by Anne Douglas
He flushed and bit his lip.
‘You’re remembering what I said, I suppose.’
‘About tutors and students? Yes, well, you did say it was frowned on, forming friendships.’
‘I know, I know, I did say that. Look, everything will be fine when the course is over at the end of March. Then we won’t be tutor and student.’ He was relaxing, managing a smile. ‘Elinor, we can be just what we want to be.’
‘So, for now, like I said, we keep on as we are?’
‘For now.’ He looked along the narrow village street. ‘See, the café’s just here. Shall we have tea, then?’
‘Oh, yes, please!’
‘Are you hungry? I am. Must be this wonderful country air.’
Twenty-One
They were given the last free table in the tea room for, it being Saturday, the café was busy, but it was a table they might have chosen anyway, being in a corner and not too close to any other.
‘Now you can tell me more about yourself,’ Stephen was beginning with some satisfaction, when a tall young waitress appeared with the menu.
‘Scones, teabread, assorted fancies, pound cake,’ she reeled off, ‘and mince pies.’
‘Mince pies?’ Elinor repeated. ‘It’s no’ Christmas yet.’
‘We always serve mince pies in December,’ the waitress said firmly. ‘Folk like ’em.’
‘May we just have tea and buttered scones?’ Stephen asked. ‘And cakes afterwards? That all right, Elinor?’
‘Oh, yes, grand,’ she answered, but as soon as the waitress had gone, she turned to Stephen and groaned.
‘Mince pies! I’ve just remembered, I promised to make some for our do.’
‘What “do”?’
‘Why, we break up next week, and we all said we’d bring something for our party. You said it was what all the classes did.’
‘Oh, God!’ He put his hand through his fair hair. ‘I did say that, I remember, but it had gone right out of my mind that we’d be breaking for Christmas next week.’ He gave an apologetic laugh. ‘But you see what you’ve done to me, Elinor. There’s nothing in my head except you.’
‘No, no, when you’re taking our class, all that’s in your head is your work. Teaching us what we should know.’
‘I’m glad you think so, or I’d be feeling guilty.’
‘No more guilt.’
As the waitress brought their tea and scones and she began to busy herself with the tea things, Elinor shook her head at him, smiling, and he smiled back.
‘Come on, now, talk,’ he whispered. ‘As I keep saying, I want to know all about you.’
‘And I keep saying, there’s nothing much to say.’
She passed him a scone, took one herself.
‘You know my dad mends shoes for a living, and we live in Friar’s Wynd. Well, my grandfather was a cobbler, too, and Dad learned his trade from him, but he never had his own shop and neither has Dad. Grandad’s dead now. So are all the grandparents. We’ve very few relatives at all.’
‘But you’ve a brother, you once said?’
‘Cormack – we always call him Corrie. He’s two years younger than me, works at the tyre factory but wants to be a draughtsman. Thinks he might go to night school.’
‘I can give you all the information,’ Stephen said eagerly. ‘He sounds just the sort of chap we want to help.’
He covered her hand on the table.
‘You sound a very happy family, Elinor.’
She bent her head over her plate. ‘Things are better than they were,’ she said in a low voice.
‘How d’you mean?’
‘I don’t want to say too much, but Dad – well, he’s no’ the easiest of men. Still isn’t, though Ma says he’s mellowed a bit. We’re getting on better now.’
Stephen’s hand on hers tightened, his eyes sharpening.
‘Elinor, he – doesn’t . . .?’
‘No, no.’ She met his gaze. ‘Ma said we were lucky, he’s never been one for the belt. Just . . . well . . . likes his own way. Got a bit of a temper. Like some more tea?’
‘Please.’ He sat back, sighing. ‘Things can be difficult, I know, for some families.’
‘Cakes?’ asked the waitress, placing a loaded cake stand on the table. ‘I can recommend the macaroons.’
‘Your turn,’ Elinor said quietly, when the girl had gone. ‘Let me hear about you.’
‘Supposing I say, like you, there’s not much to tell?’
‘You could tell me about your father, anyway. I’m sorry he died.’
‘Yes, it was a tragedy for us. He worked in a bank, thought he might rise to manager.’ Stephen passed the cake stand to Elinor. ‘Then he caught a chill, it turned to pneumonia, and he never survived the crisis.’
‘The crisis?’ She shivered. ‘I know about that. I’ve heard of folk in the tenements going through it.’
‘Comes after about six days. Everything depends on how the temperature works. If it goes down, you recover.’ Stephen shrugged. ‘If it keeps going up, you don’t. Father didn’t.’
‘How old were you?’ she asked gently.
‘Twelve. My sister, Jeannie, was nine. It was hardest for Mother, of course, because she’d to carry on, bringing us up on very little money. She sold the house, moved to a flat, did a wonderful job, managing. An uncle paid for our schooling, I went to university, learned something about business in a city broker’s firm, but then when the WEA started up, I got interested. Thought it was just what was needed to help poor folk learn what they’d missed.’
‘Like me!’ Elinor cried. ‘Oh, you’ve got the right ideas, Stephen!’
‘The rest you know. There’s really no more to tell. Jeannie married and went to live in Canada; I’m still in Mother’s flat, looking round for my own house, working for the WEA.’ He leaned forward. ‘And very happy to be here with you, Elinor.’
‘No’ for much longer,’ she told him, suddenly rising. ‘I can see a clock over there and it’s time for me to go. I mustn’t be late.’
‘I’ll get the bill, but don’t worry. You’ll be back in time, I promise you. Just wish you hadn’t always to be watching the clock.’
‘Everybody watches the clock, Stephen, if they go to work.’
‘Not the way you have to watch it, though.’ He helped her on with her coat, watched her pull on her gloves, adjust her hat. ‘Forever worrying about being late.’
‘Nothing I can do about it, is there? If I want to keep my job?’
‘Aren’t you looking for something better? You’re wasted, doing what you do.’
‘You really think I could get something different?’ Her eyes glinted. ‘Because of your course?’
‘Because you’re you,’ he said quietly. ‘You have a good brain, Elinor, only you’ve never had the chance to use it. Like a lot of people, you’re held back by circumstances.’
‘Exactly what I say, Stephen,’ she told him eagerly. ‘Folk need chances, they need education. That’s what we should work for.’
‘I think you’re already on your way. Here’s the girl – I’ll pay the bill.’
In the train moving fast towards Waverley, Elinor, feeling so re-assured by what Stephen had said to her, had quite forgotten to think about the time until he told her again that she need have no worries.
‘It’s as I said, we’ve plenty of time, you’ll be back well before six.’
‘It’s been a lovely day, Stephen, I’ll never forget it.’
‘Why, it’s going to be the first of many, isn’t it?’ His smile was uneasy. ‘We’re not saying goodbye, you know. We’ll meet for our “do”, won’t we?’
‘But then there’ll be no more classes till January, and on days off, I’ll have to see the family. Ma’s looking forward to it.’
He lowered his eyes and for some moments was silent, as the train continued on its way. ‘How are we going to get through?’ he asked at last.
‘I don’t know. Things are difficult.’
‘
What about Christmas, then? Surely, we’ll meet over Christmas? Or do you have to spend every minute with your family?’
She sat, thinking, as the train began to slow down for its platform at Waverley. ‘Maybe Christmas Eve, we could meet? Miss Ainslie always closes the club on Christmas Day and Boxing Day, and we take it in turns to have Christmas Eve off. This year, I’m the lucky one.’
‘I’ll say!’ Stephen cried delightedly. ‘That sounds wonderful! Why didn’t you tell me about it before?’
‘I’ve only just thought of it. Look, we’re stopping. So, what time is it, Stephen?’
‘Oh, to hell with the time! Let’s look forward to Christmas Eve!’
‘Our “do” first,’ she reminded him. ‘And I’ve got to think of a way of making the wretched mince pies.’
‘One thing I needn’t worry about,’ he told her with a laugh, as they joined the crowds leaving the station. ‘But now I know when we’re going to meet again, I don’t feel so worried, anyway. Something to look forward to – that’s what I like, don’t you?’
She didn’t reply that things to look forward to had been rather rare in her life until then, only said she’d certainly be looking forward to their next meeting, mince pies or no mince pies. At which he took her hand.
‘Elinor, if we weren’t in the middle of Princes Street, I’d kiss you. In fact, I might, anyway, and to hell with anyone watching.’
Of course, he didn’t, but when they reached Maule’s Corner where they must part, she told him, teasingly, that if he was thinking about kissing, he’d better prepare himself for the party next Thursday. There were rumours that some of his students were bringing mistletoe.
‘Oh, no!’ he groaned. ‘Maybe I should be indisposed.’
‘No, no, you’re our tutor. Besides, you have to bring the lemonade.’
‘And you mustn’t forget the mince pies.’
‘As though I could!’
Their banter was light-hearted, but as she moved away, waving once, Stephen’s eyes were so tender on her, she knew she was looking ridiculously happy and had to straighten her smiling mouth as she went down the area steps to the kitchen.
Preparations for dinner were in full swing and Mrs Petrie was stirring pans and shouting orders like the captain of a ship, while Vera and Sal were scuttling about and Mattie and Ada were hurrying away with cutlery for the dining room, Gerda following with the glasses. Now was not the time to ask if she might have some oven space on Thursday, Elinor decided, but when would be the right time, she couldn’t imagine. At least no one was taking particular notice of her; no one would spot the happiness she was trying to conceal.
As she ran upstairs to change into her uniform, she let herself relax, look the way she felt, and when she studied her face in the bedroom mirror, was pleased with what she saw. True, she didn’t know where this special relationship with Stephen would go, but it wasn’t yet time to worry about that. Even if it went nowhere, she could enjoy it for now.
Twenty-Two
On the afternoon of the class party, Elinor had a piece of luck. Mrs Petrie graciously agreed that she could have stove time to make her mince pies, as long as she told Miss Ainslie, brought her own mincemeat, and made the time up.
‘Ma’s given me the mincemeat and I’ve already spoken to Miss Ainslie,’ Elinor replied. ‘She said I needn’t make the time up.’
‘Did she indeed?’ Mrs Petrie’s eyes snapped. ‘I don’t know how you lassies do it, but anything you want, you get, eh? Talk about twisting Miss Ainslie round your little finger!’
‘Och, she’s no’ as easy as all that!’ Mattie cried. ‘She doesn’t let us just do as we like, Mrs Petrie.’
‘Lets you get away with murder, you mean.’ Mrs Petrie sniffed. ‘Anyway, Elinor, you can make your pies but you’ll have to manage without me. I’ve to be away to the doctor’s about my knee, though he’ll just give me more of his horrible ointment, eh?’
‘I’m sorry to hear your knee’s bad again,’ Elinor said with genuine sympathy, though at the same time, her heart was singing. Mrs Petrie to be out? Not hanging over her, watching her every move? That was bliss, that was.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll manage,’ she said cheerfully. ‘And I’ll clear everything up, leave it neat as a pin.’
‘You’d better, but Vera’s going to keep an eye on you anyway, before she starts the afternoon teas. That right, Vera?’
‘Right, Mrs Petrie,’ Vera sighed.
As soon as Mrs Petrie had departed for her afternoon appointment and Sal had washed and cleared away the lunch dishes, Elinor and Vera set to work.
‘Here’s your flour and lard,’ Vera announced, clearing space on the table. ‘Sugar, if you want to add a wee bit to the mix, and your ma’s mincemeat. This is your bowl and rolling pin, your pastry cutters and baking tins – you’ll need to grease them first. Now, which oven d’you want to use? The stove, or the gas?’
‘Oh, Lordie, which is best?’
‘Well, Mrs Petrie hates the gas, but then she’s the only one knows how to get the stove just right, eh?’
‘Thought you did, Vera!’ Elinor cried worriedly. ‘I’m counting on you!’
‘Afraid it’s all guesswork with me. Let’s go for the gas, eh? I’ll light it for you.’
‘As long as you don’t blow us all up!’ Sal called. ‘I’m terrified o’ that gas, so I am!’
‘Come on, it’ll be fine.’ Vera, striking a match, stooped to light the despised gas oven in the corner. ‘There, by the time that’s hot, your pies’ll be ready to go in, Elinor. You do know how to make pastry, eh?’
‘Sure I do!’ Elinor retorted, though she wasn’t in fact sure at all, not having had much practice. ‘You just rub in the fat and add some water, eh?’
‘Let’s see you do it, then.’
Whether it was beginner’s luck or not, Elinor’s pastry turned out well. The gas cooker did its job, with Vera keeping an eye on progress, and it wasn’t long before Elinor was hanging over a fine collection of cooling mince pies and feeling absurdly pleased with herself.
‘Aye, you’ve done a grand job,’ Vera said, shaking a little sugar over the pies. ‘Mrs Petrie’s eyes’d drop out if she could see these. Thinks nobody can bake but herself, you ken.’
‘Must thank you, Vera, for all your help. Couldn’t have managed without you.’
‘That’s all right. We’ll just get Sal to do the washing-up, eh? This place looks like it’s been in a snowstorm!’
Elinor, however, insisted on clearing up herself, and it was only when all was tidy enough to pass inspection by Mrs Petrie’s eagle eye that the maids sank down at the kitchen table for a cup of tea. Sal had run out with the upstairs letters for posting, but would soon be back, and the others would be coming down for their break.
‘Wanting to see how you got on,’ Vera said with a laugh. ‘Amazed you’re baking, eh?’
‘So am I! I was regretting ever offering, but now I’m glad I did.’
‘Aye, the pies are first rate.’ Vera hesitated a moment. ‘Did you make ’em to please your young man, then?’
‘My young man?’ Elinor stared. ‘What young man?’
‘Why, the young man at this class you go to, of course. Everybody knows you’ve got one, Elinor.’
‘Well, I really don’t know how!’ Elinor retorted, her face glowing red. ‘I’ve never said I had a young man.’
‘Why, you were seen with him, eh? No point denying it.’
‘Who? Who saw me?’
‘Ada, last Saturday afternoon, at Maule’s Corner. It was her time off as well as yours, remember, and she was going to meet her Donald. She said your young man looked ever so nice, quite the gentleman, and seemed so pleased to see you. Then you both ran off, she couldn’t see where.’
‘Surprised she didn’t follow us,’ Elinor said coldly. ‘Seemingly, we’re no’ allowed any private life here, with folk spying on us all the time.’
‘Ada wasn’t spying. She just happened to see you. And
there’s always somebody to see you, if you don’t want to be seen, eh?’
‘I suppose so.’ Elinor gave a long sigh. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called Ada a spy. But she needn’t have told everybody.’
‘She didn’t tell everybody. I mean, Miss Ainslie doesn’t know, and neither does Mrs Petrie.’ Vera grinned. ‘You’ll be giving thanks for that. But you know the rest of us are interested, Elinor. We’re pleased for you. It’s nice for you to have a young man. Lord knows, it’s what we all want, eh?’
‘It’s just that . . . well, I don’t know what’s going to happen. Whether there’s a future for us or not. I was wanting to keep things quiet until I knew.’
‘I’m sorry, then. Maybe we shouldn’t have got to know your secret. But I’m sure there’s no need to worry. Ada said the nice young man looked really smitten.’ Vera stood up and began to gather their tea things together. ‘I’ll just get you some cake boxes to put your pies in – you can bring ’em back tomorrow.’
Twenty-Three
Knowing that all the girls she worked with now knew about Stephen made more difference to Elinor even than she might have imagined. It wasn’t just meeting their excited eyes at teatime that upset her – after all, with Mrs Petrie there, going on about her new knee ointment, no one would say anything; she needn’t worry about that. No, what really hurt was the fact that Stephen was no longer her special secret, but someone she shared with others. And those others would all be wondering and guessing how far her affair might go, which was the last thing she wanted when she didn’t even know herself.
As she changed to go to the class, putting on her best shirtwaist blouse in honour of the party, she felt a great searing feeling of regret that this change had come, for whatever Stephen’s reaction might be when she told him about it, things could never be quite the same again.
Because of his job, his responsibilities, he hadn’t wanted others to know about their association any more than she had, and now that some did know, there would be extra worry for them both. After all, she hadn’t yet told her folks that she was seeing her tutor out of class, and at the back of her mind, there was always anxiety over what her dad might say. He might just go back to his old ways and forbid her to see Stephen again. Might even throw her out, as he had done before. And only to think of risking that kind of trouble again made her feel surrounded by a cold, hostile wind.
