by Millie Gray
“But Dad, I have …”
“No, you don’t! Just do well, son. That’s all I ask. But please ….” The train was now leaving the station and as it gained momentum Tom ran along the platform shouting to Joe, who was leaning out of the window. “Please, son. Don’t forget me.” But Joe never heard a word that Tom said. All he could do was to return Tom’s frantic waves of goodbye.
30
The flat in Jameson Place was in turmoil. Crystal had been trying on several cocktail-length dresses that she’d borrowed from her sister Tess and her pals Molly and Ena. “What do you think, Bing?” she asked, as she twirled in a frothy, shocking-pink tulle dress – a dress that, she knew, did nothing for her or her crooked leg.
Bing laid down the paper he was reading. He wished now that when he’d been told he’d been selected as Employee of the Year he’d asked them simply to forward his certificate by post rather than have it presented to him at the black-tie ball in the prestigious Assembly Rooms of Edinburgh’s George Street.
The problem was: what should they each wear? For Bing there was only the expense of hiring a dinner suit. But Crystal should really attend in an evening dress. Such a thing she simply didn’t possess and they certainly couldn’t afford to splash out on one. Right now, every penny was a prisoner since they were saving to buy a better house – a home that would have a front and back door as well as a garden. “Well,” her husband eventually responded, “other peoples’ frocks are just not right for you. A long dress would be better.”
Crystal knew he was thinking that a full-length evening gown would hide her legs. Not that he personally would feel embarrassed but he knew just how much it would affect her.
Aware of her despondency, Bing went over and put his arms around her. “Look, to hang with saving all our spare dosh for the house. You go over to the Leith Provi tomorrow and get yourself the dress you need.”
She supposed that must be the right thing to do. It was important to her that Bing’s diligence and hard work had been recognised and that she should be kitted out properly. And what was even more important to her was that the certificate should be handed over to him at a posh affair and not posted to him second class.
As soon as she arrived at the Ladies’ Section of the Great Junction Street store with Tess in tow, she felt elated. She’d never seen such beautiful dresses – and in all sizes and colours.
Tess, being Tess, explained in her most elegant manner to the shop assistant what was required.
Four dresses duly arrived but it was the lilac one that Crystal instantly fell in love with. She didn’t even bother to try on any of the others. “Oh,” she gasped, proudly parading around the room. “Will we just take it, Tess?”
“Hmmm,” said Tess, glancing at the assistant. “Perhaps we could try some others.”
The young girl had just left when Crystal twirled around in the lilac dress again. “Look, Tess, this is exactly the dress I want.”
“I know that,” Tess replied. “But look at the price of it.”
“So?”
Tess now ushered Crystal to one side and began to whisper in her ear, “Look, when I have to go to a dinner or dance, Rupert insists that I get a dress from here out on appro. You know, on approval. I wear it to the do – taking care not to get it stained or torn. The next day I air it and then I take it back, saying it wasn’t quite to my husband’s liking.”
Crystal gasped as the notion fully dawned on her. She could really and truly go to the ball dressed like Cinderella without spending some of their precious savings. Yes, she could. Beyond taking the dress out on appro, all she’d have to do was buy lace mittens. And Tess would lend her silver shoes and a matching handbag!
Granny Patsy, who would be caring for the boys, arrived an hour early. She was so excited about Crystal getting all dolled up and going to a ball. Her very first ball!
And when Crystal, resplendent in the lilac gown, eventually came out of the bedroom, Granny Patsy gasped and her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, hen,” she said, “you look just like Princess Margaret. Now, don’t fine feathers make fine birds?”
Bing – who’d said he felt like a penguin in a straitjacket in his evening suit – was at first quite tongue-tied. When finally he did manage to speak, he stammered, “Oh, d-darling, I’ve never ever seen you looking lovelier.”
He went over to embrace her but she put up her hand saying, “No. Now, don’t crush me. Like Cinderella, the dress goes back tomorrow.”
Granny and Bing both started to laugh as the doorbell sounded and Crystal said, “Hope that’s not a horse-drawn carriage.”
“No. It’ll just be your Dad. He drove me down here. That’s why I was so early. He said he’d some papers to deliver to the school first. But he’d come on here later. Said he couldn’t let you go to your first ball without having a good look-see.”
When the taxi drew up at the floodlit entrance to the Assembly Rooms, Bing alighted first and was careful to assist Crystal out. Entering the front entrance hall, Crystal was completely spellbound. Never had she seen such splendour as those magnificent sparkling chandeliers. Immediately they were directed by the liveried ushers towards the cloakrooms. There they’d leave their coats and Crystal would have an opportunity to freshen her make-up.
Dinner was the first item on the programme but once they realised they were to sit at the top of Table Two, so that Bing could readily approach the top table to receive his prize, Crystal began to panic. There were just so many glasses and the cutlery went in all directions, up the way and sideways on the table in front of her. How could she possibly know which fork, knife or spoon she should be using? As her panic gave way to terror, a large jovial woman sat down beside her. “Hello there,” she said chirpily. “I’m Evelyn Lamb and I’m just here for the beer, you know. It’s my husband who’s getting presented.”
“Same here,” Crystal replied, gradually feeling more relaxed.
“Mind you,” continued Evelyn, “it’s nice to get invited to a free dinner.” Evelyn leant forward, grabbed a bottle of red wine and proceeded to fill one of the glasses in front of her, “And the booze is on the house too. Shall I fill up your glass?”
Crystal shook her head but Bing now bent forward with a glass in his hand and replied, “I don’t mind if I do.”
After Crystal declined the offer of wine, Evelyn had replaced the bottle, but when Bing said he’d like to indulge, she seized the bottle again and, leaning over Crystal, began to pour some red wine into Bing’s glass. Unfortunately, her husband arrived at that moment and, giving her ample bottom a sound slap, announced, “Silly cookie, you are. You’re …”
Crystal screamed as Evelyn dropped the wine bottle and half its contents into her lap. Immediately a waiter rushed over with a napkin and tried to sponge up the liquid that by now was trickling down into Crystal’s shoes. “Blast!” he said “Red wine’s notorious. You just can’t get the stain out. Hope your dress is insured.”
A tearful Crystal blurted out in reply, “It’s on appro!”
The waiter – who hadn’t a clue as to what appro meant – thought it was probably the name of her insurance company and commented, “Now, aren’t you the lucky one!”
The remainder of the evening could well have been a disaster had everyone not been so very sympathetic to Crystal. And when Bing was called forward to be presented, not only with his certificate but also with a Jenner’s gift voucher for twenty pounds, Crystal felt so proud she didn’t care that the dress was ruined.
When eventually they were leaving, the doorman asked if he’d call them a taxi as the rain was now pouring down. Crystal looked at Bing before declining the offer. A walk in the rain they were used to, and as for the ball gown … well, a little bit of water might even help.
Unfortunately, cemetery staff were required to work to a duty rota. Accordingly, they had alternate weekends off. Bing, who happened to be weekend-on, had tried hard to get someone to swap shifts with him but none of the others had obliged. They
were all quite miffed that he’d been selected Employee of the Year.
It was three o’clock in the morning when Crystal and Bing finally fell asleep. The story of what had happened to the dress and all the excitement of the dinner and ball had to be related to Granny Patsy before she herself could go to sleep on her makeshift bed on the settee. So when the alarm went off at seven-thirty, Bing felt like chucking the clock out of the window; but after some consideration, which included realising how it might look if the Employee of the Year hadn’t gone to work because of a hangover, he decided to get up.
As soon as he stepped out of the stair and into the street, he was surprised to find the pavements covered in thick white frost. “Brrr,” he shivered, pulling up his coat collar. Then, despite the hoar frost, he spied a bus coming and immediately decided that, rather than walk to work as he usually did, he would catch the bus.
Bing had just left when both Crystal and Granny Patsy sat down to their breakfast. “Granny, are you in a hurry to get home?” asked Crystal, through a mouthful of toast and marmalade. Patsy shook her head. “Good! Now do you think you could watch the boys while I run along to the store with the dress?”
“But I thought you said you were going to pay for it. Come on, Crystal, you don’t really expect them to take it back in the state it’s in?”
Crystal smiled. “Of course not. But I thought they might know where I could get it cleaned.”
“Have you gone mad, Crystal? You don’t clean things you’re going to bucket.”
“I know that, but I thought that if it would clean I might be able to sell it. Okay, it’s a long shot but I just might recoup something.”
* * *
As luck would have it, when Crystal arrived at the Co-op on the dot of nine, it was the buyer who was on the floor. Taking the dress out of the bag, Crystal took a deep breath before saying, “I got this dress out on appro …”
The woman seized the dress and her face grew red with rage. “This happens every week. But we’ve now got a scheme that’ll put an end to it,” she screamed, flinging the dress across the room. “From now on, evening dresses will only be allowed out on appro on a Monday and returned by Wednesday.” She snorted into Crystal’s face before adding, “And if they are not returned by six o’clock on Wednesday, then they’ll be deemed to have been sold. Is that quite clear?”
Crystal, who had tried to interrupt several times, now quietly said, “If you will just let me explain.”
“Explain!” bellowed the woman, who skipped over the floor to kick the dress. “What’s there to explain?”
“You’re quite right. I did take out the dress in the hope of wearing it to a ball last night. And it was my intention to return it to you on Monday saying it was not suitable.” Though the woman tried to interrupt again, Crystal silenced her with a dismissive wave of her hand. “But when the dress got saturated with wine, I decided to come in and pay for it. Here!” Crystal took out a five pound note and placed it on the counter. “What I really wanted to ask you was this: is there some way the dress might be cleaned?”
The woman sniffed contemptuously. “Our drycleaners can work miracles,” she went over and picked up the dress to inspect it again, “but they are quite unable to cope with the impossible.”
Crystal nodded. “Thank you so much for trying to help,” she said sweetly, hoping that the woman realised how negative she’d been. “And now,” she stated firmly, “if you’d give me my five bob change I’ll be on my way.”
She was about to leave the store when the woman came rushing after her with the dress. “You forgot your ball gown, madam.”
Crystal stared at the officious shop assistant before responding, “No. You please have it. I think with the mess it’s in it would suit you better!”
She’d just left the store and had begun to walk along Great Junction Street to do some shopping when she noticed a police van next to the store and two constables running into the shop. “Surely,” she thought, “she hasn’t sent the police after me!” Not being certain, Crystal broke into a run until she reached the top of the Kirkgate, where she went on to Bowman’s the pork butcher to buy some sausages.
Half an hour had passed before she finally turned into Jameson Place. Then her heart sank. That blooming police van was parked at the bottom of her stair. Her first instinct was to run away, but then she accepted that what she’d done might have been dishonest but, after all, she had paid for the dress.
She wasn’t at all surprised to find that the front door of her home was open. What did surprise her was that one of the constables was comforting her Granny who was weeping uncontrollably.
Immediately Crystal went over and pulled the policeman’s arms away from her grandmother. “Why are you upsetting an old woman about a bloody frock?”
“Oh, Crystal,” her Granny sobbed as she rose from the chair and made Crystal sit down. “They’re here to tell us that your Bing fell getting off the bus. He slipped on the icy pavement, and banged his head. He’s in Leith hospital. Fatal, they say it is. But he’s no deid yet. On a life-support thing!”
As Crystal sat by Bing’s hospital bed, she was aware that the distant voice speaking to her was that of her father. But what he was saying she didn’t hear and it wasn’t until he tapped her firmly on the shoulder that his voice became clear. “Crystal,” he urged, “the doctor is speaking to you.”
Crystal looked from her father towards the young registrar. “Why,” she wondered, “is he wringing his hands? And why does he look so concerned?”
“Mrs – er – Mrs Crosby,” he stammered, “your husband is now what we term … brain-dead.” Crystal looked at Bing who was still warm and obviously still alive. She turned her gaze back to the doctor who explained, “It’s only the machine that’s keeping him alive and it might be best to turn it off. Do we have your permission? Perhaps you’d like it left on until, let’s say – his family have come?”
She shook her head. “There’s only his mother but she’d be unable to cope here. I’ll break it to her next week.”
“In that case, Mrs Crosby …”
Crystal put up her hand. “Please leave us, Doctor. Just for a few minutes. That’s all I ask.”
After the doctor had left, Tom asked, “D’you want the boys to come and say goodbye to Bing?”
“No!” she cried out. “I think it’s best they remember him as he was last night,” she sobbed, laying her head on Bing’s chest and looking directly into his face, “Darling, you said you never wanted to be kept alive unnaturally. So will I say they can switch their machine off?” She closed her eyes and then sought her father’s hand. “Tell them to do it now.”
She waited with Tom until Bing was no longer with them and then they left the hospital together. “How do you tell kids of six and seven that their wonderful father has …?” She couldn’t continue and all Tom could do was to squeeze her hand.
The following Monday was even more difficult than the Saturday had been. By Monday, nature’s anaesthetics had begun to wear off. And now Crystal and Tom were up at the mortuary in the Cowgate. The attendant politely explained that it was necessary for formal identification to be carried out where a post-mortem was required.
Crystal and Tom had just completed the upsetting formalities and were out of the building when two police officers came bounding up the steps.
They were about to pass Crystal and Tom when one stopped and held out his hand to Tom. “Mr Glass,” Sam Campbell said, shaking Tom’s hand warmly. “What on earth brings you here, of all places?”
Crystal was so upset that at first she wasn’t even aware of Sam’s presence and all Tom could say was, “Crystal’s husband had a fatal accident on Saturday. We were just identifying him.”
Sam stepped back. “I’m so sorry, Crystal.” But as she was quite unheeding he turned instead to Tom. “You know, it’s said that this job hardens you,” and Sam’s open hand gestured towards Crystal, “but when you see someone you grew up with so shattered …�
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Tom nodded and steered Crystal into the street and over to his parked car.
At first, Crystal was so completely dazed that she acceded to anything her father suggested. He immediately moved both her and the boys to Restalrig. Then he arranged Bing’s funeral for Friday, instead of the following Monday, believing it better to get such things over as quickly as possible for Crystal’s sake. He was aware that Friday would cause a problem for Joe, who had to be available for Fulham’s Saturday match. And even if Joe had sought permission to attend his brother-in-law’s funeral, it would have been denied. The only funeral he could attend, with or without Fulham’s permission, was his own!
Nonetheless, Joe turned up at the crematorium with just thirty minutes to spare. The family eagerly crowded round him, wanting to hear how he was faring and they showed their obvious disappointment when he said he’d have to rush off to catch the four o’clock London train.
Downhearted they may have been but they all trooped down to Waverley to wave him off before congregating at Tom’s for the customary boiled ham tea.
When only the family were left, Tess asked, “You meaning to put Crystal and the boys up here, Dad?”
Tom nodded.
“I’m quite happy to have the boys with me in my room,” said Archie, looking about him for signs of approval to this suggestion.
Crystal stood up and gestured to David and Alan that they should collect their things. “Thank you, Archie. That’s very kind of you. But I’m going home.”
“No. No,” Tom countermanded. “For you and the boys, home is with me now.”
Shaking her head, Crystal walked over and lifted her coat from the coat-stand. “Thank you, Dad. But no thanks. They’re my children and I’ll bring them up in our wee flat, pokey as you all think it is, and that’s an end to it.”
“But Crystal, are you forgetting that Bing wasn’t superannuated?” Rupert reminded her, “You’ll only have a widow’s pension. No private one. Life will be a struggle.”
