself from Freda’s embrace. As she lowered her head, she murmured, ‘Look, Freda, we will meet up on Sunday after church and I will tell you what the problem is. Tonight I just couldn’t bear for Angela to know what is wrong with me. She would just make fun of me and I would become the laughing stock.’

  Fifteen minutes later Ewan ordered a taxi and he, Freda, Robin, Molly and Angela piled in. Molly was the first drop-off and Robin was second, but before getting out he whispered to Freda, ‘You were just brilliant tonight.’

  Her cocky, husky reply was: ‘And you weren’t too bad yourself.’

  The third drop-off should have been Angela, but she told the driver to go past her home and drop Freda off next. When Freda alighted from the taxi so did Ewan, and before rejoining Angela he pulled Freda into his arms. ‘You were a star tonight. I don’t see so much of you nowadays – too busy studying – but’ – he now lightly brushed her cheeks with his lips – ‘there is not a day goes by that I do not think about you.’

  ‘Just little old me?’ she teased.

  ‘Not exactly . . . You see, I also wonder every blooming day what my best pal Robin is up to.’ He became serious. ‘Did you notice that his dad wasn’t there tonight . . . Surely he could have come and supported his laddie?’

  Freda giggled. ‘They have their priorities – my mum’s is the bingo, Robin’s dad’s is supporting the bar in the Dockers Club!’

  *

  Usually when Freda met up with Hannah on a Sunday afternoon she had Susan in tow. If it was fine weather they would go into Lochend Park and feed the ducks; if it was not, they would pass the time away supping on knickerbocker glories in the ice cream parlour on Easter Road. However, on the Sunday following Freda’s hairdressing triumph, Freda had to disappoint Susan by saying she had things to discuss with Hannah that would not be for Susan’s ears, so she would have to stay at home.

  At 2 p.m. sharp, Freda strode into Michael’s café. Michael was just about to start making up two knickerbockers when Freda said, ‘Coffees today, Michael.’

  She immediately got herself into the booth where Hannah was already seated, and as she placed her handbag on the seat next to her she said, ‘Right, now Hannah, for years you have hinted that you have a problem where boyfriends are concerned, so no more beating about the bush. Let’s get your problem out into the open.’

  Hannah’s face fired and her breath began to come in short pants. ‘Freda,’ she slowly began, ‘please do not say another word until Michael has put down our coffees and got himself out of earshot.’

  ‘That so . . . Well, let me tell you, you have got yourself into such a tizzy that you are not aware that the steaming cup in front of you is your coffee . . . and as to Michael, he’s well out of earshot and is now standing at the front door holding court with the lad that runs Lang’s, the pork butchers next door.’

  Lifting her teaspoon, Hannah began to lazily stir her coffee. ‘Freda, be patient with me. You see, other than my mum, nobody knows.’ She quickly added, ‘Because I have never told anyone . . . I am so ashamed. ’

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘Oh Freda . . . Well, here goes . . . I am not all there.’

  ‘What? But Hannah, you have arms, legs, eyes, ears, a good brain . . . so as far as I can see, you are all there.’

  ‘That’s true – I appear all there, but inside I’m not.’ Hannah was now pulling at her hair. ‘Freda, it’s just that . . .’

  ‘Look, Hannah, if you don’t spit out what it is you are trying to tell me you won’t be the only one not all there . . . I will have joined you.’

  Heaving in a large breath, Hannah stuttered, ‘I haven’t got a uterus!’

  Freda sat bolt upright before exclaiming, ‘A what?’

  ‘A uterus, Freda.’

  ‘And what in the name of heavens is a uterus?’ Freda questioned as she started to titter. ‘And know something, Hannah. I don’t know what a blooming uterus is and I’m not sure if we really need one.’

  ‘That was the name of what the doctor said was missing when he examined me, back when I was fifteen.’ Gulping, Hannah paused. ‘It’s just another name for your . . . womb.’

  ‘You went to see a doctor when you were fifteen to ask him why you didn’t have a womb? Why . . . and what made you think that you didn’t have one then?’ Freda stopped to try and make sense of it all. ‘Och, Hannah now you have me wondering if I have one, but I most certainly won’t be asking anyone to have a look for it.’

  ‘I didn’t ask him to look to see if I had a womb. I went to see him because . . . Remember back to when Angela was the first to get her period?’

  ‘But that’s Angela – she is always first to get or do anything.’

  Hannah ignored Freda’s remarks. ‘Well, next it was you, and then Molly, and when I still hadn’t seen any sign of mine my mum was frightened I was pregnant, so she took me to the doctor. He sent me to see this other doctor called a gynaecologist.’ Hannah’s face was now bright red as the memories of that happening were brought to the front of her mind again. ‘Freda, it was all so . . . I hated what he was doing and I demanded that he brought my mum in to hold my hand during his examination of me. Believe me, it was so painful I was screaming. And when he said I would never be able to have a child because I had no uterus to carry it in and that . . .’ She gulped and hung her head, before continuing in a whisper, ‘Because I also have an undeveloped vagina, doing what happens when you get married would be very painful for me without . . .’ She raised her head again. ‘Freda, are you still a virgin?’

  ‘Of course I am. What made you think that I wasn’t?’

  ‘Well, Angela is always hinting that with you and Robin spending two nights a week down in the basement of Stuart’s hairdressers, you must be getting up to no good.’

  ‘What? Look, not that it’s any of your or Angela’s business, we spend that time washing and resetting all the old bald biddies’ wigs. Make more than a bob or two doing that, we do.’

  ‘But for why?’

  ‘Because . . .’ Freda leaned over the table towards Hannah and whispered, ‘Even though some of the loaded old dears in Edinburgh are losing their hair, it doesn’t mean they don’t care how they look. So Robin and I have set up a business, through Stuart’s, washing and resetting their wigs, which keeps them in tip-top shape.’

  ‘I’m not daft, Freda. I worked that out, but what I don’t know is why you are spending all your spare time doing it.’

  Firstly, allowing her eyes to dart about the room, Freda inclined even closer to Hannah, who had to cock her ear to hear Freda’s even quieter muttering. ‘
Please, Hannah, don’t tell anyone, but Robin and I are going to set up together.’

  ‘Oh, so you are making extra money so you can live together?’

  Freda took in a sharp breath. ‘No,’ she uttered hoarsely under her breath, ‘we are not setting up home together and never will. Robin is in love with Billy and Billy adores him. Billy’s mother, like most people, doesn’t want Billy to love Robin and so she is trying to give Robin the heave-ho. This being the case, he asked me if I would like to go into business with him.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Aye, and thank goodness you’ve got that straight in your head.’ She heaved a long sigh, before adding, ‘So all we are doing in the basement is working like slaves to get the wherewithal to buy the equipment we will need. And in the meantime, we are looking about for a shop – a shop in the right location that will get Robin and I started up on our own. Imagine it: me no longer taking orders from Miss Briggs, and dear Robin not having to dodge the Wicked Witch of the West on her broomstick!’

  Pondering, Hannah replied more to herself than to Freda, ‘So you are still a virgin? You wouldn’t know what it feels like to make love?’

  All the response Freda gave was a grimace.

  ‘Do you think Angela is?’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, how would I know or even care?’ Freda hesitated to contemplate, before saying, ‘Right, back to where we were . . . you were told at fifteen you had no womb?’

  Hannah nodded. ‘Yeah, and I also don’t have periods like you.’

  ‘Believe me, that’s a bonus I would welcome.’ Shaking her head, Freda tutted before adding, ‘But I’m beginning to think that I’m not all there either, because I can’t quite fathom why you have decided to go back to the hospital now.’

  ‘You know how I’ve just been promoted to a higher clerical job in the city’s engineers’ department? Well, there is a clerk of works there and I think he fancies me.’

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  Addressing the ceiling, Hannah slowly drawled, ‘Oh Freda, you won’t believe me but every Friday afternoon he brings me in a wee pink French fancy, and he winks at me as he slips it over my desk.’

  ‘Now let’s get this straight,’ Freda said as she tried to stifle her desire to laugh, ‘you are going back to the hospital because some bloke buys you a French cake?’

  ‘Freda, I am only doing what you and Robin are doing – looking to the future. A future day when someone may wish to marry me even though . . .’ Her lip quivered. ‘Even though I’m not all there where I should be. Freda,’ she babbled on, ‘I am so excited. You see, I have just found out that there are now things that can be done so that I could . . . not have a baby, but so I would be able to . . . you know . . . do what lovers do.’

  ‘So that’s the real reason you want me to go to the hospital appointment with you and not your mum.’ Freda’s laughter was now uncontrollable. ‘You don’t want your mum to know what you are dreaming of doing.’

  ‘It’s not funny. Be honest, have you not thought about S. E. X.?’ Hannah paused. ‘I suppose you might not have because it will never be a problem for you. You’re all there where you should be, so you will never have to go and beg for an operation or be shown how to use a dilator before you can . . .’ Hannah was now quite emotional as she blubbered, ‘And if a dilator blowing me up won’t cause death to romance then I don’t know what will!’

  A long and uneasy silence fell between the girls. Freda squirmed as she admitted to herself that she had always wondered why Hannah, when in a crowd of young men and women, always seemed to be fretting. She looked over to Hannah, as she wished to meet her eyes and in a look convey to her that she was now beginning to realise what a cruel and bitter blow nature had laboured her with. Shaking her head as tears surfaced, Freda noted that Hannah seemed unable to lift her head. Rising, she wiped away the teardrops from the corner of her eyes before going over to the counter and asking Michael to draw up another two coffees.

  When she returned to the table Hannah quietly pleaded, ‘Please, Freda, don’t tell anybody about my problems. I just couldn’t bear the pity or worse still’ – she stopped and deliberately held Freda’s gaze before adding – ‘the ridicule.’

  Putting her hands over Hannah’s, Freda replied, ‘No. You are my best friend and no one will ever hear your secret from me. And Hannah, don’t be ashamed of your feelings and of trying to find a solution. We all have dreams . . . If we didn’t, how could we ever know the joy of one coming true?’

  Hannah was now wiping her tears. ‘Now tell me the truth, Freda,’ she wheedled, ‘do you ever dream of making love and having babies?’

  It would have been cruel to lie to Hannah again, so Freda nodded. ‘Aye, I do, and here’s something for you to digest and keep secret . . . Silly me deludes myself by thinking that one day Ewan will see me as a desirable woman and not just a good pal to slap on the back. But when I compare myself with our sexy, sophisticated pal Angela, what hope do I really have?’

  More in control, Hannah teased, ‘Don’t suppose quietly bumping her off is a solution you have ever considered?’

  Freda’s wicked smile told Hannah that in her daydreams she might not have exactly wielded an axe, but she most certainly had often thought about launching Angela into outer space, or at least the Outer Hebrides . . .

  Three

  December 1966

  When Freda bounced into Stuart’s basement, Robin, who was cleaning out the sink he had been washing the wigs in, looked up.

  ‘You were supposed to be here at half past six, not half past eight.’

  ‘Sorry, I know we had ten wigs to get sorted out . . . please tell me you managed to get them all done?’

  ‘Aye. But I could have done with a hand.’

  ‘Robin, I just had to go and visit Hannah in the Eastern General Hospital.’

  Robin’s scowl softened. ‘Is she all right?’

  ‘Aye, she was admitted to the gynae for a wee op. The anaesthetic made her a bit weepy so I just couldn’t up and leave her.’

  ‘What kind of an op?’

  Freda turned away from Robin. What on earth, she wondered, was she going to say? She could hardly claim that Hannah had had her tonsils taken out by a gynaecologist. To keep faith with Hannah she could not tell him the truth, so very quickly she had to come up with a plausible answer. As if by magic, Angela popped into her mind. Last month the poor lassie also had to have a wee op at the Eastern – an op called a D&C, which she quickly said was not because she’d had a miscarriage. No, no, according to Angela when she confided to Freda, the doctor at the Eastern General Hospital had said it was something very unusual . . . in fact, he had never come across it before, but not to worry, as a D&C would put it right.

  Freda thought that she could say that Hannah’s op was something similar to Angela’s, but of course not as complicated. ‘What kind of an op you ask?’ Freda mused, ‘Och, just the same as Angela’s.’ She then turned to face Robin again. ‘You know everybody right now seems to be being sent for that kind of operation . . . honestly I’m feeling quite left out because I’ve never been offered one – wonder why?’

  Tittering, Robin suggested, ‘You’ve not seen a doctor in years – so that could be the answer! But forget all Hannah and Angela’s female problems . . . Come sit down here opposite me and listen to this.’

  Freda had just sat down when Robin made a grab for her hands. ‘Sweetheart, in my pocket here are the keys to our dreams coming true.’ Robin fished out a set of keys from his pocket, which he then jangled in front of Freda.

  ‘You’ve found us a shop!’ she exclaimed as she grabbed for the keys.

  ‘Aye, not exactly up in a prime site in the heart of Princes Street or the West End but – oh Freda, would you believe it – Elm Row no less! And not only that, but bang in the middle of Valvona and Crolla’s delicatessen and the chemist.’

  ‘You rotten liar!’ she squealed. ‘You are just saying that because I was too late tonight to help wi
th the wigs.’

  Crossing his heart, Robin replied with a wink, ‘No. It’s true, so let’s clear up here and get ourselves down to Elm Row so you can see for yourself.’

  Breathing in deeply, Freda relaxed her shoulders. ‘Does that mean we can also say goodbye to doing these wigs?’

  Robin shook his head. ‘Not until we are up and running and making a good profit will we be able to say goodbye to cleaning and resetting these hairpieces. But as we are so good at it I am sure Madam Stuart will allow us to do them in our own salon and then deliver them back to her.’

  Within half an hour they were standing at the front door of the shop in Elm Row. When Freda looked at the peeling paint and the filthy boarded-up windows, her heart sank and her enthusiasm began to wane.

  Tripping over the worn wooden doorstep, her dismay was added to as she looked about the inner shop. True, there was a very large front area that, with a lot of very hard work, could be made into a first-class salon. It needed not only cleaning and decorating, but also fumigating, as there was a foul odour clinging about.

  ‘Well what do you think?’ Robin speered when he became aware that she was looking anything but upbeat. ‘Now come on, don’t look at the dirt . . . look at the potential!’ Freda scowled. ‘Come on, Freda,’ Robin cajoled, ‘I think we can make a go of it here.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Aye, you will be amazed at what some soap, water and elbow grease will accomplish, and don’t worry about the drains – see, once some shampoo is poured down them the smell will disappear.’

  ‘Robin, get real. It will take more than a few bottles of shampoo to get rid of the stench of rotting herring guts.’

  ‘Oh, so you’ve guessed it was a fish shop?’

  Freda nodded, and as she looked about the room Robin continued, ‘Okay, it was a fresh fish shop but Freda I ask you again not to look at the mess and not to sniff. Now come on . . . you can see it has potential.’ He grabbed her by the right hand and started to drag her into the back chamber. ‘See here how it opens up into another huge space?’ He now let go of her hand and as he danced about the room, a scraggy cat jumped out from under a sink.