Crystal's Song

by Millie Gray

  “Rupert, my life has never been anything else but a bloody struggle. I have all the experience needed for this struggle – so the bairns and I are going home to our cosy wee flat in Jameson Place.”

  Granny Patsy knew how determined Crystal could be but she thought she might change things by saying, “You’ll have to go out and work, hen.”

  “I do work. I have my wee job as a dinner lady at Leith Academy Primary and on that – along with whatever else I may get – we’ll get by.”

  Tom knew they were beaten but he went on regardless, while Crystal rolled her eyes up to look at the ceiling. “Andy and I were thinking,” he said, “you’re bright, Crystal. But you need educating. Night school is where you should start. Get a couple of O-grades.”

  “Dad! Can we think about all that tomorrow – or next year – or preferably never,” Crystal snorted, unable to conceal her impatience. “Right now, I’m tired. My boys are tired. We want to go home. Are you going to drive us?”

  Tom lifted his car keys from the sideboard.

  31

  The three mature students exited from Telford College at Crewe Road in the north of Edinburgh. Once outwith the college grounds, Sylvia asked, “Well, Crystal, how did you rate tonight’s taster class?”

  “I like Modern Studies and I think Mr Durkin should manage to make the subject really interesting when we start in September.”

  “So do I,” agreed Hilda. “And I particularly liked it when he told us to watch Panorama and World In Action because all we’d then need to do to pass our Highers was to buy The Observer on a Sunday.”

  “Thank goodness for that,” remarked Sylvia, “because I checked it out, ladies, and all we need is two Highers, one preferably in English, and an O-grade in Maths. Then Moray House will accept us as trainee primary school teachers.”

  “So next year at this time we could all be signing up for Moray House,” Hilda said gloatingly.

  They’d now walked down to Ferry Road to catch a No.1 bus back to Leith when Crystal suddenly announced, “I don’t think I want to go in for this teaching lark. My Dad’s a teacher and he’s pushing me too hard to be one too. ‘You’ll need a career with a pension at the end of it,’ he keeps saying. What he really means is I was lucky to get one man so there’s no chance of me getting another, especially as I come with baggage – you know, my two sons – so I guess I’ll be working for the rest of my life!”

  “Here’s you, Crystal, talking about getting another man,” quipped Hilda.

  “I’m not looking. Honestly I’m not,” protested Crystal.

  “Look! Just listen for a second. There’s a dance this weekend in aid of Salvesen’s Boys’ Club football team. So how about …?”

  “Hilda! How about you stop trying to pair me off? That last dance you got me to go to was enough to put me off for life. I still get nightmares about it!”

  “What happened?” asked Sylvia, indicating that their bus was approaching the roundabout and that they’d better make a run for it.

  They were on the bus and trying to get their breath back when Crystal panted, “What happened? I’ll tell you what happened. I went in there, a quiet wee soulless widow woman – the first time I’d really been out on my own since Bing – and suddenly every woman in the hall was hanging on to her man for fear I was about to devour him.”

  Sylvia started to laugh and two other women who were on the bus moved their seats so they could listen to the story.

  “I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life. Jacky Scott, who used to work with me in the Bond, came over and asked me to dance and we’d just taken our places on the floor when his wife tapped my shoulder and announced: ‘Sorry, pal, but this is a wife’s-touch dance and you can touch whoever you like as long as you get yer grubby hands aff my stupid man!’ Her man? I wouldn’t have had him in a lucky bag!” Now all the audience were laughing. “And,” Crystal went on, “from then on it was all downhill. Especially when it was half-time and the bun fight was in progress. Would you believe it? Six women I knew, who were serving up the sausage rolls, sandwiches and buns, all pretended I was invisible. Deliberately wanted me to starve. Even when I stood right in front of one of them and said, ‘I’d like a sandwich,’ she snapped back at me, ‘No if ye ken what side your bread’s buttered on.”’

  “Since your husband died, have you always found that women are nervous when you’re around?”

  “Aye. What an eye-opener it’s been. And the men! They’re even worse. They all think you’re missing something and offer to see you all right.”

  “You’re joking?” Hilda sneered.

  “I’m not. Even the blooming church elder delivers my communion card at eleven o’clock at night. Had the cheek to ask me if I was lonely and going to bed soon!” Crystal started to laugh. “But see, the last time he came it was a night-school night and my Granny Patsy always watches the boys and stays all night as well.”

  One of the women who’d moved closer to listen said, “Could you hurry the story up please? I’m getting off when the bus turns into Great Junction Street.”

  Crystal nodded. “Well, didn’t I send my eighty-two-year-old Granny Patsy to the door in her Dinky curlers and without her teeth. Talk about giving him a fright! Vaulted down the stairs he did, when Granny asked him in for a cup of cocoa.”

  Twenty minutes later, Crystal opened her front door and stole quietly into the living room. Granny Patsy was sitting in front of the television, fast asleep with a cup of half-drunk cocoa in her hand. Gently lifting the cup away and then bending over to switch off the television, Crystal wondered if she wasn’t putting too much strain on Patsy. After all, she was eighty-two years of age and riddled with arthritis. But she never complained, no matter how often Crystal asked for help with minding the boys.

  “Oh you’re back, hen. How’d you get on?” Patsy asked quite suddenly.

  “I really liked the Modern Studies better than Monday night’s English class.”

  “Aye, but your Dad says you need the English if you’re to get on.” Crystal tutted. “You can tut, my lass, and I grant you you’ve done well since you lost Bing.” Crystal smiled inwardly, thinking how her Granny always made it sound as if she had somehow been careless and mislaid Bing. “Done well by the boys too, so you have. Now, do you know? For the first six months, I thought you were never going to get on with your life. But you’ve surprised us all.”

  “Granny, ken how I was going to take the boys on a good holiday next year?” Patsy nodded. “Well, Dad says he’d go with us to Cornwall. Evidently you can put your car on the train at Waverley Station and drive it off at Exeter. The boys would love that. Going on a train and then being driven around in Dad’s new car.”

  “So? What’s the problem?”

  “Well, it’s so expensive. But … no, you’ve done enough looking after the boys without me asking you to do more.”

  “Look, are you saying I’m past it? That I’m decrepit? I love minding they lads and they love me. We get on real well thegither. Now, what were you going to say before you let your belly rumble?”

  Crystal giggled. “Oh, Granny, it’s just that I could get two nights of night-shift at the weekends as an auxiliary nurse in the City Hospital. Pays real well with double-time on Sunday – but that would mean …”

  “I’ll be fine. Just make sure you bring me a Woman’s Weekly and a People’s Friend. Great stories in those magazines, so there is. And the recipes usually work out – though not always.”

  Crystal smiled, knowing it was Granny that didn’t always follow the recipes quite correctly, like last week when she mistakenly substituted baking powder for cornflour, but all she said was, “Granny, how would you like a nice hot cup of cocoa?”

  By the time June came to an end, Crystal had been working for five weeks in the City Hospital. She’d only been given two hours’ training with the time being taken up on how to push a bed-pan under someone’s bottom, to hand out sick bowls and do a bed-bath.

  The ward
she’d been assigned to was for those with lung diseases – half of whom were terminal. But Crystal liked the work, probably because the night staff nurse, Janet Green, was what the patients called a real gem. It wasn’t just her patients’ welfare she looked after but also that of her staff, right down to the lowly auxiliaries. As soon as she found out that Crystal was a widow with two children and had spent the last year getting her O-grades and would be tackling two or even three Highers starting in September, the staff nurse took her under her wing. Calling Crystal into the ward office one Sunday night when there was a little bit of spare time, she said, “Now, I’ve been thinking, and before you say anything I won’t put you off doing your Highers, but you do have the potential to be a splendid nurse and you should think about doing your training.”

  Sighing inwardly because she felt it would be nice if people would only let her decide what she was going to do with her own life, Crystal replied, “I don’t know. You see, I’m not sure. And to be honest, I have to do what would best suit my boys.”

  Janet nodded her head, fully accepting that it would take time to get Crystal to see that nursing was right for her. And to help her along she said, “Oh, you know how short-staffed we’ll be next week – so could you do some extra nights?” Crystal readily gave her agreement, knowing she could do with the money. “And that new patient that came in today …”

  “I haven’t been to his bed yet,” said Crystal.

  “Yes, I know. But, you see, he’s terminal – yet very restless. I feel something’s bothering him. If you have any spare time, like now, could you possibly look in on him and perhaps have a wee chat with him? John Campbell’s his name.”

  On hearing the name John Campbell, a shiver ran down Crystal’s spine. She couldn’t explain why. John Campbell was such a common name – but still she felt uneasy.

  Slipping quietly behind the screen surrounding the bed, Crystal looked down at the face of the dying man and knew she’d been right to feel uneasy. The man in the bed was Sam Campbell’s father, Johnny Campbell, who had deserted his family away back in time.

  Johnny seemed to sense that someone was looking down on him and he murmured, “Rachel?”

  Before Crystal could speak, the screen moved and a priest crept in. “How is he tonight, nurse? Still as troubled?”

  Crystal nodded silently. Now she was in a dilemma. Should she tell the priest that she knew what was troubling Johnny? She was sure that he wanted to see his family again before he died. Perhaps even to speak with them. Even try to explain why he’d left them. But was it her business to interfere? Deciding to leave well alone, she patted Johnny’s hand and bade the priest goodnight.

  The following Tuesday was one of the extra nights Crystal had agreed to work and when she went in to tend Johnny she was disturbed by his continuing agitation. She resolved then to tell his priest who the patient was and about the family matters of which nobody seemed to be aware.

  The following night, when Crystal was making her way back from her break, she was delighted to see Carrie Campbell about to leave the hospital. “Hello, Carrie,” she called out.

  However, it was twenty-four hours later, when Crystal again went in to tend Johnny, that she was surprised to see Sam sitting by his father’s bed. From time to time, Johnny removed the oxygen mask so that he could gasp out some words that were only audible to Sam.

  It was just before Crystal was going off duty that Johnny Campbell died. Sam, the son whom he’d deserted, had stayed with him to the very end. Some time later, he silently rose to his feet, preparing to leave the hospital, but was approached by Janet, the staff nurse, who had astutely worked out that Crystal and Sam had known one another at some time in the past. Quickly she suggested, as it was nearly the end of their shift, that Crystal should accompany him home.

  Once outside, Sam asked, “Where to?”

  “At school times, my Granny looks after the children. But right now they’re with my father, since he’s on holiday. And that lets me get a sleep. Look, Sam, I could easily stay with you until …”

  “Don’t feel like going to my own place.”

  “Then why not come home with me? I’ll make you some breakfast.”

  In the four weeks since Sam Campbell had come back into her life, Crystal felt she’d been truly reborn. Every second night was spent at Jameson Place. Sam had been very keen for her and the boys to visit his bungalow in Craigentinny Avenue North but Crystal declined, not yet having plucked up the courage to tell her father and granny about Sam and herself. “The boys,” she explained to Sam, “might just spill the beans before I’m ready for the consequences.”

  By now school had taken up again, with Granny Patsy resuming her nightly duties of looking after the boys since Tom was back at his teaching.

  After bedding the boys and before sitting down to have a cup of tea, Patsy decided one evening to do a spot of tidying up. The bathroom was always where the worst muddle was and Granny was busily picking up tooth brushes or face cloths and putting them where they should be when she was more than a little surprised to find a recently used Gillette razor. All night long Patsy lay, tossing and turning on Crystal’s bed, trying to figure out whose it was and why it was there.

  Eventually morning arrived – with the unwanted answer when Crystal arrived home with Sam Campbell who’d also been on night shift.

  Diplomatically, Patsy ignored the shocking revelation (as she saw it) and was grateful to leave for her own home.

  Crystal was well aware that, before going home, Patsy would visit her father and tell him what was going on. She also deduced that Tom would be visiting her just as soon as he finished his classes.

  Thankfully neither David nor Alan had yet come home from school when Tom appeared.

  “What in the name of heaven is going on?” was his opening gambit. “Are you mad or something? Your Granny belongs to the old school. She’s shocked that you of all people should go crazy.”

  “Never been saner,” was Crystal’s retort.

  “Crystal,” shouted Tom, losing his self-control and grabbing her by the arm. “Why are you behaving like a Leith Street tart? Have you no shame? No sense of propriety?”

  “Shame? What have I done that’s so awful? So wrong?”

  “Having Sam Campbell stay here is no less than fornication!”

  “Oh, Dad, I do like that old-fashioned word, fornication. But might I ask you this? As Sam isn’t married and as I am a widow – who are we hurting, other than yourself and your Victorian moral code?”

  Tom sank down on the chair where Granny Patsy always sat. “Crystal, I know you’re lonely,” he began. “I’ve been so lonely too, ever since your Mum died, but you have to put your own personal desires aside for the sake of those you’re responsible for – in short you must lead an exemplary life.”

  “And do you honestly believe that Sam Campbell, whom you know, would in any way harm my boys?” Crystal’s voice now cracked with quiet anger. “And, what’s even more hurtful is you thinking I would allow anyone to abuse them?”

  Tom got up and walked over to Crystal. Then, lifting her chin up so that he could look her straight in the eyes, he pleaded: “Crystal, all your life you’ve chased this man. He never gave you a second look in the past. Bing knew how you hankered after Sam but he married you and you made a go of it.” Crystal gave a dismissive shrug that infuriated Tom, but he controlled his anger as best he could. “And tell me this. What’s so special about Sam Campbell? And why are you, a daughter of mine, lowering yourself by allowing him to share your bed?”

  Realising that there was a distinct possibility that the argument could end in words being said that might cause a rift between her father and herself, Crystal moderated her tone. “Dad, please don’t worry,” she urged, gently patting his shoulder. “Sam and I are older now and I’m sure it will all work out for us.”

  Rocking her gently back and forward, Tom quietly pleaded, “Och, darling, just tell me what it is that’s so special about him? What d
oes he do for you that no other man can offer you?”

  Taking a very deep breath before releasing herself from her father’s arms, Crystal calmly explained, “It’s really quite simple, Daddy. He makes me sing in the morning!”

  Also Available by Millie Gray

  IN A CLASS OF THEIR OWN

  IN A LEAGUE OF THEIR OWN

  COPYRIGHT

  First published 2011

  by Black & White Publishing Ltd

  29 Ocean Drive, Edinburgh EH6 6JL

  www.blackandwhitepublishing.com

  This electronic edition published in 2014

  ISBN: 978 1 84502 681 3 in EPub format

  ISBN: 978 1 84502 340 9 in paperback format

  Copyright © Millie Gray 2011

  The right of Millie Gray to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Ebook compilation by RefineCatch Ltd, Bungay