Brow of the Gallowgate

by Doris Davidson

  It was in the sanctuary of Albert’s truncated bedroom that a sickening, gnawing suspicion had started to grow inside him. It was uncanny that Bella Wyness had died so soon after Charlie, so could the two deaths be connected?

  Fortunately, his thoughts were diverted when Donnie wrote asking if he and Helene could come on holiday for two weeks in July, but Gracie didn’t seem too pleased about it.

  ‘There’s no room for them,’ she said, distractedly.

  His displeasure showing on his face, Albert turned on her quite angrily. ‘There’s always room for my son and his wife in this house. It’s only for two weeks, for God’s sake.’

  ‘The three rooms on the middle floor are all occupied,’ Hetty pointed out. ‘Martin and me in one, Joe and Gracie in one, and the children have the nursery. The only place would be Ishbel’s sitting room, and she won’t want to give that up.’

  ‘She’ll have no choice,’ Albert thundered. ‘She’s hardly ever in these nights, anyway, to be needing anywhere to sit.’

  Gracie passed his order on to Ishbel. ‘Father says you’ll have to give up your sitting room when Donnie and Helene come, and don’t bother to argue, there’s nowhere else for them.’

  Ishbel couldn’t deny this, but felt duty bound to give a token protest. ‘It’s always me. Why do they have to come at all, that’s what I’d like to know.’

  Sighing, Gracie said, ‘Donnie hasn’t been home since Mother’s funeral, and this is his home, after all.’

  ‘It’s supposed to be mine, too.’

  Two of the old single beds had to be taken out of the store, and the mattresses were hung over the outside stair railing. Blankets, bedspreads, sheets and pillows were aired in front of the kitchen fire, and all of them, except Albert, became irritated by the inconvenience of not being able to move about freely.

  ‘They could have gone to a hotel,’ Ishbel remarked one day, after being at the sharp end of Gracie’s tongue. ‘I’m sure they could easily afford it, and it would be a lot better for them and everybody else.’

  Everything was ready by the time Donnie and Helene arrived, and they said they were delighted with their attic room.

  ‘I’m sorry it’s not a double bed,’ Gracie apologized, ‘but we only had the old singles spare.’

  ‘We could have managed on one single, we only use half our bed at home.’ Donnie winked at Helene, who blushed.

  ‘Pay no attention to him,’ she laughed. ‘He can never be serious about anything.’

  Albert was very pleased that they looked so happy, and he was even more pleased when Donnie came through to his room when he was making ready for bed that night.

  ‘Here’s the last of what I owe you, Father. I wanted to put it into your hand myself, so I can hold up my head.’

  Casting a cursory glance at the wad of notes, Albert said, ‘There’s too much here.’

  ‘I’ve added on interest, and don’t say you don’t want it.’

  Albert didn’t argue. He had done the same with Bathie’s mother, after all. ‘How did you manage to leave the shop long enough to take a holiday up here?’

  ‘I took on an assistant a couple of months ago, and her brother’s going to be giving her a hand the time we’re away.’

  ‘Are you sure you can trust them?

  ‘Oh, Father.’ Donnie sounded exasperated. ‘Of course I can trust them, they’re Helene’s cousins.’

  ‘That’s all right, then. Goodnight, Donnie.’

  ‘Goodnight.’ As he went out, Donnie was smiling at his father’s canny Aberdonian outlook.

  Helene made a great fuss of all the children, especially baby Patricia, or Patsy, as they all called her.

  ‘Are you not thinking of having one yourself?’ Gracie asked. ‘You’ve been married for a good few years now.’

  ‘Seven, but we wanted the shop to be on its feet first. I would like to start a family before I’m too old, though.’

  Hetty giggled. ‘Now’s your chance, then. The air at the top of the Gallowgate has always been good for breeding.’

  Helene coloured, but joined in the hilarity.

  The two weeks passed very quickly, but this time, Donnie proudly escorted his wife round his native city, because she’d seen very little of it the only other time she’d been there. She’d been too busy looking after his mother at the time of her heart attack.

  Their walks took them through Old Aberdeen to the chosen bend of the river where St Machar built his cathedral in the sixth century; to the bustle of the Fish Market early one morning; along the golden beach one lovely evening; into the West End. Helene was suitably impressed by them all.

  Most of their evenings, however, were spent getting to know the family again, and the parlour was crammed with the extra chairs. The four men often ended up by talking together, while the three wives chattered on amongst themselves, but there was still a companionable atmosphere in the room.

  The time flew past, their two weeks at an end before they knew it, and Martin, on holiday from the law firm where he was employed, saw them off from the railway station.

  ‘The house seems quiet with them away,’ Albert remarked, when he came up from the shop at dinnertime.

  A squabble between Neil and Olive broke out just then, making baby Patsy open her eyes and scream, so Gracie threw him a quick look. ‘Quiet? What’s that?’

  In September, Gracie read out Helene’s letter with delight.

  ‘I’m pregnant, folks. It must have been the Gallowgate air, like Hetty said, so she’d better be careful.’

  ‘Too late,’ Hetty remarked, dryly.

  Once she stopped laughing, Gracie said, ‘I wonder who’s going to be first? Helene or you?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘Yes, it matters.’ Gracie’s eyes twinkled as she looked at her sister. ‘What letter comes next?’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Hetty’s chin dropped. ‘We’re at Q.’

  ‘You’d better pray that Helene’s before you, then.’

  Shortly after that, Martin announced that he and Hetty had decided to buy a house of their own. ‘I have quite a decent salary now,’ he went on, ‘and our family’s increasing. It’ll leave room for your family to increase, too, Gracie.’

  ‘Two of my kind’s enough.’ Gracie leaned across the table to administer a gentle slap to Neil’s hand, which had been edging towards a plate of biscuits. ‘I’ve told you before, bread first, my lad.’ Little Olive glared at her aunt, and put her arm round her cousin protectively. ‘Me love you, Neil.’

  ‘That two remind me of Flo and Will,’ Albert observed, smiling. ‘They were always sticking up for each other when they were bairns, as well.’ A look of sadness came to his eyes. ‘I’m going to miss the three of you when you leave.’

  ‘We’ll be visiting,’ Hetty said quickly, ‘and you can come and see us any time you like.’

  He brightened up considerably. ‘You’ll maybe wish you hadn’t said that, once I keep turning up on your doorstep.’

  The housewarming took place on a Sunday afternoon just before Christmas, to enable Gracie and Joe to be there with Neil and Patsy. They were all most impressed by the dwelling Martin Potter had chosen, Ishbel included, and Albert secretly thought it surpassed even the mansion the Johnstones had lived in at Ferryhill. The house in Rubislaw Den was very large – a beautiful granite building, sparkling in the sunlight, with quite a big garden at the front, and a huge one at the back with an ornamental fish pond in it.

  Martin had erected a wooden swing for his daughter, and as soon as Neil saw it from one of the windows, he rushed out to inspect it, Olive trotting behind him. They happily took turns to push each other, and were no bother for the rest of the afternoon.

  When Hetty said that she’d be glad of some advice about the rooms which were still unfurnished, the women embarked on a loud, animated discussion, and Martin stood up, smiling to Albert and Joe. ‘We don’t want to be listening to this, so come through to my study and we’ll have a quiet drink.’

>   Once they were seated again, Albert remarked, ‘Like you, I only furnished the first floor in the Gallowgate to start with, and the nursery, but, of course, we had the old stuff from our tenement house that we put up in the attics.’

  ‘We’ll get round to the rest of the house,’ Martin said. ‘There’s no rush yet.’

  ‘Not yet.’ Albert grinned. ‘But if you’re anything like Bathie and me were, the bairns’ll come one after the other, and before you know it, your house’ll be absolutely full.’

  Martin exploded with laughter. ‘What a prospect!’

  When they were walking home, Joe said, ‘Martin and Hetty have a lovely house, and I’m very happy for them.’

  Gracie pulled a rather tired Neil by the hand. ‘So am I. They deserve it, for they’d a bad time in New Zealand.’

  There was a short silence, each of them remembering why Hetty and Martin had sold up and come to Aberdeen, then Albert shrugged his shoulders. ‘They’re on their feet now, and that’s all that matters. I just hope you two don’t decide to buy a house of your own now, and go off and leave me.’

  ‘We can’t afford it,’ Gracie said, without thinking.

  Joe shook his head at her, then, to change the subject, he said, ‘Let me carry Patsy now, Ishbel, she’s quite heavy.’

  Gracie had made Albert think, however, and that night, he lay in bed recalling his frustration at being an underpaid assistant to Joseph Duthie for so long. He’d never heard from the old man after he went to London, and he must have passed on by this time.

  Albert gave himself a mental shake; he’d almost forgotten what he’d been thinking about – old age must be creeping up on him. He wasn’t being fair to Joe Ferris, that’s what it was, and he’d have to do something about it.

  In the morning, he told Gracie and Joe what he’d decided. ‘We need another man in the shop. It’s getting too much for me and I could be doing with a holiday.’

  Ignoring the quick frown which Joe directed at his wife, Albert continued, ‘The trouble is, somebody’s got to take the responsibilities, so I’m employing a manager.’

  The naked disappointment in Joe’s face spurred him on to say, ‘Gracie, meet my new manager – Joseph Ferris, Esquire.’

  She jumped up in excitement, making a startled Neil miss his mouth with his egg-spoon and gaze at her with thin yellow rivulets running down his chin.

  ‘Thank you very much, Albert.’ Joe leaned across to shake his hand fervently. ‘But I hope you didn’t think Gracie was hinting at anything like this last night?’

  ‘No, I’m glad she said it, for it made me think. I should have done this long ago, and I’m not expecting you to do it for the same wages, so would half as much again suit you?’

  Gracie kissed her father first, then her husband, and they all burst out laughing when Neil piped up, ‘Me, too.’

  When their mirth subsided, she said, ‘We’re not going to buy a house, Father. We’re very happy here.’

  Albert leaned back against his chair with a look of deep satisfaction. ‘Now we’ve got everything settled, would it be too much for me to ask for another cup of tea?’

  Albert found it difficult not to interfere, but allowed Joe to find his own assistant before announcing himself officially retired. He felt like a lost sheep after he stopped going down to the shop, and his days dragged until he recalled that he’d mentioned taking a holiday.

  It had been said on the spur of the moment, but he mulled over the idea for days, reflecting that there was no reason why he shouldn’t go away somewhere for a while, he’d worked hard enough all his life.

  Reaching this conclusion one afternoon in March, he sat down at the dining room table to write a letter.

  Chapter Forty-three

  ‘Hetty, Helene’s had her baby.’

  Gracie smiled as her sister walked in one afternoon in April, her expected child low down in her womb. ‘You’d better sit down and look at her letter.’

  She giggled with glee when Hetty started to read, waiting for the reaction she knew would come.

  ‘Queenie!’ Hetty let out a relieved squeal, as her face broke into a broad smile. ‘They did carry it on, after all. Well, thank goodness! I’ve been worrying myself sick trying to think of names that began with Q.’

  Albert was also delighted that his latest grandchild was carrying on his tradition, although Queenie was an outlandish kind of name. But at least this one was an Ogilvie.

  He was happier when Hetty’s son came into the world four days later – Raymond Potter sounded more civilized, and this was his eighth grandchild. Ellie and Gracie and Hetty all had two each now. Flo and Donnie still only had one apiece, but they were young yet, and maybe Ishbel would get married and have the next one. It kept him going, wondering about it, which was a relief from waiting for a reply to the letter he’d written weeks ago.

  When it did eventually arrive, he kept Gracie in suspense for a few minutes after he’d read it, until his excitement got the better of him.

  ‘I can see you’re dying to know why Flo’s written to me this time. Well, I wrote to her, a few weeks back, to ask if I could go there for a holiday.’

  Gracie’s mousey head jerked up, and her blueish-grey eyes flew open. ‘To New Zealand? Oh, Father, what a good idea, but why didn’t you say anything? What does Flo think about it?’

  He handed her the letter, doubtful, suddenly, about undertaking such a journey at his age.

  As soon as Ishbel heard what her father planned to do, she suggested that she should go with him, and was offended when her offer was turned down. ‘I never get to go anywhere.’

  ‘This is the first time in over sixty years that I’ve ever had a holiday,’ Albert declared. ‘So you’ve a long way to go before you catch up on me.’

  ‘I’ll save up and go somewhere myself, then,’ she said pettishly. ‘It wouldn’t cost all that much to go to Edinburgh, would it?’

  No one paid any attention to her. Gracie was too busy mashing up little Patsy’s egg for her and keeping an eye on Neil, Joe’s head was buried in the morning paper and Ishbel herself had diverted her father’s mind to Ellie, whom he hadn’t seen since Gracie’s wedding.

  There had been no room for anyone else after Hetty and Martin arrived from New Zealand, but they had their own place now and there was no reason why he shouldn’t write to Ellie and ask her and her family to come for another holiday before he went away himself.

  By one of life’s strange coincidences, a letter came from Ellie with the second post, saying that Hetty had invited them to Rubislaw Den, and that Gavin was arranging a locum for two weeks in August.

  ‘They should be coming here,’ Albert lamented. ‘We could easily make room for them.’

  ‘Hetty’s got more room than we have,’ Gracie pointed out. ‘It’s not that I don’t want them here, but it would be better for little Morag to be where there’s a garden for her to play in. There’s nowhere here for her.’

  ‘Aye, I suppose you’re right.’ He screwed up his face for a moment, considering what this did to his plans. ‘Well, I don’t want to miss seeing Ellie and Gavin and the bairns, so I suppose I’d better leave my trip off until they’ve had their holiday. I’ll book it for September or October.’

  Gracie studied him as he drank his tea. His hair had thinned out, but there was a red tinge through the sandy-grey, making him look younger than Ellie’s husband, who was pure white though he was a year younger. Father’s thick moustache was still gingery, but he’d stopped waxing it a few years ago, and clipped it every Saturday morning.

  He had developed a paunch, and his figure wasn’t quite so erect as it had once been, but he wasn’t at all bowed, and his face was fresh and unlined. There was no need to worry about him, she decided. He had all his faculties, and had a good Scots tongue in his head if he had to ask about anything, but she couldn’t help worrying about him going so far away on his own. It would be awful if he took ill, or had a seizure.

  When she voiced her fears to
Joe, he smiled. ‘Your father is built up on going, Gracie, and a holiday like that’ll do him the world of good. He’s at a loose end without the shop.’

  ‘I know, but he goes out for walks with Neil, sometimes.’

  ‘It’s no life for a man who’s been accustomed to working all hours of the day. Once he’s seen Flo, he’ll maybe settle down and take up a hobby, bowling, or something like that.’

  Although the McKenzies weren’t sleeping at the Gallowgate, they spent a lot of their time with Albert, and he was very surprised to see how tall Kathleen had grown. At ten, there was every sign that she was going to be as tall as Ellie and Ishbel. The three of them took after him, of course, their height as well as their red hair. Morag, four come November, was dark and petite, very like Bathie, with her big blue eyes and sweet little face, but she was a proper wee chatterbox, with Ellie’s nature, and being a year older, ordered both Neil and Olive around. Ellie had put on a little weight, but with her height she could carry it, and her hair, dark auburn now, suited her in that earphone style she had it. Gavin was rather quieter than he used to be, but he was still very good company. Thank goodness their marriage had worked out well, even with the difference in their ages. Albert had wondered, at first, if Gavin had taken Ellie as a substitute for Bathie, but he was quite convinced now that he’d been wrong. Gavin loved Ellie for herself, not for reminding him of the woman he could never have, and that was as it should be.

  ‘I hear you’re going to New Zealand to see Flo,’ Gavin remarked one afternoon when they were out walking together.

  Albert hesitated. Should he confide in his old friend and tell him his reason for going? Almost immediately, he decided against it. There was no point in planting doubt in Gavin’s mind about Charlie’s death, because, knowing Ellie, she would find out, sure as anything.

  ‘Aye,’ he said, ‘I thought it would be a good idea to see my other grandchild, before I was too old to travel.’