Moving On

by Millie Gray

  ‘No other way than to accept that she has witnessed such unimaginable horrors and been so maltreated that she might never recover well enough to make anything of her life.’

  Johnny sort of played a tune by continually blowing out his lips and put, put, putting. When the putting stopped he scratched his head before muttering more to himself, ‘Okay, say I accept that you’re telling me the truth, without any embroidery, then how come she has taken to Rosebud?’ He was for all intents and purposes looking and speaking to Connie but in reality he wasn’t seeing her. His mind could focus on nothing other than how his truculent five year old daughter could get through to this poor bairn when no one else could. Eventually he mumbled, ‘Connie, I know I’m not the brain of Britain but I’m not a dummy either and what I cannae fathom is how come our Rosebud is able to get this bairn to respond. After all, she’s only five. What I am trying to say is, how can she possibly understand enough to be able to help . . . what’s the wee lassie’s name again?’

  ‘Aliza . . . the wee soul is called Aliza . . . and I think that when she was born she was so beautiful that her mother, who obviously loved her so much, gave her a lovely name to match the joy she had brought to her parents.’

  ‘But . . .’ Johnny drawled and Connie could see that he was still trying to get his head round what she had told him.

  Rising slowly she went over and stood behind him and started to massage his rigid shoulders. ‘Johnny,’ she began as she tried to soothe him, ‘don’t be so hard on yourself. I didn’t sleep well last night as I tried to sort it all out in my mind. See when Kitty came in for a cuppa, before I could make anything for the lassie I blurted out the whole story. Told her I did I just couldn’t understand what had happened between Rosebud and Aliza.’ Connie sighed. ‘Kitty told me that Rosebud had not suffered anything like Aliza would have but she did have an understanding of what it felt like not to have your mother, your own mother, around you. Seems, Johnny, that as much as we have all tried . . . our Rosebud too is damaged. Her tantrums and, okay, not so much now, her shocking behaviour is her rebelling against her being cheated out of being the baby all the family loved and, more importantly, having an adoring mother. Kitty, and what a clever, sensitive lassie you have there, also thinks that Rosebud and Aliza will become soulmates and lifelong friends.

  Johnny had come into the house so happy that all his doubts about being able to be a good Member of Parliament were unfounded and he was bursting to tell his family he was more than making the grade. Now, as he reached up to his shoulders to still Connie’s hands he felt that somehow he was to blame for Sandra dying and the torment Rosebud had endured. Gently he began to massage Connie’s hands and he hoped that this action would convey to her just how much she meant to him now and he wished he could have spoken to her – said to her that he was sorry, so very sorry, about the unbearable grief she had felt about losing their baby.

  Although she was loathe to break the spell between them Connie knew she must also tell him that Davy, his youngest son, had not handled Sandra’s passing well. ‘Johnny,’ she began, ‘there is another problem we have to sort. I think we have not realised how badly your Davy has felt about his mum and Jack’s passing and Bobby disappearing out of his life . . .’

  Turning to face Connie he gulped before uttering, ‘What is wrong with Davy? He is the life and soul of the party.’

  ‘That’s the problem, he’s drinking too much. So we have to face that and do something about it before it ruins his life.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. When does he ever overindulge?’

  ‘Most nights,’ she emphasised. ‘And listen to me, Johnny lad, I demand that you do something about it . . . not only for Davy’s sake but I also do not wish our two wee girls to see him falling in the door unable to bite his fingers . . . like he did last Tuesday.’

  Saughton Hall Prison was no five-star hotel. It was like the Model Lodging House in Leith, a cold impersonal building for the housing of the vulnerable.

  It took effort on Nessie’s part to enter the jail where her son was detained. Today it was still August and the weather was exceptionally warm and yet she shivered as she felt the despair of not only her own son but of all the other inmates.

  Waiting for Eric to come through the locked doors she looked about the hall. Mothers, like herself, wives and girlfriends all dutifully attending, all with false smiles pasted on their faces. She huffed as she thought that they all would rather be outside in the back greens watching their washings dry in the sun. Today, being here was even harder for Nessie. Usually Connie would be with her and she would chat away about this, that and nothing at all, just so long as it distracted her. However, Kate hadn’t been able to look after Connie’s bairns because she had to attend a meeting at the school.

  Nessie thought that would be a difficult meeting because Kate and Hans thought that as Aliza was of school age they would have to enrol her. The term was due to start next week and Aliza was now speaking to everyone – but only through Rosebud. The problem now was that Rosebud was in the catchment area for Hermitage Park Primary School and Aliza for Leith Links Primary – this unfortunately meant that when Aliza started her schooling there would be no one there that she trusted to interpret for her.

  The meeting with Miss Henderson, the infant mistress at Leith Links School, was more painful than Kate had thought it would be. The supercilious woman’s voice booming off the wall suggesting that Aliza’s difficulties were such that she would be better catered for at Clarebank School for the mentally handicapped children and therefore she should be enrolled there, truly upset Kate. Resisting the desire to slap the woman, Kate’s response was to scream directly into her face, ‘But Miss Henderson, what benefit would there be in sending Aliza there when she is not mentally retarded – I repeat not mentally retarded?’

  Unfortunately, Miss Henderson, unaware of how much distress she was causing Kate, smiled sweetly before simpering, ‘And you would not need to take her or collect her from Clarebank School. You see, as all their pupils are incapable of getting themselves to and from school they are escorted on a special bus.’ Ignoring Kate’s utter dismay Miss Henderson continued, ‘And she would also not be subjected to the taunts and bullying of children who would not understand her . . . let’s say . . . difficulties.’

  Kate had never in her life known such uncontrollable anger rising up in her throat – rising so fast that she literally felt it choking her. Pushing back her chair she began to raise her right hand to slap Miss Henderson across the face. Luckily Hans, who should have attended with her but was delayed, had come in and unknown to Kate had witnessed Miss Henderson’s behaviour. All Kate knew was that before her hand was fully raised Hans had grabbed her elbow and very sweetly he bowed his head to Miss Henderson before saying, ‘Thank you so much for your information and understanding.’ Kate gasped and was about to challenge Hans and urge him to stand up to this demon of a teacher when quietly, but forcefully, he added, ‘I am aware that you are just repeating what the authorities’ guidelines state. However, before you retire there will have to be a whole new way of thinking about how schools teach children who are highly intelligent, as our daughter Aliza is, but do not learn in the conventional way. Now my wife and I bid you good day.’

  Before Nessie could divert her thoughts away from thinking of Kate and Aliza and how they were getting on at the school meeting she was surprised when Laura came in to join her.

  ‘I didn’t hope to see you today. I mean you visited our Eric just two weeks ago.’

  ‘I know, Mum, but as Connie couldn’t chum you and lavish all that moral support on you I thought I’d better pitch up to keep you company.’

  ‘Oh dear, Laura, see now that I know that the date for the start of the trial is Monday the 3rd of September, my stomach is just churning. Oh Laura, what if . . .’

  ‘Mum, don’t cross the bridges ’til you come to them. And talking of bridges here comes our Eric and if his facial expression is anything to go by it is jus
t as well I’m here to . . .’

  ‘Hold the coats,’ Eric suggested to Laura as he pulled out a chair from the other side of the table so he could obey regulations and face his visitors.

  Nessie tried not to let her apprehension show but she was unable to control the tremor in her voice when she said, ‘Well, son, not long to go now until you get your trial out of the way.’

  ‘Are you saying that I should be looking forward to getting a date for my hanging party?’

  ‘Eric, for goodness sake, think about Mum. You are her son. She loves you. She is demented thinking about what will happen to you if things don’t go well. Can’t you see that she spends all her time thinking about what she can do to help you?’ Eric remained stony faced. Laura then said, ‘Do you know she has even written to the King and asked if there is anything he could do to help you?’

  Eric’s derisive laughter echoed about the hall. ‘Wrote to bloody Georgie did she? Well if she hasn’t had a reply yet I can tell her he will do sweet Fanny Adams. I was all right to go out and fight for him and country but now the war is over nobody cares about what happens to the lads, like me, that gave their all while . . .’ He hesitated because he did not wish to say aloud that while he languished in a German Stalag, his wife . . . the unfaithful bitch that he should not have killed because she was not worth swinging for, not worth him being denied access to his young son for.

  Before Eric could go on, or Laura or Nessie could respond, the visitors’ door opened and in skipped Kitty followed by a rather distinguished gentleman, but as he advanced into the hall it was evident that he had had some sort of operation to his left eye which had left a small, twisted, protruding scar that detracted from his otherwise handsome face.

  Laura then blew out her lips in relief when Kitty literally danced towards the table. However, she did note that the man who appeared to be fascinated by Kitty slowly turned away and she was disappointed when it became evident that she was not being escorted by him. Nonetheless, when Kitty reached her friends, Eric’s upper lip twisted as he snarled, ‘Keeping company with bastards now, Kitty?’

  Taken aback, Kitty shrugged and looked about the room before replying, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Eric.’

  ‘That right? You waltz in here with Felix Martin, who was giving you the glad eye, and you say you don’t know who he is.’

  ‘I’ve already said, Eric, I don’t know the man.’ Kitty was beginning to bristle and she added, ‘And as to him . . . what did you say he was? And how would I know whether his parents were married or not?’

  Eric chuckled. ‘Aye, well it is true that his daddy couldnae stand by his mother because he already had a wife but when I say he is a bastard I’m not talking about his birth certificate.’

  Knowing that Kitty was more than rather against people being labelled “illegitimate” and then spending their lives being ridiculed because their parents were not married, Laura quickly interrupted with, ‘And how do you know the gentleman, Eric? I mean he looks rather professional and prosperous.’

  ‘Oh he is all that. And I can see you and Kitty are ready to toady to him and I hope after he persuades the judge that I should . . .’ Eric slipped his hands under his neck and stretched it.

  ‘Are you saying that he will be the one arguing the prosecution’s case in your trial?’

  ‘Aye, Mammy, and he takes delight in twisting everything that a witness says to him. See when my defence laddie . . . what’s his name again . . .?’

  ‘Bill Gracie,’ Laura confirmed for him.

  ‘Aye, well when he heard that Felix Martin, and by the way his mammy gave him that fancy name in the hope it would detract from him being a . . .’

  ‘Eric, you are upsetting Kitty by using that word.’

  ‘Oh and we all know that you wouldn’t be wanting darling Kitty upset, would you, Laura?’ Laura did not respond but her deep breathing spoke volumes. ‘But believe me he is,’ Eric added, ‘and a right one at that. Anyway back to Bill Gracie . . . he says that getting Felix Martin as prosecutor was a double-edged sword for us.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘It is bad news for me because Kitty’s pal will want to hang me out to dry. But if Bill Gracie can have it appear that he is able to hold his own against him then it will be of great benefit to his career.’

  ‘And who said politics all take place in Westminster?’ Kitty quipped.

  Relief seeped into Kate as she sat facing Miss Cameron, the infant mistress of Hermitage Park School. She had explained about Aliza and her dependency on Rosebud who was enrolled at Hermitage Park School and was due to start there on Monday week.

  ‘Now let me get this straight,’ Miss Cameron said nodding her head as she tried to take in all the information that Kate had imparted to her. ‘The child did not speak to anyone at all when she was rescued, is that correct?’

  Kate nodded. ‘The first person that she responded to was my niece, Rosebud.’

  In an effort to try to have Miss Cameron take Aliza into her school Kate started to speak so fast that Miss Cameron put up her hand to signal that she should slow down and repeat what she had just uttered.

  Swallowing and breathing in deeply, Kate calmed herself. ‘And I am not lying to you when I say Aliza is intelligent. In the few weeks that she has been interacting with Rosebud she had built a considerable vocabulary and can make herself understood.’

  Miss Cameron nodded again.

  ‘Can’t you see,’ Kate pleaded, ‘that it would be so wrong to send her to a, let’s say, special school, and have her prospects in life affected by such a wrong decision.’

  ‘And the boys you have taken on?’

  Kate gulped. ‘My husband . . . well I know schools have regulations and standards to keep . . . but after our experience at Links Primary, who had no hesitation in accepting to enrol the boys, well he thinks that it may be better . . .’ Kate was flustering. She firstly didn’t wish to say pay for them to go to Leith Academy. She was sure that would have Miss Cameron thinking that they knew that Leith Academy would not accept Aliza because there was an entrance test to be passed which Aliza would fail. Secondly, she was aware that Miss Cameron, being a practising Christian, believed it was her duty to bend over backwards to assist needy children. Naturally, Kate therefore wished Aliza to be under Miss Cameron’s guidance.

  ‘I see,’ Miss Cameron answered through pursed lips. ‘Well if that is how your husband feels, and as it would appear that the natural fathers of the children are dead, why don’t you try to have them schooled at George Heriot’s? They would be awarded bursary status there.’

  Miss Cameron’s remarks caught Kate off guard. She had never considered that the boys would be considered for such a superior school on a bursary basis.

  A few minutes passed before Kate heard Miss Cameron quietly drawl, ‘Now, Mrs Busek, here is what I think should happen.’ On hearing Miss Cameron speak Kate sat bolt upright and she almost shrieked with delight when Miss Cameron continued with, ‘That is we should try, in this school, to accommodate the little girl you are fostering. However, if it becomes apparent that the child should not be educated in a mainstream school, and that she continues to only respond through your niece, then we would require to have her assessed as to what kind of establishment would be best able to cater for her . . . special needs.’ Kate immediately nodded her agreement. What was being suggested was more than she had dared hoped for.

  The evening meal and the observations of the Jewish faith had just come to an end and the boys had gone upstairs to get themselves ready for bed when Kate said, ‘Hans, you know that I had an appointment to see Miss Cameron up at Hermitage Park?’

  Hans nodded. ‘Yes. I know that. I also know that you did not wish to say anything about that in front of the boys but I am anxious to know how your meeting went.’

  ‘Better, much better, than I hoped.’

  ‘So I take it that Aliza will be going to Hermitage Park School.’ Kate nodded. Hans sighed and as his
fingers started to rhythmically strum the table Kate could see that he was much relieved. She knew that there were other things about the children that they had to discuss and she wished to get these over with before Johnny arrived with Aliza and Rosebud, so deliberately seeming as if it was of no consequence she said, ‘You know, Hans, how you have said that you are going to make an appointment with the headmaster at Leith Academy?’

  Hans quickly replied, ‘Oh Kate, I meant to say to you that I have already made an appointment to see the headmaster about Amos and Ben being educated there.’ He paused. ‘And before you say anything I am well aware that we will have to pay fees to have them educated there. I have already enquired as to the cost and the fees seem to me to be very reasonable and, what is more important, they are affordable for us.’

  Kate’s broad grin indicated to Hans she was in no way worried about the fees and he was surprised when she moved her chair up beside him so that they could chat in confidence.

  Immediately Hans asked, ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘No. But, Hans, have you ever heard of a George Heriot?’ Hans shook his head. ‘Well,’ continued Kate, ‘when he died in 1624 he was a very wealthy man. He was a goldsmith to trade but he was also a Member of Parliament, a financier to King James . . .’

  ‘Is this a history lesson you’re giving me?’

  ‘No. Just be patient, Hans, and hear me out. In his will he left the bulk of his considerable fortune. Hans he left £23,625.10s and 3 pence a staggering sum at that time, to be used to build a hospital for the rearing and educating of “fatherless bairns” and that hospital became George Heriot’s School.’

  Looking bewildered Hans could only mutter, ‘That was a very good thing for him to do. But why are you telling me all this when we have so much to do to get our three children settled in schools?’

  ‘That’s just it. The school still goes on and it is now one of the most superior schools in Edinburgh. If we wished to have Amos and Ben educated there we wouldn’t be able afford the fees. But, Hans,’ Kate could hardly control her excitement as she blubbered, ‘they must adhere to the trust stipulations and so that today, right now I mean, they must provide places, bursary . . . or whatever, so that fatherless children may enjoy a privileged education.’