by Anne Douglas
‘You’ll never guess what’s come for you!’ cried Flo. ‘From one o’ the good florist’s and all!’
‘Flowers?’ asked Roz. ‘For me?’
‘Got your name on ’em,’ said Chrissie, watching her closely. ‘Look lovely. Ma’s got ’em in a bucket of water.’
The great sheaf of white flowers – lilies, small chrysanthemums and gardenias, were wrapped in cellophane with a small attached envelope. As Flo hauled them out of the bucket, Roz took the envelope and, after a moment’s hesitation, opened it.
‘Are they from him?’ asked Chrissie. ‘I bet they are!’
‘Yes, they’re from him,’ Roz said quietly, her eyes on the card she’d taken out.
‘So, what does he say?’ cried Flo.
‘What on earth can he say?’ Chrissie was sniffing the scent of the flowers. ‘I bet you feel like chucking ’em out, eh, Roz?’
‘He doesn’t say much,’ Roz said, taking the flowers from her mother. ‘Just best wishes for the New Year.’
‘What a nerve!’ cried Flo. ‘But if you’re not throwing ’em out, I’ll have to find a vase. Give ’em here, Roz.’
‘It would be silly to throw them out,’ said Roz, putting the card in the pocket of her cardigan as Flo bore the flowers off to the sink while she found a vase. ‘I think it’s quite a nice gesture, really, to send me flowers.’
‘As though it makes up for anything,’ said Chrissie.
‘Oh, it doesn’t. Just shows how he feels.’
In the bedroom, Roz looked at the little card again, which read not just ‘Best wishes for the New Year’ as she’d said, but ‘To Roz, with best wishes for 1952. May it be a better year for you than I made 1951. Yours, Laurence.’
There was no way of knowing whether 1952 would be better than 1951 or not, but there was no doubt that Laurence’s flowers, as well as his message, had made Roz feel better. At least there was no bitterness between them. She felt she would be truly better soon.
Fifty-Five
‘I’m afraid I’ve a confession to make,’ Flo announced a short time before Bob and Evan were due to arrive on New Year’s Eve. ‘Don’t be cross, girls, but I’ve invited the Atkinsons up for tonight – I mean, it’s only neighbourly, eh?’
‘The Atkinsons?’ Chrissie exclaimed. ‘Todd and Gerda coming here? Oh, Ma, what a thing to do!’
‘Our favourites,’ said Roz, smiling. ‘Just the ones to make a party go.’
‘Well, they’re on their own – no family – and I thought it’d be nice to ask ’em. Might make Todd a bit easier to deal with in the future as well.’
‘That’ll be the day,’ said Chrissie. ‘But if you’ve asked ’em we’ll just have to put up with ’em. Let’s check everything’s ready.’
They were all ready themselves, wearing their best woollen dresses, Flo with a Paisley shawl round her shoulders and a little make-up, which made her look attractive and well. It was such a relief that she had been so well lately, her daughters thought as they set out plates of sandwiches, sausage rolls and mince pies, together with glasses for the port wine and bottles of beer. Maybe she was truly recovered from her depression? Even with Dougal still in Korea, and with Roz’s problems as well as her anxiety over the poor king, it seemed so. If true, it would be the best present the New Year could bring, but as usual they’d have to wait and see.
‘Going to put the wireless on?’ asked Roz. ‘We must be sure not to miss the countdown to midnight.’
‘Plenty of time,’ Flo replied. ‘But, oh, there’s a knock! See who it is!’
‘It’s Bob and Evan!’ cried Chrissie, leading Bob in by the hand, her face alight, while Evan followed carrying a bottle of wine.
‘Happy Hogmanay, Mrs Rainey!’ the brothers cried. ‘Happy Hogmanay, Roz!’
‘Don’t you ladies look grand?’ said Bob. ‘And what a spread, eh?’
‘And flowers,’ observed Evan, taking in Roz’s bouquet on the sideboard. ‘They’re beautiful.’
A short silence fell, as Roz looked at the floor and Flo began fussing with the table, moving plates for no reason and placing a bottle opener at the ready.
‘Is that some wine you’ve got there, Evan?’ she asked at last. ‘That’s so kind. Will you or Bob do the honours, eh? Or shall we wait for the others?’
‘Others?’ asked Bob, as another knock sounded.
‘You’re in for a treat,’ Chrissie told him. ‘Ma’s invited the Atkinsons.’
‘Todd?’ cried Evan.
‘And Gerda,’ said Roz. ‘I’d better let them in.’
Both were large people and, once in, they seemed to fill the room, Todd in a new blue jumper, his heavy face for once all smiles, while Gerda, in a bright red dress with her mouse-brown hair newly permed, rushed up to embrace Flo and hand over two bottles of beer.
‘Happy Hogmanay, dear!’ she cried. ‘Now, isn’t this nice of you, to ask us to be here with all the family!’
‘Not quite all,’ said Flo quietly. ‘Dougal’s still in Korea.’
‘Oh, I know, I’m sorry. But you’ve got Chrissie’s young man, eh? Hello, Bob! Hello, Evan! Happy New Year!’
‘But where’s Roz’s fella?’ asked Todd cheerfully. ‘The grand one with the snazzy car! We like to watch him in that car, coming calling for you, Roz, don’t we, Gerda? I was sure he’d be here tonight – I was looking forward to having a wee chat with him aboot motors, seeing as I ken a fair bit.’
‘He won’t be coming,’ Roz told him with stiff lips. ‘But would you like a drink? Mrs Atkinson, what about you? We’ve got quite a selection.’
‘I’ll open the bottles,’ said Bob grimly.
‘Put the wireless on!’ cried Chrissie. ‘Let’s have some music!’
As Scottish dance music echoed around them and the glasses were filled, the atmosphere lightened a little, but Evan, coming close to Roz, murmured, ‘Sorry about that, Roz. It must have been hard to take.’
‘Oh, I’m OK, Evan. We all know what Todd’s like. If he’s been watching out for Laurence’s car he’ll know he hasn’t been lately and probably guessed we’ve split up. He just likes giving things a stir.’
‘Well, I felt like punching him in the nose, I don’t mind telling you.’
‘A lot of good that would do for neighbourly relations! And that’s all Ma was doing, trying to be neighbourly.’
‘Are you really OK?’ he asked quietly. ‘I mean, generally.’
‘Getting there, I think.’
‘I’m glad.’ His dark blue eyes rested on her. ‘Wish I’d sent you flowers.’
‘Like a sandwich?’ she said quickly. ‘Or a sausage roll?’
Time passed. The wireless played on and the food was eaten – most of it by Todd who, after he’d downed several beers, suggested a sing-song, which was instantly vetoed by Bob and even Gerda, who said warningly, ‘Now, Todd!’
He replied, ‘Aye, OK, then.’ And fell asleep on the sofa.
‘Thank goodness it’s nearly twelve o’clock,’ Flo whispered as the music on the wireless was replaced by an announcer telling a studio audience and all who were listening to charge their glasses and be ready to welcome in 1952. ‘Who’d like what for the toast? Port or wine?’
‘Whichever it is, I don’t want much,’ said Roz. ‘I’m not one for drinking.’
‘Nor me,’ Gerda said eagerly. ‘Just a wee dram now and again, eh? Why don’t we have the port, Flo? Then you can keep the wine.’
‘Aye, pour the port, then, girls,’ Flo ordered. ‘Must be ready for the toast.’
‘I’ll wake up Todd,’ said Gerda, knocking his shoulder. ‘He’ll no’ want to miss the chimes.’
‘Wha’s going on?’ he asked, struggling up. ‘Is it morning?’
‘Och, no! It’s time for the countdown to midnight – last moments of the old year!’
‘Twelve, eleven, ten, nine,’ boomed the voices from the wireless, ‘eight, seven—’
‘There it goes,’ whispered Flo, taking Roz’s hand, as Chrissie
took Bob’s and Evan stood with his glass in his hand, joining in.
‘Six, five, four, three, two, one – midnight!’ came the shout, and ‘Welcome to nineteen fifty-two!’ called the announcer over the sound of the tolling of Big Ben. ‘Get ready for Auld Lang Syne!’
‘Everybody on their feet!’ shouted Bob. ‘Come on, Todd, Gerda! Join hands, now, and start singing!’
Standing in a wavering circle, they joined hands and sang Burns’s famous words, ‘We’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet for the sake of Auld Lang Syne!’, finishing up meeting together and kissing whichever neighbour was nearest. Chrissie and Bob, of course, Flo and Roz, Todd and Gerda, but then, as Flo turned to Chrissie, Evan moved towards Roz and kissed her gently on the cheek.
‘My second kiss,’ he whispered.
‘Second?’
‘Don’t you remember? I kissed you at the engagement party?’
‘Well, stay close – I see Todd coming!’
Too late. His great, rough-chinned face was next to hers and his beery breath wafted over her as he planted a kiss on her brow, while Gerda was kissing Evan and looking round for Bob.
‘Aye, now where’s wee Chrissie?’ Todd was asking as he lumbered away, followed by Gerda, and Evan turned to Roz.
‘Survived?’ he asked, smiling.
‘Only just.’
‘Don’t look now but I think they’re going. Chrissie’s with Bob and Gerda’s decided to get Todd home.’
‘Flo, it’s been grand,’ Gerda was saying as she hugged her. ‘We’ve really enjoyed it, eh? Todd, come on, now, and thank Flo for a grand Hogmanay do!’
‘Nice to have you both,’ Flo said politely. ‘Take care on the stair, mind.’
‘Aye, and you send one o’ thae dark-haired laddies down to be our first foot, eh? Don’t you lassies come in the front door first, mind, or else we’ll have bad luck the whole year.’
‘Cheek of it!’ cried Chrissie. ‘Saying girls bring bad luck.’
‘Och, it’s just a custom, dear. Take no notice,’ said Gerda.
‘Where’s our piece of coal, then?’ asked Bob. ‘That’s a custom, too.’
‘And your piece o’ Christmas cake,’ said Flo. ‘Now I’ve got some left—’
‘Mrs Rainey, I’m only joking! I’ll be your first foot – don’t need any coal or cake. Chrissie come down with me, eh? But don’t step out of the door!’
The little party was breaking up, with thanks and goodnights and waves, as Bob and Chrissie went down the stairs so that Bob could go out of the front door and come in again, while Todd and Gerda tottered home arm in arm, and only Evan was left to go up to the boys’ flat.
‘Thanks again, Mrs Rainey,’ he told Flo. ‘We’ve had a wonderful evening. Roz, so nice to see you.’
‘And you, Evan.’
Briefly, their eyes met, until Evan turned away and began to climb his stairs, looking back to wave. ‘Happy nineteen fifty-two!’ he called.
‘And to you!’ Roz called back, then she and Flo went into their flat and closed the door.
‘Now to clear up,’ sighed Flo, surveying the plates and glasses and empty bottles. ‘Think it went well?’
‘Sure it did. They all had a grand time. Especially Todd.’
‘Aye, well, that was a mistake, inviting him. I should never have done it.’
‘It was a nice idea.’
Flo flopped down into a chair. ‘Why don’t we have a cup o’ tea, eh? Before we clear up?’
‘No need for you to do it, Ma. We’ll clear up – you’ve done enough. I’ll just put the kettle on.’
‘I think it did go well,’ Flo said thoughtfully. ‘And it’s done me good to have a few folk in for Hogmanay. Had such grand times in the old days, when your dad was alive.’
‘I know, Ma.’
‘That’s what the war took away from us, eh? Just ordinary family do’s.’ Flo turned her gaze on Roz. ‘But that Evan MacGarry, just like I said, he’s got an eye for you, Roz. Oh, it was that obvious tonight, seeing the way he was looking at you.’
‘Oh, Ma! The things you see!’
‘Ah, now, I shouldn’t be surprised if he asks you out pretty soon, and you should go. Forget that Mr Carmichael for good.’
‘Evan won’t ask me out. Even if he wants to, he’ll know that I’m not ready for it. I don’t want to get involved.’
As a door banged and Chrissie came in, rosy and smiling, Flo shook her head. ‘Always so stubborn, Roz. You’re your own worst enemy.’
‘Are you making tea?’ asked Chrissie. ‘I could do with it. Alcohol always makes me thirsty.’
She flung herself into a chair. ‘Grand little party, Ma. Thanks very much.’
‘You enjoyed it, pet?’
‘Apart from entertaining Todd.’
‘Don’t worry. I shan’t make that mistake again.’ Flo lit a cigarette and gratefully blew smoke. ‘Oh, thank the Lord – the kettle’s boiling!’
Fifty-Six
Roz was proved right – Evan did not ask her out. In fact, she rarely saw him, only occasionally meeting him on the stairs when they both came back from work, and then he was usually with Bob. Not that Roz wanted to be asked out. As she’d told her mother, she wasn’t ready for another relationship, or even making a close new friend.
‘Once bitten, twice shy,’ went the old saying, but she, you might say, had been twice bitten, which probably meant that she’d be more than twice shy. Content enough, in that dismal month of January, to go to work and once a week attend the art class where she and Norma would battle on with their landscapes while Tim went his own way, shovelling paint on his canvas with a palette knife.
‘We think September would be nice for our wedding,’ Norma told Roz one evening. ‘Can be lovely weather then, and it’ll give us time to save up. My folks are going to pay for it, of course, but Tim and me want to get our own flat. Isn’t that right, Tim?’
‘Absolutely,’ he agreed, screwing up his eyes and standing back to view his work, as Norma added a brush stroke or two to hers.
‘I’ll do what I can, though I don’t earn much,’ she went on, ‘but Tim’s a teacher, as you know, and he’s pretty sure we can find something we can afford. Maybe you’ll help us to look, Roz, you being the expert?’
‘Glad to, though I don’t know about being an expert. My sister’s keen to get a flat too, but she’ll probably have to rent at first.’
‘It’s exciting, eh, that she’ll be planning her wedding, just like me?’ Exciting she might have found it, but Norma’s eyes were full of sympathy for Roz, poor girl, who had no wedding of her own to look forward to. But had Chrissie fixed a date yet? Norma wondered, and asked Roz.
‘Not yet. Might be the end of the year.’
‘As long as it doesn’t clash with mine, because she’s sure to want you as a bridesmaid, and I want you, too. You will say yes, eh?’
‘Norma, of course I will!’ Roz laid down her paint brush to give Norma a quick hug while the other students looked on, smiling. ‘I’ll be honoured. Thanks for asking me.’
Chrissie, in fact, was only just beginning on her wedding plans, but it went without saying that Roz would be her bridesmaid and Evan Bob’s best man.
‘And maybe by the time you fix a date, Dougal will be back,’ said Flo. ‘He’d like to see you wed, Chrissie.’
‘I know, Ma, but we’re a long way off it yet. I’m sure he’ll be back.’
Of course she wasn’t sure. How could she be sure? She’d only said it to cheer Flo up, but there was no hope of Flo’s staying cheered up when, only a few days later, on February the sixth, the news broke that the king had died in his sleep. Ill though he’d looked at the airport when he’d seen his daughter, Princess Elizabeth, depart with Prince Philip for a visit to Africa that should have been his, his death was still a tremendous shock to the nation, which immediately went into mourning.
People could talk of nothing else, for so much seemed to have been affected, and while deep sympathy was extended to the k
ing’s mother, Queen Mary, and his widow, Queen Elizabeth, everyone wanted to see the new queen arrive back from Africa. She was such a forlorn, sad young figure descending from the aeroplane all dressed in black, and formally greeting her ministers lined up in the cold to meet her.
What would happen now? What would it be like to have a woman for a monarch? One so young, too – only twenty-five – and completely untried. It would be like Queen Victoria’s coming to the throne all over again, but look how long she had reigned! Folk could hardly get used to singing ‘God Save the King’ when she’d died, but now, in 1952, the nation would have to get used to singing ‘God Save the Queen’.
Flo took the king’s death very badly, seeing it as the triumph of the dark and melancholy over the light and hope of life. Just as it had been for her Arthur, so it was for the grandest in the land, and the poor Queen Mother, as the king’s widow had become, must suffer as she, Flo, had done, her whole life changed.
Roz thought her mother was wrong to take such a pessimistic view of death, for if it came as the end and could cause great change to the living, it still didn’t mean that life itself must be meaningless and without hope. It was all folk had, after all, and one day she knew she would be taking all she could from it again.
Her own sympathies after the death of the king went of course to his widow and mother, but she also felt for the daughters he’d left, for she’d lost a father, too, and knew what they must be going through. Both would be feeling bereft, though after the funeral the older sister would have to concentrate on her new role, which some parts of the press were already seeing as the beginning of a second Elizabethan age. Not, of course, in the eyes of Scots, who’d never had a first!
As Gerda put it to Flo on the stairs, ‘Aye, just as long as nobody tries to call the young lassie Queen Elizabeth the Second when she’s in Scotland, seeing as we’ve never had a Queen Elizabeth the First, you ken!’
‘We’ll just make her welcome, anyway,’ Flo answered with a sigh. ‘She’s got a lot on her plate, eh?’
‘Aye. First, there’ll be the funeral to face. They say the Duke of Windsor might be there, the one that gave us all the push, and poor Queen Mary. Who’d have thought his mother would outlive the king then?’
