by Emma Fraser
He looked into her eyes. ‘Margaret. Something tells me my life isn’t going to be the same with you in it.’
Her already racing heart upped a beat. ‘Is that a bad thing?’ she asked softly.
His gaze deepened. ‘No, I suspect it’s a very, very good thing.’
She tore her gaze away from his. ‘Can we go and see Lisa now?’
‘We’ll go in a moment. But first we need to let Mairi know you’re all right. Toni is out and she was worried about you.’ He smiled at her. ‘Seems you’ve made a conquest there.’
‘Just the one?’ Her heart was still hammering.
Alasdair laughed again. ‘Don’t push your luck, Margaret Bannatyne.’
‘Dr Bannatyne,’ Mairi said, opening the door. ‘You’re all right, then. Thank the Lord.’ She looked over Margaret’s shoulder. ‘Here’s Toni now! But what am I doing leaving the pair of you standing at the door? Come away in. Let me just shoo these scamps from under my feet. Hey, you lot, out with you!’
Margaret stood aside to let several of the children scarper past her.
‘I didn’t expect you to come back,’ Mairi said as soon as Margaret was seated. ‘You shouldn’t have come by yourself. Alasdair, didn’t you warn her?’
Alasdair dragged a hand through his hair. ‘I tried, but I think you’ll find Dr Bannatyne has a mind of her own.’
Mairi looked her up and down and her lips twitched. ‘Aye, well, I gathered as much. You look as if you need a cup of tea, pet, and with plenty of sugar in it.’
‘Thank you, but I don’t want to put you to any trouble.’
Mairi smiled. ‘A cup of tea’s no trouble. And if I have one too, it’ll give me an excuse to take the weight off my feet for a minute or two. Here, let me take your coat.’
‘I heard what happened,’ Toni said to Alasdair.
‘It was no big deal.’
‘You humiliated Billy in front of his friends – and a woman. He’ll not forgive you for that.’ Toni glanced at Margaret but his eyes held none of the warmth they had when he’d spoken to Alasdair.
‘Forget it, Toni,’ Alasdair said with a warning note in his voice. ‘Let’s go outside. I have something I need to talk to you about. It’ll only take a minute.’
After they’d left, Mairi handed Margaret a mug of tea so strong she could have stood a spoon in it. ‘Now then, Dr Bannatyne, what brought you back here?’ she said.
‘I wanted to see a child I saw yesterday and I thought while I was here I could see anyone else who needs a doctor. Audrey’s children perhaps?’
‘Just bring a handkerchief – that’s all I can say. And put a big drop of that perfume you’re wearing on it while you’re at it. Otherwise you’ll not be able to suffer a minute.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘You could see them in here if you like. There’s not much space but it’s a damn sight cleaner.’
‘You wouldn’t mind?’
‘No. I feel sorry for her and her bairns.’
The toddler crawled over and raised sticky hands towards her. Margaret shuddered inwardly but nevertheless obeyed the unspoken demand and scooped the child into her arms, surreptitiously checking for nits as she did so. Luckily there didn’t appear to be any evidence of lice. There was, however, a nauseating odour coming from the cloths covering the baby’s bottom.
‘Let me take him,’ Mairi said. ‘I’ll change him then put him outside in his pram. While I’m doing that I’ll pass word around that there’s a doctor in the house.’ She grinned. ‘My, my, I never thought I’d say those words. Imagine! I just wish we had a parlour I could take you into.’
‘Here is just fine,’ Margaret said. ‘All I need is lots of boiling water and some clean towels. I have everything else in my bag.’
As Mairi moved the kettle back onto the stove, Alasdair came back into the room and sat down next to Margaret. ‘Toni says to let you know he’ll be back in a tick,’ he said to Mairi.
Mairi looked as if she were about to say something. Instead she gave a little shake of her head and turned back to Margaret.
‘I’ll ask one of the children to fetch some water from the tap in the back close while I’m putting the baby outside and put some more on.’ She grinned. ‘We might not have much, but we can supply you with plenty of hot water.’
‘Before I see anyone, I’d like to see the little girl I saw yesterday,’ Margaret said, picking up her handbag and medical bag. ‘I won’t be long.’
Alasdair stood too. She knew there was no point in trying to stop him from coming with her. Neither did she want to. The thought of coming across Billy and his gang again terrified her.
Five minutes later they were back at the cellar door.
When Angela answered it was clear that she’d been crying. Dread crawled along Margaret’s spine. ‘Is Lisa —?’
‘She passed away during the night.’
‘I am so sorry, Angela,’ Margaret replied, her throat tight. Alasdair’s hand reached for hers and gave it a squeeze. ‘Is she still here?’
‘Aye. They’ll be coming for her later.’
‘Could I see her?’ Margaret held out the teddy bear. ‘I brought this for her.’
‘It was good of you. She would have liked that.’
Margaret stepped past Angela. It took a few moments to accustom her eyes to the gloom but Lisa was where she’d left her the day before. Still on her bed of straw. But instead of lying curled up on her side she had been straightened, her little arms folded across her chest.
Margaret tucked the teddy in under the crook of her arm. ‘I’m sorry, Lisa. I wish I could have done more,’ she whispered.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked around to find Alasdair. She could almost feel the pity radiating from him.
‘She’s at peace now,’ he said softly.
Angela stretched the palm of her hand towards Margaret. Even in the gloom, the diamond of her engagement ring sparkled. ‘You’ll be wanting this back,’ she said. ‘Lisa has no use of it now, but it made her happy for the few hours she had it.’
‘You keep it, Angela. Sell it. It’ll pay for the funeral and you can use the rest to rent somewhere more comfortable.’
‘No. It’s yours. We never meant to keep it.’ She pressed it into Margaret’s hand and smiled ruefully. ‘Any road, if I tried to sell it, I’d only get a fraction of its worth. ’Sides, I’d be lifted by the polis before I’d gone more than a few feet. Wummen like me don’t come by diamond rings. At least not honestly.’
Reluctantly Margaret took the ring back. She rummaged in her handbag for her cheque book and pen. She wrote the first sum that came into her head, and signed.
‘God bless you dear,’ Angela said, her eyes widening when she read the amount. Within seconds it had disappeared into the pocket of her apron.
Back in Mairi’s, Audrey was waiting for her with one of her children. It only took one look at his little bowed legs for Margaret to know that, like so many children in Glasgow, he had rickets. However, she needed to check whether he also had rheumatic fever – a common life-threatening condition. When she listened to his heart she was relieved to find it sounded normal. She pulled the child’s vest down and turned to his mother. ‘Give him some cod liver oil. And some fresh fruit and vegetables every day.’
‘Now where would I get the money to pay for that!’ Audrey blushed. ‘Sorry, Doctor, but I canna remember the last time I saw a piece o’ fruit that wasn’t nicked aff a barra.’
Baffled, Margaret turned to Alasdair to translate. Mairi’s accent was easy to understand but Audrey might as well have been speaking a foreign language for all Margaret understood of what she was saying.
‘Some of the children help themselves to the odd bit of fruit when the grocer up the street isn’t looking.’ He sounded amused.
Margaret was horrified. ‘They steal!’
Alasdair laughed. ‘They don’t think of it as stealing – more like borrowing something that they might repay one day.’ His expression darkened. ‘They shouldn�
��t have to steal just to get something to fill their bellies.’
‘Will an orange cure whit’s wrong with his legs?’ the boy’s mother asked.
‘No. I’m afraid not, but it might stop it getting worse.’
She didn’t really think so, but she couldn’t bear to tell Audrey that her child was likely to suffer from the condition for the remainder of his life – however long that might be. ‘I know there’s a doctor – a surgeon – who is trying a new procedure. He breaks the bones in the legs and resets them. He thinks it makes them straighter.’
‘And where will we get money for this, doctor?’
‘I don’t know,’ Margaret said honestly. She dipped into her bag for her cheque book again, but before she could lift her pen, Alasdair bent over and whispered in her ear. ‘Don’t,’ he said. ‘They’ll never be able to cash it anyway.’
Margaret hesitated before replacing the cheque book in her bag. He was right. She was such an idiot. Of course, where would Audrey – or Lisa’s aunt, for that matter – be able to cash a cheque? She opened her purse and removed all her loose change, regretting she carried so little cash. ‘Buy him as much fresh fruit as this will pay for.’
When the mother and child had left, Alasdair turned to her. ‘For God’s sake don’t offer them hope just to rip it away.’
‘Och, leave the doctor be, Alasdair,’ Mairi intervened. ‘She’s only trying to do her best. But,’ she turned back to Margaret, ‘Alasdair is right. You shouldn’t give them money. Audrey’s man will only spend it on drink. I doubt she’ll manage to hang on to enough to buy a single apple.’
Alasdair pulled a hand through his thick dark hair and smiled at Margaret. ‘I’m sorry. I know you’re only trying to help. Forgive me?’
She couldn’t resist his smile. He was right, though – giving money was simply an easy way to salve her conscience.
Alasdair took a mug of tea from Mairi and sat down, closing his eyes. He looked tired, Margaret thought – more than tired, he looked exhausted. His eyes opened and he caught her looking at him and raised an enquiring eyebrow.
‘Are you working tonight?’ she asked, hoping she didn’t look as red as she felt.
‘Aye.’
‘How do you manage? No one can work during the day and at night as well. It’s impossible!’
‘I only work mornings at the solicitors’. In the afternoons I study – or sleep.’ He grinned. ‘Sleep more often than I should.’
‘And then you come down here.’
‘I like it here.’
‘And how do you find time to play in the bar?’
‘Now you sound like my mother used to. My life suits me just the way it is. It won’t be forever. Once I qualify, I’ll give up working at the shipyard then.’
‘Really? And abandon everyone?’ She couldn’t resist the jibe. It was about time he experienced even a little of the discomfort he made her feel.
‘I won’t be abandoning them. In fact I’ll be able to do more. I’ll be able to give them proper legal advice as to their rights. Might even keep one or two of them out of gaol.’ He winked at Mairi.
There was a knock on the door and another mother came in followed by several of her children. Margaret saw them all. Three had lice, two coughs, but the last, although under-nourished, was otherwise healthy. As soon as she’d seen them, there were others waiting, forming an orderly, if noisy, queue outside Mairi’s door.
As the patients continued to flood in, Margaret was acutely aware of Alasdair’s eyes resting on her. She would look up and they would share a smile before she’d catch herself and look away, turning back to her patient, glad of a reason to hide her confusion.
He was good with the children. No matter how grubby they were, he’d pick them up and toss them into the air. It wasn’t just them that liked him either. When he teased the younger women they would blush and giggle behind their aprons. This was a different Alasdair – a more relaxed Alasdair and she liked this one better.
Every now and then she’d overhear snippets of conversation Alasdair was having with the men who drifted in and out of Mairi and Toni’s small home. It was almost always about conditions down at the yards – they didn’t all work at Bannatyne’s – but sometimes it had to do with rent arrears, threatened evictions, and once, some serious trouble someone had found themselves in with the law.
Eventually there were no more patients to see and Alasdair insisted on walking her to the ferry stop.
‘You did well today,’ he said.
‘How kind of you to say so,’ she said, not attempting to keep the sarcasm from her voice.
He stopped and looked down at her. ‘Do you know you are the most surprising woman I have ever met?’ He raised his hand and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. ‘And one of the most beautiful.’
Her skin burned where his knuckles had brushed against it.
‘I’m engaged to be married, remember.’
‘So you say,’ he said. ‘But you and I both know that the only person you’ll marry is me.’
Her heart skipped several beats. ‘You mustn’t say things like that.’
His eyes searched hers. ‘Why not? If it’s true?’
‘I won’t come back if you do,’ she said, as the ferryman indicated he was ready to leave.
She clambered aboard, annoyed to find she was disappointed when Alasdair didn’t follow her. She opened her purse. Dash. She’d forgotten she’d given all her cash away. She glanced over her shoulder. Alasdair was watching her with amused grey eyes. ‘Can I borrow sixpence?’ she said.
His smile grew wider. ‘A Bannatyne asking me for money. Never thought I’d see the day.’ He thrust his hand in his pocket and brought out a handful of change. ‘Help yourself.’
She picked out sixpence from his palm. ‘You are the most annoying man I have ever met,’ she hissed, holding on to the side as the boat drew away. Alasdair ran alongside.
‘As for coming back – I’ve no doubt you will,’ he shouted. ‘You won’t be able to stop yourself.’
Chapter 6
He was right. The next morning at seven, she phoned the number he’d given her and, true to his word, he answered. Neither did he sound surprised when she said she planned to come to Govan that afternoon. Instead, he told her he’d be waiting at the ferry stop for her. She told herself that she was going back because she could make good use of her skills while waiting to start at Redlands, but deep down she suspected that was only part of the truth.
And so their routine was established. Every day at three she took the Subway or a tram and ferry down to Govan, where he would meet her. People were getting to know her and instead of eyeing her with suspicion, they would smile, the men touching their caps, the women raising their hands in greeting, the children abandoning their games of tig to run alongside her, asking for a penny. However, she’d learned her lesson and instead of giving them money she would bring an apple or an orange or a few sweets. Sometimes a woman would stop her and ask if she could see them or one of the children.
Alasdair always came to find her at the end of the afternoon – she saw some patients in their homes – and always insisted on accompanying her back to the West End. By unspoken mutual consent they always parted before they reached Margaret’s home.
She looked forward to their chats. He constantly surprised her – he was far better read than her, could read and speak Latin, and was gentle and funny but quick to condemn what he considered social injustice. To her relief, he never once repeated the remarks he’d made about marriage. She’d decided he’d been teasing her and pushed his comments to the back of her mind.
They discussed books and, more often than not, politics – the latter almost always leading to a furious debate. Alasdair thought the Russians had been correct to get rid of their monarchy but she couldn’t agree. He was bitter about the General Strike two years earlier, insisting the TUC had betrayed its members by calling off the strike – leaving the workers in a far worse position than they’d be
en before. It was only the Communist party, he said, who continued to fight for workers’ rights. Despite their differences of opinion, their conversation was easy and often he would make her laugh with his stories about the shipyard, or the things people came to ask him about – one woman insisting he find her cat for her. Sometimes as they talked his hand would brush hers and her skin would tingle.
Despite what she’d told herself, she knew she should keep away from him, but as long as she was needed in Govan she couldn’t stop going. Besides, her job at Redlands was due to start the following week and they’d probably never see each other again.
Today, a man in a trilby and a suit stopped her just as she was entering the close where Mairi lived. Alasdair had left her there and gone to meet with some men in the nearby public house.