by Maggie Craig
My mother’s an ARP warden,
My father makes counterfeit gin,
My sister goes out every evening,
Oh, how the money rolls in.
It was the first time Liz had laughed since they had taken Mario away.
‘Och, Helen, why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘Because you had your own problems, Liz. You didn’t need mine as well. You were so worried that Mario might have been on board that ship. I couldn’t burden you with this - not until you’d got that message and I knew you were feeling a wee bit happier.’
‘Och, Helen,’ Liz said again. Not knowing quite what to say next, she took refuge in a practical question.
‘Next March,’ replied Helen. ‘My date’s the nineteenth. I’ve been to the doctor and all that.’ She grimaced. ‘One who doesn’t know me. But I’m taking care of myself - and the baby.’ Her hand went protectively to her still flat stomach. ‘I just haven’t told my parents, that’s all.’
“That’s all?’ Liz’s voice was a squeak. ‘Does Eddie know?’
Helen nodded, a lopsided smile on her face.
‘And he’s left you to cope with it on your own?’ The pitch of Liz’s voice rose even higher.
‘Don’t blame him, Liz,’ pleaded Helen. ‘He didn’t have much choice. And,’ she said with a blush, but looking Liz straight in the eye, ‘he didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do. It takes two to tango. You know that as well as I do.’
Liz couldn’t think of an answer to that one. ‘It was the day you went to Loch Lomond, I suppose.’
Helen’s face grew soft with remembrance. ‘Aye. Och, it was lovely, Liz. He asked me to sing the song for him, and he read me some poetry...’
‘But at some point you stopped serenading him and he put his poetry book down,’ said Liz drily.
‘Elizabeth MacMillan!’ cried Helen. The pink glow on her cheeks deepened to scarlet.
‘So,’ demanded Liz, ‘are you going to do something about it when he’s home on leave next week?’
‘He says we’re going to discuss it all properly,’ said Helen breathlessly. ‘I got another letter from him today.’
Liz frowned. ‘Helen, I think the two of you need to do something more than talk about it.’
‘That’s why I’m asking for your advice Liz. I need to work out what I’m going to do when the baby comes - where the two of us are going to live and what we’re going to live on. All that sort of thing.’
‘Helen, that’s Eddie’s responsibility too. Not just yours.’
‘Och, Liz,’ the girl burst out, no longer pretending to treat the subject so nonchalantly. ‘Don’t you think I know that? But he doesn’t believe in marriage, does he?’ She stopped, biting her lip, then continued in a calmer voice. ‘He’s never made any secret of his views. I knew how he felt from the beginning. And I don’t want to worry him too much. Not when he’s got to go back to the army.’
‘Don’t want to worry him?’
‘Liz,’ said Helen, darting a nervous glance at Liz’s thunderstruck expression. ‘Promise me you won’t go on at him when he gets home. He’ll only have a few days. I want him to enjoy them.’
‘Want him to enjoy them?’
‘Would you stop repeating everything I say? And,’ Helen pleaded, ‘will you come to the station with me when I meet him?’
‘Oh, I’ll come,’ said Liz, folding her arms and scowling ferociously. ‘I’ll certainly come. Wild horses wouldn’t stop me from meeting my dear brother. An entire troop of German parachutists wouldn’t stop me from meeting Edward MacMillan.’
Helen looked alarmed. ‘Liz, you’ll not lay into him as soon as he steps off the train, will you?’
‘I’m promising nothing,’ said Liz.
Eddie’s train was due into Glasgow at nine o’clock the following Friday evening. Helen would call past the hospital to meet up with Liz when she finished her shift at eight. Then they would catch the tram into town together.
Helen arrived shortly after eight as arranged. Liz, who’d been standing talking to Adam while she waited for her, turned to say hello. Helen burst into tears. Alarmed, Liz pulled her into an empty outpatient clinic and sat her down on a chair, Adam following the two girls in.
‘Helen,’ asked Liz, taking a seat beside her. ‘What’s wrong?’
Helen’s eyes welled with fresh tears. ‘Och, Liz, my parents have found out about the baby!’
‘Eddie?’ asked Adam. He didn’t appear too shocked by the revelation of Helen’s pregnancy.
Liz rounded on him. ‘Well of course Eddie,’ she snapped. ‘Who else would it be?’
‘Don’t shout at Adam! It’s not his fault! It’s all my fault!’
Adam sat down beside Helen and took one of her hands in his. His lips twitched. ‘Well, I think Eddie might have to accept some of the blame.’
‘Would you stop being so bloody calm and reasonable?’ said Liz. Adam glanced across at her. His expression was mild enough, but there was reproof in his hazel eyes. ‘Her hand’s a bit cold,’ he murmured.
The reminder was enough. Helen was in a state of some distress. She was an expectant mother. At this precise moment, that made her their patient. Liz took hold of her other hand.
‘How did they find out, Helen? Did you tell them?’
Helen gulped and shook her head. Her mother had noticed that - she darted an embarrassed glance at Adam – a certain thing which should happen every month hadn’t happened. She had confronted her daughter about it and had then told her husband. Shocked and dismayed, Brendan Gallagher had turned to his.Church for help. The parish priest had called in after tea this evening.
‘Or, as some of us know him, Torquemada the Grand Inquisitor,’ murmured Liz. ‘Don’t tell me - he is planning to burn you at the stake.’
Adam looked faintly surprised at Liz’s robust approach, but it seemed to be working. Helen had a bit more colour in her cheeks and she was talking more coherently.
‘He thinks I should go into this home for unmarried mothers at some convent on the south side of Glasgow.’ Her sense of humour bobbed briefly to the surface. ‘Probably run by the Sisters of Absolutely No Mercy.’
Adam gave a short bark of laughter.
‘He kept praying at me,’ said Helen. ‘Telling me I had to confess my sin. I told him I hadn’t committed any sin.’
‘You did?’
She started crying again. ‘He told me my baby was a bastard, conceived in sin and degradation, and that I... that I was a... was a...’ It took her a few attempts to get it out. ‘That I was a whore and a harlot.’
On Helen’s other side, Liz was aware of Adam wincing at the words. Damn the bloody Church, she thought. Damn all bloody churches, with their certainties about right and wrong, their refusal to allow people to make mistakes. She gazed at Helen, whose fair head was now bowed in absolute dejection.
‘Listen to me, Helen,’ she said urgently. ‘You made a mistake, that’s all. A mistake made for the best reasons. Because you love Eddie. What the two of you did wasn’t a sin. You’re dead right about that.’
Helen lifted her head. ‘It wasn’t?’
Liz squeezed the hand she held. ‘The two of you have created another life, Helen. Out of your love for each other. How can it be a sin to do that?’
‘I didn’t think it was, Liz,’ Helen said pathetically. ‘I thought it was something beautiful.’ She let out a sob. ‘But the priest thinks I’m a whore and a harlot.’ Her voice dropped to a tortured whisper. ‘And now my daddy thinks that, too. And the boys. I cannae bear that.’
Damn them again, thought Liz fiercely, all these men who pontificate about how warm and passionate men and women should act, and who judge them when they fall short of their ludicrous standards.
‘Helen, your brothers adore you. They could never think badly of you. Your father loves you too. At the moment he thinks what the priest tells him to think. Because he doesn’t know what else to do.’
Helen look
ed at her, her expression mournful, clearly racked by doubts. Liz took a deep breath. ‘Helen, you know that Mario and I went to bed together. I don’t think that makes me a whore. I was lucky. We made love, but we didn’t make a baby.’ Her urgent grip on Helen’s hand loosened, and her voice cracked. ‘Sometimes I wish we had. At least then I would have something - someone - to remember him by.’
‘Och, Liz!’ cried Helen, animated at last, starting up in her seat in a movement so quick it had all three of them up on their feet. She flung her arms around Liz’s neck. Despite her pregnancy, she was very thin. They’d have to make sure she ate well from now on, thought Liz, got the proper nutrition she needed, for her own sake and the baby’s. Eddie’s baby. Liz’s flesh and blood too.
She lifted her head, wanting to share the moment of relief with Adam. He looked pale, and very serious.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We’d better get to the station.’
‘Helen and I are going for the tram,’ she said, glancing up at the clock on the wall. They’d need to get a move on if they were going to make it on time.
Adam’s voice was sharp. ‘Don’t be so bloody stupid. I’ll drive you, of course.’
‘You can stay at my grandfather’s,’ said Liz as they drove between the Kelvin Hall and the Art Galleries on their way into town. She twisted round to look at Helen, sitting in the back seat of Morag. She’d got a bit more of the story on the way to the car.
Helen’s parents had tried to stop her from going to meet Eddie off the train, but she had defied them. Brendan Gallagher had thundered at her that if she went out of that door tonight, she shouldn’t bother coming back. Ever.
‘He’ll think better of it tomorrow,’ insisted Liz. ‘I’m sure he will. Give him some time to cool off. For tonight, Grandad and Eddie can have the back room and you’ll fit into the kitchen.’ Since he was still estranged from his father, Eddie planned to spend his leave at Peter MacMillan’s house. ‘As long as you don’t mind being roasted, of course.’
Helen did her best to return Liz’s grin.
‘Helen can stay at Milngavie if she wants to. My mother would gladly take her in.’
Liz looked across at Adam. It was a very generous offer. She put a hand on his wrist. He shook it off. ‘I’m trying to drive.’
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’
The railway station was like all railway stations these days, full of men and women in uniform saying hello and goodbye to each other. There were soldiers and sailors and airmen - British, Polish and French - wives and mothers and girlfriends and children too.
The three of them pushed their way through the crowd to the ticket barriers. They were late. Eddie’s train was already in.
‘I hope we havenae missed him.’ Helen’s eyes were flickering nervously over the dismounting passengers. An army officer was walking towards them. Liz glanced at him without much interest. He was very smart, tall and straight with a neat haircut. She looked again. It was Eddie.
He saw Helen about the same time as she saw him. He stopped dead, dropped his kit on the platform and opened his arms wide, his face suffused with joy. With a little cry, Helen ran towards him and was enveloped in his embrace.
Liz frowned. This was all very well, but her brother had some explaining to do. So close together that they looked as if they were taking part in a three-legged race, he and Helen came towards her. Eddie had a rather shamefaced grin on his face.
‘They made me an officer,’ he mumbled. ‘Because of my degree. How am I ever going to live it down?’ He dropped his bag again and held out both hands to his sister. Helen, smiling all over her face, took a step or two away to allow brother and sister to great each other properly.
Liz ignored Eddie’s outstretched hands. Her voice was full of reproach. There was little doubt what she was talking about. ‘Och, Eddie! How could you?’
His smile grew even more rueful.
‘How could I? Well, you’re the nurse, Liz. You know how human reproduction works.’
Liz slapped his face. Then she burst into tears, fending Eddie off when he took a step towards her.
‘What are you going to do about it, Eddie? Eh? You’ll marry her, that’s what!’
‘Liz,’ said Adam, ‘stop it.’
Eddie was more than capable of answering his sister himself. He took a step forward and planted a swift kiss on her forehead.
‘I thought I’d get that in before you hit me again,’ he murmured. ‘Now, shut up for a minute, would you?’
He turned to Helen, who’d been watching this interchange with a look of growing distress on her face. Ignoring Liz and Adam, Eddie went down on one knee on the dusty platform. He reached for Helen’s hand.
A few feet away a pigeon fluttered up in a great flapping of wings. Nobody noticed it. Eddie spoke very clearly.
‘Miss Gallagher, would you do me the honour - the very great honour - of becoming my wife?’
Helen stood like a statue. The hand Eddie wasn’t holding rested protectively on her stomach. A solitary tear rolled down one smooth cheek.
‘But Eddie,’ she whispered, her voice breaking, ‘you don’t believe in marriage.’
‘No,’ he agreed. His emotions written on his face for all to read, he looked up at the girl he loved. ‘But I believe in you.’
Liz suddenly couldn’t see very well. She felt hands on her shoulders, swivelling her round and marching her down the platform.
‘This is private,’ Adam said. ‘We’ll wait for them by the car.’
Thirty-two
‘I’m sorry,’ mumbled Liz into the thick cloth of her brother’s uniform jacket. ‘I just breenged in, didn’t I? Opened my big mouth and put my equally large foot right in it.’
Eddie gave her a final hug and let her go. ‘With the best possible motives, wee sister. I understand that.’
The wedding was already booked - in the registry office at two o’clock the following afternoon. With the help of his commanding officer, Eddie had arranged it all from a distance. With a faintly embarrassed air, he told Liz how swiftly red tape could be sliced through when it came to helping a serving army officer get wed.
‘Huh!’ said Helen. ‘Assumed a lot, didn’t you, Mr Lieutenant MacMillan? What if I’d turned you down?’ But her blue eyes were sparkling with life again.
Eddie grinned and pulled her arm through his. ‘And you understand that I can’t get married in a church, don’t you?’
His wife-to-be nodded, but Liz saw the regret in her face. Helen’s devoutly Catholic parents weren’t going to attend a registry office wedding.
‘We’d like you to be our witnesses,’ Eddie said, smiling at Liz and Adam. ‘Will you do that for us?’
‘We’d be honoured,’ said Adam, giving Eddie a little bow. ‘Oh, hell,’ he said and they all laughed at his formality. Eddie stuck out a hand and Adam shook it with a smile. He turned to Helen. ‘Do I get to kiss the bride?’
She blushed and proffered her cheek.
‘It’s most irregular,’ the registrar was saying.
‘But look, he’s dressed for a wedding; so he is.’
Looking half strangled in collars and ties, the Gallagher boys had turned up at the registry office. All of the Gallagher boys. Conor and Finn were there too. Peter MacMillan had taken it upon himself to call on Helen’s family first thing in the morning to inform them that the ceremony was taking place that afternoon. Liz had suspected for some time that Conor’s brothers knew exactly how to get hold of him in the event of a family emergency.
The bride was radiant as a bride should be, in a knee-length cream dress which Eddie had bought her that morning. He’d wanted her to wear white, but she’d refused point blank to do so. A brief but spirited argument had ensued in the middle of Sauchiehall Street.
Naturally, Helen had won. Liz had been snorting quietly for most of the morning, amused at how the pair of them had slipped back into their usual affectionate arguing. It was as if Eddie had never been away.
&n
bsp; Seeing her brothers smiling diffidently at her when she arrived at the registry office had, however, silenced Helen completely. Her eyes had filled with tears.
‘Here we go again,’ said Eddie irreverently. ‘You’d think it was her execution she was going to, not her wedding.’
The registrar was a little concerned about the canine guest, but as Conor had said, the dog was dressed for a wedding. At his master’s side as always, the wolfhound had a pink carnation tucked into his collar. All four boys sported similar blooms in their buttonholes and the same flowers made up the posy they’d brought along for their sister to carry. Liz wondered if the owner of the garden they had come out of had missed them yet.
The registrar was prevailed upon to allow Finn to remain and the brief ceremony commenced. When it was finished, Conor kissed his sister, shook Eddie warmly by the hand, winked at Liz and disappeared with his dog.
‘You’re all coming home with us,’ announced Dominic Gallagher. His older brothers seemed happy to let him do the talking.
‘Oh, no, Dom, I don’t think so,’ said Helen, her face soft with regret. ‘Ma and Da wouldn’t have me.’
‘Wouldn’t they now?’ asked her younger brother. He seemed much older than his fifteen years. Although too young to join the forces, he was doing his bit for the war effort by acting as a bicycle messenger boy for the ARP.
‘And will you have me going back and telling our mother that you’re not coming when she’s been baking solid since first light? Ever since Mr MacMillan came round to give us the news about the wedding?’
‘But they didn’t get wed in church,’ said Brendan Gallagher dolefully.
‘Sure, we’ll just gloss over that part of the story,’ said his wife with female practicality, bustling around attending to her visitors. ‘She’s a respectable married woman. That’s what matters. ‘Will you have some shortbread, Mr Buchanan?’
