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

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  ‘Will you be all right?’ he asked her anxiously.

  Emmie nodded. ‘I’m visiting an old comrade.’

  ‘Rab MacRae?’ he questioned.

  ‘Aye.’

  When she tried to pay for her lift, he waved her away. ‘A friend of MacRae’s is a friend of mine - he taught me mam to read.’

  In the gloom, she almost missed the green-painted carriage nestling under a large oak and half covered in briars. It was the smell of wood smoke that drew her to the hidden dwelling. She had a sudden vivid memory of the cottage at The Grove - the smell of the wood stove, Barny and Rab fixing a fishing line in the doorway to catch the last of the light.

  ‘Anybody there?’ Emmie called out. She knocked. All was silent. She hesitated then opened the door and called again. Still there was no answer. Emmie went in.

  It was surprisingly roomy: a stove, a bed, a table with a lamp unlit, a solitary chair and a wall of shelves full of books and cooking pots. With a pang, Emmie saw a volume of poetry on a pile of sheet music by the bed. A world of words and music set in a forest - Rab’s world. Feeling like an intruder, she turned to leave when she heard a twig snapping under a boot outside. Moments later, Rab was ducking through the door. He gasped in surprise at the shadowy figure.

  ‘Who— Emmie, is that you?’

  ‘Aye, it is,’ she gulped. ‘I’m sorry, the door was open.’

  They stared at each other, completely lost for words. Rab moved first. He pulled out matches and crossed to the table, carefully lighting the lamp. Its weak blue flame shed a ghostly light.

  ‘Sit down, please.’ He indicated the bed. ‘Don’t have a comfy chair, sorry.’

  Emmie perched on the edge, watching him pour them stewed tea from a pot on the stove. He handed her a tin mug. Her hands were shaking as she took it. She had planned to tell him straight away about the children, beg his help in freeing them; now she did not know how to begin. He would think she was just using him, and perhaps she was. She had not worked out what she would do beyond the rescue.

  She sipped at the strong tea. Rab turned up the lamp until it glowed a warm yellow, chasing back the shadows. He had lost his gaunt, haunted look. His beard was fuller, his broad shoulders filling his jacket once more. The sudden swell of emotion Emmie felt for him was so strong, she had to look away. Glancing at the floor, she saw a pile of newspapers and leaflets. It was just like his room in India Street. He followed her look.

  ‘There are some of yours in there,’ he grunted.

  ‘Mine?’ Emmie queried.

  ‘Campaign leaflets from when you stood for the council. And articles you wrote before the peace conference. You’re doing well, Emmie.’

  She flushed in amazement. He had followed her at a distance, not forgotten her.

  ‘And you’ve joined the Communists. I met Ernie Tait at the conference.’

  ‘So that’s how you found me,’ Rab said, scrutinising her over the rim of his mug.

  ‘You didn’t want to be found, did you?’ Emmie questioned.

  Rab put down his mug. ‘You were getting on with your life, Emmie, just like you said you would. I didn’t want to stop any of that.’

  ‘But to be living here all this time and not even let me know … I didn’t even know if you were still alive!’ she accused.

  He shifted uneasily. ‘For a time I hardly was,’ he murmured, ‘after you went away. I nearly gave up, Emmie. Then Laurie got sick of me - said he was joining the CP and I could go with him or stay and rot in self-pity.’ Rab gave a sudden snort of laughter. ‘We ended up on this trip to Moscow, the pair of us. Worked on a collective farm for a month. Laurie met this lass on the way back - he’s still in Berlin, as far as I know.’

  ‘Why did you come back?’ Emmie asked. ‘No lass for you?’

  He leaned towards her, his gaze steady. ‘There’s never been any lass but you, Emmie.’

  She felt her heart twist. Trembling, she stood up and put her mug on the table.

  ‘Then why did you never come and find me?’ she challenged.

  ‘Cos you stopped loving me,’ he said simply, ‘and I couldn’t blame you. I didn’t love the man I’d become either - couldn’t see beyond my own troubles. Not like you, Emmie. You take on everyone’s burdens. I had to learn how to care again - love again.’

  Emmie swallowed. ‘So that’s why you came here - to be on your own - sort yourself out?’

  ‘Partly,’ Rab admitted. ‘But also to be near you.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Emmie puzzled.

  Rab’s voice was low and intense. ‘I couldn’t be with you but, being here, I could be near your bairns - my bairn. I’d been the cause of your separation, but at least I could keep an eye on them for you. I take an evening class once a week in Crawdene - I watch Barny come out of school and he waves to me.’

  Emmie was stunned. ‘You’ve seen Barny?’

  ‘Aye, and the wee lass. As bonny as you, is our Mary. I spoke to her once when she was blackberry picking.’

  Emmie cried out, ‘Oh, Rab!’ She stumbled towards him, holding out her arms.

  Catching her, he pulled her to him. They clung on tight, Emmie sobbing into his shoulder.

  ‘Our daughter, our bonny lass,’ she wept. ‘That’s why I came. Louise told me Tom’s out of control. She fears for the children. Nell’s got them. Did you know about Nell?’

  ‘Aye,’ Rab admitted.

  Emmie pulled away. ‘Since when?’

  Rab held on to her. ‘Your sister came back last year. I told Mam to say nothing to you. She wasn’t happy keeping you in the dark, but I knew how upsetting it would be - and you could do nothing about it. But recently it’s been getting worse. I confronted Nell - offered her money if she’d tret them right. She just laughed in my face - said they were Tom’s problem not hers.’ His grip tightened as he grew agitated in the retelling. ‘I went to Sergeant Graham, but he told me to stay away, said it was up to Tom how he brings up his own.’

  Emmie groaned. ‘Rab, help me save them!’

  He hugged her again and kissed her hair. ‘I’ll do anything you ask me, Emmie.’

  Tearfully, Emmie reached up and kissed him.

  ‘I need you more than ever,’ she whispered tenderly. ‘I’ve never stopped loving you, never. Please believe me.’

  Rab gave an exultant cry and kissed her back. His embrace was passionate and tender and full of longing. He was lightheaded at having found her again.

  Finally, Emmie pulled away. ‘Tonight, Rab - we must go tonight. I can’t wait any longer.’

  By the time they walked into Crawdene it was completely dark. The black, rain-laden sky was moonless. They made straight away to Berlin Terrace. Emmie walked into her own home by the back door and was immediately hit by the smell: dampness, rotting food, urine. The kitchen was cold, the fire out, the only light coming from a candle on the table. It spluttered in the sudden draught, nearly out.

  Rab took another from the mantelpiece and lit it. The house sounded deserted.

  ‘Tom?’ Emmie called boldly. ‘Nell?’

  Rab held up the candle, illuminating the unwashed crockery piled on the table, the clothes strewn over chairs, the hearth covered in ash and cigarette ends, the empty bottles.

  ‘The bedroom,’ Emmie urged, pushing Rab gently towards the closed door.

  It was locked. Rab noticed a bolt high up and pulled it back. It had never been there in Emmie’s time. They pushed open the door. The room smelled musty with a strong waft of stale urine. Rab knocked into a chamber pot that was brimming with unemptied slops. Emmie gagged as she groped towards the large iron bedstead. The bed was unmade and empty. Peering into the dark, she saw there was no truckle bed that used to stand under the window.

  ‘There’s no one here,’ Emmie hissed.

  Just then, they heard a small cough. Emmie crouched down and felt under the bed. She touched something warm and heard a gasp of fright.

  ‘Barny?’ she whispered. She leaned further into the dark and
grasped hold of a blanket, a warm shape beneath it. Someone whimpered in fear.

  ‘Rab, shine the candle down here,’ she said quickly.

  As the light flickered under the bed, Emmie saw a pale face with large, staring dark eyes.

  ‘Barny!’ she cried. ‘Pet lamb - it’s Mammy!’ She reached in and pulled at the rigid boy.

  He was shaking, gazing at her in suspicion, too terrified to speak. Emmie gathered him to her. He was long and skinny like a rabbit, his dark hair shorn close to his skull. ‘Barny, oh, Barny, don’t be afraid. Mammy’s got you, pet.’

  ‘Mammy?’ he puzzled.

  ‘Aye, it’s your mam,’ Rab smiled, gently rubbing the boy’s head. ‘You’re safe now.’

  In relief, Barny wriggled out of his blanket and wrapped his arms around his mother’s neck. He burst into tears. Emmie held him and rocked him in her arms, choking back the sobs in her own throat. To hold her son again gave her unimaginable joy.

  ‘You’re all right, bonny lad,’ she crooned. ‘Everything’s ganin’ to be all right from now on.’

  ‘Barny, where’s your sister?’ Rab asked more urgently.

  ‘Over there,’ he croaked, ‘in the bottom drawer.’

  Rab scrambled across the floor. Peering into the deep drawer of the wardrobe, he saw Mary lying in a nest of blankets, thumb in mouth, sound asleep. Gently he reached in and lifted her out. She started awake, her blue eyes widening in panic. The small girl let out a howl.

  Rab hushed her in reassurance. ‘I won’t harm you - I’m your daddy.’

  Cradling her on his shoulder, he left the candle on the floor. Emmie helped Barny to his feet. She stretched out to touch Mary.

  ‘My little lamb,’ she said tearfully. ‘You won’t remember me, but I’m your mam.’

  Mary gazed at her with uncomprehending eyes. Her chin trembled again, but the sight of Barny clutching the stranger seemed to calm her.

  ‘We’re taking you to safety,’ Emmie promised.

  Barny piped up. ‘Are we ganin’ to live with Uncle Laurie again and fish in the river?’

  Emmie and Rab exchanged looks.

  ‘No,’ Emmie said, ‘but Mr Runcie’s still with us.’

  Rab added, ‘And I’ll take you fishing in a different river - or maybes right down by the sea.’

  Emmie took Barny’s cold hand and felt a small answering squeeze that made her heart soar.

  ‘Come on, Emmie,’ Rab urged. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  Emmie searched around quickly for clothes but could find none.

  ‘Just wrap them in blankets,’ Rab suggested.

  As they made for the door, they heard shouts across the yard. Emmie froze. Barny began to whimper again, clinging on to his mother.

  ‘Th-that’s me da,’ he said in a small voice. ‘He’s been drinkin’.’

  Nell’s voice laughed harshly as she shouted back. Tom banged into something and cursed loudly.

  ‘Out the front door,’ Emmie ordered.

  They ran from the room and down the narrow corridor. Emmie seized the handle. The door was firmly bolted, no key in the lock. The back door banged open, blowing out the guttering candle. They could hear Nell laughing and Tom fumbling about and knocking into furniture as he tried to light a lamp.

  ‘Try the bedroom window,’ Emmie whispered.

  She followed Rab back, but as they passed the open door to the kitchen, the lamplight flared and Nell spotted them. She screamed. Mary wailed in fright. Rab turned to Emmie with a warm look of encouragement.

  ‘Follow me,’ he murmured and walked straight into the kitchen.

  When Tom saw them, he swayed in astonishment.

  ‘What the hell—’

  ‘Emmie!’ Nell cried in disbelief.

  Tom stared at her, open-mouthed, then focused on Rab. ‘What you doin’ here, MacRae? Put her down! She’s my lass.’

  Rab held on to the crying Mary. ‘You’re not fit to be anyone’s father,’ he said with contempt. ‘I’ve not seen animals tret worse. Mary’s mine and Emmie’s - and we’re taking her and Barny with us.’

  ‘Like hell you are!’ Tom snarled. ‘Mary’s good as mine. She makes up for the bairn Emmie lost in prison - that bairn would’ve lived if you hadn’t got my missus mixed up in bloody conchie business!’

  Emmie gasped, looking accusingly at Nell. ‘How dare you tell him!’

  Nell’s look was defensive. ‘What did it matter? Made Tom feel better about keeping the lass. And don’t blame me for finding a bit comfort where I can - you’ve always had it easier than me, always,’ she slurred with drunken self-pity. ‘Anyhow, your marriage was over - you’d got Rab. Isn’t that what you always wanted?’

  ‘I want my children,’ Emmie replied. ‘You’ve no right to keep them.’

  ‘But I have,’ Tom growled, shoving away a chair and lurching towards her.

  Quickly thrusting Mary into Emmie’s arms, Rab barred Tom’s way. Tom took a wild swing at him, which Rab dodged easily.

  ‘Come on, nancy boy pacifist,’ Tom goaded. ‘Fight me for ’em like a man.’ He lunged at Rab again, who blocked his fist and pushed him back. Tom fell into a chair.

  ‘Haway, Emmie,’ Rab said, turning quickly and steering Barny to the back door.

  Emmie hurried into the yard and was halfway across, carrying Mary, when Tom bawled behind them.

  ‘Stop, you’re not ganin’ anywhere!’

  Suddenly there was an ear-splitting crack. Emmie swung round to see Tom waving a gun at them. Her heart pounded in shock. The smell of gunshot filled the sharp air. Nell screamed. Rab was clutching his shoulder, his face set in a startled grimace.

  ‘Rab!’ Emmie cried in horror.

  ‘Oh my God, Tom!’ Nell whimpered in disbelief. ‘You’ve shot him.’

  ‘Go with the bairns,’ Rab panted, leaning against the yard wall.

  ‘No, she’s mine,’ Tom thundered, staggering across the yard, aiming the pistol at Rab’s head. ‘You’ll not take her, MacRae.’

  ‘No, Tom!’ Emmie cried.

  ‘Put the gun down, Tom, for God’s sake,’ Nell bawled.

  Barny clung to Emmie. Mary wailed loudly. Beyond there was noise in the back lane, running and shouting. Rab was hunched against the wall, Tom standing over him.

  ‘I’ll finish off the job the army should’ve done years ago,’ he raged. ‘Put you out yer misery, yer yellow-bellied bastard! If it wasn’t for you, Emmie would still be with me. You took what was mine, now I’m takin’ it back.’

  ‘She’s - not - yours for the taking,’ Rab answered breathlessly. ‘Emmie’s a woman - not a possession.’ He winced at the red-hot pain searing his shoulder.

  ‘Well, you’ll not have her,’ Tom said in fury, thrusting the gun at him and cocking it.

  Rab looked back in defiance. ‘You think you can take my freedom that easily?’ he grimaced. ‘I’ve - had - what no other man has had - real freedom with Emmie - freedom of mind - and - spirit… no one … can take … that away …’ Rab closed his eyes as the pain engulfed him.

  Emmie clutched at the children, hiding Barny’s face from the terrible scene.

  ‘Please, Tom, no!’ she begged. ‘Killin’ him won’t change anything. Let him live and be a father to Mary. That’s all I ask, Tom.’

  Tom swung round to face her, his features contorted in hatred. He stared at her blindly, then something in his expression changed.

  ‘I want you back, Emmie,’ he cried. ‘That’s all I want - for things to be like they always were - you and me and Barny. It wasn’t meant to be like this.’

  She gazed at him in disbelief. His angry face crumpled in despair.

  ‘I need you, Emmie …’ A noise rose up in his throat like the cry of a wounded animal.

  Emmie held his look. ‘Let us go, Tom,’ she pleaded softly. ‘Please let us go.’

  Suddenly, behind her came a shrill whistle and the stamp of running boots. The commotion in the back lane erupted into the yard. Johnny Collier and another policema
n pushed their way past Emmie.

  ‘Tom!’ Collier shouted. ‘Give me that.’ He stretched out his hand for the gun.

  Tom seemed on the point of handing it over, then hesitated.

  ‘Goodbye, Emmie,’ he whispered. Then in one swift move, he pressed the pistol to his temple and pulled the trigger.

  Chapter 42

  Tom’s suicide and the attempted murder of Rab were headline news the following few days, but Emmie did not read them. She stayed at the hospital keeping vigil by Rab, while Flora and Helen looked after her children. The bullet was removed, but Rab developed a high fever and his life hung on a thread.

  When she was allowed in to see him, Emmie stroked his head, talking to him quietly about the old days at China Street with his family, of India Street and the Blackton Messenger, of The Grove and their short months of happiness together. She sang to him and read poetry.

  ‘Don’t you dare die on me!’ she railed at him one afternoon, despairing of his pulling through.

  Charles came to sit and pray with him, even though they knew Rab would not want it. But Emmie would do anything to keep Rab alive.

  The next day, as she paced the hospital grounds, waiting to see him, Nell appeared.

  ‘I’m not stopping,’ she said defensively, before Emmie could speak. ‘Just came to say goodbye. I’ll not be bothering you again - I’m off for good this time. There’s nothing to keep me here.’

  They stared at each other. Emmie’s disgust at the way her sister had treated the children gave way to pity. Nell looked so forlorn despite her defiant words.

  ‘How’s Rab?’ Nell asked more gently.

  Emmie gulped. ‘Fighting for his life.’

  Unexpectedly, Nell dashed forward and hugged her. ‘I hope he pulls through. I know how you care for him.’ Nell kissed her forehead like she was a child. ‘I don’t know what it’s like to love a man,’ Nell murmured. ‘Apart from Da.’

  Emmie clung to her sister, swallowing tears. Then just as swiftly, Nell pulled away and turned to go.

  ‘Stay, Nelly.’ Emmie reached out. ‘I can’t bear to think of you with no place to live. Flora would help—’

  ‘No,’ Nell cut her off. ‘I’ve caused you all enough bother. Anyway, I’m off down Leeds to look for Jackman. Don’t worry about me.’