I had this idea that if I could just find my dad then everything would be alright. He’d know what to do. In this topsy-turvy world of mine where very little made sense, that seemed important. At least if we were all together my mum wouldn’t have to work these long hours herself. We’d all have him there with us, if I could find him. We’d all be together.
I decided to talk to my mum that evening but she didn’t come back at dinnertime and I fell asleep before she came in later. In the morning she was up early again for work.
‘Lenny,’ she whispered. ‘You awake? Wake up.’
‘Mum!’
‘Ssh.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Early shift. So glad you’re here. Look after the girls, won’t you?’
‘Where’s Dad?’
‘Oh Lenny, don’t keep asking about your dad.’
‘I have to. He’s my dad. Is he in Helensburgh?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘But really?’
‘He was. He may still be but he’s probably been caught by now.’
‘But you don’t know?’
‘Well... no.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s just... you see...’
‘He’s my dad.’
‘I know that. I’m doing my best, darling. Look, I’ve got to go or I’ll be late and they dock your wages if you’re even five minutes. See you tonight, after five.’
‘Mum!’
‘Ssh. I heard about the fight. My goodness look at your face. What happened? Mrs MacIntosh said you went for Ella.’
‘It was nothing,’ I said. ‘Just a carry on.’ Sometimes lies are alright, she taught me that.
‘Be more careful next time.’
She kissed me and was gone.
Right, I thought. That’s it. I’m off. Helensburgh here I come. How could I not? Or could I? I lay between Mavis and Rosie and bit off the end of both thumbnails and quickly followed a crack in the ceiling from one side and back again. Could I do this? On my own?
Mavis rolled over towards me.
Yes, I could. I had to. I sent a quick apology in my head to Mr Tulloch, glanced at Mr Tait’s Bible and slipped out of bed.
I put on my green and yellow dress, all washed the day before, even though it had a rip in the hem, and my dark green cardie, coat and scarf and I pinched Rosie’s hat because I needed it more than her that day. My coat pocket jingled with the money so I wrapped my hand around it. The other pocket bulged with Mr Tulloch’s map. From the doorway I blew kisses to Mavis and Rosie and ran my eyes round the dark room. Those papers had to be somewhere but there was no cupboard or drawer for them to hide in and the wheelchair had no cushions. There were only the two piles of clothes, mine and theirs.
I went back and slid a jumper off their pile then lifted the rest and felt underneath. Nothing. I undid every bit and felt through them all until at last, in the pocket of my mum’s Sunday dress, I found them, the postcard and the little book with the photo. There was no bag. I took the map out of my own pocket and slipped the postcard and the book with the photo into its place, then opened the map as quietly as I was able and had one last look. I tried hard to memorise all the place names, Helensburgh, Greenock, Port Glasgow, Paisley, and when I thought I had them all in my mind, I stuck the map under Mr Tait’s Bible for safekeeping.
‘Thank you, Mr Tait. Thank you, Mr Tulloch,’ I whispered.
I tiptoed back to Mavis. It broke my heart to leave her. She stared up at me from the bolster so still I was scared she was dead, so I bent down and put my head next to hers.
‘Don’t cry, Mavis,’ I said. ‘I’m coming back. Stick with Rosie and Mrs MacIntosh. I’ll be back before you know it.’ But we both shed a tear and I hugged her again, and left with my mouth in a different state of jelly.
Mrs MacIntosh was asleep in the kitchen so I couldn’t wash, so I ran out to the wash house and put my back to the wall and cried until the salt ran into my cuts. When I was done I washed my face as carefully as I could under the tap and took a long drink. Then I stood up straight in the twilight to watch the stars fade as the sun rose and to gather up all my strength. It was time to go.
I went down to Dumbarton Road, a big wide road that runs all the way from Glasgow through Clydebank and on to Dumbarton. I wondered what to do. There were trams and buses going in both directions and crowds of men going into Beardmore’s yards, like John Brown’s, and the noise of the riveters at work already, hammers on metal. I started walking because the noise was battering off the tenements and making my head hurt. But by the time I got to Dalmuir station I realised I had no time to waste and decided to spend some money on a train.
‘H... Helensburgh, please,’ I said.
‘Upper or Central?’ said the man in the railway hat.
‘Um.’
‘What street are you going to? Have you got an address?’
I tried hard to say ‘Central’ because the centre seemed like a good place to start, but all that came out was a slithery snake sound. Fortunately a gang of soldiers had just arrived behind me and were all talking at once.
The railway man glanced over my shoulder at them.
‘Makes no odds anyway,’ he said. ‘It’s the same price, but you need the next train for Craigendoran for the ferry or Central, or change at Dumbarton Central if you want Upper.’
‘R... right,’ I said. ‘Th... thank you!’ Then I shouted: ‘But I’m going to Helensburgh.’
‘No need to shout,’ he said. ‘I just thought you might want the ferry terminal for the boat to Greenock or somewhere, though you’ll need a pass.’
‘No, thanks. Helensburgh, please.’
I could see he was surprised at my shouting. ‘You’ll need to ask someone on the train where to get off,’ he said in a quiet voice as if he was telling me a secret. ‘There are no signs on the platforms, don’t forget.’ This was to try and fox the Germans, but it meant people kept getting off at the wrong place.
He told me where to go for the train so I went and stood on a platform and hoped it was the right one. The gang of soldiers followed me and stood against a pillar smoking. They were quiet now, glancing up and down the tracks, serious and thoughtful. At last, in a blizzard of steam and noise, the train arrived, chuntering like a factory, then wheezing like an old man. The soldiers shouted above it, their voices mixing with the black smoke that pushed against the station roof.
I chose a different compartment with some ladies in it and sat by the window. One of the ladies had a cat in a wicker basket with mesh tied over the top so he could see out. But I had too much to worry about right then to think about cats. With a scream of the whistle we were off.
‘You going somewhere nice?’ said the lady in the seat opposite.
I took a big breath. ‘Hhhelensburgh,’ I said and pulled my tammy over my ears.
‘You got family there?’ She had big lips and curly hair that bounced.
‘My dad,’ I said.
She didn’t seem to be listening. ‘Change at Dumbarton for Helensburgh Upper. I’ll keep you right.’ She nodded at my cuts. ‘What happened to you?’
‘F... fell.’ I wiped the steam from the window.
‘Aye, right!’ she said. ‘I’ve heard that one before.’ She and the other lady laughed. ‘Who won?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said.
‘Not the other guy, but?’
I couldn’t help grinning, even though it made the cuts hurt, even though I wasn’t proud of what I’d done.
‘I’m going to see my boys at their gran’s,’ she said and she smiled and looked out the window. ‘Where did you say you were going?’
‘Hhhelensburgh,’ I said all over again. ‘I’m going to see my dad.’
‘It’ll be good when this is over,’ she said. ‘Won’t be long now, they say. Then we can all get back to normal.’
Normal. What would that look like?
‘Where’s your dad stay?’ she went on. ‘Is he working out this way?
More often it’s the other way round, isn’t it, people heading into Dumbarton or Clydebank.’
‘Y... yes. He always does things b... back to front.’
‘He’s a man, isn’t he?’ laughed the cat lady.
‘Is he billeted out there?’ said the lady with the curls, but serious, not laughing, taking me seriously. ‘There’s no model, but there is a big house they requisitioned.’
She meant the model lodging house for workers. I hadn’t thought of that. We had them in Clydebank. I glanced out the window at all the ships passing each other on the river. They were mostly grey against the green bank on the other side.
‘I can tell you where it is,’ she went on, taking my silence for a yes.
‘That’s up by the monument, isn’t it?’ remarked the other lady. The cat in the basket was hers. He hadn’t moved the whole time. Perhaps he was dead.
‘That cat alright?’ said the lady with the curls.
‘I poured some whisky down his throat for the journey,’ said the other lady, who had light ginger hair the same colour as her cat.
‘You never did!’
‘Works a treat.’
‘That’ll be some head he’ll have on him when he wakes up.’ They laughed and talked about their men, which was a relief because I didn’t want any more nosy questions.
But then I realised I had lots of questions myself and the only way to find my dad was to ask as many people as possible, which is how I found Mavis. Even if half of me was Italian I’d just have to risk it. I listened to them until we were past Dumbarton and their chat lulled, by which time I’d convinced myself this was the right thing to do.
‘Excuse me,’ I said, too loud.
‘Yes?’ said the lady with the curls. They both turned to face me. Just then the train pulled into a station and the door suddenly opened, two men peered in, then closed it again just as rapidly without anyone getting in.
‘Not good enough for them,’ remarked the cat lady.
‘Ach, we don’t want any men in here anyway,’ said the other. ‘So, young lady, you were saying?’
Their two faces were pointed at me.
‘I... I... ,’ I said. ‘I’m looking for my dad. I don’t know where he is. He might be in Helensburgh.’
‘Might be?’ said the curly lady. ‘I see.’
‘Yes. We had a postcard and someone told me it was Helensburgh.’
‘Doesn’t your mum know?’ said the cat lady.
I shook my head.
‘She working?’
I nodded, not sure what that had to do with it. Everyone was working.
‘So what did the postcard say?’ said the curly one.
‘Nothing really.’ I dug it out and showed it to them.
‘This is from your Uncle Ross, not your dad,’ said the cat lady.
‘It’s Helensburgh alright,’ said the other. ‘Look, there’s the pier and there’s Dino’s on the front. Just think, when all this is over we can have his chips again. His were the best. Shame for them, what happened.’
‘No, it’s not. They were all Nazis, the Eyeties, along with the Germans.’
I had the little book with the photo in my hand ready to show them but quietly stuffed it back in my pocket. They argued for a minute about the price of fish while I tried to pick the photo off the card inside my pocket without them seeing.
The river widened and I could see a town on the other side. Something in my pocket tore so I took my hand out not to make it worse.
‘Where’s that?’ I said, pointing over the river.
‘Port Glasgow, and that’s Greenock further on,’ said the cat lady. ‘It’s crazy down there,’ she said to the other lady. ‘Our Davie went over there to work and never came home.’
Mr Tulloch’s map appeared in my mind.
‘What, you mean he...?’ said the other.
‘No, it was work. There’s loads of work in Greenock and hunnerds of folk coming and going.’
‘Ah,’ said the curly haired woman. Then she looked at me. I turned back out the window where fence posts flicked past in a sea of greenery. ‘So how’re you going to find him, love?’
‘Dunno,’ I said, and suddenly wondered when the return train to Clydebank might be and whether I shouldn’t just get on it.
The train stopped again.
‘That’s me then,’ said the cat lady. ‘Nice to meet you. I hope you find him.’
The ginger cat opened one eye as he passed me. The lady threw the carriage door open and left. No-one took her place.
I decided to risk it and pulled out the alien book, quickly tore the photo from the card and showed it to the curly lady. She didn’t seem to notice the book but took the photo between finger and thumb and brought it close to her face then out at arm’s length. I stuffed the book in my pocket. The train set off again, tick-tick, tick-tick, then ticketty boom and on we went across open fields.
‘I know that face,’ she said.
My heart beat like the train.
‘I think so, but I can’t be sure. There was a man up on my uncle’s farm...’ She smiled, mirroring his smile. ‘He’s a cheery one, isn’t he? Good-looking too.’
‘On a farm?’ I said. ‘Y... you saw him on a farm?’ Ticketty boom, the world went by in a blur, everything fuzzy except her face. She stared back at my dad and didn’t say another word. I held my breath.
She handed me the photo and wished me luck.
‘But you said... about your uncle’s farm.’
‘Och, there was a man on the farm who looked a bit like that, but there are all kinds of men all over the place. Americans, Italians, Canadians, you name it, they’ve been down this river. He could be anywhere. Try the police. They’ll know.’
‘But which farm?’ I said.
‘Oh, it’s not him, love. Sorry. There are so many men!’
As if to emphasise the point we pulled into a station that was full to the brim with servicemen in all sorts of uniforms. A gang of soldiers went past the window, none of them laughing like the other lot had.
‘And you know... ,’ she said with a glance round the empty compartment, ‘... we shouldn’t really be talking.’
‘He’s funny,’ I said. ‘Was this man funny? He’s always making people laugh. Everybody loves him. You’d remember if you’d met him, honest.’
‘But I don’t, darling, I don’t. I wish I did. Sorry.’
I bit my lip and stared out the window where a mist was settling over the water, the towns on the other side fading into it.
‘He sounds English, bit like this, northern,’ I said, in my dad’s northern English accent.
‘There, that’s us at Central,’ she said. ‘Ask the police. It’s round to the right outside the station.’
‘Thank you,’ I whispered.
The train wheezed and grumbled to a stop and we got off. As soon as she landed on the platform her boys came shrieking towards her. I stepped quietly to the side and went out onto the road. I don’t think she had any idea who my dad was at all.
There was no police station that I could see so I stared down the other direction, squinting through the people who swarmed past me. I tried to summon the courage to go and look for it, but couldn’t. The street was much narrower than Dumbarton Road and the pavement narrower still. Instead I stared at the pub over the road until I thought I’d go cross-eyed trying to decide what to do.
Chapter 19
A man came out of the pub and stared right back at me so I hurried off in the other direction and quickly found myself at a crossroads. This meant I’d made the decision, without even meaning to, not to go to the police until I’d tried everything else. The problem was I had no idea what everything else might be.
Helensburgh was completely different from Clydebank. There were no high tenements or factories that I could see, only shops and low buildings and a dark grey sky hanging over them. A storm was brewing, or at least heavy rain, and people were holding their hats against the wind. I drew in my coat. A busy r
oad lined with shops lead up the hill, reminding me of how Kilbowie Road used to be. The crossroads was blocked with traffic. A man on a cart shouted for everyone to get a move on. In the other direction, at the bottom of the hill, the sea shone silver, a little slice between the buildings, and on it there were ships the same colour but darker.
Not knowing what else to do I began looking at all the faces because, you never know, maybe my dad would just happen to be there, running an errand for his boss or delivering something to a shop, and there we’d be, face to face, surprise! Anything was possible. I took the photo out to remind myself then stuffed it back in again.
The building behind me was the town hall. It had pretty turrets and stonework over the doors, importantlooking but nowhere near as big as Clydebank town hall. I thought about going in but then saw a sign with POLICE on it which stopped me in my tracks. Heart thumping, I hurried away, down towards the sea, crossed a street, passed some shops, and jouked in amongst some ladies with prams. Then I crossed another road and all the time kept my head down because it was buzzing like a beehive and I was scared. At last I smacked against the seafront wall, buried my face in my hands and wondered what on earth I was doing there.
When I looked up I was amazed to see hundreds of ships spread out across the sea, all shapes and sizes, and a long pier with a couple of small fishing boats alongside. It was just as Mr Tulloch’s friend had said. The town on the other side was completely obscured by mist, but I knew it was there because of Mr Tulloch’s map.
Of course, after a short time I remembered exactly what I was doing and realised I had to find some courage and grit if I was going to get anywhere at all, and the quicker the better. Maybe Mr Tulloch was right and I shouldn’t have come alone. But there I was anyway, and being a scaredy wasn’t going to find my dad. I swivelled round and looked back up the street so I could prepare myself for bravery.
Rue End Street Page 18
