THE GREAT WAR SAGAS: Box set of 2 passionate and inspiring stories: A Crimson Dawn and No Greater Love

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  Emmie was at the Currans’ now, helping Louise’s mother make egg sandwiches for the Sunday school outing to Oliphant’s Wood. The houses in Denmark Street for colliery officials were bigger than most, with proper stairs up to two bedrooms, which had fireplaces and casement windows instead of skylights. No Curran needed to sleep in the kitchen, which Mrs Curran kept spotlessly clean and tidy. No matter that her husband was an important deputy at the pit, he was not allowed beyond the scullery door with his filthy pit clothes and boots. Tom had to change in the wash house and hop across the yard in his underdrawers, to Emmie’s blushing amusement.

  Today Tom was getting his own back. As the youngsters set off up the cinder track to the woods, he pulled the ribbons out of Emmie’s hair and ran off laughing.

  Furious, Emmie dropped her parcel of sandwiches and ran after him.

  ‘Come back. I hate you!’

  She was lithe and fast, but no match for brawny Tom, who pushed tub loads of coal for miles underground and could sprint like a hare.

  ‘If you want them, come and get them!’ Tom taunted, and disappeared into a mass of bluebells among the trees.

  Emmie thrashed around, trying to find him, growing crosser and crosser as her wavy dark hair fell in front of her eyes.

  Suddenly, Tom reared from behind a tree with a deafening roar. Emmie screamed, making him hoot with laughter. He dangled the ribbons at her. She lunged.

  ‘Give ’em over, Tom!’

  ‘Give me a kiss first,’ he challenged.

  Emmie looked at him in disgust. ‘I don’t kiss lads.’

  ‘No ribbons then.’

  Emmie turned her back and stalked off. Tom ploughed after her, trampling bluebells.

  ‘A secret then,’ he bargained.

  Emmie stopped and faced him. ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘You tell me a secret and I’ll give you yer ribbons.’

  ‘Don’t have any,’ she said impatiently.

  Tom stood over her, tall and grinning, his hazel eyes teasing. For the first time it occurred to Emmie he would be considered handsome.

  ‘Who’s your favourite lad - out of them MacRaes?’

  Emmie was nonplussed. ‘I don’t have one. They’re all canny.’

  Suddenly, Tom caught her by the arm. ‘If there was an accident at the pit and only one of them was saved - which one would it be?’

  Emmie swallowed. Tom was not smiling any more.

  ‘You have to say or you won’t get your ribbons back ever.’ His grip tightened on her arm. Fear flickered in her stomach.

  ‘Rab,’ she whispered.

  Instantly, Tom loosened his hold and was smiling again.

  ‘Here you are,’ he said, offering the green ribbons. Before she knew it, he was planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

  ‘Ugh!’ Emmie cried, wiping it off, which only made him laugh.

  He watched her tie back her hair into lop-sided bunches.

  ‘Funny,’ he mused, ‘I thought you would’ve chosen Sam.’

  She gave him a sharp look. ‘I didn’t mean what I said. Wouldn’t want any of ’em to die. You were just being daft.’

  He laughed and lunged at her ribbons again, but she darted out of the way and ran for the path, half-laughing, half-screaming. Louise was waiting with the battered sandwiches.

  ‘Haway, you two, stop carrying on. We’ll be late for the races.’

  Back on the wide path, arm in arm with Louise, Emmie felt safe again. Tom hadn’t meant any harm; it was mere devilment away from his parents. Emmie liked the Currans and their ordered way of doing things. They were kind to her in a reserved way. Mrs Curran fussed over her when she came round for tea and Mr Curran read her stories from the Bible in a mesmerising, singsong voice. But she couldn’t help noticing how different they were with Tom.

  His mother was always telling him to mind his manners, while his father ordered Tom to stand up like a man and take his punishment, even though he was only fourteen and just out of short breeks. The only thing she grew to hate in the polished and shining kitchen was the worn leather strap that hung on a nail beside the soup ladle and toasting fork, in readiness for Tom’s frequent punishments.

  The friends enjoyed the Saturday afternoon of games, races and picnic tea with Reverend Mr Attwater refereeing a football match in which his spaniel was attempting to take part. Sam and Peter appeared and the minister invited them to join in. Tom and Sam captained opposing teams with a triumphant Tom scoring the winning goal.

  He tossed his prize of cinder toffee to Emmie. ‘Sorry about the ribbons,’ he panted, then ran off to wrestle with Sam.

  When it came to the final hymn and prayer to round off the afternoon, the older boys had disappeared into the trees. Reverend Mr Attwater pretended not to notice.

  ‘Do you want to stay at my house the night?’ Louise asked, as they dawdled back to the village.

  Emmie hesitated. There would be Louise’s soft bed with sheets smelling of starch, rousing hymn singing at the chapel in the morning and a huge roast for Sunday dinner. But then there would be the long, slow afternoon of keeping to the house while the adults slept, with nothing to read but the Bible. Emmie had not minded in the winter when she had squatted by the fire with Louise, gossiping about neighbours and school. But now the days were longer and the MacRaes would be spending their free hours out of doors, walking the fell or paddling in the burn above Blackton Heights, the Oliphants’ pillared mansion.

  ‘Gan on,’ Louise insisted, ‘you’re stopping with me.’ She threaded her arm through Emmie’s and pulled her up the street towards her home.

  ‘I’ll have to tell me auntie first,’ Emmie said, pulling the other way.

  ‘Tell her later,’ Louise said crossly. ‘If you don’t come now, you’re not me friend.’

  Emmie quickly relented. There was no harm in staying out a bit longer. The girls soon became absorbed in a game of tig around Denmark Street and Chile Vale. Only when the shadows lengthened and air grew cold did Emmie realise they must have been playing there for hours.

  ‘Eeh, I’ll have to gan home, Louise. Auntie Helen might be worried.’

  ‘Just one more game,’ Louise pleaded.

  At that moment, the girls spotted a dark figure striding up the lane towards them. Emmie recognised Rab at once and knew she was in trouble. Louise immediately came to her defence.

  ‘She’s staying at my house the night,’ she called out. ‘Emmie was just ganin’ home to tell your mam.’

  ‘Not the night,’ Rab’s deep voice answered in the gloom.

  He sounded cross. Emmie said a hasty goodbye to her friend. Louise looked disappointed.

  ‘Will I see you at chapel?’ she asked.

  ‘Maybes,’ Emmie answered, running down towards the waiting Rab. His look was brooding under the large cap. ‘Sorry - I forgot the time - have you been lookin’ for me long? I wouldn’t just have stayed without askin’. I was ganin’ to come back—’

  ‘It’s all right, lass,’ Rab interrupted, ‘you’re not in any bother.’

  He reached out and took her hand, giving it a friendly squeeze. Emmie felt relief flood through her. She loved the feel of Rab’s large warm hand wrapped around hers. Yet she puzzled why he said so little as they walked down the bank. Perhaps there had been a row at home? Or maybe Rab had courting trouble? He was nearly eighteen and she had noticed how older girls gave him looks and some bold ones called out to him as he passed in the street.

  She contented herself with walking beside him and glancing up now and again to see him smile back in reassurance. When they reached the back lane of China Street, it seemed unusually quiet for a May evening. No children played out late. Their neighbours’ back doors were closed. At the back gate, Rab hesitated. He looked down at her.

  ‘Emmie - I don’t know - I should tell you . . .’

  Emmie gazed up at him with a quizzical smile. He sighed and laid a gentle hand on her head.

  ‘You’re a grand lass,’ he said softly. ‘I’m s
orry.’

  She was baffled by his words. But before she could ask anything, he was steering her forward through the back door.

  Helen and Jonas were standing in the middle of the room, waiting. They looked at Rab, who shook his head. Helen rushed over and put her arms around Emmie, drawing her into her soft bosom.

  ‘Emmie, oh, Emmie. Come here and sit down, pet. We’ve something to tell you.’

  Emmie’s heart lurched at the alarm on their faces. Helen pulled her on to her knee.

  ‘Dr Jameson’s sent a message. There’s been fever in the town. Would’ve come herself but she’s rushed off her feet - and she’s Nell to see to.’

  ‘Nell?’ Emmie gasped. ‘What’s happened to Nell?’

  ‘Oh, no, pet, I’m saying it all wrong,’ Helen said in agitation. ‘Nell’s grand.’ She looked on the verge of tears.

  Jonas came forward and crouched on his hunkers beside them.

  ‘Lassie, your mother caught the fever. She died two days ago. We’re very sorry.’

  He laid a hand on her head, just like Rab had done, his hairy face creased in sorrow.

  ‘Mam?’ she gasped in bewilderment.

  Jonas nodded. Helen’s arms clutched her tighter. But it was her mother’s arms she wanted right then, her mother’s crooning and soft words.

  Emmie felt a huge sob rise up inside like a wave. She turned and buried her head in Helen’s lap and wept.

  Chapter 5

  The funeral was a week later. Jonas and Rab went, but no one suggested that Emmie go too.

  ‘I want to see Nelly,’ Emmie whimpered, clinging to Helen. ‘I want Nelly.’

  ‘Dr Jameson will bring her up to see you soon,’ Helen promised, trying to calm the girl. She had hardly spoken a word for days, but would not let Helen out of her sight. At night she cried in her sleep and wet the bed.

  The men walked into town on the Saturday afternoon and attended the dismal parish funeral. A handful of people were present, but Jonas recognised no one but Dr Jameson. She stood with a young fair-faced man in a dark coat, who nodded at them in a friendly fashion but disappeared quickly at the end.

  Afterwards, they stood around the unmarked grave.

  A drawn-faced Flora said, ‘There’s nothing to give Emmie. Everything had to be burned. By the time I got there it had all gone. I know there was a picture … I’m sorry.’

  Jonas shook his head. ‘You’ve done enough.’

  ‘Half Mary’s neighbours died in the epidemic,’ Flora said bitterly. ‘And now they’re going to knock the tenements down when they should have years ago. I was hoping to get Mary a job at the Settlement.’

  Jonas sighed. ‘She wouldn’t let us help. Said we were doing more than enough for Emmie.’

  Flora touched his arm. ‘You have. How is the poor girl?’

  ‘Lost her tongue,’ Jonas said sadly. ‘And she wants to see her sister.’

  ‘Of course,’ Flora nodded. ‘Nell is missing Emmie too. The sooner their futures are settled, the better.’

  They turned towards the cemetery gates. Jonas scratched his beard.

  ‘What will become of Nell?’ he asked.

  Flora turned to him in surprise. ‘She’ll continue to live with me, of course. She’s been doing so since Christmas, thank God, or she might not be alive today. Nell’s a bright girl, if a bit wilful, but she gets along well enough with my housekeeper, Mrs Raine. As my ward, she will learn book-keeping and clerking, so one day she can support herself.’

  ‘Not ganin’ on the stage then?’ Rab said wryly.

  Flora snorted. ‘I’ll make sure she keeps her feet on the ground.’

  At the gates, she turned to shake their hands. ‘You’re good people. Thank you for what you’ve done for Emmie. Once she comes to live with me and Nell, I’ll see she gets the best schooling and plenty of exercise. Perhaps we can come and visit from time to time?’

  Jonas and Rab gawped at her. ‘Live with you?’ Jonas queried. ‘Is that what Mary wanted?’

  Flora nodded. ‘In a way. She wanted her daughters to stay together - that’s what she wanted above everything. And Nell wants her sister back too.’

  Jonas said gruffly, ‘It’s just we’ve grown very fond of the wee lass.’

  ‘I know,’ Flora sympathised. ‘But no one expected you to take her on for ever. You’ve your own family to think about. I have no family - there’s room for the two girls at my house and I can provide for them.’

  She looked at the two men, surprised at their looks of dismay. ‘You did say Emmie wanted to be with Nell again, didn’t you?’

  ‘Aye,’ Jonas conceded.

  ‘We’ll come and fetch her next Saturday. It’ll be easier once Emmie and Nell see each other again,’ Flora encouraged.

  The men trudged home, subdued.

  ‘What gives the doctor the right to decide Emmie’s future?’ Rab was indignant. ‘Boasting about her housekeeper and a bigger wage.’

  ‘She’s right,’ Jonas answered sadly. ‘The lassies should stay together.’

  ‘Emmie should have a say in where she lives,’ Rab protested. ‘She’s not a possession to pass around.’

  ‘We knew she wouldn’t be with us for ever,’ Jonas warned. ‘Don’t you go stirring things up and making it harder for her to leave.’

  The MacRaes did not tell Emmie that night that she would be leaving Crawdene for good. Somehow they could not bring themselves to say it. She brightened at the news that Dr Jameson and Nell would be visiting the following Saturday. On Monday, she went back to school, her large sad eyes like deep pools in her pale face.

  At tea time she seemed brighter, chattering to Helen as she helped set the table.

  ‘Miss Downs says I can join in the races at Whit, now I’ve got me strength back. Will you come and watch, Auntie Helen?’

  Helen turned from the stove with a heavy heart.

  ‘Sit down a minute, pet,’ she said quietly. Only Peter was in the house. She knew it had been left up to her to break the news. She pulled Emmie on to the horsehair sofa, explaining how the doctor and Nell wished for her to go and live with them.

  ‘You’ll live in a grand house again - just like your mam and dad did when you were little. It’s what your mam would’ve wanted. And you’ll be with Nell - and the kind doctor. She’ll make sure you gan to a good school and learn your lessons.’

  Emmie’s eyes welled with tears.

  ‘But I like it here. Auntie Helen,’ she said in bewilderment. ‘Why can’t Nell come and live here with us?’

  Helen sighed. ‘Nell wouldn’t want to live in our little cottage, pet. The doctor can offer much more - for both of you.’ She stroked her hair. ‘You can come and visit as often as you like. Now let’s get the tea on before Uncle Jonas gets in.’

  She steeled herself against Emmie’s hurt look and quickly busied herself at the stove so the girl would not see her own tears.

  When Rab and Sam returned from the pit, Emmie looked at them mutely with accusing eyes. All week, the family tried to spoil her with treats, stories and trips to the store or woods, but Emmie did not respond. Her silence was worse than tears and angry words.

  ‘Shall I gan over to Blackton library and fetch you a book?’ Rab offered.

  ‘Would you like to have Louise round for tea on Friday?’ Helen asked.

  Emmie shook her head to both requests. She showed no interest, as if in her own mind she had already left them. She only spoke to ask questions about her new life, which the MacRaes could not answer.

  ‘What’s the doctor’s house like? Will I sleep with Nell? Can I gan to school with Miss Dillon again?’

  At night, Helen cried at the thought of her going, but Emmie slept peacefully.

  ‘See, the lassie’s got more sense than the pair of us,’ Jonas grunted as they lay sleepless, listening to her even breathing. ‘She knows what’s best for her.’

  Emmie watched Helen pack her clean laundry into her jute bag on Saturday morning without protest. She sat staring at R
ab and Sam as they ate plates of egg and fried bread before going off to their shift below ground.

  Rab forced the food down, only too aware of the dark-eyed gaze fixing him across the table.

  ‘Walk with us to the end of the lane, eh?’ he suggested. The girl said nothing.

  ‘Haway, Emmie,’ Sam cajoled, ‘Rab’ll tell you a story.’

  Helen watched her two eldest sons marching down the back street with Emmie between them, hand in hand. She marvelled at how gentle they had always been towards the girl, when they were used to rough ways with each other. At the end of the street, she saw them drop hands, ruffling Emmie’s dark curls and giving her bashful kisses on her head.

  Helen swallowed her tears. Emmie stood watching them stride up the hill until they were out of sight. How was it that this young girl had stolen into their hearts so completely in less than a year?

  Jonas paced around the kitchen, until Helen sent him off to the allotment.

  ‘Peter’ll fetch you when they come,’ she said briskly. ‘I can’t have you under me feet when I’m baking.’

  Emmie sat on the step with Peter, looking out for her sister. Peter chattered about the chickens and a retired pit pony he liked to feed in Lawson’s Paddock, seemingly unaware of the sadness of the occasion. The day was unusually airless and still, heat bouncing off the brick walls, dazzling the eyes.

  Emmie sensed the arrival of their visitors before she caught sight of the horse and trap. She stood up, shading her eyes to look. Helen came to the door in dread, sending Peter to summon his father.

  When Emmie set eyes on her sister, the numbness that had been holding her feelings in check dissolved. She ran up the street, arms flung wide, to greet Nell. The older girl met her in a big hug. They clung to each other and cried openly in the street.

  ‘There, there, girls,’ Flora said soothingly, steering them forward. ‘Best to go indoors.’