by Anne Forsyth
Well, anyway, I’m glad I bought the new swimsuit, thought Rona. The other girls all looked so smart.
She was only half listening when the announcer bounded up to the microphone and called out, ‘At last, folks! Here we are. In third place, number fourteen.’
A slim red-haired girl left the small group and walked towards the judges’ table.
‘In second place, number five. Come along—number five. And finally the winner . . . number twelve.’
‘That’s you!’ the dark-haired girl nudged Rona. ‘On you go. Congratulations!’ She wasn’t over-sophisticated at all, thought Rona, as the girl smiled at her.
Quite bemused and convinced that the judges had made a mistake, Rona slowly made her way to the dais. The three judges shook her hand and the entertainments girl draped a sash over Rona’s shoulders. There was an outburst of applause, and Rona waved shyly. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her.
‘Now for the photos.’ At first Rona had her picture taken on her own and then with the judges. ‘Your name and address please,’ said the organiser. ‘We’d like a picture in the local paper!’
‘Oh, please,’ said Rona shyly. ‘I don’t think ...’
‘The folk in your town will be thrilled to see Miss Nineteen Fifty-Three,’ the girl assured her.
And then there seemed to be a crowd around Rona, congratulating her. Jake pushed his way through.
‘Well done!’ he put an arm around her. ‘I knew you’d do it. And now what’s the next step—becoming a professional model, maybe?’
‘I haven’t thought about it.’ Rona was in a daze. ‘It’s too early—too much to take in.’
She was still wondering what Father, and Aunt Lizzie, would say when her picture appeared in The Kirkton Advertiser.
‘We’ll talk about it later,’ said Jake, holding her arm in a possessive grip.
* * *
It was a glorious evening, still warm after the heat of the day. ‘Too good to be indoors,’ said Jake as he met Rona at the door of the dance hall. ‘What about a walk down to the sea?’
Hand-in-hand they walked down towards the shore and Rona, still bemused by the events of the day, thought she had never been so happy.
‘I wish this could go on and on,’ she said softly.
‘Me, too!’ Jake looked down at her. ‘You really are beautiful. The judges made the right choice.’
‘It’s a pity it all has to end,’ she said. It was hard to imagine going back to the daily routine of the shop. ‘I wish . . .’
‘What do you wish, Cinderella?’ he said teasingly.
‘I wish I could train as a model,’ Rona confessed. ‘It’s what I’ve wanted for years. But it’s impossible. It costs money to go to one of these model academies, and my father . . .’ she bit her lip, not wanting to admit that her father would never agree to her being a model.
‘Why not?’ Jake lit a cigarette and looked into the distance. ‘It’s not an impossible dream.’
‘For me it is.’
‘Nonsense,’ he said briskly. ‘Listen, Cinderella. I know people who run these agencies. You could easily get a place. They’re looking out for girls just like you—slim, graceful, who know how to dress, how to walk. And the fact that you’ve been crowned a holiday camp princess means you’re halfway there,’ he added with a smile.
‘But I don’t—I mean I don’t know how to go about applying.’
‘Leave it all to me. I told you about what I can do, didn’t I—I’m in the entertainment business. I’ve got contacts and I could pull strings for you.’
‘Would you?’ Rona’s eyes lit up.
‘For you,’ he took her hand. ‘Anything. Just you leave it all to me. It may take a week or two,’ he said, ‘but I’ll be in touch. Don’t forget to give me your address before we say goodbye. That sounds very final, doesn’t it, but I promise you, I’ll be in touch very soon.’
‘Can I write to you?’ said Rona.
‘Better not, sweetheart. I’m all over the country, never quite know when I’ll be at home. But trust me, I’ll ring all the agencies I know. They’re crying out for girls just like you.’
* * *
Rona went back to the chalet with her head full of plans and dreams and it seemed as if her heart was singing. It wasn’t just his parting words—‘You do realise, don’t you, that you are very special to me,’ and the way he looked at her, and his lingering kiss.
She suddenly felt that this week a whole new world had opened up before her. Soon, she would be on her way. First Edinburgh, then who knows, London. She would no longer be Rona Maclaren, the baker’s daughter, but someone whose photo was in newspapers and magazines. ‘I could change your life,’ he had whispered to her as they said goodnight. Rona looked up at him and he smiled down at her. This evening, she knew, was just the beginning of something wonderful.
* * *
‘Well that’s one good thing,’ said Rona, as she read the piece in The Advertiser, the local paper.
‘What’s that?’ asked Nancy.
‘They don’t publish photos—well, only if it’s something like a big wedding or the visit of royalty, or something very important.’
‘But they’ve printed a report about you being the holiday princess,’ said Nancy, leaning over her friend’s shoulder.
‘Only a small paragraph,’ said Rona. ‘And not many people will read it,’ she added hopefully.
But she was wrong. Customers kept coming into the shop to congratulate her.
‘My, you’ve done well,’ said one. ‘A pity there wasn’t a photo of you.’
Angus had said very little, except, ‘Ah well, what’s done is done. I should never have let you go away with that Nancy.’
Nancy’s father said much the same. ‘I thought that girl would have had more sense, or I wouldn’t have let you go on holiday with her.’
But generally, the two fathers, meeting in the street agreed. A bathing beauty contest—well, it hadn’t been a local contest, and no harm had been done.
‘She’s a bonnie lass, your Rona,’ said Nancy’s father, and Angus felt quite proud. Rona was turning out well, after all. He sighed as he thought of his Ruby, and how he’d tried to bring up his daughter as she would have wanted.
Aunt Lizzie simply sniffed as she read the report in the local paper, and said nothing. She was strange these days, thought Rona, as if her presence was here in the shop and at home, but she was somehow far away.
As for Callum, he didn’t know whether to be pleased or not. They met occasionally now, but somehow the closeness of their friendship had gone.
Rona didn’t know whether she cared or not. She liked Callum, but he had never made her feel the way Jake did.
‘I’d quite have liked to see you winning the contest,’ Callum said, ‘but I don’t know if I’d have wanted my girl parading in front of all these people!’
‘Callum!’ Rona was becoming really cross by now.
She turned to Callum. ‘This is nineteen fifty-three, and anyway, it’s none of your business what I do.’
‘It is.’ His face flushed. ‘You’re my girl after all.’
‘Indeed I am not,’ Rona said angrily.
‘Well, I thought,’ he mumbled, ‘I thought we were going steady.’
‘I can’t think what gave you that idea,’ she said loftily, quite forgetting that only a few months ago she had wished for more than just friendship between them.
‘Anyway,’ she added, ‘we’re only friends. In fact,’ she said a little breathlessly, ‘I’ve actually met someone.’
‘That was quick,’ he said, looking a little surprised. ‘Just a holiday romance, that’s all it’ll be.’
‘You’re quite wrong,’ Rona was emphatic. ‘It’s more than that. And he’s going to help me get into a model agency. He says I’ve a great future ahead as a model.’
‘For goodness’ sake!’ Callum burst out laughing. ‘It’s turned your head, you winning this competition.’
Rona was incensed. ‘You don’t know anything about anything,’ she burst out. ‘Living here, never going anywhere. You don’t know what I could do. He says I could easily get a job in London.’
‘Forget it.’ Callum was calmer now. ‘Oh, you did well, winning the competition, but it was just a bit of fun. It’ll never lead to anything. Now, what do you want to do this evening? The pictures, dancing?’
Rona spoke very slowly. ‘I don’t want to go out with you again, Callum—is that perfectly clear? You and I have nothing in common, and I won’t be sneered at like that.’
‘If that’s the way of it.’ To Rona’s surprise, he turned and walked away without a backward glance.
‘Well!’ she thought. ‘I’m well rid of him.’ But she thought perversely that he might have tried to make her change her mind. She watched him as he crossed the road and strode along the High Street. She had more to think of, she told herself. She had a whole new future to plan.
* * *
It was a particularly busy time in the baker’s. Families on holiday in the caravans came in to buy pies and bread; holidaymakers wanted boxes of shortbread to take home as presents.
After the success of the Coronation window, Angus was persuaded by Rona to let her decorate a holiday display with buckets and spades and shrimping nets borrowed from the toy shop, surrounding pies and sausage rolls and picnic fare.
Although she was busy and preoccupied with work in the shop, Rona still felt a little uneasy about Aunt Lizzie. She was, well, somewhat jumpy—she rose quickly from the table whenever the phone rang, and greeted the postman at the door. Rona too was a little edgy.
She had still not heard from Jake, though she knew that he wouldn’t forget his promise of introductions to the model agencies. Surely, she thought, he would write soon.
Doug said he had noticed nothing out of the way about Aunt Lizzie and Angus was far too busy in the shop. The new assistant, Elsie, was turning out well. She had boundless energy, and was becoming known to many of the customers.
She and Rona worked well together. It was good, Rona thought, to have someone of her own age to laugh with, and share a joke about some of the more demanding customers.
But still, she worried about Aunt Lizzie.
Things came to a head one late summer afternoon. The shop was closed for the half-day and Angus had strolled along to the bowling green.
Doug was out with his friends, Rona was sifting in the garden in the sun, a magazine on her lap, dreamily reliving that wonderful week and remembering how Jake had looked at her, and trying to recall the sound of his voice.
Aunt Lizzie was in her room—she spent a lot of time there, writing letters. After a little while, she came down the stairs, dressed to go out in her summer coat and her hat .
She had a letter in her hand. ‘I’m just away to the post box,’ she called to Rona. ‘To get the lifting.’
Rona nodded, wondering vaguely why it was important.
But Aunt Lizzie was back before long. ‘There, that’s it done!’ she said as she vanished into the house.
Rona was puzzled, but she didn’t ask any questions. After a bit, she rose and put the magazine aside and went to help Aunt Lizzie with the tea.
‘We’ll just have cold ham and a bit of salad. Away you go and pick a lettuce,’ she told Rona. Angus’s hard work in the garden had paid off. There was a row of crisp Webb’s Wonder lettuces, and Rona pulled some radishes to go with the salad.
* * *
‘A grand tea,’ said Angus, spreading a piece of bread with butter, and passing over his cup for a refill. ‘You do us proud, Lizzie.’
Aunt Lizzie flushed, and laid down her knife and fork. ‘If you’ve all finished, I’ve something to tell you.’
Doug stopped eating, surprised. Rona gazed at Aunt Lizzie, who fiddled with the Cairngorm brooch at the neck of her pale blue silk blouse.
‘You might as well know now,’ she said.
‘So what is it, Lizzie?’ asked Angus. ‘What have you got to tell us?’
‘I’m leaving you—leaving Kirkton,’ said Aunt Lizzie, all in a rush.
‘Is that so?’ Angus stared at her. ‘And what’s brought this about? Where are you going?’
‘I’m going to Glencraig,’ said Aunt Lizzie, her voice trembling a little.
‘But why?’ Rona found her voice. ‘Maisie’s fine again, isn’t she? Why do you want to go?’
‘After all these years—it’s a bit sudden, isn’t it?’ said Angus. ‘So what’s made you want to upstakes and leave us? Why?’
Aunt Lizzie drew a deep breath and said, looking round the table at them all, ‘Because I’ve met someone and I’m going to marry him, that’s why.’
‘I HAVEN’T HEARD FROM JAKE’
‘Cripes!’ Doug gave a low whistle while looking shocked. Angus seemed at a complete loss.
‘Well,’ he said slowly. ‘I must say this is a surprise, Lizzie I’d no idea there was anything in the offing. So who’s the lucky man?’ he added trying to be jocular.
‘I don’t know why you should all be so taken aback,’ said Lizzie with a touch of her old manner.
‘Go on, tell us.’ Rona had been silent for a moment or two. But now, she said, ‘Who is it? Where did you meet him? Tell us all about him.’
Aunt Lizzie looked round them all. ‘He’s a widower. I met him at Maisie’s—she’s got a neighbour who’s been a great help, and Malcolm’s her brother. He calls in and does the odd job like clearing the gutters. We got chatting and well, he asked me to go for a walk. I did a bit to help him in his house,’ she said, ‘ Oh, that house of his, poor soul, he’s not done much since his wife passed on. Anyway, we’ve been writing to each other since I came back.’
So that was why she was watching for postie every day, thought Rona with a smile.
‘And,’ Aunt Lizzie finished, ‘he’s asked me to marry him. He’s got a house in the village, a good size, and there’s some beautiful furniture,’ she added. ‘Oh, I think we’ll get along fine.’
Fancy, thought Rona, suppressing a smile, getting married for good furniture. It’s not at all romantic. But then she felt very mean. Why shouldn’t Aunt Lizzie take a pride in having her own home with nice furniture?
It wasn’t kind to smile at Aunt Lizzie’s romance. Not that it was romantic—but none the worse for that.
Aunt Lizzie would make a good, caring wife, and if she was bossy and very particular, well, perhaps he’d enjoy being looked after.
‘So,’ said Angus, ‘when are we going to meet your intended?’ Rona could almost have said that Aunt Lizzie blushed.
‘He’s coming down for the day next Saturday—I’ve asked him to come for tea. And we’re to discuss the arrangements then.’
‘Are you to be married from here?’ Rona’s thoughts raced ahead.
‘I doubt it,’ said Aunt Lizzie briskly. ‘Just a small quiet ceremony up in Glencraig. It wouldn’t be fitting, a big wedding—not at our age.’
‘You’ve not even told us anything about him,’ said Angus, ‘such as his name, and what he does.’
‘He’s called Malcolm—Malcolm Watt, and he had a plumbing business. Of course, he’s retired, and has been some years.’
‘Well, I’ll look forward to meeting Mr Watt—Malcolm,’ said Angus kindly. ‘And I’m sure we hope you’ll be very happy. Isn’t that right?’ He turned to Doug and Rona.
‘The only thing,’ Aunt Lizzie said, not acknowledging his good wishes, ‘is that I’m kind of worried about leaving you folks to cope on your own.’
‘Think nothing of it,’ said Angus. ‘You’ve done us proud all these years, and the bairns are grown now. You deserve a bit life of your own. Anyway,’ he continued, ‘Rona did fine when you were away looking after Maisie. She can make a grand pot of soup—near as good as yours, Lizzie,’ he said with a smile.
‘Aye,’ Lizzie agreed, ‘and you’re doing all right in the shop, especially now you’ve got Elsie.’
Rona felt as if someone
had poured a bucket of cold water over her.
What about me? she raged inwardly. Am I to be a housekeeper just like Aunt Lizzie? Don’t I deserve a bit of happiness, something to look forward to? She thought of Jake and his promises.
Suppose he got her an interview, and he’d said it was certain he would, suppose she had a chance to train as a model, and had to give it up because she was needed at home, and was needed to make soup and mince as good as Aunt Lizzie’s.
Suddenly she felt that her first pleasure at hearing Aunt Lizzie’s news had gone.
Oh, it was all very well for Aunt Lizzie and her widower who needed looking after and it was all very well for Father who had a daughter at home who would fill the gap left by Aunt Lizzie’s departure. And it was all very well for Doug, who didn’t care about anything much except cars and motorbikes and sitting down to a good meal.
Rona felt as if her chances of romance were vanishing into thin air, and she could see nothing much ahead of her but years of a dull, monotonous life.
Still, she smiled at Aunt Lizzie. ‘I’m really pleased for you,’ she said, as she felt a lump in her throat.
* * *
The weeks went by. There was no word from Jake and Callum, too, seemed to be keeping a distance.
‘I haven’t heard from Jake, and he promised to write,’ Rona confessed to Nancy. ‘He said . . .’ she hesitated, ‘that he would be in touch. He has lots of contact with modelling agencies, and he thought he could easily get me an interview.’
Nancy looked doubtful. ‘What does he do? How does he know these people?’
‘He’s in the entertainment business.’ Rona was a little defensive.
Nancy hesitated. She hated to disillusion her friend, but wasn’t it better to tell her now?
‘Wait a bit,’ she advised. ‘I’m sure he’ll be in touch with you.’
But there was no word from Jake. The holiday was beginning to seem a distant dream.
Although two girls from West Fife that they’d met while on holiday—Bet and Isla—had written, and Bet sent copies of a photo they’d taken of Rona and Nancy, standing in front of their chalet.
