by Anne Forsyth
‘It’s not like that here,’ said Rona firmly.
‘Oh well, maybe Mr Maclaren would give me a few stale cakes at the end of the day?’ she said hopefully. ‘I’ll not mind if they’re a bit hard.’
‘Well,’ Rona was doubtful. But she had to admit that the customers liked Elsie and her enthusiasm.
‘You’ve not tried the pancakes,’ she would say in a confidential tone, leaning over the counter. ‘Just the thing for your tea.’
And the customer, who had not thought till now, of buying pancakes, found herself going out of the shop with pancakes and scones as well as the tea bread she had come in to buy.
But, despite the extra hand in the shop, and Aunt Lizzie’s return, Rona began to feel extra tired and out of sorts.
Once or twice she had snapped at Callum, and her friend, Nancy, looked at her sternly. ‘You’re needing a holiday,’ she said. ‘Why don’t we go away, us two. I’ve a week due me in August.’
She went on, ‘I’ve never been to a holiday camp. What about it? There’s dancing every night—it would be great fun. You never know who we’d meet.’ She grinned, then she looked serious. ‘You’d never catch my father letting me go. But if I went with you?’
Rona’s face brightened. ‘That would be wonderful,’ she said. Her mind drifted towards a week of sunny days and lazing around the swimming pool and waltzing in the ballroom every evening—and maybe walks under the stars with someone.
‘Hey,’ said Nancy, ‘wake up. What about it?’
‘I’ll ask Father,’ Rona promised. ‘But I don’t expect him to agree. His idea of a holiday is a few days in a caravan in the rain, if you’re lucky. Or a stay at Aunt Maisie’s where there’s no-one under sixty.’ She looked gloomy. ‘But I’ll try it anyway.’
Meanwhile, things were going well for Angus. The business was thriving, Rona had worked hard, and the new girl—well, she seemed to be settling down.
And the whole town of Kirkton, in fact the whole country, was agog. For it wasn’t long till the Coronation, the crowning of the new Queen, Elizabeth II.
AN ENTERPRISING IDEA
‘So, Mr Maclaren. We’ll confirm the numbers early in the week. All the primary children and maybe a few bags over just to be on the safe side. I don’t think,’ smiled Miss Jessop, ‘we’ll have many absentees that day.’
‘A grand occasion—the Coronation parade—and you may be sure we’ll do you proud.’
‘I’m sure you will, Mr Maclaren,’ said the deputy headmistress. ‘After all, it’s not every day we have the crowning of a queen.’
‘Just so.’ Angus held open the door for her. ‘Good day to you.’
‘That’s a good order,’ he told Rona later. ‘The bairns get their bags when they’ve marched along the High Street and down to the park. Sausage rolls, scones, iced buns, and they’ll get a drink of lemonade and an ice-cream. Oh, it’s going to be a grand day. I just hope it keeps fine.’
Father was in a good mood today, thought Rona. For months, there had been growing excitement about the crowning of the new Queen.
There were souvenir mugs and tea towels, and biscuit tins. There was to be a Coronation parade with all the school children waving flags and finishing up in the park for their tea.
Some people had bought or hired television sets for the great day, June 2nd, and were arranging parties for families and friends, to crowd round the set and watch the flickering black and white scenes from Westminster Abbey.
The shop across the road from the baker’s that sold wireless sets had a larger television set and a few old folk had been invited in to watch the event.
Aunt Lizzie was eager to see the Coronation on the screen. ‘I think I’ll have to listen on the wireless, and go and see it when they show it at the picture house,’ she said. Meantime, she contented herself with reading everything she could about the event.
‘It would be grand to be there,’ she said wistfully. ‘I wouldn’t even mind sleeping out in the Mall, seeing all the flags, and waiting for the procession.’
Rona smiled to herself. Since Aunt Lizzie had returned she was a little quieter, not so sharp-tongued. There had even been the occasional word of praise for Rona’s efforts.
And who would have thought that Aunt Lizzie would become so sentimental over a Royal occasion?
Angus—now he wasn’t one for display. However, there was no harm in asking.
‘Father,’ Rona said, hesitantly, ‘do you think I could decorate our window, just for the Coronation?’
‘Ah, well,’ said Angus slowly. ‘We’re not needing to. Folk won’t stop buying pan loaves and tattie scones. They’ll come to the shop anyway.’
‘But everyone else is going to have a window display,’ Rona protested. ‘Gibson’s the ironmonger, and the toy shop and the bookseller, and Miss Douglas at the haberdasher’s.’
‘Well, if you like,’ he conceded. ‘But mind and keep it tasteful. And don’t go spending a lot of money,’ he added.
‘Oh, thank you,’ said Rona. ‘Could I get some money for ribbons, and that sort of thing?’
A little reluctantly, Angus agreed.
Rona started happily making plans. Oh, she would keep it simple, but colourful, she decided.
She raided Aunt Lizzie’s collection of pictures of the young Queen, and bought as many yards of red, white and blue ribbon as she could afford.
She spent an evening tracing the outline of a crown on to paper, then laboriously cut it out in cardboard and covered the cardboard with gold paper she’d bought from the stationer. With the aid of a school compass she’d long put away in a cupboard, she made star shapes, cut out the stars and covered them too in gold.
The Queen’s picture was pasted on to a piece of card and edged with gold braid Rona had begged from Aunt Lizzie’s workbox.
But it needed something extra, she thought, as she started to decorate the window.
‘It looks grand,’ said Callum loyally.
But Rona was not satisfied. ‘It needs, I don’t know—something special—I mean a link to us, to the baker’s,’ she said, wishing that Father had agreed to produce shortbread in Coronation tins.
‘You should enter for the competition,’ said one customer, as she watched Rona crawling about the window. ‘You get the forms at the town hall, and the Provost’s judging.’
Rona looked thoughtful, and in her lunch hour she went along to the town hall and completed the form. She would tell Father later.
On the way back, she gazed into some of the window displays. The ironmonger had scrubbing brushes and shiny metal pails surrounding a picture of the young Queen.
‘I doubt she’ll need to scrub her own floors,’ thought Rona with a grin.
The stationer’s had display of books about the Royal family, postcards and photographs. Nearly everyone had ribbons and bunting and Royal pictures.
The window Rona liked best was the toy shop across the way. A toy train chugged across the back of the window and at each side stood wooden soldiers painted in red, white and blue. At the front of the window were three teddy bears, wearing red white and blue bows, with their paws raised in salute.
The baker’s window looked bright, thought Rona, but somehow there was nothing special that would catch the eye of the judges. ‘Father,’ she said, ‘do you think I could have some shortbread biscuits and ice them?’
He looked doubtful. Then, ‘Just a few,’ he said. ‘This’ll be for your window?’
‘Yes, please.’
Angus didn’t say anything else—he was secretly quite proud of Rona ever since one or two customers had commented on the window.
Rona spent a long time after work getting the icing to just the right consistency, and setting out the piping tubes she wanted to use.
She thought for a bit what message she should choose. Loyal Greetings—that would take a great deal of effort, and quite a few biscuits. She would have liked to have written, Long live the Queen, or Elizabeth II, but she discarded these ideas.
Finally she got out one of the silver bases that were used for wedding and birthday cakes so that she could fix the biscuits on to the base. Finally, she decided to keep it simple.
She piped the letters laboriously, trying to keep her hand steady as she’d watched her father when he was decorating a cake.
She waited till the icing had dried, then secured the biscuits to the base and placed it carefully in front of the window.
It was simple, she thought, and effective and it said what everyone thought about the Coronation and the new Queen.
Well, now, she thought, she had done her best—she would just have to wait for the judges’ decision.
Quite a few people stopped to admire the window.
‘Your lassie’s done a good job,’ said one woman to Angus. ‘Makes a fair difference to your window.’
‘Aye.’ Angus was reluctant to admit it, but it had been good for business. Customers kept coming into the shop, asking for the Coronation biscuits. ‘We’ll have a few more of these,’ he said to Rona. ‘Folk seem to like the iced biscuits.’ So he produced a batch with EIIR and a few with crowns. ‘They’re selling like hot cakes,’ he said to Lizzie with a rare attempt of humour. ‘Not a bad idea of Rona’s.’
A DAY OF CELEBRATION
Two days before the Coronation, the judges came round. Rona watched from inside the shop at the two men who stood in front of the window with notepads. She wished she could see what they were writing. A Highly Commended would be nice, a third or a second even better.
Next day the awards were announced. As Rona had expected, the toy shop got first prize. Well, she told herself what else? Those bears with their red, white and blue bows were really appealing. Every day there had been crowds of small children oohing and aahing in front of the window until they were dragged away by their mothers.
But then, the girl from the town clerk’s office popped her head round the door, as she waved a card. ‘Second prize, Mr Maclaren,’ she called out. ‘Well done!’
‘Well done, Rona,’ said Angus. ‘It was a bright idea of yours, and its done our business no harm, no harm at all. Away you go and put the card in the window, and I’d better see about some more of these biscuits.’
‘You’ve put Maclaren’s on the map,’ said Callum later. ‘I’m really proud of you.’
Aunt Lizzie didn’t say very much except, ‘We should have had Coronation shortbread tins. I told Angus.’
‘You told him no such thing,’ said Rona under her breath. But she didn’t want to spoil this special day by arguing with Aunt Lizzie, who really, thought Rona, was much better-tempered since her return.
Now Aunt Lizzie was keeping an eye on the wireless shop across the road. ‘Mrs McFarlane tells me the owner’s having a lot of old folk in to watch the television,’ she said. I wonder . . .’ she turned to Angus. ‘It would be a kindly gesture if you were to give them a slab of sultana cake for their tea.’
‘I never heard the like. You’ll have me bankrupt.’ He pretended to be stern, but Rona knew him well enough. Father would agree.
‘Oh, Father,’ Rona protested. ‘It’s the Coronation—it’s a special occasion.’
‘Ah, well,’ he said. ‘Maybe you’re right. Away you go, Lizzie, and take them a couple of slabs of sultana cake.’
Aunt Lizzie returned from her errand, beaming. Rona couldn’t remember when she had last seen her aunt looking so pleased about anything.
‘He said to thank you kindly,’ she reported to Angus, ‘and the old folk will enjoy the cake. And he’s asked me if I’d like to go across—if we’re not busy here—and watch the ceremony on the television. Fancy that! I’ll see the Queen being crowned!’
* * *
It was certainly a day to remember. There was the news that Mount Everest had been climbed—the news came over the wireless that Hillary and Tenzing had reached the summit.
‘A grand beginning to Her Majesty’s reign,’ said Angus.
Aunt Lizzie watched the ceremony throughout—the arrival of the young Queen with her maids of honour and the Queen Mother and Princess Margaret watching from above with a young Prince Charles.
The solemn moments of the anointing, Prince Philip taking the oath of loyalty to the Queen—there were so many memorable moments.
Outside Westminster Abbey, the crowds ignored the rain. Some had been waiting all night in the Mall, sharing sandwiches and flasks of tea and joking with the policemen on duty.
Even in Kirkton there were so many memories of that day. The sound of the town band, the children waving their flags, marching to the park: Running off their energy in sack races and egg and spoon races, before they queued for lemonade and paper bags containing sandwiches and iced buns.
When they’d finished eating, some of them blew up the bags when they’d finished and burst them. It was a grand day that finished with three cheers for the Queen.
‘And let’s have three cheers for Mr Maclaren who gave us the buns and cakes,’ one of the organisers announced. The children roared themselves hoarse. It had been a great day.
Things were all rather flat when Coronation day was over—except that everyone would be going to the Regal when the film of the Coronation reached the cinemas.
Rona felt particularly flat. It was fun going out with Callum, but it had become a bit of a routine—a walk along the shore, a coffee in the local café, to watch the TV the owner had just lately installed.
Saturday nights meant queuing for the pictures or maybe going to a dance at the town hall. There was, she thought, no glamour, no exciting romance.
‘I’m only young,’ she said to herself rebelliously. ‘Why shouldn’t I have a bit of romance?’
She wished she could meet someone—he needn’t be tall, dark and handsome, though it would be nice if he was. No, she’d settle for someone who looked into her eyes as if she were the only girl in the world.
Callum, stocky, fair-haired and with a ready laugh, was good company, but that was all. Surely there was more to life than this.
And suddenly, she felt tired, bored with the daily grind. ‘I need a holiday,’ she said, and remembered what Nancy had suggested.
‘A holiday camp!’ That was it. Lots of fun, dancing every night, meeting new people.
She would put it to her father.
‘I’d like a holiday, just a week.’
‘Oh well, aye,’ said Angus pausing in his work. ‘I suppose you’re due it. And we could manage fine for a week. You’ll be going away I suppose, maybe to your Auntie Cassie?’
Rona shuddered. Auntie Cassie lived in the suburbs of Edinburgh—staid and grey-haired, she was kindly, but oh so dull!
She never went to a film or a theatre, or trailed round the shops. She had never been to the Castle or Holyrood or the Botanic Gardens, and saw no reason why Rona should wish to visit any of these places.
Rona had stayed there once before and discovered Auntie Cassie’s main interest was family history. How many photograph albums she’d put in front of Rona, she couldn’t remember.
‘This was my great aunt—you’ll not remember her. And here’s Uncle Hamish—he was a great character.’
It was hard to see from the grim-looking figures staring into the camera, how any of them had been fun, or had kicked over the traces when they were young. No, a visit to Aunt Cassie was not Rona’s idea of a holiday.
‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘I’d like to go to a holiday camp.’
‘A holiday camp!’ Angus’s voice rose. ‘That you will not.’
‘Oh, Father. This is nineteen fifty-three. Lots of people go to holiday camps. You can have a great week.’
‘I’m not having you going off to a holiday camp. I don’t know what you’d get up to.’
Rona sighed. ‘I’d be going with Nancy.’
Angus hesitated. ‘Oh, aye.’ He knew Nancy’s parents—sensible folk, her father an elder of the church, and Nancy herself had a good position in the council offices. She was sure to be a restraining infl
uence on Rona.
‘Please, Father,’ said Rona.
He looked at his daughter’s bright face and knew how disappointed she would be if he refused permission. After all, it was only a week, and she would be with Nancy.
‘Oh, all right then.’
‘Thank you!’ Rona beamed. ‘The first week in August—is that all right? Nancy’s office is closed then.’
‘You’ve got it all planned, I see.’ He shook his head. ‘Well, then you can have your holiday.’
He turned and lifted a tray of potato scones. ‘Now don’t waste my time—there’s these shelves to be wiped.’
A DIFFICULT VISIT
‘Great!’ said Nancy when she heard that Angus had agreed to Rona going to the holiday camp. ‘As long as I’m with you,’ said Rona with a smile. ‘He thinks you’re a responsible person.’
‘Just what my dad said about you.’
The two girls fell about laughing. Then Nancy sat up and wiped her eyes.
‘Let’s be serious. I’ll arrange the booking and we must decide on clothes for the holiday. Have you got a swimsuit? No? Then we’ll have a trip to Dundee, the next half day.’
‘It won’t be long now,’ said Rona. ‘Oh I am looking forward to it all . . .’
* * *
Rona had been made a welcome visitor to Callum’s home. She’d been invited one Sunday.
‘Just a cup of tea, don’t dress up,’ Callum had warned her. ‘And don’t pay any attention to what my mother says.’
Rona had been a little apprehensive about this. Would his mother be difficult, very critical perhaps?
She didn’t mention the visit at home. By now Aunt Lizzie was back in her usual place, though somehow she didn’t seem as irritating as before. Lips pursed, she had given the floor a good clean.
‘It looks as if it hasn’t been washed since I left,’ she had said grimly. Rona had been about to snap back at her, ‘Do you think I had nothing else to do?’ but she had held her tongue. I must be growing up, she thought.
