‘They’re an awful bunch.’ Fred leaned back when the four girls left the room. ‘All good, clean fun, though, nothing malicious or nasty.’
Anne was glad that he could excuse the awkward incident, and she agreed with him that the girls had meant no harm.
The weekly visits to Maggie and Peter McIntosh continued, with Glynn escorting Anne and Renee if he was available, and accompanying the girl when she went into town to do the shopping for her grandparents.
When Peter was out of the room for a moment one day and Maggie was alone with her daughter, she said, ‘Glynn’s a good laddie, an’ Renee’ll be fine if she sticks to him, but what aboot yer ain lad? I’ve never met him, Annie.’
‘Oh.’ Anne felt somehow reluctant to take Fred to meet her mother. ‘I didn’t think . . . I don’t know . . .’
‘I’d like fine to see him.’
So it was a foursome which made the journey to the tenement the following Saturday, and Fred Schaper was accepted by Maggie and Peter just as warmly as Glynn had been. The two men became so deep in conversation that they hardly noticed the return of the shoppers. Maggie beamed at all her visitors when they rose to leave. ‘I wouldna ha’e believed that a Scotsman, an Englishman an’ a Welshman would get on so weel together.’ Her eyes were brightly mischievous, and she was pleased when they laughed at her reference to the jokes which were often told on the wireless.
‘We foreigners aren’t such a bad lot.’ Fred gripped the old lady’s hand.
She laid her other hand on top of his. ‘So I’ve found oot.’ Several hours later, when they were undressing for bed, Anne and Renee discussed their afternoon visit. ‘I must be getting better,’ the girl remarked. ‘Granda didn’t tell me once that he could have got anything cheaper if he’d been doing the shopping.’
Anne’s mind, however, was operating on an entirely different track. ‘Granny and Granda seemed to get on well with Fred. I think they liked him, don’t you?’
Her daughter smiled. ‘Yes, I’m sure they did. He’s quite likeable, for an old man.’ She chuckled at her mother’s indignant expression, then her manner grew serious. ‘And Granny told me, a week or so back, that Glynn and I had her blessing.’
Sighing happily, Anne pulled her nightdress over her head. ‘God’s in His heaven, and all’s right with the world.’
Chapter Twenty
The June evening was beautifully cool after the almost claustrophobic heat of the cinema, so Renee suggested that they should walk home. Glynn had met her from work, and had taken her for a snack before they went to the picture house, so it was just after nine o’clock. They strolled at an easy pace, arms round each other, discussing the ‘A’ and
‘B’ films they had just seen, then Glynn said, ‘What they showed on the newsreel makes you think, though. What a hammering some of our cities are getting . . . God, Renee, I wish I could be doing something constructive, something to get back at Hitler, instead of idling my time away.’
‘You’re not idling your time away. You’re training people and preparing them to . . .’
‘Preparing them to do something I want to do myself,’ he interrupted. ‘To fight the enemy. That’s what I was trained for, not to be a bloody instructor.’ He fell silent, brooding. Renee was surprised at his vehemence. She hadn’t realised that he felt like this, and hoped he would never have to leave Aberdeen. He shouldn’t want to go, not if he loved her.
‘But what about seeing those thousand bombers taking off to blast Cologne? It gives you a tight, satisfied feeling of revenge, doesn’t it?’ His voice sounded excited, with an air of triumph about it. This rather shocked her. She’d been sickened by the scenes of suffering in London, and it gave her no satisfaction to imagine the same thing happening in Cologne.
‘It’s innocent people that suffer,’ she murmured. ‘Women and children mostly, and they don’t deserve to be killed, whether they’re British or German.’
He squeezed her waist. ‘You’re a soft one, my lovely. Hitler’s tried to bomb us into submission, and we’re just doing the same to them. We can’t knuckle down and not retaliate.’
‘I suppose not,’ she said, sadly. ‘It all seems so cruel, that’s all.’
‘Cariad, I love you for your tender heart.’ Glynn turned his head to give her a light kiss on the cheek, then inhaled deeply. ‘It’s a lovely night. Why don’t we go into this park to have a seat for a few minutes?’
The Victoria Park! Panic struck at her heart. The thought of going through the gates and perhaps sitting in the same place as . . . It was more than three years since she’d come here first, but the memories came crowding back. Memories she didn’t want to revive. Shameful, repugnant memories.
‘No, Glynn,’ she whispered. ‘Not here. I used to come here before, years ago, with . . . someone else, and I don’t want to be reminded of it.’
He looked at her keenly. ‘All right, Renee, whatever you say, but won’t you tell me about it?’
She shook her head miserably. ‘I can’t.’
‘Cariad, I want to know everything about you. I’ve told you about Eiddwen, she was my only girlfriend before you, but I don’t know anything about your past loves.’
She sighed. ‘Not yet, Glynn. I will tell you some time, but not now, and there was only one with me, too.’
‘All right, my lovely.’ He didn’t appear to be upset or annoyed by her refusal to confide in him, and they walked on.
When they entered the house, they found that Anne wasn’t home. ‘Fred’s on early duty tomorrow,’ Renee said,
‘so Mum’s probably staying with him as long as she can.’ Glynn pulled her down on the settee beside him, and stroked her brow, her nose, her lips, but when his fingers reached her chin, he kept them there, holding her head firmly.
‘Renee, I love you.’ His eyes searched and his voice was low and throbbing. He had said it many times before, but this sounded different.
‘I love you, too,’ she whispered, hoping that he wouldn’t try to do what she suspected he wanted to do.
His grip on her face tightened. ‘Oh, darling, I love you so much it’s torture for me.’ He swivelled round and slid his leg between hers. ‘If you only knew how much I’ve wanted to . . .’ He sounded hoarse now, urgent, but she couldn’t respond.
‘No, Glynn, no! Mum’ll be home any minute and . . .’ She broke off, pushing his insinuating knee away from her.
But his mouth came down on hers fiercely and her senses reeled, though she struggled to free herself. She couldn’t give in to him, much as she wanted to – as much as he wanted her to – in case he lost interest in her once he possessed her. This relationship had to be kept pure until they were husband and wife . . . if he ever did ask her to marry him. He shifted his legs and dropped his hands, looking at her in hurt surprise. ‘What’s wrong, cariad?’ His voice was tender again, loving. ‘I’m sorry. Did I frighten you? I was too rough. I want you . . . oh, God, I want you, but I’m willing to wait until we’re married, if that’s what you’re trying to tell me. You will marry me, Renee?’
A sob caught in her throat. She wanted him so badly herself that it was agony to think of waiting, but she was determined to endure that agony so that he wouldn’t think badly of her later. ‘Yes, I’ll marry you, Glynn,’ she murmured. ‘I love you, and I want you, but we must wait.’
‘I’m not going to force you against your wishes, I love you too much for that. Will I arrange for a Registry wedding?’
‘Yes, please, Glynn, as soon as you can.’ She gave in to his kisses then, but they grew rather passionate for her peace of mind, and she was glad when she heard her mother coming in.
Anne was delighted when they told her. ‘Wasn’t it a good idea of Fred’s to take you here that Sunday, Glynn? You’d never have met each other if he hadn’t.’
The young man beamed with happiness. ‘Yes, indeed, Mrs Gordon. I’ll alw
ays be grateful to him for that. You’ve no objections to me marrying your daughter?’
‘None whatsoever.’
‘That’s good. Now, if I’ve to go to the Registry Office tomorrow, I’ll need to get all the details.’ He fished in his breast pocket for a pencil. ‘Have you a sheet of paper handy?’
‘You’ll need your birth certificates,’ Anne told him. ‘I’ll go and get yours, Renee.’
‘I haven’t got mine,’ Glynn remarked as Anne went out.
‘But I think my army paybook should be sufficient evidence of my age and unmarried status.’
‘How old are you?’ Renee had never thought to ask before.
‘I’ll be thirty in September.’
Her jaw dropped. ‘I’ll only be nineteen at the end of August.’
They looked at each other uncertainly. Eleven years of a difference? Then Glynn chuckled. ‘You’re still a child, but I’m quite happy about it, as long as you’re prepared to saddle yourself with an old man?’
‘You’re not old, darling. What’s eleven years?’ Renee kissed the tip of his nose reassuringly.
They jumped apart when Anne came back. ‘Caught you!’
she said, wagging her finger teasingly at them.
Renee stuck out her tongue cheekily as her mother handed the document to the young man. ‘Mum, we’ve just discovered that Glynn’s eleven years older than me. It’s funny, we never spoke about ages before.’
Anne looked anxious. ‘Does it worry you?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘That’s all right, then. Age doesn’t make any difference, really. Not eleven years, anyway, and it’s on the right side. Of course, if you’d been thirty years older than Renee, I wouldn’t have been so ready to agree to this, Glynn.’
The wedding was arranged for Monday, 3rd August
1942, which was the first available date the Registrar could give them.
‘So many young couples are getting married quickly now, in case the bridegroom is sent away on active service,’ he explained.
‘Thank goodness we’ll have a few weeks to come to terms with all this,’ Anne remarked, a few days later. Fred had gone home to Pirbright on leave, and Glynn was on duty, so the two women were alone in the house that evening.
‘There’s nothing to come to terms with,’ Renee said sharply. ‘We love each other, and that’s all that matters.’
‘Have you thought of where you’re going to live?’
‘Oh.’ The girl looked thunderstruck. ‘We hadn’t thought about that. There’s no room here, is there? We’ll have to look for a place somewhere.’
‘The only spare bed is that settee,’ Anne said sadly.
‘It would do at a push . . . if we haven’t found anywhere else by the time we’re married.’ Renee was so deliriously happy that she would have settled to sleep on a church pew, as long as Glynn was there beside her.
After a moment’s silence, Anne said, ‘I’d better tell you something.’
A flash of dread shot through the girl. ‘Yes?’
‘When I told Fred about you two, he asked me to marry him.’
‘Oh, Mum, that’s great!’ Renee’s face reflected the relief and pleasure that the information had given her. ‘Will we have a double wedding, or do you and Fred want a separate day of your own?’
‘I said no.’ Anne’s lips were drawn together in a straight line, and her fingers drummed on her knee.
‘Why? I thought you loved him.’
‘I do love him, Renee, but he’s being posted shortly, and I don’t want him to feel tied to me.’
‘You’re as bad as Tim.’ One of her mother’s words suddenly registered fearfully in Renee’s brain. ‘Posted? Is Glynn likely to be posted, too?’
‘I don’t think so. Fred didn’t say anything about that, anyway. They’re not in the same . . . troop, unit, whatever they call it.’
‘Oh, I hope he doesn’t have to go for a long time yet. But, Mum, you should have accepted Fred’s proposal. You can’t just let him go away. Are you sure about what you’re doing?’
‘Quite sure. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks and I knew Fred would ask me some time, and I had to make up my mind what to do. I’ve told him that I do love him, but I can’t marry him.’
‘He might be killed.’
‘Oh, Renee, that’s exactly why.’ Anne spread her fingers out on her knee and studied them. ‘I couldn’t face being made a widow for a second time. Can you understand that?’
‘I suppose so, but if you love him, you’d feel just as much grief and shock if he was killed, even if you weren’t his wife.’
‘No, there is a difference. I can’t explain it.’ Anne made her hand into a fist and hit her knee. ‘Don’t keep on, Renee. I’d a hard enough time trying to make Fred understand. He wanted to tell his mother when he went home that we were going to be married, but I can’t say yes.’
‘You’re only thinking about yourself. Why don’t you think of poor Fred?’
‘I told him I’ll marry him after the war, if he comes back and still wants me.’
The girl let out an exasperated sigh. ‘That’s just dangling a carrot. It’s cruel.’
Anne’s taut nerves made her snap. ‘That’s quite enough!’
They went to bed that night in silence, each regretting some of the things they had said.
That Saturday, Peter McIntosh produced a bottle of whisky when Renee and Glynn announced that they were going to be married.
‘I’ve been savin’ this up for a special occasion,’ he smiled.
‘But there’ll never be a mair special occasion than this.’ He took out five tot glasses and laid them on the table. ‘Nae till the war finishes, ony road.’
Maggie watched him unscrewing the cap of the bottle. ‘I canna stomach neat whisky, tak’ oot tumblers for Renee an’ Annie an’ me, so we can ha’e water in oors.’
Her husband shook his head impatiently. ‘Weemin!’ he said to Glynn, but returned to the cupboard for the larger glasses. ‘Jist wastin’ the good stuff,’ he muttered as he ran the cold water into them.
Glynn helped him to hand them out, then sat down with his own glass in his hand, waiting to see what would happen next. Peter had kept standing, and he held up his glass in a toast. ‘Here’s to yer health an’ happiness, Renee an’ Glynn.’ He downed the contents in one go, and set the tiny glass on the table.
Even with water in it, the whisky was too strong for Renee, and she shuddered at her first taste of her national drink.
‘Tak’ it slow, like me,’ Maggie advised her, and raised her glass. ‘A lang, happy life together an’ may good fortune smile on ye.’ She took a dainty sip.
‘Your health and happiness.’ Anne barely wet her lips, but her face contorted, even at the diluted spirits.
‘Och!’ Peter sounded enraged. ‘They dinna ken how to drink whisky.’ He looked at Glynn, who was still twisting his glass in his hand uncertainly. ‘Swig it ower, like I did.’
His first three words were incomprehensible to the Welshman, but the second three gave him the clue he was waiting for, so he took one large gulp, then spluttered as if he had choked.
Peter smiled in pity. ‘Ye’ll ha’e to learn to drink like a Scotsman, laddie, if ye’re goin’ tae bide in Aberdeen.’
‘Leave him be,’ Maggie warned. ‘Dinna learn him bad habits.’
When the visitors were leaving, Maggie beckoned to Renee. ‘What aboot yer mother an’ Fred? Ony word o’ them tyin’ the knot?’
‘Fred’s going away shortly,’ the girl told her. ‘He did ask her to marry him, but she refused.’
‘Oh.’ Her grandmother’s eyes widened. ‘That’s that, then.’ The old lady sounded quite disappointed, and Renee knew that she, too, had hoped that Anne would find happiness with Fred Schaper.
&nbs
p; When Tim Donaldson turned up one evening during the next week, with Moira, he expressed his pleasure at meeting Glynn.
‘Renee’s been telling me about you in her letters,’ he said.
‘From the very first time she mentioned you, I knew she was serious about you.’
Glynn smiled and held Renee’s hand. ‘It’s funny how fate works. We met because Fred took me here with him one night, and it turned out to be love at first sight for us.’
‘The same as Moira and you,’ Renee added, without stopping to think.
Tim glanced quickly at Moira, whose wry expression made him look away hastily. ‘Well, I wish you all the happiness in the world,’ he said.
Renee hoped that she hadn’t upset the other girl by her innocent remark, since Tim was apparently still determined not to ‘tie Moira down’, but Glynn proceeded to step in with both feet.
‘Thank you, Tim,’ he smiled. ‘It’ll be your turn next.’ Tim frowned, but Moira said, carefully, ‘Tim doesn’t think too highly of marriage, I’m afraid.’
‘It’s not that, at all,’ Tim burst out suddenly. ‘It’s just . . . I’m unsettled and I feel it’s not fair to . . .’
Anne tried to pour oil on the troubled waters. ‘It’s between Moira and Tim, and nobody should try to interfere.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Glynn’s face had turned red, and he looked at Tim, not knowing what else to say.
The other young man laughed. ‘Don’t worry about it, Glynn. It happens all the time, with Moira’s mum, and all her relations. I’ll likely give in one of these days, but . . . I don’t like being pushed.’ He laid his hand on Moira’s knee.
‘She knows how I feel about her.’
The love in Moira’s eyes showed how she felt about him, too. ‘I know, Tim, and it’s not me who’s doing the pushing.’
Monday Girl Page 25
