Chapter Thirty
When the newspaper headlines shouted, ARMISTICE SIGNED AND HOSTILITIES CEASE, Albert could hardly contain himself.
‘On the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month,’ he marvelled, ‘but it says underneath, “Resumption practically impossible for Germans”. We should have made damned sure it was impossible for them to start a war again.’
‘Calm yourself, Albert.’ Bathie was deeply thankful that it was over at last. ‘There’ll never be another war. There were so many casualties on both sides, no country’s going to let that happen again. Not even Germany.’ Her blue eyes, slightly jaded of late, had brightened up considerably at the good news. The rest of her family would be coming home soon, and they’d all be together again. A stab of pain shot through her as she remembered that they wouldn’t all be together. She was happy that Flo and Hetty had found true love, but part of her wished fervently that Will and Martin had been Aberdeen boys, though the two New Zealanders seemed to be decent and honest, and would be good husbands.
Will Dunbar had been fitted with an artificial arm, and his affliction no longer seemed to worry him unduly. A month ago, he’d told Flo that he’d been promoted to office manager of the building firm he worked for, and was saving up to buy a house.
Martin Potter was still writing love letters to Hetty, and their attachment seemed to be as strong as ever.
She’d have to let both her daughters fly the coop when the time came, Bathie mused, sadly. Gavin McKenzie had once said they’d be lost without her, but she knew that Flo and Hetty could stand on their own feet now, without any help from her, and she’d always be here if they ever needed her.
She let her thoughts turn to Gavin, and although it was some time since she’d heard from him, she was quite sure that he was still alive and would be coming home soon. She hadn’t seen him for three years, and she wondered how she would feel when she met him again. And how Albert would feel.
Of course, Gavin might not want to return to Aberdeen, but he still owned the house in Froghall – old Dr Proctor had only taken it over while he was acting locum tenens – so he’d have to come back to sell his property.
Bathie considered her feelings carefully. She’d thought very fondly of him at one time, affectionately, as she’d have done with any old family friend. Knowing that he loved her had made her more aware of him, that was all. She’d never loved him, not in the deepest sense of the word.
It was always Albert she had loved, for better or worse, as she’d vowed on their wedding day. It had been mostly for the better, she decided, for the good times had far outweighed the bad, and he was only human, after all.
That night, Gracie approached her mother after suppertime. ‘Can I go down to the Castlegate later on to see the Armistice celebrations?’
‘By yourself?’ Bathie was astonished. Gracie was so shy that this was a most unusual request.
‘I asked Flo and Hetty, but they didn’t want to go, and it’s something I’ll never see again.’ The girl’s eyes were more animated than usual, and a few strands of her mousey locks had escaped from their hairpins, curling round her rather long face and making it look rounder and more attractive.
Bathie hadn’t the heart to disappoint her. ‘All right, but don’t stay out late. There’ll be a lot of drinking, I expect, and drunk men don’t care what they do.’
‘I can look after myself, Mother. I’m twenty-one.’
Even at that age, Bathie reflected, morosely, the girl was naive and innocent, but she couldn’t say so.
When she came out of Broad Street into the Castlegate, Gracie felt the excitement mounting inside her at the joyful sound of celebration. In a minute, she was engulfed in the milling throng, and was amused to see some servicemen kissing any girl who let them, laughing all the while at the giggling squeals they let out. A hefty Gordon Highlander grabbed her suddenly and gave her a quick kiss before he let her go and turned away to do the same to someone else.
Never having been kissed before, Gracie found that she quite enjoyed it, and mingled with the soldiers hopefully, giggling like the other girls each time any of them put an arm round her, but the boys always moved away afterwards. It would be much better if she had a lad of her own, she thought, but . . .
Her hand was seized roughly by a tall sailor who dragged her into a huge circle of people, all singing ‘It’s a long way to Tipperary’ at the top of their voices.
The heady atmosphere made her lose her shyness, and she felt quite exhilarated, laughing delightedly when the sailor broke hands with the person at his other side and pulled her away with him. He placed his hands on her waist to lift her high in the air, then let her down slowly until she was held tightly against him.
‘You’re as light as a feather,’ he told her, looking down at her with great admiration.
She’d to strain her ears to hear what he said above the renewed singing that had broken out. ‘There’s a long, long trail a-winding . . .’
As she held her laughing face up to his, his head came down abruptly. His kiss was different from the others she’d received, and within a second, Gracie had fallen in love with an absolute stranger.
When their lips parted, the sailor sighed. ‘You were made for kissing. Did you have anybody in the war?’
‘My two brothers,’ she whispered. ‘They’re in France.’
‘Nobody else?’ His voice was urgent.
‘Nobody else.’
‘Some boy in Aberdeen, then?’
‘Nobody’ Her heart was pounding so quickly that she was sure he must hear it, but she didn’t care.
‘What’s your name, Miss Nobody?’
‘Grace Ogilvie.’ She’d always hated being called Gracie, it sounded so common.
‘Grace? That’s a lovely name. I’m John Trevelyan.’
‘Trevelyan? That’s unusual.’
‘Not where I come from. Falmouth, in Cornwall.’
Her heart sank. ‘That’s hundreds of miles away.’
‘About eight hundred, I’d say. Grace, may I see you home? This crowd’s getting a bit rowdy now.’
She hadn’t been aware of it, but she allowed him to tuck her arm through his. He pushed his way through the rabble, and although many of the men, and women, were drunk, they stood aside, grinning lewdly, to let them pass.
‘Up here,’ Gracie told him, when they reached Broad Street, also thronged with people making their way home.
The Town House clock struck several times and John jumped as the loud booms sounded, almost in his ear. Gracie had no idea what time it was, and in any case, she wasn’t bothered in the slightest.
Some of the university students were holding their own celebrations outside Marischal College, and one of them shouted across the street to the young sailor, ‘You’re all right for tonight, Jack, I see.’
‘You bet,’ he called back.
‘Are you called Jack sometimes?’ Gracie wondered how on earth the student had known.
‘Every sailor’s called Jack. Jack Tar, I suppose.’
‘Oh.’ She laughed at herself for not realizing. There was so much she didn’t know.
Going up the Gallowgate, he glanced into several of the closes, so she wasn’t surprised when he drew her inside one.
‘This is better.’ He pulled her towards him and his kiss was long and tender. ‘Beautiful Grace,’ he murmured, before his lips found hers again, demanding and passionate.
Gracie was transported away from the damp smell of the brick-lined close, away from the bitter November night air, away from her mundane life, to a heaven she’d never dreamt existed. John Trevelyan was steadily draining her of all emotion except love, and she prayed that he would go on kissing her for ever.
As his hands caressed her back, the faint stirrings of awakening sexual desire grew stronger inside her and she gasped with the ecstasy of them, until he drew away from her with a jerk. ‘Have you ever been with a man before?’
‘No, never.’
&
nbsp; ‘Oh, God, why did I have to pick on you?’ he groaned. ‘I haven’t had a girl for months, and I thought . . .’
Her sudden, unconscious, wriggle inflamed him, and he kissed her so fiercely that she didn’t even try to resist what he did next, and shy, mousey, man-hating Gracie was deflowered in a dirty close-mouth a matter of yards away from her own.
It was over before she came to her senses, pushing down her skirts in confusion. ‘I shouldn’t have let you do that.’
‘I shouldn’t have done it, but I couldn’t help it,’ he told her, adjusting his trousers. ‘I’d better take you home now.’
All she wanted was to be alone, to ponder over why this terrible thing, this wonderful thing, had happened. ‘It’s only a little way, I’ll easily manage, thank you.’ She swept past him with her head in the air, but her legs shook and her heart was burdened down with remorse.
Aware that he was watching her, she waited until she turned into her own close out of sight before she gave way to tears. How could she have been so stupid? She’d always agreed with the women customers who said that a girl had been asking for it before she landed in trouble.
Had she been asking for it? She supposed she had, in a way, which made her feel even worse. Oh, God! What would happen to her if she was left to bring an illegitimate child into the world? What a disgrace that would be, but she’d have to face it as a penance for the sin she’d committed. A shuddering deep sob burst from her as she walked across to the iron staircase. Her parents would see that she’d been crying – what could she tell them? Her hand was on the rail, her foot on the bottom step, when a movement behind her made her turn her head.
‘Grace.’
The soft, seductive voice created new thrills deep down inside her, but she remained where she was, still weeping.
‘I’m sorry’ John came close and laid his hand over hers. ‘I’d been at sea for a long time. Please say you forgive me.’
Her sobs became louder. ‘It wasn’t all your fault. It was me that made you . . . I asked for it, but I’m scared to think what my mother’ll say if . . . if anything has happened.’
He hesitated, then put his arm round her slim waist. ‘If anything’s happened, I promise I’ll see you all right.’
She cried out in relief and they didn’t hear the house door opening above them, their kiss was so ardent.
‘Is that you, Gracie?’ Bathie’s voice was shrill with anxiety, and she was halfway down the stairs before she saw them properly. They had jumped apart, but she could see, in the light streaming down from the doorway, that Gracie had been crying. ‘Is something wrong with you?’
‘Nothing’s wrong. John took me home from the Castlegate.’
‘It’s half past midnight, Gracie, and I was worried about you.’ Bathie ignored the sailor. ‘Come inside this minute, before you waken your father.’
The young man looked up at her apologetically. ‘I kept her out because . . . I was enjoying her company.’
His brief pause was significant to Bathie – enjoying her body was more like it, she thought – but she let it go. ‘Thank you for bringing her home, then, and good night.’
Leaning towards Gracie, he whispered, ‘We sail tomorrow morning, my pretty Grace, but I’ll write to you.’ He walked quickly round the corner, and Gracie climbed the stairs behind her mother, desperately searching for an explanation to give if she was asked why she’d been so upset.
Inside, Bathie gave her daughter a searching look. ‘What did that sailor do to you to make you cry?’
‘Nothing.’ Gracie tried to meet her mother’s eyes and failed. ‘We were just speaking . . . and kissing.’
‘Look at me, Gracie. It’s written all over you what you’ve been up to. Did he force himself on you?’
‘No, he didn’t. I wanted him to do it. I asked for it.’
Bathie’s eyebrows shot up so quickly, they almost touched her hairline. ‘You asked for it? Oh, God, Gracie!’
‘I didn’t ask him outright. I just wanted him to do it.’
‘Didn’t you realize it was wrong? I thought you’d have had more sense, and I only hope . . .’ Bathie didn’t finish.
She was very angry at what had happened, but she should have known that Gracie hadn’t the experience to deal with such a situation when it arose. ‘Go to bed, Gracie, for goodness’ sake,’ she said, gently, for the girl was upset enough already, ‘and I won’t tell your father anything about it.’
Standing for a moment, she tried to calm herself before going into the bedroom. Her quiet daughter’s behaviour had shocked and upset her, but if Albert found out, he would be so angry there was no telling what he might do.
Time would tell if there were to be any consequences from Gracie’s misdemeanour, and there was no good in upsetting her father unless it became necessary.
Chapter Thirty-one
It was almost the end of March 1919 before Flo and Hetty were permitted to sail to New Zealand, and their parents saw them off on the first leg of their journey.
‘I’ll write every week once we’re there,’ Flo promised her mother, somewhat unsteadily.
Hardly able to speak for weeping, Hetty added, ‘Me too.’ She flung herself at Bathie when the guard blew his whistle. ‘Oh, Mother, I’m going to miss you.’
Not wanting to reveal her true feelings, Bathie answered lightly. ‘You’ll have a husband to look after you.’
‘Aye, just think of the grand new life you’ll be having.’ Albert’s voice was gruff with emotion, as he kissed them both.
This last farewell was too much for Bathie. She’d tried to keep up, so that their last memory of her would be cheerful, but now her tears mingled with theirs as she hugged them.
‘God bless you, my daughters.’
Albert put his arm round Bathie, and they waved until the train was out of sight. ‘They’re going to be with the men they love,’ he reminded her gently. ‘Always remember that.’
‘It’s the only way I could let them go,’ she sniffed.
Rather subdued, Gracie and Ishbel were sitting in front of the fire in the parlour when their parents returned home.
‘Did they get away all right?’ There was a slight catch in Gracie’s voice – she was going to miss her two sisters.
Albert nodded. ‘Yes, they’re away, but now we can look forward to the boys coming home.’
This thought cheered them all up. Greatly relieved that Gracie had not become pregnant through her rash behaviour on Armistice Night, Bathie reflected that nothing bad could happen to her family now.
She was wrong, however. When she went to see Albert’s mother the following day, Nell looked so ill that Bathie said, ‘How long have you been like this? You should be in bed.’
‘Ach, bed’s for invalids, an’ I’ve just got the flu.’
Her voice didn’t have the usual bite in it, and she made no further protest.
Bathie made a little thin porridge for her, then said, ‘I’ll stay with you till you get over this.’
‘What a fuss.’ But Nell didn’t argue.
The old lady’s condition worsened so quickly that Albert took to visiting every evening.
‘My time’s come, Albert,’ Nell said weakly, when he arrived after the shop closed on the fourth night.
‘Nothing of the kind,’ Although he was trying to reassure her, he felt alarmed. His mother was seventy-eight, and there was usually some kind of deterioration at that age, but surely not as quickly as this?
He drew his wife aside when Nell dozed off. ‘Would you like me to stop here all night, just in case . . . ?’
‘Maybe you’d better,’ Bathie said, after a pause.
When Nell’s breathing became rapid and shallow, her son decided that it was time to have her doctor in. It was after eleven o’clock, but the man returned with Albert, knowing that he wouldn’t have been sent for unless it was urgent.
‘She’s very frail,’ the doctor informed Bathie at the door when he was leaving. ‘Old age comes to al
l of us, you know, and she has no reserves of strength to fight. I’m afraid she could go at any time, so be prepared.’
When Bathie went inside, Nell looked up into her drawn face and whispered, ‘Dinna fret for me, lass. I’m ready to go.’
Holding her mother-in-law’s hand until she fell asleep, Bathie dozed off herself, but Albert sat straight up in the old armchair, anxious about his mother, and thankful that his wife was there to look after her, until he, too, succumbed to sleep.
It was almost twenty minutes to two when Bathie woke up with a vague sense of disquiet. She leaned forward, but Nell had peacefully slipped away to join her husband, without her son or his wife being aware of it.
The ordeal of the funeral, and the clearing of the rented house, was made all the worse by interference from Walter and Jimmy, Albert’s elder brothers, when they arrived from Grimsby.
Urged on by their wives, they insisted on removing those of Nell’s belongings which they considered to be of any value, or to which they had taken a fancy.
‘You always admired that vase,’ Albert remarked to Bathie when Walter was about to pack it into a box with several other items he was taking away. ‘Do you want me to get it for you?’
‘No, Albert.’ Bathie was sickened by the greed that was being displayed, and wanted no part of it. ‘I don’t want to cause ill feeling between you and your brothers.’
‘I don’t give a damn about them. If you want it, I’ll . . .’
‘No, let Walter have it.’
The only thing Bathie took as a keepsake was an old china plaque, which hung in the kitchen. The glaze was a little cracked, but the sentiment on it had always appealed to Bathie.
To forgive and forget is a maxim of old,
Though I’ve learned but one half of it yet.
The theft of my heart I can freely forgive,
But the thief I can never forget.
‘Wattie gi’ed me that afore we were wed,’ Nell had told her once, and had often glanced at it after her husband died.
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