‘You’d better make sure that Bathia takes things easy, Albert,’ she said. ‘She seems to have had a very bad time, and she is definitely not fit to . . .’ Colouring, she hurried on. ‘She is not fit to do anything for a long time. I hope you understand what I am trying to tell you.’
Her meaning was quite clear, and he wondered what she would say if he told her that her husband had serviced her maids when she refused him, but perhaps she knew. Henrietta may have been frigid, but she wasn’t stupid. She must have known what was going on, so why hadn’t she stopped it?
‘I understand,’ he murmured, ‘and I’ll remember.’
When his wife announced that it was time to leave, Arthur staggered to his feet and reeled towards the door. ‘Remember what I told you, Albert.’ He laid his forefinger on the side of his nose and leered at the younger man.
‘You are drunk.’ Henrietta glared at her husband, then turned to Albert. ‘I hope he has not been saying anything out of place. When drink is in, wit is out.’
‘He was giving me a little lecture, that’s all.’
‘Hmmm.’ She gripped her husband’s arm. ‘We will walk home, to try to clear your head.’
Grinning foolishly, Arthur let himself be led out, and Albert went behind him to steady him on the stairs.
‘Your father’s a bit drunk,’ he told Bathie when he went into the bedroom.
‘You shouldn’t have given him so much whisky.’
Albert could see that she was trying to assess if he, too, had been drinking. ‘No, Bathie, I didn’t join him,’ he said quietly. ‘I haven’t broken my promise to you. Now, do you want me to sleep on the couch tonight again, my love?’
‘No, I want you beside me. Is Annie still here?’
‘She left before your mother and father went home. Did you want something, for I’ll get it, whatever it is.’
‘I just wondered if she’d gone. I told her not to come in today at all, but she’s a good girl.’
‘Aye, she’s a good girl.’
And he wasn’t going to make her otherwise, Albert thought, no matter what Arthur Johnstone said.
Chapter Fourteen
The Boer War was over, King Edward the Seventh was on the throne, but life in the house on the brow of the Gallowgate carried on as usual.
Albert Ogilvie, who had never been a very religious man, now accompanied his wife to church every Sunday, although Bathie had a faint suspicion that he only went because he was proud to be seen out with his family.
At twelve, brown-haired Charlie – almost as tall as his father, and very serious – looked quite grown up in his Sunday suit. Donnie, carrot-topped like Albert had been, was inclined to be stocky, even at eleven, but had a twinkle in his eyes.
Nine-year-old Ellie had the makings of a real beauty, her hair darker and more auburn than it used to be, and curling in ringlets round her determined, chubby little face. Flo, two years younger than Ellie, and as dark as Charlie, had a sweet shyness, but Gracie, coming up for five, was quiet and serious, her hair, like her personality, rather mousey and uninteresting.
There was one other girl, not yet old enough to be out with the family. Hetty, born just as the new century began, had been left in the care of Maggie Lindsay, whose special favourite she was, the mistress having been so ill after she’d been born.
The Ogilvies made an arresting picture as they came out of Greyfriars Church, Albert and Bathie leading, the three girls just behind them and the two boys bringing up the rear.
The long points of Albert’s waxed moustache gave him a somewhat military appearance, accentuated by his erect bearing, which also minimized his suggestion of a paunch.
Except for a slight broadening of the hips, hidden under her fashionable full peplum, Bathie had the same trim figure as on the day she was married. Her large feathered hat, which matched her dark blue coat, became her very well, and she had found a little milliner to make several in the same style, but in different colours and with different trimmings. There were a few touches of silver in her dark, coiled hair, but, far from ageing her, they seemed to give her an almost youthful air.
As they made their way up the hill, this Sunday morning in 1902, Charlie told his brother twice to hurry up, because Donnie, tired and drawn, was dragging his feet, and seemed to be finding difficulty in matching his step to Charlie’s.
Ellie, as usual, was bossing her two sisters. ‘Flo, take your hands out of your pockets and stop scuffling your boots. You’ll lose your hymn book, Gracie, if you don’t watch.’
Albert glanced behind and smiled affectionately. Of his six children, Ellie was still the one he loved most.
‘Hetty was a bit fretty when we came out,’ Bathie remarked anxiously. ‘I hope she’s not sickening for something.’
‘It’ll just be a touch of the cold,’ Albert comforted.
‘One of the boys in my class is off with the mumps just now.’ The voice from behind proved that Ellie was listening to what her parents were saying.
‘My goodness, but Hetty’s just two. Isn’t that too young to be catching mumps?’ Bathie sounded quite concerned.
Surprised that she hadn’t reprimanded Ellie for butting in, but realizing that she was worried about Hetty, Albert said, ‘I don’t know, but it’s more serious for boys than girls.’ His new high collar seemed to be tighter than his old ones, so he put his hand up to pull it away from his Adam’s apple.
‘Why’s the mumps more serious for boys than girls?’ It was Ellie again, and her father answered without thinking.
‘I’ve heard it makes them sterile.’
‘Albert!’ Bathie was horrified. ‘You shouldn’t be saying things like that to the child.’
He looked repentant. ‘I’m sorry.’ Lowering his voice, he added, ‘But she won’t understand what it means.’
‘You know Ellie,’ Bathie whispered back. ‘She’ll not stop till she finds out.’
Sure enough, the question came. ‘What’s sterile, Father?’
‘It’s something you’re too young to understand.’
‘Are you sterile?’
Shocked as she was, Bathie couldn’t help feeling amused. ‘No, your father’s anything but sterile, Ellie.’
Albert’s proud smile faded when his daughter persisted, ‘But why does the mumps make boys sterile? Have Charlie and Donnie ever had them? Are they sterile?’
‘Ellie, you’ve been told before not to pester your father with questions.’ Bathie tried to be stern, but unfortunately, she caught Albert’s eye, and they burst out laughing.
When Flo piped up, ‘What’s a mump?’, her parents almost choked, much to the disapproval of two passing women.
Tapping Ellie’s shoulder, Charlie said, ‘Why are Mother and Father laughing like that?’
She turned an exasperated face to him. ‘I don’t know. Flo and me were only asking about the mumps, and I don’t think that’s very funny.’
Disappointed that it wasn’t anything more interesting, he boasted, ‘There’s three boys in my class off with the mumps.’
His words stopped Bathie’s laughter and she turned round in dismay. ‘Three boys in your class, as well, Charlie?’
‘Yes, and Donnie told me two had them in his class, didn’t you, Donnie?’ When he looked round and saw that his brother was lagging behind, he added, ‘I think he’s got them, and all.’
Bathie’s hand flew up to her mouth in alarm. ‘Donnie!’ she called. ‘Come here so I can look at you.’
The boy made a visible effort, but his eyes were listless when he reached her, so she took off her glove and felt his forehead. ‘Oh, Albert,’ she moaned. ‘He’s burning up.’
‘Get him home, then, and I’ll go for the doctor.’
‘I’ll go, Father.’ Charlie was feeling guilty for having been irritable with his brother before.
‘D’you know where he lives?’ When his son nodded, Albert said, ‘Off you go, then, and be quick. ‘I’ll carry Donnie.’ He swung the boy up in his arms as Char
lie ran off.
By the time Albert reached the house, his burden felt like a lead weight, and he had to give in after he’d negotiated the outside stairs and the first flight inside. ‘You’ll have to go up the rest yourself, I’m afraid, lad,’ he gasped, depositing Donnie on the first-floor landing.
Hearing them on the stairs, Maggie Lindsay came out of the nursery carrying Hetty – a hot, restless Hetty – but she halted when she caught sight of the equally hot Donnie. ‘Oh, Mrs Ogilvie, is Donnie fevered, an’ all? Hetty was that bad I made Annie go for the doctor.’
Now that Bathie’s fears were confirmed, she bustled about giving orders. ‘Ellie, take Flo and Gracie into your bedroom and keep them amused. Albert, help Donnie to get undressed and put him to bed. Maggie, go and make sure there’s boiling water, and I’ll wash Hetty and put on her nightgown.’
When the little girl was back in bed, Bathie sat down to get her breath back. Thank God for Maggie Lindsay. She had proved to be a good nursemaid, even though she’d had to take over the job at a minute’s notice almost five years before.
The girl who’d been hired as housemaid at that time had been willing but clumsy, and it had come as a great relief to them all when she’d told them, less than six months after she’d started, that she would have to leave because her mother was going to have another baby, and wanted her at home. Maggie had approached Bathie shyly. ‘If you’re needin’ a maid, Mrs Ogilvie, my sister Annie would like the job fine.’
‘Oh, thank goodness,’ Bathie had exclaimed. ‘Tell her to start as soon as she can.’
Annie Lindsay had turned up the following morning, very timid and apprehensive, and for a while Bathie had regretted engaging her. Once the girl gained confidence, however, she turned out to be a good cook, and kept the house spotless. She was a younger edition of Maggie – fair hair, large blue eyes, sturdy body – and nothing seemed to put her out of her stride.
It was over four years since Annie had joined them, and she had worked like a slave before and after Hetty’s birth on the first of January, 1900.
The crash of the outside door broke into Bathie’s reverie, and she jumped as Gavin McKenzie came pounding up the stairs.
‘Which one is it, Bathie?’ he puffed.
‘It’s Hetty, and Donnie, as well.’
While the doctor was examining the little girl, Bathie said, ‘The children were telling me that some of their classmates had mumps. Is that what it is?’
His expression was grave when he straightened up. ‘It’s more serious than that, I’m afraid. She’s got scarlet fever, and I could guarantee that’s what Donnie’ll have, too.’
He moved swiftly through to the boys’ room, and, after a few minutes, replaced his stethoscope in his bag. ‘Wrap them both up, I’ll have to take them to the fever hospital.’
‘Oh, no, doctor.’ Bathie stepped forward. ‘You can’t take them away. Hetty’s just a baby.’
‘She’s highly infectious, and you don’t want to risk any more of your children catching it, do you?’
‘Oh, no, but couldn’t we keep the rest well away from them?’ She wrung her hands in agitation.
Albert’s arm went round her. ‘Look, my love, if Gavin says they’ve to go to hospital, that’s all there is to it.’
Maggie had already enveloped Hetty in a thick blanket, so Bathie sadly did the same to Donnie. ‘You’ve to go to hospital to help you to get better,’ she told him shakily, ‘but it’ll only be for a little while, and I’ll come to see you every day.’
He was too weak to protest, and his mother’s heart ached when she saw the pathetic figure being carried downstairs by Albert, while the doctor bore the small bundle that was Hetty.
Maggie pushed her gently towards the stairs and followed her down. ‘You should go to your bed, Mrs Ogilvie, you look fair done in. Annie!’ she shouted to her sister. ‘Make a cup of tea for the mistress – good an’ strong, mind.’
Having stood idle since the doctor brought her back in his trap, the young girl was glad of something to do, and Bathie allowed Maggie to help her to take off her dress, but refused to take off any of her petticoats. ‘I’m only going to lie down for a minute, I’m just a bit upset.’ She sat down suddenly on the edge of the bed, proving to both of them just how upset she was.
The nursemaid waited until Bathie drank the tea. ‘Have a wee rest now, me an’ Annie’ll strip all the bairns’ beds, an’ fumigate them. I’ll light the washhouse boiler afore I go to my bed, so’s it’ll be ready first thing the morn.’
She withdrew quietly, and Bathie thought ruefully that it was senseless making herself ill. Hetty and Donnie would be well looked after, but she prayed that the others hadn’t been infected. Apart from colds, and Charlie’s baby croup, this was the first illness which had affected any of her family. There had been the time when Ellie knocked herself unconscious, of course, but this was different.
Inexplicably, her thoughts turned to Mary Wyness, her first nursemaid, who had kept the promise she’d made on the day she left, and had written every Christmas with news of her family. Willie Dunbar was now second in charge of a joinery business in Wanganui, but there was no sign yet of a little sister or brother for young Will, who had been born in the Gallowgate on the same day as Flo.
Mary’s sister, Jeannie, had two children, and her husband, Robbie Park, was now manager of the largest grocery store in the same town. They lived only a short distance away from the Dunbars, and Mary often sent photographs of them all in the garden of one or other of the houses.
When Mrs Wyness had found out why Bathie had dismissed her youngest daughter, she’d taken Bella off to New Zealand, too, in an attempt to give the girl a fresh start.
‘I’m that ashamed,’ she’d explained to Bathie, ‘I’ll never be able to trust her again, the sleekit besom.’
But her own health had given way not very long after they arrived in Wanganui, and she had passed away six months later.
For three years, Mary hadn’t mentioned Bella in any of her letters, then she’d written, ‘I’ve got Bella off my hands at last. Ma would have turned in her grave at some of the carry-ons she’s had, but the man that’s married her will keep her in about. God knows what he saw in her, for he knew what like she was, but he’ll stand no nonsense from her. He’s got a grand business and a fine house with servants, so she landed on her feet, after all.’
Bathie felt her gut twisting at the memory of what Bella Wyness had done to Charlie. Charlie? Great God, where on earth was Charlie? She hadn’t seen him since he’d run off to fetch the doctor for Donnie, but Annie must have been there long before him.
The doctor’s wife would surely have told the boy that her husband was already on his way, and he should have been home by this time. Something must have happened to him.
In great agitation, Bathie jumped out of bed and ran on to the landing. ‘Annie!’ she shouted. ‘Have you seen Charlie?’
The girl came to the kitchen door. ‘Is he nae up in the nursery wi’ the lassies?’
‘I don’t think so, but go up and see, will you?’
Bathie had just pulled on a skirt and blouse when Annie came running back. ‘He’s nae there, Mrs Ogilvie, an’ Maggie hasna seen him since you came back fae the kirk.’
‘Oh, dear God!’ Bathie’s fingers could hardly cope with her small buttons. ‘He went to get Dr McKenzie for Donnie, and he hasn’t come back.’
‘Maybe Mrs McKenzie didna ken the doctor had came here, and she’d tell’t Charlie to wait. Will I run back an’ see?’
‘Yes, please, Annie, as quickly as you can.’
Maggie came downstairs as the outside door closed after her sister. ‘Have you found Charlie yet, Mrs Ogilvie? Ellie was tellin’ me he went for the doctor, an’ all.’
‘We didn’t know you’d sent Annie,’ Bathie explained, ‘and he said he knew where to go, but I should never have let him go on his own.’
‘He’ll come to nae harm. He’s got a good Scots tongue in his heid, an’
he’d ask somebody if he found himsel’ lost.’
Bathie doubted if Charlie would approach a stranger – he was very shy, and might wander about until he dropped – so she was glad when Albert walked in.
His first words were, ‘They’ll be fine, Bathie. There’s no need for you to look so tragic.’
Her brain was concentrating on one thing, and his words meant nothing. ‘Charlie’s missing,’ she burst out.
‘Missing? What do you mean, missing?’
‘He never came back from the doctor’s, and Annie’s gone to see if he’s still with Mrs McKenzie.’ Leaning against him, she wept softly.
He looked at Maggie helplessly for a moment, then thrust his wife aside. ‘I’ll have to go out and look for him myself, Bathie. I can’t just sit here waiting for him to turn up.’
‘All right.’ Her hands were tight balls against her chest.
‘I’ll have a look in Mounthooly, for he might have gone up there by mistake, and Maggie, will you go down the other way on to Union Street? If he was lost, he could have taken a few wrong turnings. You’ll have to stay with the girls, Bathie, and when Annie comes back, tell her to go down Innes Street on to Loch Street, round the back, just in case.’
The slam of the outside door as he and Maggie both went out, was followed by Ellie’s voice drifting plaintively down the stairs. ‘Mother, when are we getting our dinner? We’re all starving up here.’
Pulling herself together, Bathie called back. ‘You can come down now. I’m sure it’s been ready for ages.’
In the kitchen, she carved the roast beef and dished up the vegetables, relieved that they hadn’t spoiled with sitting on top of the range for so long.
Ellie sniffed appreciatively when she ushered in her two sisters. ‘That smells good. But where’s Maggie?’ Her puzzled expression deepened as she looked round the kitchen. ‘Where’s everybody gone? I can’t find Charlie anywhere, either. And why’ve we had to wait so long for our dinner? Flo and Gracie and me thought we were never going to get it.’
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