by Millie Gray
“Dad! Granny!” Tess protested. “She means I’m pregnant and that’s no laughing matter.”
Before Tom could speak, in dashed twelve-year-old Joe. “Dad! Dad, just wait till I tell you.” Everyone waited with bated breath before Joe went on, “I’ve just been picked to play for the school’s first team.”
This was what Tom had long been hoping for. Joe was indeed promising to become a gifted footballer. His dad had known, as soon as Joe became a pupil at Norton Park Secondary School, that it would only be a matter of time until his prowess on the football team was recognised.
Granny Patsy, who was also convinced that one day Joe would don a Scotland jersey, proudly asked, “And how many teams do they have, son?”
“Just the one in my year,” was Joe’s triumphant reply.
The family were busily digesting that piece of news when in flounced twenty-year-old Elsie who now regarded herself, in the beauty stakes at least, as a stand-in for Audrey Hepburn – and to prove it she now had her sleek, dark hair cut short, very short. “Dad,” she announced. “Now, I don’t want you to be angry. And I don’t want you to try and stop me, but I’ve decided that Leith and Nimmo’s are just not big enough for me.”
Tom was used to Elsie’s flights of fancy, so he prepared to settle himself in his favourite armchair and hear her out.
Elsie had now taken up her preferred position centre-floor (or centre-stage as she saw it) before she continued, “Russell and I have been talking and …”
“Who the devil is Russell?” enquired a bemused Crystal.
“He happens to be one of the youngest journeymen Nimmo’s has ever produced and he and I are leaving that print workshop and heading for where our talents will be properly recognised.” Flicking back her hair, she went on: “A place where we can expand and develop!”
“Oh my Gawd!” cried Patsy. “You’re no going on that ten-pound passage thing to Australia, are ye?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Granny. Australia is a developing country. They just wouldn’t be able to offer Russell and me the opportunity and the scope we need right now.”
“So where are you going?” asked Joe, taking a full kick and flip-back at an imaginary ball.
“Bathgate!” To Elsie’s dismay, this revelation dumbfounded everyone and she felt obliged to explain rapidly in clipped tones: “Bathgate is in West Lothian. And Russell assures me that it’s earmarked to be the place of the future. Believe me, Bathgate will become the new industrial capital while dusty old Edinburgh will be left to wallow in its history. So what do you think, Dad?”
“We-ell,” Tom began cautiously, “Myra telling me she was whisked out of bed last night by Peter Pan and then flown up to the moon to play with Snow White all sounds just so much more credible now!”
28
Patsy picked up the teapot and felt it before saying, “Still warm enough, Etta. Fancy a wee top-up?”
“I wouldn’t mind,” said Etta, before swinging round to look at the wall clock behind her. “Did you say Tom would be home by teatime?” Patsy nodded. “Well it’s nearly cocoa time and where is he?” Patsy shrugged. “No word from him? Now that he’s had a phone installed you’d think he could have rung you to say if they’d got away safely.”
Getting to her feet stiffly, Patsy picked up her cup. “Yon thing did ring, but I’ve never used one of them before so I never answered it.” Patsy sniffed disdainfully before going into the small scullery off the kitchen where she began to put water into the sink to wash the dishes. “Told our Myra when she came in,” she hollered back, “to see who it was that it wanted to speak to. But you know how awkward she is. Never wants to do anything. Her excuse this time was that once it stops ringing it doesn’t speak. Suppose it takes some kind of a huff.”
Etta wondered whether she should try to show Patsy how the telephone worked. However, remembering when she’d tried to explain to her about the ‘pill’, she thought better of it.
Much to Patsy’s chagrin, Etta was lighting up a cigarette when she came back into the room. Patsy tut-tutted, having agreed with Tom that after losing Dinah to ‘the weed’ – as he called tobacco – he didn’t wish to see anybody smoking in his house.
“Must have been a hard day for Tom yesterday,” remarked Etta, blowing her smoke upwards and hoping that would lessen its lethal effect. “Mind you, he’s done real well by the bairns ever since …” She drew on her cigarette again, remembering that Patsy didn’t mind speaking about what Dinah had done in her lifetime but not about the fact that she had died, so she quickly changed track by saying, “Aye, and it’s thanks to Tom that Johnny and Frieda are now happily housed in their spanking-new home in Pirniefield.”
Patsy chuckled, “And with not just one but two daughters. Thought it was real nice of Frieda to call the youngest Maria after Mary. Tom must have been pleased too that his mother was remembered again just as her funeral was over.”
“Wonder what my Dinah would have thought of Elsie getting married to that printer guy, Russell?”
“Aye, but I think Tom was mightily relieved that they got hitched afore they left – even if he had to stump up for it.”
“And d’you know, Etta, I don’t think the poor soul got a penny change out of the hundred.”
“Aye, but Patsy, why are they going to New Zealand?”
“You may well ask – and so did Tom. But Russell answered that Bathgate wasn’t ready for him. Evidently they hadn’t appreciated his genius. But he believes, and Elsie agrees, that a new country like New Zealand must be crying out for folk like him.”
Etta laughed. “You know, Patsy, when Tess, your dear gullible Tess, got in tow with that stuffed shirt, Rupert, I thought she’d be the only one of your granddaughters to blindly worship her man. But here we are again. Mind you, Tess hasn’t been so short-sighted that she’d get on a boat for New Zealand.”
“No. And she’s coped well with her two daughters.”
“Aye, and now that Rupert has somehow worked it out that not only has the rhythm to be right – but that Tess’s temperature also has to be spot-on – she hasn’t got into his bad books by getting herself pregnant again.”
Both women were beginning to laugh now. Each of them pictured poor, romantic Tess getting herself all dolled up in a black silk negligée and Rupert advancing towards her with a thermometer in his hand. They were wiping the tears from their eyes and were startled when Tom suddenly asked, “What’s so funny?”
Patsy and Etta looked at each other before Patsy blurted out, “Oh, just that you won’t be surprised, Tom, but …” She was now trying desperately to think of something seemly to tell him and then she remembered. “Oh, Tom, you know our Myra, who’s now eleven but going on thirty?”
Tom nodded, “Aye, and her head’s forever in the clouds.”
“Well, now she believes she’s clairvoyant and that the spirit of your Mammy came through to tell her that one day she would be a famous cook.”
Etta, who had now diplomatically stubbed out her cigarette, remarked, “Aye, but wasn’t it only last week that she managed to burn a hole in a pot – and she was only boiling water!”
Patsy was now through in the scullery making some tea for Tom. “How did you get on, son?”
It was quite a while before Tom gave an answer. “Fine. She just looked so young and vulnerable to be going to the other side of the world with a man …” He halted, trying to find words that wouldn’t alarm Patsy, “who claims to have an amazing talent that has yet to be recognised.” He paused again as he pondered. Then he amazed himself by saying, “And you know, I think they really will make it, not because of his shining light but because Elsie, like her mother, will dazzle.”
Tom now looked about the room. “This place has been neglected these last few years.”
“Aye, but Tom, you worked so hard getting Johnny’s place looking like a palace that you haven’t had …”
“I know, Patsy. But starting tomorrow I’m going to redecorate this room.”
/> Patsy laughed. “Don’t think so.”
“Oh but I will. This time, I don’t care what one of my bairns needs, but this place is getting a face-lift.”
“That right? But what if I told you that an English football scout’s coming to talk to you about Joe tomorrow night?”
“Ah, then the decorating will have to begin after tomorrow.”
Tom started the meal Patsy had set down in front of him but his thoughts were now all on Joe. Quick-witted, articulate Joe, with his easy charm and good looks, was so special. Tom pictured his ready smile and dark brown eyes. He excelled at school because he was perceptive and ever-alert. A born athlete, he’d been the youngest captain that the school football team had ever had. Tom now deliberated on his son’s bloodline. Joe was the biological son of a black man. But what kind of man had engendered this smart, born leader? He wondered if the father would ever come looking for his son – or if Joe would leave them all behind and go off on his own seeking the answer to this enigma. Tom knew Joe would meet a lot of colour prejudice in his life but he also knew the lad would be perfectly able to deal with it.
Tom pushed his seat back and stood up. Joe, he knew, was at present playing for the junior team of Edina Hearts and now an English scout was coming to speak to him about his future. “Wonder which English team is interested in Joe. Please God,” he prayed, “let them be from the north.”
The sound of the door opening interrupted his thoughts. Turning towards the visitor, he was pleased to see it was his brother Archie. Tom had promised his mother that he would always look after him if anything happened to her and he’d been pleased to have Archie live with them. For his part, Archie was delighted to be included in Tom’s family because there was always something going on and he was never made to feel unwanted.
It was obvious to them all that Archie’s favourite among Tom’s children was Crystal. Crystal would always have time to listen to what Archie had to say and she appeared genuinely interested in what he had to tell her about his work down at the British Ropes Despatch Depot, doing tasks most would find deadly boring. Everyone, however, could see how animated Archie could become when explaining to Crystal how he’d dispatched ropes to the Leith Whaling Station in South Georgia. “That’s in the Antarctic,” he would confide to her.
“Oor Crystal coming the day?” Archie asked, taking his seat on the couch.
Tom nodded. Like Archie, he thought there was something so very special about Crystal. Of all his children, it was Crystal who’d had the most eventful life over the past three years. He recalled her ever-increasing desire to have a baby. The more time passed without her falling pregnant, the greater her longing became. It wasn’t until Tess went into hospital to have her second daughter and Crystal had been left to look after Davina for a fortnight that she seemed to relax. That seemed to have done the trick. Soon she was delighted to be having morning sickness. And from the day the doctor had confirmed the pregnancy, she’d worn a smock to let everybody know that she was expecting. Eventually, she gave birth to Tom’s first grandson, David. Tom would never forget the sheer joy on her face when she showed him the baby – her own son, David. Her life then grew quite intense as she not only nursed her baby but also Granny Mary Glass, Tom’s mother, when she was suddenly taken ill with pneumonia. Mary’s death had left Crystal feeling so guilty, being unable to accept that the old lady was weary and had actually welcomed death as a friend. Then there had been the weekly trip to Bangour Psychiatric Hospital to visit Bing’s mum. David was only five months old when Crystal realised she was three months pregnant again, and six months later Tom’s second grandson, Alan, arrived.
When the football talent scout, Jack Brown, arrived and announced that he was the representative for First Division Fulham, despondency overtook Tom, who now had to accept it was just a matter of time until Joe left home. To add to Tom’s disquiet, Jack Brown added that the Fulham manager was willing to give Joe a trial, with all expenses paid! On the other hand, Joe himself couldn’t believe it. The offer was so much more than he had ever dared dream.
Before the scout left it was agreed that Joe, accompanied by Tom, would go to London for the trial.
On their arrival at Kings Cross, Tom and Joe were suitably impressed by being met at the station and being driven in style to the Fulham ground before being put up in a very comfortable hotel nearby.
The trial took place the following morning. Tom had mixed feelings – Joe seemed so very nervous and probably wouldn’t play at his best. Yet his father, who was dreading the possibility that Joe might be leaving home, somehow wanted him to play well and see his dream come true.
Joe played marvellously and Tom couldn’t hide his pride. But as the management wanted Joe to sign up there and then and begin his training down in London, Tom felt obliged, as Joe’s guardian, to withhold his permission.
Taking Joe to one side Tom spoke solemnly to him, saying, “Son, Fulham is a great opportunity for you. But football is a short career and as you’re bright I feel you should stay on at school in Edinburgh and get a Higher Leaving Certificate under your belt. That will carry you on to another career once you’ve finished chasing a ball around a field.”
Joe shook his head. “But football is all I want to do – all I’ve ever wanted to do.”
“I know. But you’re a minor and I have the right to advise you to think again. Have I ever given you bad advice? Haven’t I always acted in your best interests?” Joe nodded but said nothing. Tom went over and placed his hand on Joe’s shoulder, “Look, son, in spite of what I’ve said, if you still persist – I’ll sign.” Joe shook his head and Tom smiled as he said, “Good. Now, son, believe me, three years will soon pass and I’m sure Fulham’s offer will still be on the table when it has.”
29
Tom was staring out of the window into his back garden, thinking that now he’d spruced up the whole of the house over the last three years it was high time to do some work on his garden. Some landscaping, he felt, would be best. And maybe he could get a bench and bird bath. When all that had been achieved, it would make such a nice place to relax and reminisce. After all, he was now getting on a bit. Before he could scold himself for thinking about taking time to sit in the garden when old age overtook him, he realised that Joe was standing beside him. “Didn’t hear you come in, son,” he said, putting his hand round Joe’s shoulder. Joe smiled. In the past three years he’d sprouted to six-foot-two and now quite dwarfed Tom’s five-foot-ten.
“How do you think it’ll go today, Dad?”
Tom realised Joe was feeling nervous. Well into the wee small hours, they’d discussed what would be best for the lad. At eighteen, he now had his Higher Leaving Certificate and Tom would cheerfully have financed him through university or college. He even suggested that Joe might try for a trade. But Joe’s heart was still set on playing football and Jack Brown, the Fulham scout, was coming back today. In Tom’s eyes the only drawback for Joe (if he did go to Fulham) was that it was away in London! It would mean Joe leaving the family behind – the family where he’d always been accepted. He’d been treated no better and no worse than any of his siblings. How would he cope without their support?
For Joe’s part, he’d grown to love Tom deeply during the past year. He was now sufficiently worldly wise and mature to appreciate how difficult it must have been for Tom to come back from the war and find that his wife, Joe’s mother, had had an affair. And to add to that humiliation the evidence, for the whole world to see, lay in the mixed-race child sitting on the carpet.
Joe remained wholly unaware of the blazing row and physical attack on Dinah that took place when Tom arrived home from the POW camp. He’d been too young to have any clear memory of sitting in the gang-hut with Crystal, who’d vowed she’d never let anyone “kill” him – as if Tom had it in him to kill anyone! He didn’t even know that Sam Campbell, when only a child – but a wily one – had negotiated with Tom the terms Crystal demanded before she would return home with Joe.
There might well have been a smaller crowd to see off the Queen when she departed from Edinburgh, thought Tom, as he and the family assembled on the platform to wave Joe goodbye.
It had been such a quick four weeks since Joe signed his contract with Fulham. Tom had thought, when he waved Elsie off to New Zealand, that she would be the only one of the brood to fly the nest completely. Now here they were seeing Joe off to London. Tom couldn’t explain why he felt even more bereft about Joe’s departure. Could it be (as he suspected) that they wouldn’t see much of him when he became a star? Or was it that when Joe found his feet in London he would feel happier down there and forget all about Restalrig? Or was it that he might some day feel confident enough in the big world to go and seek out his natural father?
The guard had his whistle in his mouth and his flag held aloft. Joe grabbed Patsy first and cuddled her, saying, “Bye, Granny. I’ll see you soon – honest.”
As he let her go, Patsy thought that one of the best things she’d ever done in her life was to stop Dinah, her darling daughter, from having aborted Joe. She brushed a tear from her eye, knowing that this was a secret she’d take to her grave.
Now Joe was saying goodbye to Crystal and her two sons, David and Alan. Holding them close, he realised there were no adequate words he could say to Crystal, who’d played such a crucial role in his upbringing – even financing him in whatever way he required – and not seeing her regularly was going to be so hard to bear.
The whistle was now blowing and Joe turned to Tom who’d opened the door of the carriage and was urging him to get on board. “Quick, son. Jump in.”
