The Gourlay Girls

by Margaret Thomson-Davis

  The heat made her feel thirsty and so she left the Kibble Palace and walked towards the main gate, beside which Gizzi’s Cafe was situated. Or the Silver Slipper Cafe, to give it its proper name. It was the usual thing after a stroll around the gardens for people to go and have an ice cream in the cafe.

  Afterwards Virginia went down Byres Road to do a bit of shopping. She passed the subway with its special smell—a mix of archangel tar and water. Virginia had often seen women with children suffering with their chest standing at the side and letting the children breathe in the subway air. It was supposed to be good for them. She bought a paper on the way back and once home, made a cup of tea and sat down at the kitchen table to read the paper. There were pictures of the King’s gilded carriage drawn by eight white horses passing through Trafalgar Square in London. It was on the way to the Abbey for the coronation. There was a big picture of the newly crowned King on the balcony of Buckingham Palace. The King, Virginia thought, appeared a serious but sensitive man. His Queen looked pleasant and smiling, and the two children, Elizabeth and Margaret, were also smiling happily. They looked quite ordinary little girls. Behind the royal family, though, were other royal ladies and peeresses wearing elbow length gloves and coronets on their heads. Their supercilious stares and primped mouths were all too familiar to Virginia. They were the type of employers she and countless other poor girls had suffered under. Women who thought they were far superior to the ‘servant class’ and treated them like dirt. Women who lived in pampered luxury, enjoying one round of pleasure after another, while their servants slaved for a pittance from the crack of dawn until they dropped exhausted on to their attic beds. ‘Useless, upper-class twits!’ Virginia thought, as she turned the page.

  Inside there was a picture of the wedding of Charlotte Gourlay, owner of the prosperous Gourlay factory which made clothing for the armed forces. Her bridegroom apparently had been one of her employees. ‘Well, well,’ Virginia thought, ‘things were surely looking up and getting more democratic.’ She looked a nice gentle girl, and no doubt she was a good and a kindly employer. It said that that four Gourlay sisters had all been bridesmaids. They weren’t in the picture though, only the bride and the groom. It was obvious what the gentle looking factory owner saw in him. The paper described him as ‘the handsome groom’, although he wasn’t the type that Virginia thought attractive, with his creamy fair hair, brows and lashes, and pale blue eyes. ‘Oh well, good luck to her,’ Virginia thought, turning another page.

  * * *

  Florence’s boyfriend lived at the St George’s Cross end of Great Western Road and he and Florence did quite a lot of their courting in the Botanic Gardens. During the summer at least. One day, not long after Charlotte’s wedding, Florence invited Wincey to come on a picnic with them to the Botanic Gardens. Part of Wincey longed to see the place again—the beautiful gardens, the elegant Grosvenor Hotel and terraced houses opposite, and further along, Great Western Terrace. Then on the opposite side of the road from that, rearing up from the grassy bank, Kirklee Terrace and her original home. At times she longed to see her mother and father again, but sadly the longer time passed, the more certain she was of how impossible that was.

  ‘No, Florence. It’s very kind of you and Eddie but I’d rather not play gooseberry. You ought to know me by now. I prefer to be on my own. I’m just funny that way.’

  ‘You certainly are,’ Florence said. ‘But are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, honestly. I thought seeing it’s such a nice day I’d either go up to Springburn Park or even to Glasgow Green. I’d like to visit the People’s Palace again.’ Glasgow Green was an important historic site and one of the great battlefields of Scotland. In many ways, the history of the Green was the history of Glasgow itself. A thousand battles had been fought there. Meetings and demonstrations had been held on the Green in the struggle for a living wage. The fight for political freedom—first one man, one vote, and then one woman, one vote—had taken place there. Different wars against all sorts of social injustices had been conducted on the Green. It was also the place where not only did women do their washing, but everyone enjoyed their leisure time. At school, Wincey had learned that it was here that the idea came to James Watt that changed the entire course of industrial and human history—the steam engine.

  Wincey enjoyed her walk on the Green, watching all the people, and at the same time immersing herself in the colourful history of the place. She made straight for the People’s Palace. It was different from other museums inasmuch as its collections all related to the history and the industry of the city and the life of the ordinary working people. It also housed a heated winter garden which was designed and arranged to serve as a hall where musical performances were given to large audiences. So it was a unique municipal enterprise, with the combination practically under one room of a museum, picture gallery, winter garden and music hall.

  Wincey had barely stepped inside the entrance when she had an unexpected shock. She saw a familiar face. She had felt sure that neither her parents nor her grandmother would ever come here, unless there was some sort of political rally going on. Then her mother and some of her mother’s political friends might turn up. Wincey had made sure before she’d ventured out that no such rally or meeting was taking place. She had not, however, considered the possibility of meeting one of her mother’s or her grandmother’s servants. But here, only a few feet from her, was Mrs Rogers and her two children.

  Wincey quickly turned away and retraced her steps through the doorway and out onto the Green again. Her heart was thumping in her chest, making her feel as if she was in danger of fainting. She tried to calm herself with the thought that Mrs Rogers had not seen her. She was almost certain the older woman had not seen her. Nevertheless, as she hurried away, she wished she’d had a scarf with her to tie over her head. Her red hair was the thing that might draw attention to her. She couldn’t get back to Springburn quick enough. Never had a tram car seemed so slow.

  Only once she was in Springburn, hastening into the close and then safely into the house, did she feel secure. It had been as if she had relived the horror of her grandfather’s death again and her dreadful part in it. Her panic had been exactly the same.

  ‘What’s wrong, dear?’ Teresa asked. ‘You look as white as a sheet.’

  ‘I don’t know. I just felt a bit faint.’

  ‘Och, you’ve been working too hard, Wincey. Sit down, dear. Try to relax now and I’ll make you a cup of tea.’

  Granny wailed, ‘Ah’m needin’ ma medicine. If she had tae suffer aw the bloomin’ agonies that ah huv tae, she’d know aw aboot it.’

  ‘Now, now, Granny. You’ll get your medicine with your cup of tea. The kettle doesn’t take a minute on the gas. These gas rings are marvellous. They’re so much quicker than the fire. Are you all right, Wincey?’

  ‘Yes, I feel much better now that I’m home.’ She must always remember that this was her home. There was no use allowing memories of her childhood home in Kirklee Terrace to creep into her mind. How could she explain to anyone why she’d run away and why for so long she’d stayed away? There could be only one explanation and that was guilt. Everyone would know that without her attempting to explain. She could offer no excuse for what she’d done. Even now, as an adult, she knew that by refusing to give her grandfather his medication, she had caused his death. She couldn’t make the excuse that she hadn’t known what to do to help him. Everyone was well aware that she knew perfectly well. How could she bring herself to say, ‘He was a pervert. He was abusing me. That’s why I let him die.’ No-one would believe her. Her grandfather had appeared such a pleasant, loving, generous old man. Her grandfather, of all people! Anyway, such a thing had never been heard of. Everyone would revile her and despise her for even thinking of such disgusting behaviour. They would believe it was nothing more than an example of her dirty mind and they would be a hundred times more horrified at her callous treatment of her own grandfather. As far as everyone else was concerned, the o
ld man had been nothing but good and kind to her from the moment she was born.

  Wincey gratefully accepted the cup of tea from Teresa who said in surprise, ‘Wincey, you’re trembling. What on earth’s the matter? Has something happened to upset you? Is that what it is?’

  ‘I nearly got run over by a motor car. That’s all.’

  ‘That’s all?’ Teresa cried out. ‘Oh my, you might have been killed. Oh Wincey, now I feel all shaky. You know you’re as dear and as precious to me as my own flesh and blood.’

  Wincey felt guilty about lying to Teresa and tears of shame welled up in her eyes. ‘Thank you, Teresa.’

  ‘Nothing to thank me for.’

  ‘Where’s ma medicine. It’s well seen naebody cares about me. Ye’ll be auld yersel’ wan day, the pair o’ ye.’

  17

  At last they made the move to a handsome red sandstone tenement near the top of the Balgrayhill. For Granny’s sake they had waited until a bottom flat had become available. It was a spacious, high ceilinged four-room and kitchen and bathroom. It also had quite a large square hall. Granny said, ‘Ye’ll huv us aw votin’ Tory next.’

  The twins shared a room. Wincey had a room to herself, and so had Florence. The other room was to be the ‘best room’, used only for entertaining visitors. Granny had refused to move from the kitchen, nor would she countenance being left to sleep alone.

  ‘Ah cannae get up on the bed in the kitchen or anywhere else. Ah’ll aye huv tae use the hurly. So there’s nae reason fur you an’ Erchie no’ tae stay in the kitchen bed. Anyway, what if ah needed tae “go” in the middle o’ the night? Ye’ll be auld yersel’ wan day.’

  They had to buy more furniture. For the sitting room, as Florence called it, they bought a three piece suite—a settee and two easy chairs, so cushioned that you sank deep into their comfort. But as Erchie said, ‘We’ll need a crane tae lift Ma oot o’ them chairs.’ A walnut china cabinet was also purchased. It was filled with a coffee set with a cream coffee pot in a fashionable angular shape, with a geometric pattern of orange, yellow and black. A milk jug and sugar bowl and matching cups and saucers were proudly arranged alongside it. On the shelf underneath, there was a matching biscuit barrel. On the remaining shelves, there were crystal glasses. On a table beside the tiled fireplace sat a lamp in the form of a bronze lady holding a beach ball aloft. Another larger walnut table over against the opposite wall had a folding leaf to save space. On it were photographs of Charlotte’s wedding.

  Above the mantelpiece hung a large mirror and along the mantle shelf were two bronze figures of dancing ladies and a stylised black panther. On either side were low book shelves. The floor was of highly polished linoleum, covered with a large carpet. The carpet had a striking design of figures entitled ‘The Workers’. It was a purchase insisted on by Erchie and Granny. They both said, ‘Ye’ve aw had a say in everythin’ else and we’re no’ that keen on any o’ it. But we like this rug. That’s the rug for us.’

  ‘Carpet, Daddy,’ Florence corrected.

  Eventually everyone capitulated. Admittedly the carpet was a very modern design and it did fit in with the overall style of the room. But no sooner had they all settled into the new house when Florence announced that she was going to get married. She and Eddie had found a place in Clydebank, near Eddie’s work. She refused a big wedding like the one Charlotte had. All she wanted was a quiet registry affair and then to a restaurant afterwards with the twins and their boyfriends. Granny loudly proclaimed, much to Florence’s affront and embarrassment, ‘Aye, it’s well seen it’s a shotgun affair.’

  Teresa sighed. ‘It’ll be the twins next. I just hope they don’t follow Florence and Eddie away to Clydebank. What’s wrong with old Springburn?’

  ‘Ah telt ye,’ Granny said, ‘they’re aw gettin’ above theirsels. Springburn’s no’ good enough for them noo. Even the Co-op. The Co-op.’ Granny repeated the word with high pitched incredulity. The twins had followed Florence into Copeland & Lye’s. Both were in ‘Mantles’.

  ‘You mean frocks,’ Granny had said, but the twins just rolled their eyes.

  ‘What worries me, Granny, is that they’ve always been so close. The girls, I mean. And even their boyfriends are brothers. It’s good that they’re close, of course,’ Teresa added hastily. ‘It’s just I hope they won’t follow Florence away to Clydebank. I’ll miss them.’

  ‘Aye,’ Erchie said, ‘the house’d be awfae quiet without the girls.’

  ‘Quiet as a grave,’ Granny wailed. ‘We’ll aw rummel aroon’ this big, empty hoose like peas in a drum.’

  ‘Now, now. It’s not empty, Granny. The twins won’t be getting married for ages yet.’

  As it turned out, Teresa was wrong in this pronouncement. No sooner had Florence and Eddie tied the knot than the twins announced that they too planned to marry. Florence’s wedding went smoothly. She was a June bride and looked very pretty and smart in a white embroidered linen dress with short puff sleeves and a wide brimmed navy hat trimmed with white flowers. The twins wore navy jackets and skirts and white satin blouses. Wincey looked unusual in a dark green dress, matching cape, and a brimmed hat pulled down over her eyes. But then, as Teresa said proudly, ‘Our Wincey always looks that wee bit different and mysterious.’ Wincey smiled wrily at the word mysterious. If only Teresa knew.

  It had been a quiet afternoon affair, just as Florence wanted. Nevertheless, Teresa insisted on giving her, as she said, a decent send-off. ‘Just a wee family party, dear.’

  And so that is what they had in their new sitting room on the evening of Florence’s wedding. Although Teresa cheated a little and had the neighbours in as well. Their old neighbours, as Teresa called them, from their last close. They hadn’t got to know the new neighbours yet. They seemed to like to keep themselves more to themselves. A good time, including a few energetic reels and a hokey kokey, was had by one and all. Granny, in her best black dress and her hair slicked to one side with water, sang loud and long with the rest of them.

  The twins had a winter wedding. Fifth of November to be exact. Granny said, ‘They’ll huv fireworks soon enough after they’re married, an’ no’ just the kind they’re buyin’ in that fancy shop in the town.’

  ‘Och, Granny, it’ll be good fun. It’ll be a laugh. I’ll hurl you round to the park.’ We’re going to have quite a crowd. All our old neighbours are coming, and Mrs Chalmers from upstairs.’ Mrs Chalmers was the only neighbour up the new close that Teresa had really got to know and become friends with. Although young Mrs Beresford, also on the top flat, usually smiled and said good morning or good evening. But she always seemed to be in such a hurry. The next-door neighbour on the bottom flat, Miss McClusky, was even worse. She was always rushing about like a ferret with a duster in her hand.

  Granny said, ‘A right house-proud horror, that one! She’s aye beatin’ carpets an’ cleanin’ windows an’ even sweepin’ oot the bins. An’ ah’m sorry for the poor auld faither o’ hers. Fancy her no’ lettin’ him huv his pipe in the house!’ A chair was always placed in the draughty close and the old man had to sit there to have his pipe. And his daughter, a spinster who obviously wasn’t used to men or pipes, always came out afterwards and wafted a tea towel about like mad to rid the close of any smell of smoke. ‘Whit she’s needin’,’ Granny said, ‘is a big man an’ a crowd o’ weans.’

  The neighbours one up the stairs were Davy, an old bachelor, and next door to him was Jock. Jock was a widower. Granny said, ‘Here, Wincey, ye should set yer cap at him. Ye could walk right intae a ready made house.’

  Wincey laughed. ‘Are you wanting rid of me or something? He’s far too old for me, Granny.’

  ‘It’s no’ good for a woman tae be left on her own. Or a fella for that matter. Jock cannae be more than forty. An’ he’s got a good job on the railway.’

  ‘You are wanting rid of me.’

  ‘No, ah’m no’. But the likes o’ you cannae be too fussy, hen. Ye’re nae oil paintin’ wi’ all them freckles. An�
� no’ everybody goes for a ginger heid.’

  ‘Now, now, Granny. Wincey’s got very nice hair and it’s not ginger. It’s a lovely warm auburn shade. And he is too old. Wincey’s not yet eighteen.’

  ‘Och, she’s near enough. An’ anyroads, she’s auld fur her age, an’ looks it.’

  Teresa rolled her eyes but Wincey just laughed again. She was well used to Granny by now and had grown to be very fond of her.

  The twins’ wedding was a great success and a great crowd of people, many of whom they didn’t know, joined in the fireworks party in the park—until the ‘parky’ came and put them out because he was going to lock the gates. After they’d all said their goodbyes at the park gate, Wincey was still waving enthusiastically to the twins and their new husbands in their retreating car, and without realising, she stepped out into the road. There was an immediate screech of brakes, and screams from Teresa and Granny, who had already crossed to the other side. A man leapt from a car and glared furiously at Wincey.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing, you idiot?’

  The car’s front bumper had barely touched Wincey but she felt terribly shaken and angry.

  ‘How dare you call me an idiot?’

  ‘You ran right out in front of me. It’s a bloody good job there’s nothing wrong with my brakes.’

  Erchie came hurrying over. ‘Come on, hen. Say ye’re sorry tae the man an’ we’ll be on our way.’

  ‘I’ll not do any such thing. I wasn’t running anywhere. If anyone’s the idiot, it’s him.’

  ‘A right little charmer,’ the man remarked, turning away and getting back into his car.

  ‘Come on, hen,’ Erchie repeated, putting an arm around her. ‘Ye’re jist upset.’

  ‘I’m not upset,’ Wincey said, shaking Erchie’s arm off and glaring at the driver, who cast her a look of disgust before driving away.

  ‘What an insufferable man,’ Wincey said as she walked across the road with Erchie to join Teresa and Granny. Charlotte and Malcy had gone into their house but had rushed out again to see what the screaming was about.