by Paul Kelly
Eventually the duo parted, each going a different way and waving good-bye to each other,
“I wish he wouldn’t touch her bum like that,” he mumbled, “And in the middle of the street too. Mammy would have a fit if she saw that ...”
Sadie stopped a few yards away and started to grope around in her handbag, where she produced a small mirror and began to put on some more lipstick. Willie supposed that the old fella had licked off the first layer of the bloody stuff from her stupid lips. He wished Sadie would move on as he desperately wanted to sneeze ... and she did, just as he cracked the biggest sneeze he had for a long time before he came out from his hiding place, dusting the seat of his pants which were all covered in dust and sand. Sadie had gone from the scene, obviously dreaming of her next meeting with the old Romeo.
“What are you doing here, Willie?” Charlie had returned to the Site and had spotted the rebel emerging from his spy hole.
“Just having a look around ... Never ever saw a Site before well, not properly.”
Charlie said nothing about Sadie and her paramour and Willie presumed that as they had left in the opposite direction from which Charlie had arrived, that he had missed them. His brother stood naked to the waist with a sandwich box in his hand and he looked so handsome, that Willie wanted to spit ... Charlie’s smooth tanned skin glowed against his flaxen hair. The sun always had that effect on Charlie. His skin got darker and his hair got fairer and he smiled, where his whole face would light up. The Blair teeth never looked as good as they did when Charlie smiled. His trouser knee was missing and a copper, bony joint peeped out at Willie.
Willie stared at him as he stood in front of him and for a moment and wished he could have been born to look like his brother. Charlie had everything and he also had Rachael.
Willie paused in his thoughts as he could hear his mother’s voice as she sang to Charlie and him when they were little boys. Charlie’s song always seemed the nicer of any of the others.
‘Bonnie Charlie’s noo awa’
Safely o’er the friendly main,
Monies the heart is broke in twa
Will ye no’ come back again?’
Charlie was still smiling when Willie came back again to reality and the smell of the brick dust made him sneeze again.
“Are you alright, Willie?”
“Yes of course I am. Why do you ask, Charlie?”
“Well ye look different somehow. Ye had a strange look in your eye then.”
“You’re just daft, Charlie Blair. That’s what you are.”
“Well, that’s alright then.”
“Charlie?”
“Yes Willie. What is it?”
“Charlie ...how is it that your knee is as brown as your chest. Can you sun bathe in the nude on the Site?”
Willie’s curiosity made his brother laugh.
“Sometimes in the lunch hour way up there,” he said and he pointed to the top of the scaffolding, “We strip off and lie out in the sun when the sun is out, that is ...and that’s no’ very often. Nobody can see you. It’s too high up there and even if the lassies did look up, they’d need binoculars to see anything worth while.”
Willie thought long and hard on what Charlie had told him.
“Not very strong binoculars to see what you’ve got, Charlie Blair.” he said and Charlie threw back his broad shoulders and heaved his bronzed chest as he laughed aloud. He clapped his hands in the air, dropping his sandwich box, to hold it between his knees.
“Now you’re beginning to understand what great potentials all the Blair men have, Willie.” he chuckled and threw his arms around his brother affectionately before holding him at arm’s length to observe him approvingly. “William Anthony Blair, you’re gonna break some wee lassie’s heart and not before too long either, so be happy Willie ...Love them all but watch out for that ONE. ... For one day, she will come along and by golly ... you’ll know it.”
Willie smiled at Charlie’s comments.
“Can I come up and lie out there too, so that I could get a tan, Charlie?”
Charlie giggled and raised his eyebrows.
“It would need to be a bloody great scaffold and a great height too, for the lassies no’ tae see what you’ve got, Willie.”
“Jealous,” added Willie as he ducked an affectionate punch from his brother and skipped away.
***
Rita Watts was at her front door when Willie arrived home. She was talking to Mary and she looked very upset.
“My James has got a mark on his hand and I want to know how he got it.”
She was breathless in her enquiry and her mouth tightened.
“Do you know anything about this, Willie?” Mary Blair asked and Willie did not know what answer to give as he looked for a cue from Wattie, but he couldn’t see him anywhere. “What has Wattie I mean, James, said to you Mrs. Watts?”
Rita Watts eyed Willie suspiciously as she brought her fat face close to his.
“He says he fell over in the playground and twisted his hand under him, but I don’t believe him and if he’s been tellin’ me lies, he’ll no’ get the long breeks I’ve bought for him for the school. A lot of money I spent on them breeks, Mrs. Blair and this is how that wee boy treats my kindness. His father would turn in his grave if he knew the way that boy treats his Mammy.”
Willie quickly assessed the situation and put in his penny-worth on Wattie’s behalf, just to make sure of course, that he got the long breeks to go to school.
“I know a couple of boys did fall in the playground, Mrs. Watts and I think one of them could have been James, because he went to help them get up.” Willie glanced at his mother who was trying not to smile as he continued, whilst Rita Watts was reconsidering her conclusions with a weak smile playing around her proud lips “And I know the teacher was saying how nice it would be if all the boys in our class could wear long trousers since we are nearly men now ...”
Rita Watts swallowed the bait and mellowed immediately. The thought of her James, helping someone in distress in the playground and of him being a young man now and no longer a boy, impressed her greatly. She drew herself up to her full height of five foot one and looked around her disdainfully. Her upper lip came down around her teeth and her nose appeared to be sharper than ever.
“Yes, well of course. I’ve always known that my James gives a good impression wherever he goes and he’s always there to help anyone in need I know that too. He just needs the right clobber ...Yes, that’s all what my James needs ... the right clothes and my James could stand out anywhere.”
She walked away, sniffing and snorting, leaving Willie and Mary Blair to think what they liked for themselves, but she knew that her James was meant to climb to great heights and to make his mark wherever he trod. Her own carriage was very distinctively Upper class as she walked that day until she stood on her doorstep.
“That wee bugger’s pissed all over ma door again. I’m no’ havin’ it James, d’ye understand ...James ...James.”
She removed her turban from her hair and thought again of her son’s potentials as she closed her street door behind her. Wattie appeared from the kitchen with Florrie in his arms.
“Och! ... can ye no’ drop that wee bugger for a minute, James Yer Mammy’s got somethin’ awfy nice tae tell ye.”
Wattie looked over the top of his glasses and the little mongrel growled.
“I’ve got ye a pair o’ long breeks. That’s what I’ve done and yer Daddy would be so proud of you James Watts. He would that, son.”
***
Willie sat on the settee and reflected how he nearly bumped into Sadie that afternoon. He thought the older man was Meggie’s friend as he went through the motions of homework, with his mind on other things ... of Sadie and that old man of Cathie Coutts and her roller skates, of Wattie and his
Mammy and of course, most of all, the bronzed and handsome Charlie. He did not want to think about Rachael at least not in the same thoughts that he had of Charlie, but what was he to do, he asked himself. He would never look like Charlie. Never in a thousand years and when would that ONE come into his life... that one who would look at him as Rachael Harris looked at his brother? He left the room and went into the kitchen and as he looked at his image in the mirror, he sighed in despair.
“It’s no’ fair,” he said sadly, “It’s no’ fair at awe....”
Chapter Thirty
Meggie was absorbed in her typing when Ross came up to her.
“Can you work late this evening, Miss Blair please. I have some policies I need to have checked for tomorrow’s typing.”
Meggie was hesitant until she looked into Ross Schofield’s eyes.
“Very well, Mr. Schofield,” she said and the other girls in the office looked knowingly at each other. This act was getting to be ‘old hat’. They had seen it all before and they were all aware of it except Meggie. Her innocence was profound and her heart ruled her head, but Thelma was the last to leave the office that evening as Meggie was still typing laboriously.
“Goodnight Meggie.”
Meggie looked at Thelma furtively. She wanted the courage to go with her, away from the office and to leave Ross Schofield on his own and she wished she had the means to just get up and go, regardless of her feelings, but something inside her would not allow her that freedom or reasoning.
“Goodnight Thelma.” she said and Thelma smiled meekly as she went towards the door to leave. She turned suddenly.
“Take care Meggie,” she said with an urgent tone in her voice. “Please take care.”
Meggie continued typing until Ross came out of his office. He looked, as usual, very dashing and she could smell his after-shave as he approached her desk. It smelt good. It smelt masculine. He came near to where she was sitting and pulled a chair from a nearby desk to sit beside her.
“Meggie ...”
She blushed at the mere mention of her name as he said it and wondered where Miss Blair could have gone. She was afraid of herself for the first time in her life and she didn’t quite know why. Her heart beat faster and she dropped a carbon paper to the floor, but as she bent down to pick it up, he did the same and their heads met. Meggie looked into his eyes and her body moved involuntarily towards him.
“You know why I have asked you to stay behind this evening, Meggie don’t you?” he asked, with an innocence that confused her.
“We have the policies to get ready for tomorrow, haven’t we?” she answered, but he reached out and touched her hand.
“Damn the policies, Meggie. You know I want to be alone with you. You must know how I feel for you Meggie. You must know,” he went on, as Meggie looked at his hand covering hers. She was silent and she was also afraid. The feelings that she felt then were not the feelings she wanted to have, nor that she could understand. There was a warning light flashing somewhere, but she couldn’t see where. She wanted, on the one hand to throw caution to the wind and put her arms around this man who had captivated her. She wanted to be so close to him that he would not observe her blushes.
Ross stood up and took his place behind her chair and his hands touched her shoulders but she remained motionless.
“Meggie I want you. I can’t bear the hurt any longer of watching you and not being able to touch you to be near you to make you happy, Darling.”
His hand rested for a second on her shoulder as he leaned forward. Meggie sat still. She wanted him to touch her so much and yet she was afraid. Something deep inside her shouted ‘NO’, but what was it? Whatever it was, it hurt. She had dreamed of being alone with Ross; of him touching her tenderly and holding her in his arms, but it did not feel as it did in the dream before.... Meggie turned to face him to search in his eyes for the answer she sought. She crimsoned with anticipated desire and fear as he moved his hand slowly from her shoulder to her waist, gently touching her breast as he went. Meggie felt mesmerised and powerless.
“I want you Meggie. I want you,” he murmured quietly and slipped his hand into her blouse, but Meggie jumped up and pushed him away, afraid but determined.
“I only want to touch you Darling. Don’t you want to touch me?” He asked.
Meggie stared past him at a calendar on the office wall. The silence was tormenting
“I don’t want your love Ross ...not in this way,” she said. Her voice sounded hollow and she was surprised at her own response. “I don’t want to be fondled as Meggie in the evenings whenever it suits you and smiled at respectively and at a distance during the day in the office as Miss Blair.”
“But Meggie I am a married man, as you already know and I am not at this moment, free to show my real and true affections.”
Meggie reflected on what he had said to her.
“I don’t like this pretence, Ross. I understood you were divorced. How do you think your wife must feel? How would I feel if I were she?” She sat quietly for a few seconds before she spoke again. “I cannot accept this situation .Mr. Schofield,” she said and pulled a sheet of paper from the typewriter. Ross was quiet. He drove his hands deep into his trouser pockets as he stood aside from her and as he turned slowly away, Meggie wished with all her heart that things could have been so very different. Her happiness had been short-lived and now she was left with only bitterness and regret. She rose from her desk and walked towards the coat stand in the corner where she took her coat from the hook.
“Is there no chance that we might have some happiness together, Meggie,” he asked, but Meggie put on her coat and pulled one glove tighter to her hand with the other.
She spoke without turning towards him, because she was afraid of what she might see in his face.
“You have said a lot this evening, Ross, but never once have I heard you use the word love ...”
He looked at the nape of her neck as she stood by the doorway, ready to leave the office. His eyes narrowed and he wet his lips.
“You are a romantic little fool, aren’t you? Don’t think you are the only pebble on the beach, girl. You’ll be sorry for what you’ve done. I promise you.”
Meggie opened the door and left the office, but as she walked home, she could hear her mother’s warning again and it was word for word what Ross Schofield himself had said to her. “You are not the only pebble on the beach, little girl ...”
She cried on her way home and her tears were those of sadness tinged with relief, for in her heart she knew there was no furtherance to her relationship with Ross Schofield. She still loved him and she still wanted him, but with all her yearning, she knew that he could only bring unhappiness. She might even have settled for that unhappiness if there had been love just a small tinge of love, but there was none on his part. Of that she now was sure. How would she ever be able to return to the office again, she asked herself ... How would she be able to face him as though nothing had happened? How would the other girls react? Life was full of problems for Meggie as she walked on home that evening, with a tear-stained face that smarted in the cold, January air.
***
Aggie was sitting by the fire as she came indoors but she was hoping that no-one would have been home at that moment. Meggie looked at Aggie and her sister smiled back.
“Oh! Aggie Aggie, I’m so unhappy,” she burst out, unable to contain her grief. Aggie cuddled her and they stood together for a long time in silence before anything else was said as she stroked Meggie’s hair. It was a practice she had become well used to doing with her sisters, from a very early age and whenever they had problems of any kind.
“Do you want to talk about it Meggie?”
Meggie was quiet. She wanted only to cuddle up to Aggie and feel a warmth; a reassurance that there was love somewhere and Aggie was just the person to fulfil that rol
e, as she continued to stroke Meggie’s beautiful, soft, golden hair of which the family were so proud . and she waited for Meggie to talk, if she should so wish and in her own time.
“I just wish I could go to sleep for a long, long time and wake up feeling like someone else,” said Meggie and Aggie smiled as she cupped her younger sister’s cold little face in her hands.
“I think we’d better have a cup of tea, don’t you, Meggie? That should help.”
Aggie set about the task of tea making and took the biscuit barrel down from the shelf above the cooker and the girls sat close by the fire and enjoyed the warming repast. Meggie told Aggie about Ross and about how much she loved him, but that she felt there was no love in him for her and Aggie listened knowingly and with sympathy.
“Sometimes the one we imagine to be our own, is not quite the right one for us,” she told Meggie, trying to make her statement sound sincere as she so meant it to be and not ‘theological’. “Sometimes too, the things that we want so very much are not the best for us, although we can’t or won’t see it at the time however, if we can just hold on .well, we begin to realise that perhaps we have been let off the hook, so to speak.”
Meggie stared up into Aggie’s face.
“Aggie, you are so wise. I wish I could think like you,” she murmured through her tears, but Aggie ignored the compliment as she lowered her head shyly. What right had she to give advice to the lovelorn, she thought when she had never ever been in love herself ...or had she? ...and was she so sure that her Lover returned His love to her?
