by Millie Gray
Johnny turned to Kate again. ‘Well your husband has just listed what I think is wrong with him but that is by the by. Have you noticed any of what he has just described in our mum?’
‘To be truthful, Johnny, I have to keep telling her what day of the week it is, the time, the month and she never knows whether she’s had a meal or not.’
‘Aye, but we all have days like that when we’re no sure what’s going on,’ Johnny blustered.
‘But yesterday, Johnny, she thought that the minister, who had called to see if she was all right, was trying as she said to get . . . well fresh with her! Mind you he’s new and I don’t think she likes the way he kisses everybody when he comes to the church door to thank them for coming.’
‘Kisses everybody? Surely no the men an all? Oh no, he’s no one of them?’
‘One of what?’ asked Kate.
Johnny was flustered. ‘You ken what I mean . . . men that dinnae ken . . . well . . . they just dinnae ken what they want to be.’
‘Are you meaning that they are not sure whether to stay Protestant or turn Roman Catholic?’
Coughing to control her embarrassment, Kate spluttered, ‘Something like that, Hans, but let’s get back to Mum. I mean where do you think she is?’
Johnny shrugged. ‘Your guess is as good as mine. Mind you, I hope she has not got in tow with that Jessie Ford who moved into the flat opposite us.’
‘Is there something wrong with this Jessie Ford?’ asked Hans.
‘Well, Hans, she didn’t get the name the Blonde Bombshell because she is explosive.’
‘Be fair, Johnny, I agree she is as thick as two short planks but her heart’s in the right place.’
‘You don’t agree with Kate?’
‘No, Hans, I don’t. And it has nothing to do with her being tarry fingered. Plenty of honest folk are that.’ Kate giggled because during the war Connie, Johnny’s now wife, supplemented the meagre rations by helping herself to all the contraband she could lay her hands on. ‘It’s just she’s a fast bit,’ Johnny continued, whilst running his finger around the inside of his shirt collar. ‘I mean Connie told me that last week she asked Mum to go to the pictures with her but it certainly wasn’t a James Mason that they saw . . . well they couldnae because Fairley’s notorious dance hall doesnae show films. Poor Mammy thought that they were there to help the sailor boys write home to their mums. But luckily, the laddies were looking for nubile eighteen-year-olds . . .’
‘So our Mum who is sixty-five wouldn’t be in any danger then.’ Kate, who was anxious to get the conversation on to how they were going to search for Jenny, butted in.
‘Aye you’re right there but being evicted because she was giving the place a bad name must have been very . . .’
‘Evicted? They never evicted our mother!’
‘They did! You see they have an age limit and from last week, not only do you need to be at least eighteen, but you have to look under forty!’
‘That’s enough from the two of you,’ an irritated Hans announced. ‘Now let’s go out and look for Jenny.’
‘Look for Mum? Oh, Hans, the whole population of Leith and their dogs are out celebrating the end of the war. I mean which crowd would we start with?’
Just then the door opened and in tottered a dishevelled Jenny.
‘Oh Mum,’ Kate gasped before placing her left hand over her mouth.
Hans went over and escorted Jenny towards a chair. ‘Where have you been, Jenny dear?’ he asked as he smoothed down her hair.
Lifting her hand Jenny stroked Hans’ face. ‘Don’t know where I’ve been. But I wanted to get back home and there were so many people, so much noise . . .’
‘Never mind, Jenny. You’re home now and you’re safe . . . so how about a nice cup of tea?’
Johnny had already left for the kitchen and he shouted back, ‘I’ll make the tea.’ Truth was emotion was overpowering him. The last thing he wished was for anyone to see that tears were brimming in his eyes . . . actually falling. Looking at his mother in disarray had upset him. After all, his mum who had always been so smart, so well groomed, and oh so proper – Johnny laughed inwardly as he recalled how she wouldn’t go out of the house without wearing a hat. ‘That is the difference between a woman and a lady,’ she would proclaim. ‘A woman will tie her hair up in a scarf – a lady always dons a hat.’ Johnny’s mirth now turned to sorrow. He just didn’t know how he was going to cope with watching his mum lose control. Watch day by day as the mother he knew changed.
‘Know something, Johnny,’ Kate simpered, ‘the kettle won’t boil if you don’t light the gas underneath it.’
Johnny nodded. ‘Aye.’ But instead of Johnny striking a match he threw his arms around Kate and the both of them swayed backwards and forwards as grief and fear engulfed them.
*
It was nine-thirty when Kitty and Dotty emerged from the nurses’ home. Both were clutching a late-night pass.
‘Look out everybody. The night shift has arrived and we are raring to go,’ Dotty yelled as she grabbed hold of Kitty’s arm and they started to run towards the top of Bangor Road where a very lively party was still in progress.
Kitty stopped abruptly to descend into fits of laughter. There at the top of the Bangor Road, where you could usually find Peggy selling plates of buckies during the day, sat the old Newhaven Fishwife still selling her wares.
‘Well if it’s not you, Kitty, Sandra’s pretty Kitty, then I don’t know who it is,’ the old Leith landmark chuckled as she filled a saucer of her vinegary doused delicacies and handed it to Kitty. Kitty fished in her purse to pay not only for her saucer of buckies but also Dotty’s.
‘No. No, lass,’ Peggy crooned. ‘Sure if I couldnae treat a couple of angels to a plate of buckies I would be in some poor state, so I would. Besides every time I see you I think you are growing more like your mum. Oh, your mammy, now there was a lass who could charm the birds out of the trees.’ The old woman grew serious and she leaned over towards Kitty. Kitty knew that Peggy was going to impart something to her that she did not wish the whole world to know so she bent down towards the old woman. ‘None of my business, you understand, Kitty.’ Kitty nodded. ‘But your granny was along here today with that Jessie Ford.’
‘Jessie Ford?’ queried Kitty.
‘Aye, her that got the house that your stepmother, Connie, had to give up when she got pinned on to your dad.’
‘Oh, I don’t know her . . . never met her.’
‘Then keep it that way.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, she frequents Fairley’s dance hall up in Leith Street so you’ll ken that she is more chased than chaste.’ Peggy’s lips were now pursed. ‘Mind you it’s hard to believe that her likes can claim to be a Bowtow. True Bowtow lassies wouldnae sell themselves for a dollar. Wouldnae sell themselves at all, unless they had got tired of living. And here, do you ken that Jessie is also running about with that Edna Stewart?’
‘But Edna Stewart is married to my pal Laura’s brother. Prisoner of war he is.’ Kitty started to chuckle. ‘Was. I mean after today all the prisoners will be free and on their way home.’
Peggy shook her head. ‘And see when he gets back, I hope the poor laddie gies his Edna a right good doing. And she has asked for it. Honestly, I was talking to his mother, Nessie, and she was saying . . .’ Peggy was now cocking her head knowingly, ‘that her Eric will no be hearing from her what Edna’s been up to. Mind you with her having a year-old toddler and him having been a prisoner of war since Dunkirk, I don’t think any of us will have to say anything. I mean the proof is running about in shitty nappies. But ken this, there is something I would take pleasure in telling him, and that is just what a lazy dirty bitch he got himself hitched to.’
Kitty and Dotty had finished their buckies and Kitty passed the saucers back to Peggy who waggled them ‘clean’ in a pail of water that had been at her side all day.
The girls said their goodbyes to Peggy and had just started to wal
k towards a street party that was being held on the Junction Bridge when Dotty drew up and wiped her hand over her mouth. ‘Here, Kitty.’ She began rhythmically patting her cheeks. ‘That pail that Peggy washed the plates in . . . well I mean it’s a right cesspit is it not?’
‘Possible . . . but see her and her mother Maggie, who sits on the other side of the street from the crack of dawn until late afternoon, they sit there gutting and selling the fish that their menfolk have caught . . . and Leith folk depend on them for cheap, nourishing, wholesome food, and okay the hygiene is not what Matron would tolerate, but to date nobody in Leith has ever died because of it.’
Dotty shrugged. ‘Aye, you might be right about the fish but tell me about the fishy tale?’
‘Buckies don’t have tails.’
‘You know fine what I mean. This story about Edna . . . I just couldn’t believe it. I mean I’ve been out with Laura and you so often and all she has ever spoken about is her nephew . . . you know, the wee lad that’s going to school in August . . . what’s his name? Come on, Kitty, stop playing the fool.’
‘I’m not playing the fool, Dotty. Oh Dotty . . .’
‘What?’
‘Laura’s brother, Eric, well . . . you have to know their Mother, Mrs Stewart, who everybody calls Nessie, to understand everything. You see when Edna told Eric she was well . . .’
‘In the family way.’
Kitty nodded. ‘And Mrs Stewart, like my granny Jenny would have done, insisted that he marry Edna. To be truthful most people thought where Edna was concerned that the, “Last Man Freed All” but Eric loved Edna and could see no wrong in her, so they married. He was idle when war broke out so he enlisted. The lad just wanted a steady wage coming in for his wife and his wee newborn son.’
‘Is that wee Billy that Laura is always on about?’
Kitty nodded. ‘Aye, he mainly stays at Granny Stewart’s. To be truthful he thinks Laura is his mother!’
‘What?!’
‘And what do you think Eric will think of that?’
‘Like everybody else he’ll probably think that if his mum and Laura had left the bringing up of Billy to Edna she might not have gone off the rails.’
Dotty stopped abruptly and grabbed Kitty’s arm and pulled her around to face her. ‘Kitty, for heaven’s sake . . . what I mean is . . . stop being your usual diplomatic self and spit out what the story is all about.’
‘It’s just that when Edna asked Mrs Stewart if she would look after Billy to let her go out and do some war work, well, Mrs Stewart was delighted that Edna wanted to do something to help get the war ended. It wasn’t her fault that Edna’s idea of servicing the forces wasn’t making soup and sandwiches for them.’
‘And now Eric will be coming home and there is the wee lassie . . . Dotty, sure the bairn is not to blame but most folk, especially Mrs Stewart, won’t look at her . . . what kind of a life is that bairn going to have?’
‘Will that not depend on how Eric receives the wee lassie?’
Kitty nodded and smiled. ‘Och, you’re so right, Dotty. I’m just forgetting how he stood by Edna when wee Billy was on the way. So if he got his arithmetic wrong then he could get it wrong again and things could work out okay.’
‘Are you joking?’
‘No. You see Eric is a quiet lad. Honestly I have never ever heard him shout. Even when the men in the pub were all going on about Hibs’ chances of winning the Scottish Cup, he never lost it. So there’s every chance he won’t get his running shoes on.’
Dotty pursed her lips and nodded. ‘Kitty, know what has just dawned on me? The way you go on about Eric, did you ever have a . . . well . . . sort of have a fancy for him?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Dotty. I am just coming up twenty years old and I have no intention of getting mixed up with any old man of twenty five.’ Dotty’s response was to pucker up her face so Kitty was forced to spit, ‘And you can pull all the faces you like, Dotty, but get this straight – the very idea of an old man making love to me makes me shudder.’
Dotty’s reaction was to laugh out heartily. ‘And what about handsome, dashing Doctor Dougal having the hots for you and he must be . . .?’ Dotty stopped and then pretended to work out on her fingers just how old Dougal was.
Irritated by Dotty’s actions Kitty was about to rage in retaliation, but when she looked ahead her jaw dropped. There in the State Picture House doorway was Doctor Dougal McNeill, who had begged her, actually begged her, to go to the pictures with him, shamelessly cornering a giggling Audrey Skillon. Although incensed by this spectacle Kitty pretended to mellow and purred, ‘Dotty, my dear, why don’t you just turn around and you’ll see that when Audrey Skillon is about I’m not even in the running.’
‘Okay, that might all be true but take my word for it – he does fancy you.’ Dotty sighed before forlornly adding, ‘But what’s the poor guy going to do when he finds out that you wouldn’t be able to cope with an old man creeping over you.’
‘What on earth are you talking about now?’
Dotty stopped to count on her fingers again before drawling, ‘Now correct me if I’m wrong, Kitty, but he must be going on, twenty-six or is it . . . twenty-seven years old!’
By the time Johnny had pulled himself together and had sat down to talk things over with Kate and Hans, about what they would need to do about Jenny, his beloved dependable mother, an hour had passed. As they went round and round the alternatives it became evident that they could reach no conclusion that suited them all. The main stumbling block was that Johnny wished the problem to be kept from the outside world, thinking they should stand together and protect Jenny. Kate did see his point of view but she felt that they should consult Doctor Hannah, who had known Jenny since he had taken up practice in Leith several years ago. Johnny could see her reasoning but he quietly asked, ‘But what if Doctor Hannah thinks that as Mum is not reasoning well . . .’ He gulped before adding, ‘Or is losing her mind . . . he might have her put away in the . . .’ he gulped again but this time with a shudder before adding, ‘the loony bin.’
‘Loony bin,’ queried Hans. ‘What does Johnny mean by loony bin?’
‘You have to excuse him, Hans. My dear brother has always had difficulty in remembering when he is at home and not on the shop floor or standing in the sawdust.’
Johnny’s face fired. ‘Sorry, what I mean is the Royal Edinburgh Hospital in Morningside who deal with people who have . . . well they are not . . .’ It was obvious that Johnny was struggling to find words that would not offend Kate again.
Coming to his rescue Kate said, ‘Quite as well in their mind as they should be.’
‘But surely your mother is just suffering from what that German Doctor Alzheimer has diagnosed.’
‘And what exactly is that?’ snapped Johnny.
‘Just, as I have already said, an old person’s condition where they get a bit forgetful. But they can get by . . . all they need is a bit of help from their loving families.’
However, before either Kate or Johnny could enquire further of Hans, a rather disorientated Jenny stumbled back into the room.
‘Mum,’ Kate cried as she skipped over and took her mother into her arms. ‘I’ve just tucked you up in bed . . . so why did you get up again?’
Jenny could only shrug. Completely ignoring Kate she looked about the room and from her demeanour it was evident that she was having difficulty recognising everything – putting it all into place in her mind.
It was then Kate decided to guide her mother over to the sofa where she sat her down. Glancing at Johnny, whom she noticed was looking as if he was trying to imitate a gasping fish, she said, ‘Johnny, you go and make Mum some tea and I’ll sit here with her. Hans, you can make yourself useful by tending to the fire.’
‘But it is not cold,’ Hans protested, looking over at the open windows.
‘You mightn’t be shivering but my mum is, so just blooming put a match to the fire, and close the blinking windows.’
T
hree hours later, when it was well past eleven o’clock, Johnny managed to get himself home. As he had approached his tenement home he had glanced up at his flat and saw that Connie had opened the top windows to allow fresh air to circulate around the house.
Every step that he took as he mounted the stairs was laboured. The day had started out with disappointment in that he had not been nominated as the first choice for the parliamentary seat of his beloved Leith. And by rights, with all the fighting he had done for better working conditions for the workforce, it should have been his, and yet it had been handed to Hoy – and why? – because he was a brainbox – a clever – aye too clever by half boyo. But then, as he hesitated, with his foot on the first step of the final flight to his house, he conceded he had been first choice for the Wider Granton area and that was where most of his workmates were, or would be, housed in the new housing estates there. He had been so buoyed up by Jock when he had pointed out what a chance he had been handed. Then when he had got home to tell Connie – his Connie, who had brought back the sunshine into his life – well – if he did win the election how could he possibly go off to London and leave Connie at forty years of age to cope with three bairns – one not even born yet? He was now at his front door, but before he could fish in his pocket for the key, the door opened and Connie, dressed in a nightgown and smelling of Palmolive soap, stood aside to let him enter.
‘Darling, where on earth have you been? I’ve been so worried. You said you wouldn’t be long as you had things to discuss with me.’
Johnny shook his head before slumping down on to his old, worn but very comfy armchair.
‘Something amiss, darling?’
Looking from the window Johnny became aware that this was the first night that the blackouts had not had to be pulled over and he smiled when he saw a slight reflection of the moon.
Delaying responding to Connie, he thought about how he had really believed that when the war was at last over it would all be plain sailing in his life. Yet here he was with the dream that he had so wished for – although he told everyone that being a Member of Parliament was not for the likes of him – within his grasp and yet it was now to be so cruelly snatched from him. And not because he wasn’t suitable or able – oh no, it was because of his family circumstances. Connie saw him nod as he thought that there would have been a slight chance of his going to London if it was just Connie and the children that he would have to make arrangements for assistance, but his mind was now back to Kate . . .
