‘You’ll have to excuse Mom babbling on and on but she really is upset.’ Senga was now in full control of herself, determined that the well-rehearsed American drawl wasn’t going to slip again.
‘Eh understand, Senga, and we are really sorry about Babs. And, as you say, it would be bigamy,’ said Mum, helping Aggie on with her old fur coat. If Ron the spiv’s wife hadn’t intervened it would have soon been replaced with a brand new one.
Mum looked ruefully at the wedding present still lying pristinely folded in the cellophane-wrapped box. ‘Och well, Eh expect Eh’ll find this will come in handy for another present.’
Then, this shock news was pushed out of our minds by our burglary. I discovered it on a Sunday, although the crime had taken place a few days earlier. I went to put the week’s supply of shillings into the gas meter, which was situated on a high shelf in the kitchen and required one to stand on a chair to feed it with money. Because of this awkward position we only filled it once a week, and it was for the same reason that we never noticed that a thief had prised the padlock off and the money container was empty. To make matters worse, it was due to be emptied that week and had been almost full.
Mum was just in from her work at the dairy and she panicked at the thought of the burglar still lying low in the house. Then George mentioned nonchalantly that he had picked up a small padlock from the kitchen floor on the Friday afternoon but had not connected this with the meter.
I was sent to fetch a policeman from the police box at the top of the Hilltown and, within an hour, two policemen arrived to investigate the dastardly crime. I was glad that Ally’s dad wasn’t one of them, mainly because of the farce that had taken place while I was out of the house.
Faced with the empty money container, Mum ran through to Mrs Miller’s house, clutching it in her hand. Up to this point, the box had only been handled by Mum, George and myself but it was now turning into a ‘pass the gas box’ situation.
Mrs Miller was aghast as she held the container.
‘Heavens! It fair makes you afraid to leave your house,’ she said, passing it on to her husband. Naturally Betty wanted to hold it, then Mrs Ferrie and Mrs Duff, our upstairs neighbours, who were coming along the close. They all wanted to be in on the action. They peered inside the container as if an odd shilling or two was perhaps still lurking in one corner.
Then Mum took control of it. That is, until Ally appeared on the scene, which was fast becoming a comical farce. Of course, Mum handed it to him and he had a good look inside it. I think George had another look followed by a second peep from Betty.
The police, when they arrived, stood in the middle of the kitchen and had a good look at the meter. ‘There’s an awfy lot of these kind of burglaries going about,’ said one policeman, sagely.
‘Aye, folk are having their gas meters broken into daily,’ said policeman number two, shaking his head. ‘There’s no much we can do but take the box away for fingerprinting.’
On hearing this, Mum let out a loud wail. ‘Eh’ve handled the thing and so have my children and there’s Mr and Mrs Miller and Betty – then there was Mrs Ferrie and Mrs Duff and Ally.’
The policeman looked like he had been struck by lightning and his expression was priceless. ‘Wait a minute, missus. Let me get this straight …’ He held up his hand and counted all the names off. ‘Eh make that nine folk who have handled this container. Do you mean to tell me you let everybody handle the evidence?’ He emphasised the word ‘evidence’ and we all gazed at the two policemen and nodded.
‘Well, looking for a crook’s fingerprints on this will be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Your best bet, missus, is to let the Corporation Office know about this and have them come up with a new padlock. Mind you, you will have to pay back all the missing money.’
Mum was furious. ‘What do you mean, pay it back? Do Eh have to pay back everything the burglar stole? Surely that’s no fair!’
‘Well that’s the way it is, missus. The Corporation think some of the meters are broken into by the tenants. You know, somebody in the house is hard up so they break open the meter and get some ready cash.’
‘That’s stupid! Would Eh send for the police and get half the ruddy close to handle the evidence if Eh had pinched my own money?’ Mum was now wild at this suggestion of self-robbery.
He held up a large hairy hand. ‘Now wait a minute, Eh never said that. Eh just said that a fraction of folk do it but the biggest majority are victims, just like yourself. You are just victims of the rising crime rate amongst meter raiders and, like most victims, you are the losers.’
This explanation, which was handled a bit more sympathetically than his earlier manner, pacified Mum a bit but she was still miffed. ‘In my last house, which Eh lived in for years and years, we never had to lock our doors and windows. Never once did Eh get burgled, and here Eh am in a new house with a Yale lock on the door and snibs on the windows and Eh still get burgled.’
After the commotion died down and the policemen had disappeared back to their police box, Mum suddenly had a thought. ‘Eh’ve just remembered. When Eh came home last week from seeing Nellie, Betty was standing with a young lad at her door. He was a stranger to me and he saw me open the door. Eh wonder if it was him that robbed the meter?’
It was a good thing the door had been open all the time the police had been in the house because they would have had a fit if they had seen our front-door key hanging behind the door on a long piece of string. We only had the one key and this was used by the three of us to get into the house. Mum’s grand speech about Yale locks and snibs were no use against this easy access to the key.
Mum was suddenly serious. ‘Now, you’re no to mention this lad to the neighbours, especially the Millers. After all, Eh could be wrong and Eh wouldn’t want to get Betty into trouble, especially now that she’s getting out and about again.’
Betty was going to some sort of work course and although her breathing wasn’t getting any better at least it wasn’t worse. I was perplexed by the mention of this lad. Betty hadn’t said anything but maybe she would on my next visit. Anyway, the key was taken down and Mum said she would get two other copies made and we had to be doubly sure that the house was to locked up and well snibbed. Otherwise we could all be murdered in our beds, said Mum.
Mum had to pay just under two pounds for the missing money and seven and sixpence for a new padlock which greatly annoyed us all, even the neighbours. ‘It looks like we have to subsidise the crooks now,’ said Mum in disgust. ‘It doesn’t pay you to work hard for your money these days. You should just go out robbing meters.’
There were two bits of good news in the midst of this chaos. Babs and Aggie were going to California for a holiday. Seemingly, Senga and Marvin had paid for a return ticket for her unhappy sister while Aggie, instead of getting her new fur coat, got the chance of her fare being paid by Mr Robb. She jumped at this offer.
Another bit of mixed news was Ally and I had become engaged. Mum was thoroughly put out, as were my future in-laws. ‘You’re both far too young,’ was the universal comment. ‘And don’t forget that Ally has to do his National Service when he finishes his time.’
The only person apart from ourselves who was thrilled was Betty, who being a young romantic said, ‘Can Eh be your bridesmaid?’
‘Of course you can, Betty, but the wedding’s no to be for another two or three years. When Ally’s National Service is over we’ll plan it. Now what about yourself? Did Eh hear Mum say she saw you with a lad the other week?’
I knew Mum had said I wasn’t to mention this but I wasn’t caring about the robbery. I just wanted to hear if Betty had found herself a boyfriend.
‘He’s just someone who’s in the same course as me. Eh’ve no idea where he lives or anything. Sometimes he’ll walk back with me and we have a great chat but it’s nothing serious.’ She sounded disappointed and I noticed her lips looked bluer.
Meanwhile, although my news didn’t please Mum, she dug out t
he box with the His and Hers towels and handed them over. ‘Well, Eh expect you’ll be starting your bottom drawer and this can be your first item.’
I put the box in the dressing table drawer and wondered what had become of Ron the spiv. Was he back with his wife or was he still chatting up some unsuspecting girl on one of his rounds?
CHAPTER 24
Betty was dead. Her last illness was a short one but, unlike her previous attacks, it was an illness she would not recover from. Everyone was devastated by the tragedy of a life so young being so cruelly snuffed out. Mum and I sat in the neat living room of our neighbours and we cried along with her parents.
‘This is something we’ve aye had at the back of our minds, ever since she was born, isn’t it Dad?’ said Mrs Miller quietly, her eyes red with tears.
Mr Miller, who was usually so easygoing and quiet, looked absolutely shattered and, to be quite honest, Mum and I felt the same. There was nothing we could say to help their grief. I couldn’t understand why Betty hadn’t got over this bout of illness.
‘It was her heart,’ explained Mrs Miller. ‘It was damaged at birth and every time she caught a cold or an infection her lungs and heart just got that wee bit more damaged.’ She stopped to wipe her eyes, taking deep gulps of breath as the emotion threatened to erupt in a surge of despair.
Mum, who was usually so good with other people’s problems, didn’t know what to say. ‘Eh suppose there are words that folk say at a time like this, Mrs Miller, but there’s no words that Maureen, George or myself can say that tell you how we all feel.’
I sat silent and miserable. A huge painful lump in my throat throbbed and made me think I was going to choke if I opened my mouth. I couldn’t believe it. I had seen her just a couple of days before and she had chatted on about her work course and the possibility of getting back out into a social life.
The two aunties from the Hilltown arrived and we left, although Mrs Miller said there was no need to go. We didn’t want to intrude on the family’s grief.
Back in our own house, I told Mum about all the fun we had, growing up through our teenage years together, especially that wonderful night when we went to Robbie’s Dance Hall for the first time. I suddenly saw her in my mind’s eye, standing in her awful baggy trousers and ugly, knitted pink jumper that had made her look so tiny and fragile.
Mum laughed when I mentioned the home-made bra that I had been so envious of. Then there were the laughs we had while prancing up and down the close to the strains from Mrs Ferrie’s radiogram. And there was that Saturday night when we had gone to the Regent picture house and two boys, who had got chatting to us in the queue, had followed us home. How important we felt when they chatted to us, only to have our hopes dashed when Betty’s dad opened the door and chased them away. ‘Honestly, Eh’m never going to get married at this rate,’ Betty had complained, ‘if my dad keeps chasing them away!’
‘You know something, Mum,’ I said, ‘every Sunday night when you went to visit Nellie in Ogilvies Road, Betty and me would get dressed up and put on yon silly net gloves that we both loved so much, the ones that her mum found in a drawer. We would sit at the window and talk and talk about what we would be when we grew up. Betty had such grand plans. She was going to travel all over the world and see different countries. She knew it would never happen but it didn’t stop her dreaming about it.’
Mum nodded sympathetically. ‘Aye, life’s certainly cruel to some folk. The poor wee lassie!’
‘Then there was the times when we went to the carnival in Gussie Park,’ I went on. ‘Betty’s mum would tell her, “Now you’re no to go on the fast rides, Betty!” She aye got annoyed at this – said if her mum had her way she would only go on the kiddies’ hobby horses and we would burst out laughing every time we passed them and saw the wee tots in their red buses. Betty said she would get into one but that Eh would get stuck! She really loved the Chair-o-planes and on one visit we spent all our money on them. The man must have thought we were daft.’
The next night Mrs Miller came to the door and asked me to go and say a last cheerio to Betty before the funeral. Never having seen a dead person before, I was reluctant but Mum said I should go and not hurt the woman’s feelings. Betty looked so peaceful that my apprehension disappeared. She could just have been asleep. Her face was a waxy white, but then it always was, and her fragile features were as finely formed in death as they had been in life.
‘You know something, Maureen? If her dad and Eh had our way, Betty would have been kept in the house and no allowed out to do the normal things bairns do. But we thought it was better for her to enjoy life, even if it meant this happening. Eh think the pair of you had a lot of fun together and Eh only hope she got some enjoyment in her short life.’
‘Oh we did, Mrs Miller. We had such a lot of laughs and some of the things we got up to, well they were so funny.’
We loved the dancing and the ‘Monkey Parade’ every Sunday night. We walked up and down the Overgate along with hundreds of people, just looking and speaking to folk. It was stupid really but we loved it.
I took one last look at my pal and she looked like the very first time I ever saw her. The only thing missing was the twin red patches on her cheeks.
After the sad funeral, Mum and I would regularly pop in to see the Millers. To start with, I didn’t like mentioning her name because her mum looked so grief-stricken, often sitting quietly in her chair but giving a deep sigh every few minutes as if trying to overcome her overwhelming sense of loss. But, encouraged by Mum who felt Mrs Miller wanted to hear the stories, I would sit and tell them all about our exploits. Mrs Miller laughed out loud when I mentioned the home-made bra.
‘The wee devil! Eh often wondered what had happened to those hankies. She could have used a couple of old ones instead of the two best ones!’ she said before suddenly bursting into tears.
One evening, she asked me to help with Betty’s bedroom. All the old memories came flooding back as I helped to fold the fluffy eiderdown and put the nighties and pyjamas away into a box. I thought of the many hours I had sat with Betty in this bedroom during one illness or another and how we had planned our outings so carefully. At that moment, I hoped with all my heart that, in her all-too-brief life, Betty had known some enjoyment. I hoped she had managed to get her see-through chiffon blouse, the one she so longed for that first night at Robbie’s. But most of all, I really hoped that she had managed her trip to the City Square to see in the New Year.
My late Grandad said we should always cherish the good years and somehow store them in our memory, to tide us over the bad years and the bad times. This was good advice because, in my memory, I can only recall Betty when she was laughing.
CHAPTER 25
It was to be the wedding of the decade. Grace Kelly, that golden goddess of the movie screen, was marrying her fairy-tale prince, Rainier of Monaco.
This was to be followed a day later by another wedding, namely ours. Ally’s five-year apprenticeship had come to an end and now the spectre of two years’ National Service was looming. I could see only a grey, dismal void in my life due to this enforced parting but Mum said, ‘Two years will soon go in. Heavens! We’ve been in this house six years now and the time has fair flown by. No, you mark my words, two years will be over as quick as a wink.’
Ally was hearing the same words at home. This may have been true for older people but to a pair of youngsters it was the end of the world. Because of this, we suddenly made up our minds to get married before he left, no matter where his final destination might be. This was a decision that was met with horror on both sides of the family.
‘Now, what did you tell me?’ said Mum. ‘That you were both going to wait for two or three years at least? You’re only seventeen and that’s no age to settle down to married life, especially with a husband in another part of the country.’
‘But that’s no a problem, Mum,’ I tried to explain. ‘We’ve worked it out. We’ll wait and see where Ally gets a posting and
then Eh’ll go down and get a job nearby.’
Mum just shook her head. Then Ally’s mum, Peggy, came to see us and she voiced her misgivings. Mum agreed with her. ‘Eh know what you mean. They’ve no house or money and they’re both far too young.’
I couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. After all, getting married now was just as convenient as later on and I wondered if Grace Kelly was having all this bother. Faced with this determination, Mum relented but added, ‘Well, if that’s what you both want then there’s nothing we can say, but don’t come howling to me when the novelty wears off!’
With this dire warning in mind and the call-up papers due any day, Ally went to see the minister of Clepington Church, the Revd David Reid. A few years before, Ally had been a member of the Boys’ Brigade and had attended this church regularly.
We didn’t know how long it took to arrange a marriage but the minister said that three weeks was the earliest because the banns had to be read out. He also offered to marry us in the manse in Albany Terrace on Saturday 21 April.
Mum said thankfully, ‘Well, we’ll no be rattling around in a big church so that’s a blessing.’
I don’t know what the Kelly household were forking out for their nuptials but ours was to be a low-key, low-cost affair. Not so much a penny wedding, more like a thirty-bob occasion. I asked Pat from work if she would be my bridesmaid and she agreed to supply the necessary support on this big step to the altar. I told her, ‘Now, Pat, you’re not to spend money on buying a new outfit. Just wear what you have because Eh don’t want you going to a lot of expense for a quiet wedding.’
Pat promised to do that, ‘I can wear my new brown costume, brown shoes and handbag and my cream hat.’
‘That sounds fine,’ I said. ‘Then afterwards it’ll just be a meal in the house. Eh’ve no idea what Eh’ll make but Eh’ll think of that later.’
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