Thankfully Mum was calm, but she looked so fragile in her black coat and hat that I had to hold back my tears.
The minister gave a wonderful eulogy about Granny, saying what stalwart members she and her late husband had been and how she had knitted hundreds of items for the soldiers in the trenches and latterly for needy families. He mentioned the tragedy in her life, with the loss of her husband and son. Especially her son Peter, he said, who had died like thousands of other soldiers in the war. His condolences went out to his young widow and daughter and all the family. I noticed Margaret was holding Mum’s hand, while Maisie cried quietly into her handkerchief. The hymns were the 23rd Psalm and ‘Abide With Me’, and it was at this point I almost burst into tears. I was trying to hold my grief in, as I knew I would upset Mum and I didn’t want her to break down.
I vaguely remember people coming up and speaking to us afterwards, but everything still felt unreal. It was to be a private burial at Balgay, so the car took the three of us, plus the minister, to the cemetery. Margaret had arranged refreshments back at the house for anyone who wanted to come, and Maisie had volunteered to be there until we returned.
The mist shrouded the gravestones, giving them a ghostly appearance, but the service at the cemetery was brief, with the minister saying a final prayer. I watched as Granny’s coffin was lowered into its narrow slot. I had never been so sad as this in my life, but as we turned to leave the many wreathes were placed on the spot, and because they were mainly arrangements of chrysanthemums in shades of gold, russet and yellow, the grave seemed to glow with colour and light. I knew the sharp tang of their perfume would remain with me for the rest of my life.
Back at the house, Maisie was busy handing round sandwiches and tea to Milly and Albert and Andy Baxter. I then noticed Wullie and Irene sitting on the sofa with Davie and Pat Hogan.
Andy, Wullie and Davie were dressed in their dark-coloured suits and white shirts with starched collars. There was a faint smell of mothballs, and I knew the men had put on their best clothes for the funeral, which filled me with emotion. These were men who were more at home working with wood and farming, but they now sat in awkward silence as their wives quietly spoke to each other. It made me feel humble that they had come to say farewell to Granny, a woman they had never met.
I went to sit beside them while Mum went to sit with Milly, Albert and Andy. It was easy to see that Albert worked in the clothing trade because his suit of dark-coloured worsted looked fashionable.
‘Thank you so much for coming,’ I said. ‘We really appreciate it.’
Wullie said, ‘We wanted to come, Lizzie. Laura and Pat didn’t want to ask for time off from the college, but they’ll be round tonight.’
Pat expressed the same sentiments, as she looked at Davie. ‘You’ve been so good to our Pat, and she always said she loved coming here to see you all, especially your granny.’
Davie’s calloused, weather-beaten hand was holding one of Granny’s china cups and saucers, but he placed it onto the little table beside the sofa as Margaret came over and I introduced her.
‘This is my aunt Margaret, she’s travelled from Lisbon to be with us.’
I left them to go and speak with Milly. She had been crying, but apart from that she looked well. I gave her a hug and she started crying again. ‘I hope Beth will be fine, Lizzie. You know how sensitive she is, and I do worry about her.’
‘Yes, I know, Milly, but Margaret and I will keep an eye on her.’
She grasped my hand. ‘I know you will, and she’s a lucky woman to have such a caring daughter.’ She hesitated and glanced over her shoulder. ‘Can I tell you a secret, Lizzie?’
My mind was still numb, but I nodded.
She was smiling. ‘I’m expecting a baby next year, but I don’t want to mention it to Beth just yet, but can you tell her from me?’
‘That’s great, Milly. What does Albert think about your news?’
‘He’s thrilled, and so is my father-in-law. They both hope it will be a boy and I would like a girl, but it honestly doesn’t matter as we’ll have our own first child.’
Andy was sitting with Mum and she was trying to make conversation, but I saw from her face that the sedative was wearing off, so I went over. Before I reached them, Margaret came and said that Pat’s and Laura’s parents were leaving, so I turned around to say goodbye and thank them once more for their support.
Davie said, ‘Your aunt very kindly offered to get us a taxi to take us to the station, but it will only take us a wee while to catch the tramcar.’
Pat and Irene took my hand as they went through the door. ‘Now remember, Lizzie, we’re here for you and your mum any time you need us.’
‘Thank you.’
I watched from the window as they emerged onto the street, but the mist had thickened and they were just a blur as they got on the tramcar.
Andy was also standing up to go and I went to have a word with him. I thought he looked well; he had a black leather glove over his missing hand.
‘How are you keeping, Andy?’ I asked.
‘Things are looking up for me, Lizzie. I’ve got a job at Lord Robert’s workshop in Meadowside. He set it up to give work to people disabled in the war, and I’ve been lucky to get a place there.’
I was so pleased for him and I said so.
‘It means that my mother has some extra income coming into the house now, and I’ve also got a girlfriend. At the moment we’re just friends who go to the pictures together, but I’m hoping it will become a more serious relationship between us.’
‘Congratulations, Andy. You deserve some happiness after all you’ve been through.’
‘I wouldn’t have had all this if it hadn’t been for your father, Lizzie. I owe him my life, but it’s a terrible tragedy that you’re both now living without him.’
I was so choked with emotion that I couldn’t speak, so I just took hold of his good hand and clasped it tightly.
Thankfully Milly said they had also to go and catch the train back to Glasgow. I thought Mum wouldn’t let her go as they hugged one another, but finally they all left, including Maisie, who had been a tower of strength all afternoon. She said she appreciated our heartfelt thanks. ‘I would have done anything for Mary, as we’ve been neighbours for years.’
Margaret sat down with a loud sigh. ‘Would you both like something to eat?’ she asked, but Mum said if we didn’t mind she would go to bed.
Margaret made cheese omelettes and toast. We sat at the window, but this time the curtains were closed against the cold, foggy night air.
Pat and Laura arrived about seven o’clock, but Mum was still in bed. Margaret entertained them with stories of her teaching days and her life in foreign countries, and we all reminisced about Granny and her prolific knitting. It was nine o’clock when they left, and that just left Margaret and me with our memories.
24
MUM MAKES A CONFESSION
I found life very hard after Granny’s death, but Margaret made things bearable. I shudder to think what it would have been like if she hadn’t been there. Every Sunday we both made our way to the cemetery, where we cleared the withered wreaths and laid fresh flowers on the grave. Afterwards, if the weather was dry we would sit on one of the benches and discuss how Mum would cope after she went back to Lisbon.
‘I have to be back by the end of November, Lizzie.’
‘Yes, I know, Margaret, but hopefully Mum will be able to get on with her life.’
As it was, Mum seemed to get a new lease of life and she looked much better for it. She had been to the solicitor’s office with Margaret, and Granny had left her life savings to Mum with a small bequest to me. It wasn’t a huge amount of money, but it would cushion Mum’s life quite a bit. The house was rented, but the local factor transferred the lease to us, so that was one worry less.
Margaret had found a hairdressing salon in the Nethergate that stayed open one evening a week, so both she and Mum regularly had their hair washed and cu
t. Margaret’s grey hair was styled in a fashionable Eton crop, while Mum had a softer, curlier look. Mum bought some Pond’s cream from the beauty counter at DM Brown’s for her face, and she began to look like how I remembered her as a child.
Laura and Pat came round regularly, even though I saw them at the college every day, but we enjoyed listening to Margaret’s stories of her foreign travels and her teaching career, especially me.
One evening, Laura asked her how she managed to cope in the classroom. We were learning the rudimentary lessons at college, but we had yet to experience the real thing.
‘Well, I did three years’ training, Laura, because I was a university pupil. My first job was at Butterburn School, which I loved. Later I applied for a teaching post in a private school in Edinburgh, and I stayed there for a few years before finally becoming the headmistress. In the beginning I had this class of eight-year-olds, and there was one girl in particular, Abigail Lee, whose parents were American. She was so smart she was in danger of turning round and cutting herself. One day I misspelt the word “believe” and she called out loudly that it was wrong. I couldn’t let this minute whippersnapper get the better of me, so I said, “Well done, Abigail Lee, I wondered who would be the first one to notice it. You are a clever girl.” ‘ Margaret laughed at the memory. ‘She was so pleased she sat up straight with a priggish smile and looked at her classmates. Then a month later her parents went back to America. I often wondered what became of her. I personally think she’s the head of some big firm and struts around all day lording it over the poor workers.’
We all laughed, and even Mum was amused, which gladdened my heart. One day Pat asked me if Margaret was Mum’s sister, but I said no, she was a stepsister. Yet in my mind she was more than that: she was more like a mother to her, and Mum just blossomed when she was around.
One night Mum confessed to us that all the time she had lived at Victoria Road she had felt like the lodger. I was shocked, and Margaret said that couldn’t be true because Mary doted on us; in fact, she had said as much to Margaret.
‘But that’s how I felt, Margaret,’ Mum said. ‘I had to leave my own home behind and move here because I had no choice, but it was never my own house.’
After Mum went to bed, I said, ‘I never thought she felt like that. Granny was always so kind to us, and I’m sure there were times when she wished she had the house to herself.’
Margaret said not to worry. ‘Beth has always been a sensitive person, so I’m sure she didn’t mean it.’
Actually I thought she had, but we left it at that.
I was dreading the weeks going by, and before long it was time for Margaret to leave. Mum put on a brave face and said she would be fine.
‘I’ve got Lizzie, so don’t worry about us, Margaret.’
On the last Friday in November, Margaret and I went to the railway station, where she had booked a place on the London sleeper train. I helped her with her suitcases and we stood on the cold platform as the train got up its head of steam. I tried to be brave, but it was hard to keep from crying.
‘You’ll soon be finished at the college, Lizzie, and you’ll do well as a teacher. Gerald and I are still hoping to buy a house by the sea, and in a couple of years we’ll be back for good.’
‘Oh Margaret, I’m going to miss you, and I know Mum is feeling the same way.’
The guard began to shut the doors and my aunt stepped onto the train.
‘I’ll write every week, and if you need me then let me know and I’ll come back, because Lisbon isn’t as far away as Rio de Janeiro.’
Then the train chugged forwards, and I stood and waved until it was out of sight.
I walked home along the wet streets, but when I got home Mum was in bed, so I sat at the window with my cocoa and photograph of Dad and wondered what life would have been like if he hadn’t died in that needless and cruel war.
We didn’t really celebrate Christmas that year, and I didn’t decorate the house with Granny’s paper chains or bunches of holly or her little fairy figures. Margaret sent her usual lavish hamper from Keiller’s shop and the treats inside lasted until the New Year. On Hogmanay we didn’t even wait up for the bells, but were in bed by eleven.
Laura had asked me to go to her house, but I said I couldn’t leave Mum on her own and she said she understood.
On New Year’s Day I went to the cemetery and laid a big bunch of holly on the grave.
As I stood looking at the inscribed headstone, I said softly, ‘Happy New Year, Granny …’
25
MILLY’S GOOD NEWS
After Margaret’s departure I was frightened Mum would revert back to her former depressed state, but I was pleasantly surprised that she still seemed to be enjoying life. She still went to the hair salon every few weeks, as she said the attention of the hairdresser made her feel relaxed.
Because she seemed to be coping so well, I was able to go with Laura and Pat once a week to the pictures. Our favourite film star was Douglas Fairbanks; we all thought he was so handsome. Pat said that he was married to Mary Pickford, another film star, but that didn’t stop us swooning over him.
We were coming out of the Plaza cinema one night when Laura remarked, ‘I can’t get over how quickly the last two years have gone. Just think, we’ll soon be finished our course, and it only seems like yesterday when we started.’
‘I wonder where we’ll be teaching this time next year?’ I said.
Laura was philosophical. ‘It doesn’t really matter. The main thing is we’ll have a job. Not like all the poor folk who are unemployed. My dad was saying that he was lucky to be in a job, but quite a few of our neighbours have husbands and sons searching for work.’
Pat said that it was different in the countryside, as most of her parents’ friends and neighbours all worked on the farm or in the owner’s big house.
After a while I began to relax, and I must say I enjoyed my last few months at the college. I had resigned myself to working in Dundee and my dream of travelling was only a fantasy. I still read my library books on travel and I marvelled at all the wonderful and exotic places in the world, but my childhood plans were only a distant memory.
One night Mum said that she was going to get rid of Granny’s old furniture and replace it with new things from the furniture store in the Wellgate. I was appalled.
‘We can’t get rid of Granny’s lovely things, Mum,’ I said, looking around at the well-polished sideboard and the table and chairs.
Mum said that was nonsense. ‘I’ve been looking in the shop and they have all this modern furniture and the room will look really fresh and new.’ She glanced around the room disdainfully. ‘This is all so old-fashioned and … and Victorian.’
She made it sound as if the furniture was ugly, which it wasn’t, but she was adamant that it all had to go. When she mentioned this to Maisie, her reaction was the same as mine.
‘But Mary cherished all these things, Beth, and she polished everything once a week.’
‘I know that, Maisie, but I want new things.’
Maisie looked at me, but I just shook my head. When Mum got an idea into her mind, then nothing would change it. It was just the way she was.
‘When I buy my new things, Maisie, you can have what you want for your house.’
Although I was annoyed at her, to be honest I was too busy at the college to pay much attention to Mum’s plans. She would sit at the table with a writing pad and pencil and mark down the prices she had been given by the salesman and shake her head as she counted everything up.
Thankfully after a few weeks she seemed to drop the idea, and I was relieved. Granny’s inheritance was there to be used for essentials and living expenses, but it was Mum’s money, so if she wanted to use it to change the look of the house then that was her decision. In the end, I think it was the fact that she might run short of money if she went on with her spending spree that settled the matter. So life went on much the same as before and Mum never mentioned the old-f
ashioned and ‘Victorian’ furniture again.
It was coming up to the end of our training, and we were excited about our futures but also sad that we would soon be saying goodbye to the college and all our tutors. Pat had the added problem of looking for accommodation when she took up a post at a school, but Laura said she could stay with her until she found somewhere to live.
In June we were given our teacher’s training certificates, and to celebrate the three of us went to the tearoom at DM Brown’s for high tea. We looked in at the millinery department, but Mum was busy with a customer. She glanced over and we smiled and waved. She didn’t smile back, and I saw the tiredness on her face and was suddenly worried. The euphoria of Margaret’s visit was gone and she was back to her usual listless self.
At the beginning of July, Milly wrote with the news that she had given birth to a son.
‘His name is Albert, but we’re calling him Bertie,’ she said. ‘I would love you to be his godmother, Beth, when he gets christened.’
I thought Mum would be pleased with the news, especially the fact that Milly wanted her to be the baby’s godmother, but Mum said she was going to write back and say she couldn’t manage it.
I know she had come down with a bad summer cold, and I’d hoped she would feel better, but she didn’t. Instead she began to take days off work, and at the end of the month, she said, ‘I’m going to ask the store if I can do three days a week, Lizzie.’
Alarm bells began to ring in my head, but she said she couldn’t get rid of the cold and the cough that she seemed to have had for ages, but with fewer hours to work she would soon be feeling better.
Milly wrote back and said she was disappointed, but if Mum wasn’t feeling well then she understood. She was going to ask her cousin Jeannie, the one she had left Dundee to go and live with, and when Bertie was a bit bigger she would come through and visit us.
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