Private Sorrow, A

by Reynolds, Maureen

  Mary and Norma said hello but when he spoke his voice was very quiet and Mary thought he was shy. He was taller than Phil and although he was nice looking, he wasn’t in the same league as his friend. He had a shock of blonde hair that looked a bit unruly and his eyes, which were shielded by a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, were blue. He was dressed in a grey sports coat with navy blue corduroy trousers and he looked so out of place in the hall. Mary thought he should be working in a library or studying at the university, but apparently he didn’t as he said he worked in a quantity surveyor’s office.

  The four of them went to sit down. ‘Stan has just finished his National Service and I’m waiting for my call-up papers.’

  ‘Service life isn’t too bad, Phil,’ he laughed. ‘The first six months are the worst but after that, it’s all right and you get to see a bit of the world. I was in Hong Kong.’

  Mary and Norma said in unison, ‘Hong Kong!’ But Stan just smiled shyly.

  ‘I’ll probably get sent to Germany if I have to go into the army,’ said Phil, but he didn’t seem concerned about it. ‘Let’s have another dance, Mary.’

  After they were on the floor, Stan turned to Norma. ‘I’m sorry but I can’t dance so please go and join your usual crowd.’ Norma was hesitant. Good manners said she shouldn’t leave him sitting all alone but the decision was taken out of her hands when a young man asked her to dance and she leapt up.

  Mary had kept a beady eye out for Linda but they were nowhere to be seen, so she began to relax. Then it was the last dance and Phil said, ‘Can I see you home?’

  Mary said no. ‘I’ve promised Norma’s mum that we’ll stay together and come home on the same bus. She’s a bit younger than me.’ But she made it sound like a regret and not a relief.

  ‘Well, can Stan and I walk you both to your bus?’ That was fine by Mary. After all, the Shore Terrace bus stance would be crowded with people and she could say goodnight surrounded by the crowds.

  A short while later, she was standing outside with Norma, waiting for Phil and Stan to emerge when, suddenly, Linda and her two pals appeared. ‘Just you keep away from Phil,’ said one of the girls. ‘He’s been going steady with Linda and he just wants to make her jealous.’

  ‘And another thing,’ said one of the other girls, ‘if you think you’re something special, think again. You better watch out for Beth. We’ve seen how he looked at her yesterday.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Linda said, finally breaking her silence. ‘His tongue was nearly hanging out of his mouth.’

  Norma had moved slightly behind Mary while this was going on, but Mary was annoyed by all this drama. Fortunately, the two men appeared on the pavement and the girls disappeared into the darkness like surly ghosts. At the bus stance, Norma and Stan tactfully stood a few feet away from Mary and Phil.

  ‘Next week will be your last week with us. What about coming with me to the pictures next Friday night?’ Phil asked.

  ‘I can’t. I’ve to go with my parents to my Gran’s house as it’s her birthday. We always go at this time of year.’ Once again Mary felt relief and disappointment and wondered what was wrong with her.

  ‘You haven’t been coming in to the canteen. Is something wrong?’

  Mary was going to tell a lie but then decided the truth was better. ‘I can’t take all the glares and comments from Linda and her gang.’ She turned and looked him straight in the eyes. ‘Tonight one of her pals said you were going steady with her. Is that true? Because if it is, I don’t want to stand in the way if you’ve both just had an argument and you’re trying to make her jealous.’

  Phil gave a huge sigh. ‘Yes, we did go out for about three months in the summer, but I found her too bossy and possessive. I mean, she was looking at engagement rings after a few weeks of just going out to the pictures or the dancing. Then there were those pals of hers. No matter where we went, they would be there, sitting at the back of us in the cinema or mooching around the Palais. And she told them everything we talked about. It was like I was dating a mass band.’

  Mary gave him a sympathetic look. ‘Oh, I see.’

  Thankfully the bus appeared. ‘Well, I’ll see you on Monday, Phil. I’ve enjoyed tonight and I’m sorry about next Friday.’

  ‘I can’t make it next Saturday or else we could have gone out then,’ he said sadly.

  The two men stood at the stance until the bus moved away, then made their way to catch their own bus for Barnhill. ‘Two nice girls,’ said Stan.

  ‘Yes they are.’

  All the way home, Norma had gone on and on about Phil and how good looking he was but Mary had just nodded. When she was in bed, she mentally kicked herself for acting like a wee naïve girl. She was a bit frightened of getting too close to him but also a bit exhilarated as well. She had stopped using the canteen on the Wednesday because of Linda and her chums. Instead, she had taken sandwiches and a flask of tea with her to work and had sat on the cold bench in the museum gardens. The week had been cloudy and grey with cold winds and she missed the warmth of the bright canteen. Before she fell asleep she thought, just one more week, then she would be on a new assignment and everything would be back to normal. After all, he was going away for two years with his National Service training, so that would be the end of all these stomach churning feelings. Wouldn’t it?

  17

  Molly was waiting outside the SCWS shop, hoping to catch Vina when she finished work. She didn’t want to bother the woman again, especially as she would have to get the evening meal ready for her family. Molly looked at her watch. Just five minutes to go, thank goodness. It was a cold day as the wind whipped around the corner of North George Street and whistled into all the open shop doors on the Hilltown. The shop was busy with last-minute shoppers buying their groceries for the weekend and a stream of people, mostly women dressed in thick coats and wearing headscarves, hurried into the wind with their message bags.

  A few minutes later, Vina appeared. She looked surprised when she saw Molly standing there. ‘Hullo, are you waiting for me?’

  Although she smiled, her voice sounded harassed. Molly said, ‘I’ll walk with you as far as your close. Here, let me carry one of those bags.’

  Vina gratefully handed over a heavy bag, which seemed to be filled with tins. ‘I like to stock my cupboard up every month. What a difference it makes now that we don’t need our ration books. Bob and Barbara eat like horses, so you wouldn’t believe the amount of food I buy every week now. Thank goodness I’ve got my job in the shop.’

  Molly explained the reason for standing waiting on her. ‘I just wanted to tell you that the farmer at Sidlaw Farm is called Eck Barr. Apparently it’s short for Alexander but please thank Barbara for telling me, I was hoping it was the man I was looking for but it isn’t.’ She sighed. ‘This case won’t be solved I’m afraid. I keep coming up with dead ends.’

  Vina sympathised. ‘Etta, if she’s still alive, could be anywhere and Vera will just have to accept that. She obviously doesn’t want to contact her mother.’

  They were almost at the close. ‘Vina, have you thought any more about this Pedro? Any clues that will help me find him?’

  Vina shook her head. ‘No, I’m sorry. Etta just called him Pedro but she never mentioned a second name or anything about him. One small thing, though, that I’ve remembered. At the time, I got the impression that Robert and Michael McGregor had never been Etta’s boyfriends, but this Pedro certainly was. The look on her face when she mentioned his name was enough to convince me she was in love with him.’

  Then why had she not mentioned his full name or where he lived, Molly wondered, but she remained silent. ‘Well, I’ll say cheerio, Vina. Remember and thank Barbara.’

  Vina laughed. ‘She’ll be thrilled to think she’s helped a wee bit in a mystery. She used to love reading the Famous Five books when she was younger.’ She became serious. ‘You’ll let me know how things go, won’t you? I mean, if you do succeed in finding Etta?’

  Molly promised
she would but said it looked highly unlikely. She wasn’t looking forward to going back to her flat. She never realised how much she missed Marigold’s company … and her parents. They would be basking in the warm sunshine in Australia with Terry, Nell and Molly. She was a year old now and Molly had only seen photographs of her. But then she realised that was her own fault. She could quite easily have gone out with her parents. Feeling a bit sorry for herself, she let herself into the flat, walking through the empty office. Jean had left all the invoices on the desk but Molly thought she would deal with them tomorrow.

  Upstairs, she put on the electric fire and the table lamps and everything suddenly looked cosy. In the kitchen, she opened a tin of soup and carried it over to the armchair. She had toyed with the idea of buying fish and chips when she passed Dellanzo’s chip shop on the Hilltown but hadn’t felt that hungry then. Now she wished she had but thought she could always nip out later and get something. She switched the wireless on and looked at the Radio Times. There was a dance band playing on the Light programme or a play on the Home Service. She settled for the play but half way through, she fell asleep. Outside the wind strengthened and it started to rain heavily.

  Vera stood outside her door, immediately regretting accepting the invitation. Last Monday, Mrs Jankowski had sent a letter to her via Maisie, saying two new neighbours would like an evening playing bridge and she hoped Vera could manage on Saturday night. Gina had said they couldn’t manage in the afternoon because they both worked, so the regular afternoon session would still be held.

  Vera had her umbrella but the wind kept turning it inside out, so she rolled it up and pulled up the collar of her coat. It was all right for Gina Jankowski, she thought bitterly, she was in the cosy house and didn’t have to climb the Hill in this awful weather. Water was running down like a miniature river and her shoes were soaked long before she reached Ann Street. The Hilltown, which was normally abuzz with people, was deserted, although the low murmur of conversations was heard as she passed the brightly lit pubs.

  Yet, in a way, she was looking forward to her evening. Bridge was one of the pleasures of her life and she knew she didn’t have many of them in her lonely existence. Another thing she liked about playing at Gina’s was the fact that it didn’t cost money. Gina was most insistent that it was just a game and not a gamble. Vera hoped she had explained this to her new friends because she had heard hair-raising stories about women getting into debt with their bridge-playing friends.

  Vera didn’t have a lot of money and what extra she had, she was using to hire Molly, so she had to be careful. Dave had carried a life insurance policy, which at the time had taken her by surprise at the amount. She had saved most of it but after all these years, it was dwindling. It was all right when she was working and had her lodgers but after her operation, she hadn’t been able to do a lot. That and the fact she had almost lost the will to live after Dave’s death and Etta’s vanishing act.

  By now she had reached Gina’s door and was surprised it was opened almost at once. A small woman in her fifties stood inside. She was pretty in a faded kind of way but Vera thought that was because she was wearing a grey dress that matched her straight grey hair. ‘I said I would open the door and save Mrs Jankowski’s legs. Come in – what a night. We got soaked and we only live in the next close.’ She took Vera’s coat and hung it on the hook in the lobby. ‘I’m Una and my husband is Harry.’

  Inside the living room, Harry and Gina were sitting by the fire, which cast a cosy glow over the room. ‘Come in, come in, Vera, and have a glass of sherry before we start our game,’ said Gina.

  Vera sat down and warmed her feet at the fire. She loved this room, especially when the curtains were shut and everything was warm and homely. It put her in mind of her childhood when she would sit with her mum and dad. They would drink milky cocoa by the fire before going upstairs to the chilly bedrooms. But her bed always had a hot water bottle in it, which she hugged until she fell asleep.

  Gina had set the small side table with her favourite cups and saucers and the teapot ready to be filled later. A plate of sandwiches and a plate of tiny cakes sat beside it. In spite of the rotten start to the night, Vera enjoyed herself. Gina was in sparkling form because she won the first two games, while Una and Harry were good company.

  ‘Yes,’ said Una. ‘Harry works in the NCR and I work in a baker’s shop at the top of the road. We just moved here recently from Strathmartine Road. Our three boys are all grown up and work away from home so we decided to sell our large house and move into a smaller flat and we love it, don’t we Harry?’

  ‘Yes, we do. I enjoy having no garden. Our last house had a huge garden and it was too much work. I’d rather play bridge than do gardening,’ said Harry with a laugh. At the mention of Una’s family, Vera caught Gina’s eye and got a sympathetic look in return.

  At ten o’clock it was time to go home. Vera had settled down in the cosy house and didn’t relish the thought of the journey home. The storm was still blowing outside and Gina suggested that Vera stay the night. ‘I have two beds in my room,’ she said. ‘Why not stay here with me?’

  Vera said no, thank you, she would be fine and it wasn’t very far to walk down the hill. Harry said, ‘I’ll walk down with you, Vera. The walk will do me good.’

  By this time Vera was mortified by all this concern for her welfare. ‘No, honestly, Harry. It’s not late and there’s always people about. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ said Una, looking unconvinced.

  ‘Yes. But thank you.’

  So it was settled. Vera said goodnight and walked into the darkness and the rain. At the foot of the close, she stopped. She thought of going straight down the hill but the pubs would have discharged their customers and there might be a few drunk stragglers. She made up her mind to turn left and go down Rosebank Road, Tulloch Crescent and along McDonald Street, where she would only have to walk a few yards to her close. These were streets with houses so it wasn’t as if they would be deserted at this time of night.

  She put up her umbrella and marched off resolutely into the darkness. She had brought her large handbag with her, the one that was all soft and squashy like a message bag, and she held both the bag and umbrella in front of her like two shields. The street was deserted but most of the houses were lit up as she hurried past deep pools of water.

  She was almost at the foot of Tulloch Crescent, just by the entrance to Rosebank School, when she thought she heard the sound of a car. The noise sounded muffled because she had wrapped her large woollen scarf around her head, so she didn’t turn round. That is why she was so surprised when it hit her. She didn’t actually see the vehicle or its headlights and had thought she was imagining the sound, but after the impact she went sprawling on the pavement, landing on her bag and umbrella.

  She must have screamed, although she couldn’t remember doing it, because the curtain moved in the window of the janitor’s house in the school playground. A man hurried out and picked her up. ‘Are you all right, missus?’ he asked. ‘Better come inside and the wife will call a doctor.’

  ‘Oh no, please, I’m fine and just a bit shaken up by the fall. I must have tripped over the pavement.’

  The man looked dubious but said, ‘Well, if you’re sure, but let me walk you home. Where do you live? Just let me get my jacket.’

  Vera told him and they walked along McDonald Street. At her close she said, ‘Thank you very much.’

  ‘Now mind, missus. If you need medical treatment, call the doctor out.’

  Vera said she would as she hurried through the close, glancing fearfully at the dark shadows and almost flying up her stairs. When she reached the door, her hands were shaking so much that she couldn’t put the key in the lock but she made herself take a deep breath until, finally, she practically stumbled into the kitchen and fell into a chair.

  Her stockings were ripped, the umbrella was broken, there was wet mud on her coat and gloves, but apart from that, she seemed to
be all right. When she took off her gloves, her knuckles were bruised and covered in blood and also her knees. She had a dull pain in her left hip and when she looked at it, there was a large bruise. She realised how lucky she had been. Her large bag had cushioned her fall, which meant she wasn’t as badly injured as she might have been.

  She put the kettle on to boil some water to wash her wounds and to make a cup of tea but when she tried to spoon the tea into the pot, her hand shook so much that the tea leaves scattered all over the table. Instead, she swallowed two aspirin tablets with a large glass of water, which she gulped down like a drowning man. Later she climbed into bed with a hot water bottle but she couldn’t sleep. It must have been a car, she now thought. She tried to think if she had accidentally been walking on the road instead of the pavement and maybe the driver had not noticed her. There had been no sign of lights, of that she was sure. It was just the darkness, the rain and wind she remembered. She fell asleep at two o’clock, finally convincing herself it had been an unfortunate accident.

  18

  On Sunday morning, after a restless night, Molly decided to go and see Vera and give her an update on the case so far. Not that there was much to report, but after a quick breakfast, she set off.

  The storm had left heaps of litter blowing about in the street and deep puddles everywhere. Molly had looked out her winter boots and she was glad she had, otherwise her feet would have been soaked long before she got to Vera’s house. The Hilltown was busy as people hurried out to the shops for milk and Sunday papers but they didn’t linger long on the street for their usual chats as the wind had turned very cold. The sky was a dark brooding mass of clouds.