Lily’s brow wrinkled as she tried to remember. ‘Probably,’ she said shrugging. ‘It was ages ago . . . before I got sick and went into hospital. I can’t think that far back.’
‘That wasn’t very nice of him, asking a wee girl loads of questions about an adult . . . I’m surprised you didn’t tell Heather.’
‘Och, I felt a bit sorry for him at first,’ Lily explained. ‘But I went off him a bit when I saw him actin’ strange.’
‘What did he do?’ Kisty asked, growing more and more worried at this news.
‘Well, one night I was up at the bedroom window, and I saw him hidin’ at the side of your house,’ she whispered. ‘But he didn’t see me. He was tryin’ to look in the window to see if Heather was there.’
Kirsty’s blood suddenly ran cold as she remembered the night she thought she had seen a man’s figure in the back garden. ‘How d’you know that it was Gerry Stewart?’ she checked. ‘Did you see his face?’
Lily shrugged. ‘Because I know his dark wavy hair and his height and everything. He’s not as tall as my daddy or my Uncle Fintan, and who else would be creepin’ about your house at night?’
‘Did you not say anything to anybody?’ Kirsty asked. ‘Did you tell your mammy or daddy?’
‘No,’ Lily replied. ‘I felt sorry for him because I knew he still liked Heather – and anyway, he used to give me a shilling every time I found out anythin’ about her.’ She grinned now. ‘I was savin’ up for Christmas and the money was very handy.’
‘I don’t believe it,’ Kirsty said, aghast at the news, and even more aghast that Gerry had been prepared to use an innocent girl in such a way. He must have been really desperate. She shook her head now, thinking that Heather had had a narrow escape. Turning up at the house drunk, causing fights at parties – God knows what he might have done next.
Lily saw the medium-sized figure coming up the ward now in the white tunic and smiled to herself. He came to stand at the end of the bed.
‘I believe you wanted a wee word with me, Miss Grace?’ he said, running a hand through his Brylcreemed quiff.
‘Aye, I did,’ Lily said, beaming from ear to ear. ‘I just wanted to check what time I had to go to Marjorie in the mornin’?’ She glanced over at Kirsty to see what impression the porter had made on her so far, but Kirsty was just looking at him with a strange look on her face, as if she was studying him closely.
Frankie’s brow furrowed. ‘Did she not tell you when you were there this afternoon?’
Lily looked all innocent. ‘I forgot . . . Och, it doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll find out tomorrow.’ She paused now, then indicated towards the silent Kirsty. ‘This is my big cousin, the one I was tellin’ you about. The singer.’
Frankie looked across the bed at Kirsty, and his eyes lit up when he saw the pretty, well-dressed blonde. ‘Don’t I know you?’ he asked, trying to work how they’d met before.
Kirsty looked back at him, then she realised that he was in fact familiar to her. ‘I think so,’ she said nodding. ‘I definitely know your face . . . but I can’t remember where from.’
‘Maybe you’ve seen him around the hospital,’ Lily interjected, not wanting to be left out of the conversation. That often happened with adults, she’d discovered. She’d start off on an interesting subject, and before she knew it, they were all talking to each other and ignoring her. ‘Frankie’s one of the best porters here and he wheels me up for my physiotherapy when he’s on the day shifts.’
Kirsty shook her head. ‘No, that’s not it . . . I’ve definitely not seen him in the hospital before.’
‘Maybe we met at the dancin’?’ Frankie suggested.
‘Which dances do you go to?’ Kirsty asked, her mind ticking over. She definitely knew this Frankie but there was something different about him now.
‘Och, me and my pal Terry go to dances all over the place,’ he said airily, ‘Wishaw, Motherwell –’
‘That’s it!’ Kirsty burst out. ‘I know where I know you from now! It’s the hospital uniform that confused me.’ She went into peals of hysterical laughter, unable to speak.
Frankie looked at Lily, mesmerised. ‘Is she all right?’
Lily shrugged, her mouth in a tight pout of disapproval. This wasn’t going the way she’d expected at all. She’d expected Kirsty to be shy and impressed with Frankie’s good looks – she hadn’t expected her to go into fits of laughing at him.
‘I don’t believe it!’ Kirsty said, slightly more composed. She bent for her handbag to search for a hanky to dab at her eyes. ‘Are you Terry McGinn’s pal?’ she giggled. ‘Terry the secret Teddy boy? You’re the one that keeps the Teddy-boy suits in his house, aren’t you?’
Frankie went beetroot red, realising that he was being mocked. ‘Aye,’ he said, touching a hand to his trademark quiff. ‘Terry’s oul’ boy won’t let him wear the gear at home.’
‘D’you not remember dancin’ with me and my sister at Motherwell Town Hall a few weeks ago?’ she said, trying not to laugh at the memory of the two young lads trying to act all tough and cool.
Light suddenly dawned on Frankie, and his face turned even redder as he recalled how Terry had persisted to the last minute, trying to walk the two sisters home. ‘Och, Terry’s a right clown at times,’ he blustered. ‘He’d do or say anythin’ for a bit of a laugh . . .’
‘I’ve known Terry for years,’ Kirsty told him now, ‘and he’s always been a nice fella.’
She decided now that she’d had enough fun out of the situation and she didn’t want to hurt Terry’s friend’s feelings. She hadn’t really meant to laugh as heartily as she had, it was just the shock of realising that this very professional-looking porter, in his white tunic and nurse’s watch, was the self-same person as the hard-looking Teddy boy she’d met at the dancing.
They chatted generally for a few minutes, Frankie now so relaxed and easy that Kirsty had given up on the teasing. Then he asked her all about her singing and where she went and that kind of thing. After a bit, he glanced down towards the office at the bottom of the ward. ‘I suppose I’d better get back to work, they’ll be lookin’ for me. You never get a minute at this job.’
‘Well, according to this young lady here,’ Kirsty said, indicating towards her cousin in the bed, ‘you do a very good job. She speaks very highly of you.’
‘Are you goin’?’ Lily asked him, looking disappointed.
‘Aye, I’ve a few more things to do before I clock off,’ Frankie said, winking at her.
Lily took a deep breath. ‘Are you not goin’ to ask Kirsty for a date?’ She looked at her shocked cousin, all dressed up in her beautiful blue twin-set, and her blonde hair all done up in waves. ‘I thought you might like to take her out to the pictures or somethin’ like that . . . She hasn’t had a boyfriend for ages.’
‘You cheeky wee article!’ Kirsty gasped, unable to believe her ears. This time it was her turn to blush and she certainly did. She took a deep breath as she felt the customary red rash start to spread all over her neck. ‘Don’t you dare ask anybody to take me out . . . I’m certainly not that desperate.’ She looked at Frankie now, who suddenly looked amused.
‘Sorry to disappoint you, girls,’ he said, suddenly looking all puffed-up and full of himself, ‘but I’m afraid I’m already spoken for. I’ve been goin’ out with a right lovely-lookin’ girl for the last five weeks.’
‘And I’m not lookin’ for a boyfriend either,’ Kirsty said indignantly, shooting daggers in her interfering cousin’s direction.
‘Aye,’ Frankie said, as if Kirsty had never spoken, ‘I think I’ve landed on my feet there, she’s actually training to be a dental nurse.’
‘Aw . . .’ Lily groaned, folding her arms in annoyance and shaking her head. He was probably just saying that because Kirsty had laughed at him. She wished she’d never said anything about Frankie and Kirsty going on a date now, because she’d be too embarrassed to ask him to come out and see her at the house when she left the
hospital. That Kirsty had ruined everything.
‘I’ll have to go now, girls,’ Frankie said, giving them both a flirtatious wink. ‘Duty calls.’ He went off down through the ward with a renewed swagger in his stride.
‘I’ll blidey well kill you!’ Kirsty hissed as soon as he was out of earshot. ‘What did you think you were doing?’
‘I was only tryin’ to get you a date,’ Lily said, equally annoyed. ‘He’s a really nice fella and you were killing yourself laughin’ at him.’
‘No wonder!’ Kirsty said. ‘He’s nothin’ but a blidey wee nyaff, and I wouldn’t be seen dead goin’ out with him or his stupid pal.’ She shook her head. ‘You don’t half land me in the predicaments, Lily Grace!’
Lily gave a big disgruntled sigh now. ‘Well, I just hope you’re happy with yourself now, for you’ve ruined everything for me. I really liked Frankie and I wanted him to keep being my pal when I left the hospital.’ She halted, her eyes narrowing. ‘You’ll be sorry when you’re an oul’ maid all on your own and nobody wants you.’
‘Well, for your information,’ Kirsty retaliated in the same childish manner, ‘I’d rather end up an oul’ maid than be stuck wi’ a wee nyaff like him! So keep your match-making to yourself.’
There was silence for a few moments. ‘Maybe Heather would like him,’ Lily ventured.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ Kirsty hissed.
Chapter 50
Heather got off the crowded train and started the familiar walk through the station and out into the streets of Glasgow. There were still traces of frost in at the kerb and the parts of the pavement that had not been trodden on. It was the coldest morning she had experienced since working in the city, and as she climbed the hill to her office she could feel the chill wind irritating her eyes and pinching at her nose and cheeks.
A lovely wave of warm air hit her as she entered the swing doors on the ground floor and helped to thaw her out as she mounted the building in the lift with the other office workers.
As she walked across the office to hang her coat and other outdoor things, she heard various calls of ‘Happy New Year, Heather’ coming from all corners of the office. She turned towards those nearest, a fixed smile on her face and repeated the same greeting back to them. Then, when she had combed her hair and discreetly checked her lipstick in her compact mirror, she smoothed down her straight tweed skirt and went into Muriel Ferguson’s office to check if Muriel wanted her to start on the filing of any documents that had come in during the period the office had been closed. She knew that the meticulous spinster would have been in bright and early this morning and got a head start on everybody else.
‘If you could make a start on this lot it would be great,’ Muriel said, handing her a stack of documents in all shapes and sizes. ‘I think it’s going to take us days to catch up on it all. And when that Danny Fleming comes in, maybe you could ask him to check up on any bills of lading that need to be typed up as well.’ She stopped for a moment, and then gave Heather a long look. ‘Are you all right, Heather? Did you have a nice Christmas and New Year?’
‘Fine,’ Heather said, nodding her head, her gaze fixed on the top document in the pile she was carrying. ‘When I’ve finished these, I’ll come back for more.’ She turned and went out into the main office to get started on them.
A few minutes later the sound of laughter and banter signalled the arrival of Danny and his workmate Maurice, and then Sarah Fox’s voice joined in with the laughter. Whether she had just arrived with the lads or whether she had been in the office already, Heather neither knew nor, she suddenly realised, cared. She did not feel in any way awkward or angry or anything. In fact, she had no feelings at all regarding Sarah Fox.
Heather ignored all the muted laughter and chat and kept her attention focused on the filing cabinet, carefully scanning the top of each document then searching for the appropriate folder.
‘Are you not even goin’ to wish us a Happy New Year?’ Danny Fleming asked in an exaggeratedly hurt tone. He was now beside her and leaning a hand on top of the filing cabinet. ‘I called across to you twice and you just ignored me.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Danny,’ Heather said, giving an apologetic smile. ‘I really didn’t hear you . . . I’m trying to get all this stuff sorted out.’ She indicated the pile of letters and documents and bills waiting to be filed.
‘You’re surely feelin’ all keen and businesslike,’ Danny said in a surprised tone. ‘Sure, it’s hardly nine o’clock yet. What’s up wi’ you?’
Heather shrugged and affected a little laugh. ‘I just feel like keeping myself busy,’ she told him. ‘I’m not in a very chatty mood this mornin’ . . .’ Then she remembered. ‘Muriel said can you check out if there’s any bills I need to type out . . .’
Danny saluted and clicked his heels, Gestapo-like. ‘If Miss Ferguson requires me to check out bills – then I will check out bills!’
Heather laughed more naturally now, but as she did so, she felt unexpected tears in her eyes. She took a deep breath and fixed her attention back on the pile of paper.
‘Did you have a good Christmas and New Year?’ Danny asked, reluctant to make a start on his actual work. He shuffled through some of the papers on the top of the filing cabinet.
‘Fine,’ Heather heard herself say again.
‘I don’t think you ate too much,’ Danny said now. ‘I’m sure you’ve lost weight – even your face looks thinner.’ He stepped back to get a good look at her, and then he moved to the side to get a good view of her rear end and legs. ‘You’ve definitely lost weight, Heather . . . what have you been doing to yersel?’
‘Nothing,’ Heather said quietly. ‘I had a wee bit of a cold over the New Year . . . and I didn’t feel like eating much. I’m OK now.’ In truth, she had no appetite at all. Since cutting down before Christmas, she found her stomach had shrunk and she couldn’t eat half as much as she used to. And since the New Year . . . food almost choked her. And whilst weight was the last thing on her mind, she knew that Danny was right because the skirt she had put on this morning that was usually tight around her hips and waist, now swung around easily with room to spare.
Danny shook his head. ‘Well, we’ll need to start feedin’ you up at the break-times.’ He turned now to his tall thin pal who had just sidled up alongside. ‘Won’t we, Maurice? We can’t have Heather losin’ her nice curvy figure, can we?’
‘Definitely not,’ Maurice agreed, straightening up his tie. ‘We need all the buxom women we already have in the office,’ he joked. ‘We don’t want all these skinny-malinkies taking over.’
Danny made some retort about Maurice being the biggest skinny-malinky in the office and then they waited for her to put in her tuppence-worth as she usually did. But Heather said nothing. She felt a peculiar tightness in her chest and however she racked her brain, she found she couldn’t think of one funny or smart remark to say back. Eventually, the boys drifted off, looking confused and slighted by her attitude.
At the back of her mind Heather knew she wasn’t behaving the way that people were used to, but she didn’t seem able to help it. She felt tired and fuzzy and everything seemed a greater effort than normal. The only thing for it was to do one job at a time and concentrate wholly on it, even if it meant not being able to chat and laugh with her work-mates.
Mr Walton appeared in the office around ten o’clock, having had some banking business to attend to in town earlier. After he settled in, he went around the various desks wishing everybody all the best for the coming year. He halted at Heather’s desk, complimenting her on the work she had got through already, and asking her how she had enjoyed the festive period.
Again, she made a suitable if faltering reply and eventually what should have been an ordinary light-hearted conversation crumbled into an awkward embarrassing silence, and Mr Walton went back to his office scratching his head.
The morning gradually crept in with Heather going back and forward to Muriel’s office every s
o often to replenish the pile of filing and then walking back to disperse it amongst the steel grey drawers and green cardboard hanging files. As the eleven o’clock break approached, Sarah Fox – who Heather had been vaguely aware of flitting around – suddenly appeared at her side.
Heather kept her attention on the filing cabinet, and didn’t look up.
‘Could I have a wee word with you when the others have gone down to the canteen?’ she asked in a hesitant voice.
‘Is it about work?’ Heather said in a cold tone, not making any attempt to look at her.
‘No,’ Sarah said, ‘it’s actually personal . . .’
‘In that case,’ Heather said, looking her straight in the face, ‘the answer is no. Apart from work issues, I don’t have one single thing to say to you.’ Then, as the buzzer sounded in the distance for the morning break, she put the file she was working on back in its place and banged the metal cabinet drawer shut.
Sarah reeled backwards against a desk, shocked by both Heather’s attitude and the sudden movement of the big heavy drawer. Her usual confident demeanour had suddenly deserted her in the face of this cold, steely stranger who was nothing like the girl who had started working here a few weeks ago. The girl who Sarah mistakenly felt she had the upper hand with. ‘I’m sorry . . .’ Sarah said now, her voice stuttering and uncertain. She lifted her handbag and almost ran down the office in the direction of the Ladies’. Heather turned away, looking for her own handbag. Then she passed the little groups who were still loitering around the office and went downstairs. She joined the queue to get herself a cup of tea, which she brought back and drank sitting alone at her desk.
The rest of the morning passed in a fog of filing, weighing and stamping mail and typing out the most urgent letters and bills. Heather got through it all, applying the same tactics she had used for the first part of the day – doing one job at a time and not looking up from it until it was time to move onto the next.
The Grace Girls Page 35
