Dragon Land

by Maureen Reynolds

  The next day I met up with Laura and she was delighted that we would both be together.

  ‘Just think what fun we’ll have, and at the end of it we’ll both be teachers.’

  I laughed. ‘We have to study hard, Laura, and then pass our exams at the end.’ I crossed my fingers when I said this as I didn’t want to tempt fate by assuming all would be well.

  Laura laughed out loud. ‘Of course we’ll pass our exams, Lizzie. We did well at school and it’ll be no different from that.’

  I smiled at her. That was what I liked about her, the infectious confidence – I hoped it would rub off on me. I envied Laura because she knew what she wanted to do with her life, and not once did she ever falter with her ambition of becoming a teacher, while I always had this restless feeling of not knowing what I wanted to do.

  However, I wrote to my aunt that night and I knew she would be delighted at my news. I was grateful to her because she had told Mum that she would help financially with my education till I got a job, and I knew I was a lucky girl.

  19

  PARK PLACE

  Laura and I were due to attend our first session at the college at noon on 3 October. The weeks leading up to this momentous occasion had been busy. We both had to have medical examinations, which we passed with no problems. Mum had made an appointment for me to see Dr Bennett at his surgery in Constitution Terrace. After his examination he said I was as fit as a fiddle, his exact words, and I came home clutching a certificate to prove it.

  Laura went to see her family doctor, who lived in a large house on Blackness Avenue. She was also fit as a fiddle, but then neither of us expected anything else. After all, we were young women with the whole world at our feet.

  We put in for and received a grant from the Scottish Education Department that would help out with our finances and help us not be a burden on our families. We also had to sign a declaration that we intended to follow the profession of a teacher in schools inspected by the education department, which made me a bit uneasy as I wanted to teach abroad after training. I said as much to Laura, but she advised me not to rock the boat.

  ‘Just sign it, Lizzie. After all, we don’t know what lies ahead of us in the future,’ she said.

  That left the problem of smart working clothes, but the problem was soon solved when Granny paid for an outfit suitable to attend the college. On the Saturday before I was due to go, we both paid a visit to DM Brown’s ladies’ dress department, where I was fitted out with a navy skirt, two white blouses and a navy-blue coat. We went up to the millinery department, where Mum was busy with an autocratic-looking elderly woman who didn’t seem to know what she wanted. I thought Mum looked tired but was trying hard not to show it. Because Mum was busy, we got another young assistant who was very helpful. I wasn’t very happy about wearing a hat, but Granny was most insistent that a lady had to have one. In the end I settled for a plain-looking cream-coloured cloche hat that didn’t look too fancy or pretentious.

  Afterwards we went up to the restaurant, where we had a cup of tea and a cake. I was meeting Laura later, and when I saw her we were both amazed at how similar our clothes were, even down to the same-shaped hats. This gave us a laugh, and we said we looked more like sisters than friends.

  I was feeling nervous when the day finally arrived to present myself at the college. I had no idea what to expect, and Laura had said the same thing. We were two innocents about to enter the grown-up world of training, where eventually we would be in charge of young children and be responsible for their schooling. I felt as if my own childhood was being left behind, but I was also pleased that I was now on the first step to my new future.

  Mum had wished me luck before leaving for her work that morning, and both Granny and Maisie Mulholland said everything would be all right and that I would be an ideal student for the next two years.

  It was a typical autumn day as I made my way to Park Place. Although it was dry, the sky was overcast with dark grey clouds that threatened heavy rain before the day was out. There was a cold wind that whipped up the hem of my coat against my legs, and I hurried along the street, eager to be inside, where I hoped it would be warmer.

  I had left Granny sitting by a warm fire whose flames lit up the cosy room, and the small lamp had been lit, which glowed softly on the polished wooden furniture. Suddenly I felt like I was going to cry and a sob caught in my throat at the thought of what lay ahead. I stopped for a moment to give myself a mental shake-up.

  ‘Honestly, is this how pirates and explorers would behave before setting out for their adventurous journeys?’ I asked myself before quickening my stride to meet up with Laura.

  She was standing waiting for me at the entrance to the college. She gave me a quick smile before linking her arm through mine. ‘Are we all set then, Lizzie?’

  I nodded with a confidence I didn’t feel and we went in through the door. The reception room was already busy with women, young girls and a small handful of men. At three o’clock, Professor William McClelland, who was the principal of the college and director of studies, made his appearance along with his staff, which included: Edith Luke, the warden and ‘mistress’ of the methods and practice of teaching classes; Margaret S. Malloch, the principal hostel warden; the Rev. James Smith, who taught religious instruction; and Robert Ash, the medical officer.

  My head was reeling after all these descriptions, but I knew it would be fine once I was settled in. I glanced at Laura and I knew by her face that she felt the same.

  After the speech by the principal, the students who required accommodation were told to gather at the door and they would be escorted to the Mayfield hostel in Small’s Wynd. The girl who had been standing beside us picked up her bag and suitcase. She noticed that we weren’t going to move.

  She looked worried. ‘Are you not going to the hostel?’ she asked.

  Laura said we lived in Dundee.

  ‘Oh, you’re lucky. I’m not looking forward to living in the hostel, but I’m sure I’ll get used to it.’ She held out her hand. ‘I’m Pat Hogan.’

  We introduced ourselves and she went on. ‘My parents work on a farm near Kirriemuir, so it’s not possible to travel here every day.’

  She was quite plump, with short blonde curly hair and rosy cheeks that showed two dimples when she smiled. I thought she resembled the country dairymaid in the adverts for the Maypole Dairy. She wore a blue hand-knitted jumper and a dark-blue woollen skirt, and I got the impression she would be an energetic person and well able to control a classroom full of children.

  Once again I had misgivings about being in college, but I was stopped from thinking too hard about this as Pat said goodbye. ‘I hope to see you soon,’ she said as she joined the queue of people who were being organised for their trip to the hostel.

  Laura said she felt quite drained by all the activity, and to be honest I felt the same way. ‘Hopefully things will be fine tomorrow when we start our course,’ she said.

  Mum and Granny were eager to hear how I got on, and I put on a bright expression and told them everything was going to be great. I mentioned Pat Hogan and Mum said what a blessing it was that I was able to come home every night, a sentiment I totally agreed with.

  Over the next few weeks, Laura and I became very friendly with Pat and we spent a lot of our spare time together. Laura’s mother invited Pat to visit any time she felt lonely at the hostel and we had some good nights at the Hawkhill, with Irene playing popular songs on the piano, with the three of us singing along.

  I invited Pat to come to Victoria Road, but I did warn her our house was much quieter than Laura’s. Once again I shouldn’t have worried about our lack of social skills because Laura brought her knitting with her and it turned out that Pat was a whiz at doing crochet. Granny thought they were two very nice girls.

  I would sit in our living room as Granny, Laura and Pat were busy with their handicrafts while I felt like an alien who had accidentally landed in Smith and Horner’s wool department, and I f
elt that restlessness surge up inside me and I wished that the two-year course would soon be over, then I could look for something overseas, just as Margaret had suggested.

  We also liked going to the pictures and secretly smoking a cigarette while watching the films that were now billed as ‘talkies’. Smoking was a habit that we never really took to, but at the time it made us feel grown up.

  One night Laura said, ‘Do you remember when we used to be in love with Rudolph Valentino, Lizzie?’

  I laughed. ‘He was very handsome when he played “The Sheik”.’ I turned to Pat. ‘We used to fall out over which one of us he would fall in love with. Do you remember that, Laura?’

  ‘Oh, I do. I used to dream of him and wished I could be in the desert with him.’

  Pat, being a country girl from a farm, confessed she had never seen him, although she had read about how women adored him.

  At the time I was so busy with my studies at the college and our outings that I didn’t notice Mum becoming more of a recluse. It was Granny who said one night that she should make an effort to go out more.

  ‘You’re a young woman, Beth. Why don’t you go out with Lizzie and her friends to the pictures?’

  Mum looked horrified. ‘They won’t want me hanging around with them, Mary. No, I just like listening to the wireless and reading my library books.’

  I felt so guilty about not noticing how much Mum had retreated into a self-imposed shell.

  ‘Why don’t you come to the pictures with me one night, Mum? It’ll be just the two of us, unless Granny wants to come as well.’ I looked over, but Granny shook her head. ‘We can look at the paper and see what films are on.’

  Mum said she thought that was a good idea, so we made plans to see what film Mum fancied. That week we both went to the Plaza cinema on the Hilltown to see a Laurel and Hardy picture and we both laughed so loudly that Mum had tears in her eyes. When we arrived home, Granny seemed so pleased that she had enjoyed her night out.

  ‘You should make this a weekly thing, Beth, as it’s good to get out of the house for a change.’

  Mum said she would think about it, but nothing came of it, so Granny and I just said that there was nothing else we could do about her. As a result, Mum sank back into her quiet life, listening to music and plays on the wireless, and reading her books.

  I often looked at her when she was engrossed in her stories and I thought what a waste of life, because she was still a very pretty woman, with her light-brown hair, hazel eyes and a pale but clear complexion. I was quite sad about her, because I’m sure she would never have been like this if Dad had still been alive. It was as if her life had come to an end the day she got the telegram in 1917.

  I wrote a letter to Margaret every week, giving her all the news from the college, and I looked forward to her replies. She said her husband would soon be retiring from his career and that they both looked forward to moving back to Scotland with a house by the sea. I knew that Mum would be a different person if Margaret stayed nearby.

  It was coming up to December and the college was closing for the Christmas and New Year holiday from 13 December until 7 January. We were all looking forward to this break, although we wouldn’t see much of Pat, as she was going home to the farm in Kirriemuir.

  She was quite wistful a few days before the break. ‘I’m going to miss all the fun and activity when I go home. There’s nothing but fields where I live, although we do manage to get to the town now and again.’

  Laura said she was welcome to come and stay with her for a few days if she got bored, but Pat said her mother needed her to help in the big farmhouse, where she had a job as a cleaner.

  ‘My dad’s boss and his wife always have visitors over the festive season, so Mum has a lot of extra work to do. I’ve always helped out before, so it’ll be the same this year, I expect.’

  Laura said to me later that we were lucky we didn’t have to fetch and carry for visitors and clean a big old farmhouse, and I agreed.

  The weather had turned cold and wet, but there was no snow, so Pat managed to catch her train and we went to see her off.

  ‘Have a lovely Christmas,’ she said as she humped her suitcase into the half-empty carriage.

  ‘The same to you, Pat,’ we called in unison as the train puffed out of the station.

  We wandered up into the High Street to look at the shop windows, then went into Woolworth’s store to look for presents. I didn’t know what I wanted so I said I would leave it until the following week and Laura agreed. We were full of plans for the holiday and I knew we would be spending time together in each other’s houses. Granny loved Christmas and she always decorated the house with paper chains and the festive ornaments she brought out from below her bed, like the fairies with gossamer wings and the elves with their green trousers and red hats. Then when New Year was over she would carefully wrap them in tissue paper and shove the box back under the bed.

  Christmas Day was a normal working day for Mum, but she was planning on having a good rest at the New Year holiday, when the store closed for two days. The week before Christmas, Mum got a card from Milly with a letter. She told us about it at teatime.

  ‘Milly is getting married at the New Year to the son of the owner of the shop she works in. She wants me to be a witness at the quiet ceremony they’ve planned, but I don’t think I can manage it.’

  Granny said, ‘That’s wonderful news, Beth, but I do think you should reconsider being with Milly on her big day.’

  Mum turned the letter over in her hand before slipping it into her pocket. ‘It will be difficult to travel to Glasgow over the holiday, as I’m not sure about the trains.’

  Granny picked up her knitting and she seemed immersed in the complicated pattern, but she said softly, ‘Well, think about it, Beth.’

  I was disappointed, as I felt it would have done Mum the world of good to be among people and enjoy their company. Granny felt the same thing, but we both knew not to push Mum into something she didn’t want to do. It was a lesson we had learned over the years.

  20

  A WEDDING IN GLASGOW

  Laura and I were very busy during the next couple of days, as we were both in a quandary about buying gifts for our families.

  ‘I’ve got a book of Ivor Novello’s music for Mum, as she likes his songs, but I’ve no idea what to get for my dad. I could get him a new spirit level or a chisel, I suppose.’

  I looked at her and she laughed.

  ‘I’m just joking.’

  I said I was in the same boat. ‘I’ve seen a lovely brooch in Marshall’s jewellery shop, but it’s too expensive, and I haven’t a clue what to get for Mum.’

  We were walking down the Wellgate at the time when I gave a sigh. ‘Why do we always give presents at Christmas anyway?’

  Laura looked shocked. ‘It’s because of the gifts brought to the baby Jesus from the Three Wise Men.’

  I laughed. ‘I know that. I’m not stupid when it comes to stories from the Bible, but that all happened thousands of years ago.’

  Laura just gave me one of her famous looks that spoke more than a hundred words and we continued to gaze in the shop windows.

  Later, when I got home, I saw Granny was excited about something.

  ‘What do you think, Lizzie?’ she said. ‘Your mother has changed her mind about being Milly’s witness and we will be going to Glasgow after Christmas. I’ve written to a guest house and booked two rooms for two nights.’

  I said nothing but was perplexed about the ‘we’.

  ‘Oh, I forgot mention that I’m coming as well.’

  ‘When did Mum change her mind?’ I asked.

  ‘Just before she left for work this morning, but I went to see Maisie before you got up, and when I got back you had left to go and see Laura. Isn’t that good news?’

  I said it was great news.

  When Mum arrived home that night, I tackled her about her change of mind.

  ‘Well, I’ve been friends with Milly
for years and I thought I had to be with her on her wedding day. Your granny wanted to come as well, so we’ve planned to stay for two nights, then be home in time to bring in the new year here.’

  I wasn’t sure how to broach the subject of money. ‘How much will it cost, Mum?’

  ‘Granny is paying for the rooms at the guest house and I’ll pay for the train tickets and the wedding present. I’ve bought a pair of Egyptian cotton sheets for the gift, as they were on offer at the store.’

  I wasn’t sure about mentioning the cost of Christmas presents in the face of this new financial plan, but time was running out and I had to get my shopping done in the next few days.

  ‘I was going to buy Granny a lovely brooch I saw, but it’s too dear.’ I hesitated. ‘Do you think we can buy it together as a joint gift?’

  Mum said that was a good idea, but added, ‘You’re not to spend money on anything for me, as I know you need all your money for your course at the college.’

  On Christmas Eve we decorated the house with the usual paper chains that Granny kept in the wooden box under her bed and I bought a bunch of holly from the florist in Victoria Road. Later, I went round to Laura’s house to exchange our presents and we sang Christmas carols round the piano. Irene then produced a small bottle of port and we had some with lemonade, clinking our glasses together and wishing each other a merry Christmas.

  It was a cold, misty night as I walked home. The streets were thronged with people, and small shops were still busy with customers. At that moment I experienced such a feeling of well-being and happiness that I almost stopped in my tracks. I couldn’t ever recall feeling like this and I almost cried.

  When I got home, Mum and Granny were sitting with cups of hot cocoa and the firelight glimmered off the paper chains and the bunch of holly that was placed in a vase on the mantelpiece. After they went to bed, I took Dad’s photo out of my handbag and saw once again the droplets of water dripping from his dark hair. He looked so alive that it was hard to believe he was lying somewhere in France in an unmarked grave. ‘Happy Christmas, Dad, wherever you are,’ I said before going to bed.