by Millie Gray
“Which bus are we on?” Mary asked, grabbing hold of Patsy’s arm.
“That one. See – there’s Ella ticking off everyone from her sheet as they get on.”
Mary giggled. “So she is. Quick, Patsy. Let’s get aboard so we can get a good seat thegither.”
As Patsy and Mary scrambled aboard the bus, Dinah and Senga were left to heave the cases up into the luggage rack.
“You know, Mum, you’d think they were off for a week to Butlins in Ayr the way they’re carrying on,” remarked Senga, who was vastly amused that a weekend trip, even if it was to Blackpool, could cause so much excitement.
“Aw well,” replied Dinah, who was secretly pleased that the two were off on their own. “You see, they’ve never really had the wherewithal to go any further than Porty beach, where for thruppence the café will fill your teapot with hot water. So this is all a great adventure – and good luck to them. But know something?” she trilled delightedly and then slipped her arm through Senga’s as they both waved furiously when the bus engines roared into life and set off into Great Junction Street. “How do you think we’ll keep them down in the farm now when they’ve seen Blackpool?”
Dinah was still arm-in-arm with Senga as they made their leisurely way home. This intimacy gave Senga – who always felt she was the saftest in the family, the only Johnny-raw – the much-needed confidence she usually lacked. For some time she’d been wanting to talk to her mother about confidential matters that were worrying her. “Mammy,” she said hesitantly, “ken the lassies in the Bond?” Dinah nodded. “Well they’re arranging a night oot for Halloween.”
“Oh, that’s good. And you should go. Get mixing with lassies your own age instead of always taking wee Joe with you everywhere.” Senga bristled but Dinah went on, “Spoil your chances, so he will, because the laddies will be thinking he’s yours, and with him being …”
Senga, who always turned herself off when anyone commented that her Joe was of mixed race, abruptly interrupted. “They’re haeing their tea oot in a chippie first, they are. Then going on to Fairley’s Dance …”
Now it was Dinah’s turn to break in as she pulled her arm abruptly away from Senga’s. “Fairley’s Dance Hall in Leith Street?” Senga nodded. “But that’s the place where whores pick up the sailors!”
“Mammy, if you’d let me finish. Before the lassies go into Fairley’s, their boyfriends are meeting up with them so there’ll be nae problems for them …” Senga turned and looked straight at her mother. “But as I’ve no got a boyfriend, and oor Johnny has told me to ‘get lost’ ’cause he wouldnae be seen dead in the place, I was wondering if it would be out of order to ask a neighbour laddie?”
Dinah sighed. She remembered that she had been just Senga’s age, fifteen, when she’d fallen for Tam and how painful it had been when their families had tried to keep them apart. But it had been different for her and Tam because they’d been besotted with each other. In Senga’s case, Dinah (who knew her children only too well) was aware that Senga was bewitched by Sam Campbell, who was only going on fourteen. Dinah shook her head. There was just no way a fifteen-year-old naïve lassie and a fourteen-year-old laddie, even if he was as worldly wise as Sam, would be allowed into Fairley’s. But more importantly, she didn’t want Senga entering that den of iniquity. “Look, Senga darling,” she began, “you’re just too young for that kind of dance hall. And you shouldn’t be throwing yourself at any boy … or young man …”
“I’m not throwing myself at any laddie. I was just going to ask someone to take me to the dance hall,” a tearful Senga protested.
Dinah sighed. She knew she should have handled the situation better. Nevertheless, the most important thing for her was to protect her love-sick daughter from herself. Reluctantly she emphasised, “Forget this Halloween night out, Senga. Maybe in a year or two things will be different.”
“How?”
“Well, for a start, you’re a cut above Fairley’s right now. And in time you just might get enough sense to see that.”
18
Tam had a spring in his step as he headed home from the interview at Moray House College. He just couldn’t believe that he, who had been quite illiterate at the start of the war, now held a Higher National Certificate in Construction and that it had seen him accepted to start his teacher training at Moray House in August.
He knew Dinah would be pleased, very pleased, but she would pretend that his vaulting ambition (as she put it) irked her. But Tam knew it didn’t because before every night-class his evening meal (and Johnny’s, who was also doing an HNC) would be on the table as soon as they arrived home. She would also make sure that the two of them were out of the door in time to catch the 6.15pm bus.
As Tam turned into Restalrig Circus, six-year-old Joe, who was playing football in the street, saw him and raced across shouting, “Daddy. Daddy! See how I can trap the ball.” Joe then kicked the tennis ball he was playing with high into the air and, as it came to land, he flicked it neatly under his left foot.
“Hmm,” commented Tam, who had realised that if he was going to be a successful teacher he must treat all his pupils as equals – no matter their race, creed or religion. Having decided this philosophy was the right thing, he accepted he’d best begin with a change of approach at home. For three months now, he’d spent time building up a positive relationship with his adopted son. For Joe’s part, he appeared not to notice any difference in Tam’s dealings with him. In the past, even when Tam’s rejection of him was obvious to everyone else, the wee lad had been oblivious and had given Tam all the love and respect that a doting son could give a father. Joe now kicked the ball up once more and again trapped it with his left foot when it landed. “You know, son,” Tam continued, ruffling Joe’s curly dark pow, “you should keep practising with that left foot. Not many have that gift.”
Dinah’s opening the window and calling, “Joe, your tea’s oot,” brought a smile to Tam’s face.
“Now,” he said, grasping Joe’s hand and steering him indoors, “did you ever hear, anywhere else, such a summons spoken in such wonderfully dulcet tones?”
The atmosphere in the house was electric. Celebrations were the order of the day and Dinah had prepared a special meal – even baking a cake, icing it and putting a candle on it.
Entering the house, Tam made a grab for Dinah and whirled her around. “Gosh!” she said once he had put her down. “Whatever was that in aid of?”
“Me! Me! Being accepted to train to be a sir!” Tam chortled. “But,” he continued, “you already knew that because you’ve got the celebration tea ready.”
Dinah looked aghast but did manage to reply, “Well, of course you being accepted for Moray House and us looking forward to two years in the grubber has to be marked.” She paused before going on. “But there’s also Tess getting engaged and …”
Tam puffed and threw himself down on a chair. “I completely forgot that my Tess said she was going to get hitched to that time-and-motion-study bloke.”
“He came to our Bond last week. Just sits and watches what you do and then scribbles away on his notepad,” confided Senga. “And you know what happens then?” Everyone shook their heads. “Then I’ll tell you – two days later, the way things have been done for years have to change.”
“Like what?” asked Elsie.
Senga took some time to answer. “Now, you’re never going to believe this,” she said, “but we now have to go for a pee in our break time. And if we ask to go too often outside that time, we have to produce a line from our doctor saying we’ve got cystitis, whatever that is, or in Mary Davidson’s case a weak bladder.” Senga sighed before going on. “And know this? The worry of not being able to go when we want has us all needing to go all the time. There’s never a time around our table when someone hasnae got their hand up. Jenny Stock, oor forewoman, says if we’re all still dribbling away the morn, then she’s gonnae put us aw back into nappies!”
Before anyone else could speak, the doo
r opened and in flounced Tess, flashing her engagement ring and announcing, “Been a change of plan, Senga. Rupert thinks you should meet the guy who’s going to be our best man.” Flashing her ring for a second time, she hesitated as everyone waited expectantly. “And, as he’s here tonight, my Rupert’s going to treat us all to a meal at the … Wee Windaes!”
“The Wee Windaes in the High Street?” Tess nodded and again displayed her ring ostentatiously. “Oh, but one of the lassies in the Bond went there on her wedding day. Just four of them that was and she had something called Chicken Maryland.”
“In the name of heavens! What kind of thing is that?” asked Dinah as she went through into the kitchen.
Senga dutifully followed her mother and everyone else flocked behind her. “Well, it’s chicken breast and a banana, would you believe it – now that you can get them again – all coated in batter, just like a fish, with a piece of bacon and then …”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, Senga, we accept you know how it’s cooked but do get a move on. Honestly, at the rate you’re going over a bit of chicken I’ll be making tomorrow’s porridge afore you’re finished.”
“Anyway, Senga,” Tess butted in, “if you’re going to order Chicken Maryland, you can’t have soup first. But what’s much more important is what you’re going to wear. You want to make as good an impression as you can.”
Senga’s face lit up. “My new skirt. See that Christian Dior? He does such great things for lassies like me.”
“Right enough,” smirked Tess, “in his New Look nobody will notice your …”
Dinah knew Tess was about to say “bandy leg” so she raised her voice and asked, “Now that Tess and Senga are going to a posh restaurant, is there anybody here going to eat this chopped pork, Heinz vegetable salad and chips?”
By now Granny Patsy had come in and exclaimed, “Chopped pork and no Spam? Things really are looking up.”
“Aye, Mammy, chopped pork it is and not only that – I asked the grocer to open a new tin so it’s a lot fresher than you are.”
“Here, Patsy,” shouted Tam, who didn’t like when Dinah insulted her mother, “seeing there was enough for everyone and now two aren’t going to eat with us, how about you joining us?”
“Try stopping her!” muttered Dinah under her breath.
Patsy immediately took off her coat, hung it up behind the door and sat down at the table. “Now, I’m not wanting to be depriving you lot, but seeing you insist,” she remarked complacently, lifting a knife and fork. “I just cannae bear to see good food going to waste – especially as I haven’t had chopped pork for such a long time.”
On their arrival at the Wee Windaes, Tess and Senga were surprised to discover that Rupert and his best-man-to-be weren’t there. “I think there’s a table booked in a Mr Rupert Harrison’s name?” Tess advised the waitress who was looking at her dubiously.
“Ah yes,” replied the girl. “May I take your coats? Your table is over there in the corner.”
Tess and Senga had been seated perusing the menu for fully five minutes when a breathless Rupert arrived with another out-of-breath gentleman. “Sorry we’re late,” said Rupert, sitting down opposite Tess. “And this here is my late cousin, Bert Crosby, whom everybody calls Bing.”
Senga’s first thoughts about Bing were that he needed someone to straighten his tie. His sports jacket, moreover, looked like a hand-me-down that was at least two sizes too big for him, while his hair – well, Senga didn’t think any hairdresser would admit to having had their scissors near him. For all that, there was just something so engaging about him – unlike Rupert, who always wore a long overcoat and looked as if he’d been cut off at the knees. Bing, on the other hand, was tall and muscular, exuding an attractive odour of masculinity.
“You a time-and-motion guy like Rupert here?” Senga asked.
“No,” replied Rupert curtly. “If he was, we’d have been dead on time. Wasting time should be a criminal offence.”
Senga smiled at Bing. She thought that her sister getting herself hitched to a blooming bore like Rupert ought to be a criminal offence. To her relief, Bing smiled back at her and, picking up the menu, asked, “Have you been here before?” Senga shook her head. “The lads in the crematorium where I work all said I would definitely have to try the Chicken Maryland.”
Senga started to laugh uproariously at this and Bing’s face blushed beetroot-red. “You laughing because you think I’m in a dead-end job? Well, let me tell you that no one who has ever come to the crematorium has ever complained about my work.”
“No, no!” protested Senga, who was still giggling. “It was just that before we left home I told my family about the girls in the Bond, where I work, saying the same thing about the Chicken Maryland.”
“Oh, you work in the Bond office?”
“No, Bing, I work in the bottling plant. And no one who has ever tasted Bond Nine whisky has ever said our product isn’t anything but good. In fact, after two or three snifters they’re, like your customers, speechless!”
Summoning the waitress with a wave of his hand, Rupert said. “Let’s order, but …”
“It’s all right, Rupert, darling, Senga knows that Chicken Maryland is expensive and so she’s not going to order any soup!”
Senga and Bing were meandering their way home behind Tess and Rupert. “Was that your first time at that restaurant?”
Giving Bing a sideways glance, Senga pondered before answering. “If I was being truthful, it’s the first time I’ve been in any restaurant. You see, I have to contribute to my wee brother Joe’s upkeep, so there’s not much left for going to fancy places.”
“Yeah. Rupert was saying Joe wasn’t really one of you, with him being …”
Senga stopped abruptly. “Being what?” she snapped.
“I m-meant no offence,” Bing stammered. “It was just that Rupert said …”
Interrupting again, Senga retorted, “Rupert should mind his own business and I can assure you that our Joe, unlike your Rupert, wouldn’t say to anyone, ‘You won’t be wanting coffee and we’ll save the money on bus fares by walking home.”’ Senga thought about what she’d just said and the sheer absurdity of it made her cover her mouth to control the laughter. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “No way would our wee lad of six be in a restaurant ordering coffee or thinking of saving money by walking. All he thinks about is football.”
Bing too was laughing. “Okay, you don’t want to tell me who he belongs to and that’s fine by me.”
“He belongs to us. When Daddy came home at the end of the war he adopted him and so did the rest of us.”
The following Saturday, Senga and Joe pitched up to see Johnny playing in his last game for the Edina Hearts. Johnny had mixed feelings about the match. He wasn’t sure if being called up to do his National Service was quite what he wanted to be doing. And as for Edina Hearts – well, he was a good player but not a star like Sam Campbell. Sam looked as if he belonged on the football pitch and the recent successes of Edina Hearts were all due to him. The galling thing for Johnny was that Sam was three years younger than him and yet was so skilled you’d think he was the senior of the two.
Senga and Joe had only just arrived when Joe ran on to the field and was kicking the ball that was being used for a warm-up before the match when a lad shouted, “Here, missus, keep your brat under control. Oor fitbaw gemmes are serious stuff!”
Running on to the pitch to grab hold of Joe, Senga stumbled and, trying to regain her balance, fell backwards and could do nothing else but look up at the sky and admire the fluffy clouds.
“Enjoy your trip?” asked the familiar voice of Sam Campbell, holding out his hand to help her to her feet.
Blushing, Senga shook her head and then noticed that Sam had been joined by the referee who was wondering whatever was going on. “This here,” informed Sam, “is Johnny Glass’s sister. Can’t remember her name but it doesn’t matter because I just call her Crystal. Have done that for years.”
“You call her Crystal. But why?” demanded the referee, retrieving the ball from Joe.
Sam thought for a minute. “Don’t really know why. But I think it’s because I’ve known her all my life and her surname’s Glass. But don’t you think she’s looks nicer and sparkles much better than glass?” The man stayed non-committal but a sly smile spread across his face.
Senga felt her whole body tingle with delight. And Sam’s statement put straight out of her head any thought of the invitation for a date she’d had from Bing Crosby. That Sam Campbell called her Crystal because she sparkled for him was all that occupied her mind!
19
Tess’s wedding reception had to be posh – she simply had to be one up on her best friend, Jean. So a boiled ham tea in her parents’ living room was not on. Anyhow, Granny Patsy, who stayed next door to the YMCA in Restalrig Road, and never complained about the continual noise and nuisance, solved the problem by approaching them about hiring the hall. They readily agreed that Tess’s reception could be held there, provided it would be on a Saturday night, when the hall was available for functions.
Dinah, who was now battling a persistent and wearisome cough, said she was at a loss to understand what difference there was between having a boiled ham tea in the family home and eating it at the YMCA? After all, the catering was still having to be done by herself – and then the meal would need to be transported to the hall.
The only plus about the wedding, where they had even had to send out written invitations, was that, despite having expected life to be very tough living on a grant, it didn’t turn out so bad for the couple. Not bad at all in fact! And with Dinah working the twilight shift at Duncan’s chocolate factory, they could even afford to pay for the blooming reception. In addition, Tam (or Tom as all his college mates called him) was quite a different man now. He sensed he had a real purpose in life, knowing that in another year he would be a fully qualified teacher – a professional – and able to provide very adequately for his family. He was even toying with the idea that, once qualified, he might be able to get a mortgage and move the family down Restalrig Road into a much larger private house – but this was a thought he kept strictly to himself. The prospect of a mortgage would put the fear of death into Dinah.
