The Shipbuilder’s Daughter

by Emma Fraser

  ‘Of course,’ she said automatically.

  Robert took her hand. ‘Now you’ve finished your exams, we should set a date for the wedding. I was thinking about next summer.’

  She did her best to hide her dismay. Yet she’d known this conversation was bound to come up sooner rather than later, and wasn’t marriage to Robert what she wanted? He was a good, kind, undemanding man. It just felt too soon. Perhaps because she was over-tired and out of sorts? The visit to Govan had shaken her.

  He frowned down at her bare fingers. ‘You’re not wearing your ring! Should I take that as a bad omen?’

  She’d slipped off her gloves before they’d started eating and had completely forgotten about her engagement ring.

  As she explained about Lisa, her voice wobbled. But Robert didn’t appear to notice her distress. On the contrary his lips had tightened.

  ‘You gave your ring to a child from a slum! Do you have any idea how much it cost?’

  ‘Yes, I mean no. I’m sure it was expensive, but we’ll get another one.’

  ‘Get another one? And where do you think I’ll find the money?’

  A chill crawled along her spine. ‘I’ll do without then. You can’t mind that I gave it away. That child and her aunt had nothing, Robert – nothing. Between us we have more money than we know what to do with. When we marry I hope we can use some of it to help those less fortunate than ourselves.’

  A strange expression crossed Robert’s face. ‘So you are still intending to marry me, then?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Next summer?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Robert, could this wait until you get back? I have a bit of a headache.’ She withdrew her hands from his and rubbed her temples with her fingers.

  His face softened. ‘You do look tired, darling,’ he murmured. ‘And I have an early train to catch in the morning. Shall we call it a night?’

  As he helped her on with her coat, he bent his head to whisper in her ear. ‘I don’t really mind about the ring, my love, it’s just that I want everyone to know you’re mine.’ He kissed her ear lobe. ‘I can’t wait to make you my wife. Promise we’ll set a date as soon as I get back.’

  Chapter 4

  When Betty, the upstairs maid, woke Margaret the next morning, it felt as if she hadn’t slept at all. She’d tossed and turned all night thinking of little Lisa. The sooner she spoke to her father, the better.

  Telling Betty to leave the tea tray on the table, Margaret dismissed her and sat at her dressing table to brush out her long hair. Dark circles ringed her eyes, making them seem a deeper blue. She didn’t look like a bride-to-be who had everything to look forward to: she looked miserable, like a woman who’d been given a death sentence.

  She laid her hairbrush down and selected a dress from her wardrobe that she particularly liked for the way it matched her eyes and slipped it on. Then she pinched her cheeks with her fingers and applied some lipstick. Now she looked more like herself. Like a woman who knew what she wanted and how to get it, not the pale version of herself that had stared back at her earlier.

  She was pleasantly surprised to find her father still at breakfast when she went downstairs, although it was almost nine o’clock. Normally he left for the office before seven, having breakfasted alone at six. He rose to his feet, smiling broadly. He so rarely smiled that when he did, it was like a gift. Her spirits lifted. He was in a good mood which would make it much easier to broach the subject of Govan.

  ‘Good morning, my dear. Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Yes, Father,’ she lied. ‘Aren’t you going into the office today?’

  ‘In a while, but I wished to speak to you first.’

  ‘And I have something I’d like to discuss with you.’

  His smile grew wider. ‘I thought you might.’ He waited until she’d served herself with some scrambled egg from the side table and the servant had poured her coffee before indicating with an impatient flick of his finger that he should withdraw.

  ‘Robert had a word with me yesterday, as perhaps he told you,’ he said, when they were alone. He smiled again. ‘He’s asked me if I would be happy if you set a date for your wedding for next summer.’

  She laid her fork down. ‘I think it’s something he and I should have discussed before he approached you,’ she said quietly.

  ‘The way of the aristocracy, I assume. We shall get used to it. Besides, we had other matters we needed to speak about. It only came up because it was part of that conversation.’

  ‘What matters?’ she said, baffled.

  ‘Business, my dear. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about.’

  She recalled what Lillian had said yesterday in the public house and a ripple of unease ran up her spine. ‘This pretty head, Father, happens to have a good brain in it. What, may I ask, has our wedding to do with business?’

  ‘It has everything to do with it. Connections are everything – especially the right connections.’ He beamed again. ‘He’ll be Lord Locksley one day and you shall be Lady Locksley. That will make everyone sit up, eh?’

  ‘Father, I’m not marrying for a title, I’m marrying for love. Besides I’m not ready to set a date.’

  Her father frowned. ‘What do you mean? You have been engaged this last year. Long enough by anyone’s standards.’ Her father threw down his napkin. ‘You are twenty-five, Margaret. Many women your age are married with children. I’ve indulged you. I allowed you to go to university, but always on condition that when the time came you would do your duty.’

  ‘Duty, Father? We don’t live in the Victorian age any more. People marry for love, not for duty.’

  ‘Other people, perhaps, but not the Bannatynes. Since Sebastian and Fletcher lost their lives, you and I have both known what is expected of you.’ His voice softened. ‘Had they lived you could have done as you pleased – my sons would have taken over the business and provided me with an heir to inherit.’ He shrugged, his eyes bleak. ‘Now you are all I have left and I only want what is best for you. I want you to be happy. Haven’t I done everything in my power to do that? Given you everything money can buy – dresses, jewels, furs, trips abroad. All I do, everything I do, is for you – and one day your sons.’

  She threaded her hands together and placed them in her lap, so he couldn’t see that they were shaking. It was ridiculous to feel so nervous of one’s father. ‘You’ve given me everything you thought I wanted, Father, and for that I thank you. But it is not what I want.’

  ‘Want? What has want got to do with it?’ He placed his hands on the table, and glowered at her. ‘It’s time you gave all that doctoring nonsense up and settled down.’

  ‘I can’t! Not yet! I have a job, Father. I just need to work for a while longer. A year, that’s all. What’s the point in all the years of training if I can’t make myself useful?’ She swallowed. ‘I visited Govan yesterday. Do you have any idea how people live there? They are without food, without a decent roof over their heads, without access to medical care. Many of them work in your shipyard or have worked there and have been laid off. Do you know what being out of work means for them? I’m sure you couldn’t, otherwise —’

  ‘What possessed you to go there?’ he interrupted.

  ‘I —’ She knew that to tell him about Alasdair would infuriate him further. ‘I’m a Bannatyne as you say, I wanted to see for myself how the people we employ – or used to employ – live. Surely that’s what a decent employer does?’

  He threw his napkin on the table. ‘How dare you lecture me? What do you know about running a business? What interest have you ever taken before? Why do you think people pour into this city from all over the world? Because men like me and my father before me have made it wealthy.’ He was breathing so hard, Margaret was becoming concerned. ‘They had plenty when times were good – you never heard them complain then. But when times were lean – they wanted more. And when they didn’t get it they went on strike! And look where that got them. If they don’t have money t
hey only have themselves to blame.’

  ‘Father!’ Margaret said, shocked. ‘You don’t mean that. What about the children? How can they be held responsible for their fathers’ actions? And the wives – and those who can’t work because they are injured – or sick?’

  ‘You haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. That’s why I need you to marry. A man would never think the way you do – a man would understand that a business has to be profitable.’

  Margaret took a deep, steadying breath. This was not how she’d imagined their conversation to go.

  ‘Please, Father, let’s not argue. I haven’t said I’ll not marry Robert. I just need more time. He’s away for a week or so. By the time he comes back from London, I’ll be ready to set a date.’

  Her father stalked to the door and flung it open. ‘Just make sure you do because, my girl, if you don’t, you may find yourself without a home or any way to support yourself.’

  Reeling from their argument, Margaret sat stunned. Her father had never spoken to her like that. Then again, she thought ruefully, they’d rarely spoken at all – at least not about anything that mattered. But she wasn’t a chattel who he could tell what to do! And as for her father donating money to Govan, clearly she’d been deluding herself. But when she married Robert she’d have control of her fortune and could do with it what she liked. If Robert agreed. Nothing in her conversation with him last night had indicated that he’d felt that they had a duty to others. However, she was certain that eventually she could talk Robert round. He loved her, after all – if only she could be sure how she felt about him.

  You were until you met Alasdair Morrison again, a voice inside her whispered. She shook her head. That was ridiculous! She’d only met Alasdair twice, and he was difficult, contrary and disapproving. Yet – yet, Robert had never made her feel as if every cell in her body was alive, the way Alasdair had.

  The realisation brought her up short. She was intrigued by Alasdair. He was different and she’d enjoyed sparring with him. But… attracted to him? She was suffering from pre-wedding jitters, that was all.

  She crumpled her napkin and pushed back her chair. Robert would return from London before long and then everything would be as it should be.

  She paced the floor as the day stretched in front of her. There were all the books she’d promised herself to read, some embroidery she wanted to finish, or she could telephone Lillian and ask if she wanted to meet for lunch, but none of these options appealed to her.

  She made up her mind. Returning to her bedroom, she redressed in a plain suit and the blouse she normally wore when working on the wards. Catching sight of the teddy she’d had since a child, she picked it up and stuffed it into her handbag. Back downstairs she pinned her hat to her hair, took her umbrella from the stand by the door, shrugged into her coat and lifted her medical bag. She was going back to Govan.

  Chapter 5

  Margaret took a tram to Partick and then the ferry, alighting at the same place she’d boarded the day before. The day was grey and miserable, matching her mood.

  She’d only walked a few yards when a man wearing a leather jacket stepped in front of her.

  ‘Now then, darlin’,’ he said, in a broad Glaswegian accent. ‘Where might you be aff tae?’

  ‘You’re blocking my way,’ Margaret said sharply. She was in no mood to be trifled with.

  ‘Well now, so I am.’ He made no move to let her pass and instead reached out and touched the fur collar of her coat. ‘Very nice.’ He grinned, revealing a mouth full of rotten teeth.

  She slapped his hand away. ‘Get your hands off me.’

  The smile left his face and Margaret felt the first stirring of alarm. But what could he do to her in broad daylight? However, as two men appeared and took up a stance either side of him, her anxiety increased.

  ‘Who do you have here, Billy?’ one of them asked. He too was wearing a leather jacket. ‘I doubt the missus will be too pleased to find you’ve got a new girl.’

  Glancing around she noticed several people watching but none of them made a move to help. Amongst them was little Johnny – Mairi and Toni’s son. The child caught her eye and darted away. She couldn’t blame him. What help could a child not much higher than her knee offer?

  ‘I’m not his girl,’ Margaret snapped. ‘Now if you’ll let me get on my way, I’ll bid you good day.’

  ‘I’ll bid you good day,’ the second man mimicked. ‘You’re going up in the world, Billy. Always knew you liked them posh.’

  She lifted her chin and stepped to the side, determined to pass, but Billy moved at the same time, blocking her path. More men had gathered behind him and she could sense several others behind her. Now she was surrounded. Her heart was beating so fast she could feel the blood pumping in her veins.

  Billy wrenched her handbag from her hand. ‘What’s in here then?’ He opened it, pulled out the teddy bear and laughed. ‘This’ll no’ buy much.’ He tossed it on the ground and grabbed her medical bag from her other hand. ‘This looks more promising.’

  Margaret tried to snatch it back, but Billy held it above his head and out of her reach.

  ‘Leave her alone,’ a voice she recognised came from behind her and she almost sagged with relief.

  ‘She your woman, Morrison?’ Billy said. ‘Well then. I would never have guessed.’

  Alasdair stepped in front of her, shielding her with his body. ‘Give her things back to her and get on your way,’ he said grimly.

  ‘I don’t think I’m going to do that, Morrison,’ Billy replied. He placed her bags on the ground and a knife appeared in his hand. ‘You shouldn’t have got involved.’

  In the blink of an eye, Alasdair had grabbed Billy by the arm and shoved him against a nearby wall and placed his forearm across Billy’s throat. He twisted the arm holding the knife up Billy’s back and the knife clattered to the ground. ‘You or any of your gang come within a foot of her again and you’ll have me to answer to,’ Alasdair snarled. The primitive, savage look in his eyes chilled her to her core.

  ‘You and what bloody army, Morrison?’ one of the men who’d been with Billy said, jutting out his chin. He moved his hand towards the wide leather belt he was wearing.

  ‘Us, lad, us.’ The group of men who’d been standing behind her stepped forward as one.

  ‘This isn’t the last of it, Morrison,’ Billy muttered as Alasdair released him. ‘You won’t always have that lot watching your back.’ With one last scowl in her direction, he and his companions disappeared into a nearby street.

  ‘Thanks, Paddy,’ Alasdair said to the man who appeared to be the leader of the group that had come to their aid.

  ‘No bother, lad. You’re one of us, like it or no. And we take care of our own.’

  ‘I was on top of it.’

  ‘Not much one man can do against three,’ Paddy said affably. ‘Billy’s Boys don’t fight fair.’

  Alasdair grinned. ‘Neither do I. Now you lot better get going before the polis turn up.’

  As the crowd dispersed Alasdair took hold of Margaret’s elbow and hurried her up the street. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he growled. ‘Didn’t I warn you about the razor gangs!’

  She shook her arm free. ‘Didn’t you say that they owed you for representing them? Didn’t look like it to me.’

  ‘Not the Billy Boys, no. They have no reason to like me. They’re dangerous men, not to be messed with. You were damned lucky I was at Toni’s when Johnny ran up to tell us what was happening. God knows what they could have done to you!’

  ‘I wanted to see Lisa.’

  ‘You should have let me know you were planning on coming. I would have met you.’

  ‘How was I supposed to let you know?’ She glared at him, determined not to let him see how shaken she was.

  Alasdair pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket and removed a pencil from behind his ear. ‘This is my landlady’s neighbour’s number. If you ever get it into your head to come back, teleph
one at seven in the morning. If I’m not there leave a message for me. Now, I’ll see you home,’ he continued before she could respond, his mouth set in a grim line. ‘Don’t even think of trying to prevent me. You’ve had a shock.’

  ‘Home? I haven’t the slightest intention of going home. Not until I’ve seen Lisa and given her this.’ She held up the teddy bear, noticing for the first time how sorry her childhood toy was with his missing eye and worn fur. ‘I know he doesn’t look like much, but —’

  Alasdair stared as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Then he threw back his head and laughed. ‘You constantly surprise me, Margaret Bannatyne.’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake call me Margaret.’