Most of the houses in the street were finished, some actually occupied already, but two still had to be painted and the surrounding ground levelled out. ‘What d’you think?’ Dougal asked Marge, her smile encouraging him to ask the Site Manager for more details.
‘Not bad for under £500, eh?’ he observed to his wife, as they all trooped along to Hither Green to catch the train back to Russell Square. ‘I’ve got the deposit and I should manage the mortgage, so I put my name down provisionally, is that OK with you?’
She smiled her approval. ‘Perfect. I loved the house.’
‘The man said I’d better make up my mind quick, because there’s only two left.’
The final outcome of the expedition, however, was something Dougal was none too happy about. When he went to the builder’s office on the Tuesday to sign the contract, he asked if anyone had bought the last one.
‘I was hoping I could persuade you to take it,’ he confided to Alistair that evening, ‘but I near fell in a heap when the girl said a Mrs Rose Jenkins had been in on Monday morning and settled for it. I ask you, Ally. I thought Marge might be able to conceive once she didn’t have to worry about Rosie hearing us, for I think that’s what’s been wrong though she never said, and now! Speak about living in each other’s pockets!’
Alistair couldn’t help smiling. Gwen had kept at him to make the commitment, and she’d looked disappointed when he said Woodyates Road was too pricey for him, but Rosie, bless her, had let him off the hook. ‘Has she bought the house you’re joined on to?’ he asked Dougal.
‘No, that’s one thing I’m thankful for.’
‘So Marge’ll know her mother can’t hear what you get up to in bed, not with the width of two garage runs between your house and hers.’
Rather than put a millstone round his neck, Alistair finally settled on renting an old terraced house – furnished, if a little basically – in Bethnal Green, only a short bus run from Manny’s shop. Like Dougal, he had been worrying about furniture, and had warned Gwen that she’d have to put up with second-hand for a while, so all that concerned them now was buying essential household items. Then Rosie told them that there was enough furniture, bed and table linen, dishes and cutlery in the hotel to equip all three houses and still leave enough for the new owners to start off with.
Now came a time of frantically begging for tea chests and crates to pack things in, the three young women making sure that everything was fairly divided and each item marked with its proper destination. Of course, with the amount of upheaval going on, it was not surprising that Leila and David were fretty, and Ivy’s offer to keep them from the day before the removals until the day after was gratefully accepted. It certainly wasn’t a time to have small children running around under everybody’s feet disrupting things.
The more time Lexie Fraser spent with Ernie Gammie, the more she came to like him. He was thoughtful, asked no questions of her and, most important, he was courting her – the only way to describe it – in the good old-fashioned way. He hadn’t kissed her until the fourth or fifth time he saw her home, and he hadn’t tried anything else even yet, and they’d been keeping company for almost eight weeks now.
Remembering, how that had come about, she gave a satisfied little smile. Over the past six or so months, she had gone out with three other men before Ernie, but once was enough with each of them. As soon as they got her where nobody would see them, she’d had to fight them off, even Gibby Means, who had known her since she was five and should have known her better than try. Davie Lovie, the van driver who delivered newspapers to the shop, hadn’t been quite so bad, but he hadn’t asked her out a second time – probably because she wouldn’t let him do what he wanted – and although Freddie McBain had waited until he took her home, he was as determined as the other two to get her flat on her back.
But Ernie wasn’t like that. She had been surprised when he walked into the shop that day; and even more astonished when he asked her out; he’d never shown any interest in her before. ‘Somebody told me you were married,’ she’d replied, to let him know that she knew. It was why he had never entered into her plans.
‘Cathy died two years ago.’
‘Oh, Ernie, I’m sorry. I could kick myself for …’
‘No, you were right to say it, and you’re the first one I’ve …’ He paused, uncertainly, then ended, ‘I haven’t looked at anyone else since I lost her.’
She learned on their first date that he had joined the Aberdeen Fire Service, that he and his late wife had had no children, and that he was still living in the house in King Street that he had rented when he got married. ‘I’ve been thinking about emigrating,’ he had told her, ‘to get a new life somewhere different, but I can’t make up my mind – especially now things are starting to look up for me again.’
This small compliment – she was sure it was a compliment – was all she had needed to accept his invitation to see a show in Aberdeen, and that had been the first of many truly enjoyable evenings, though it had always been the first house of the Tivoli or the early showing of a film so that they could get a bus back to Forvit.
On their first date, she had said, ‘I’ll easy manage home on the bus myself.’
He had taken her hand and squeezed it. ‘No, I’ll see you home. I wrote to my mother to say I’d need a bed there tonight – tomorrow’s my day off.’
She was grateful that he had made this arrangement, his father’s farm was only a mile and a half off the main road, so he didn’t have far to go after he’d seen her inside. And it saved her from worrying whether or not she should ask him to stay over at her house.
She was certain she was doing the right thing at last, and she wished that she had known much earlier that he was free … and how nice a man he had turned out to be. Take tonight, for instance. After meeting her at the bus terminus, he had suggested taking a tram to the Bridge of Don and walking along the prom. ‘It’s too fine a night to be sitting inside a picture house,’ he had smiled, and then his expression had changed. ‘That’s if it’s OK with you?’ he had asked, anxiously.
‘I’d love it,’ she had told him, and so she had.
On their stroll, they had talked of this and that, and she’d been tempted to ask about his wife, what kind of woman she was, what she looked like, how she had died, but it was too early yet to be so openly inquisitive. If he felt like telling her, he probably would, though maybe he didn’t like to mention what had caused her death. It could have been cancer, and that wasn’t something people liked to speak about, though she wouldn’t have minded – she’d had long enough experience of it with her mother. It was just another illness, an illness that couldn’t be cured, and dying as a result of it was nothing for the family left behind to be ashamed of.
They sat down for a while on one of the benches overlooking the wide expanse of calm sea, dotted here and there with homecoming trawlers making their slow way into the harbour, but one much larger ship made Lexie ask, curiously, ‘Why’s that big one not moving?’
‘It’ll be sitting at anchor waiting for the pilot to come and lead it in,’ Ernie told her. ‘You see, there’s all sorts of currents and things that captains from other places have to beware of.’
‘Where would that one have come from?’
‘It’s definitely a foreigner because of the flag, but it’s too far out for me to make out which country’s it is.’
In another twenty minutes, they were treated to the spectacle of the tiny pilot boat shooting into sight from behind the harbour wall and then turning round to escort the visitor to its allocated berth. Having watched until both vessels were out of sight, Ernie said, ‘I think we should make tracks again. We don’t want to miss the last bus.’
They walked smartly along to the Bathing Station where they would catch a tram into town, and the air having grown a little colder, he put his arm around her waist as they waited. ‘I’ve been thinking on buying a second-hand car,’ he said. ‘It would be a lot handier than having to d
epend on public transport like this. What d’you think?’
‘It’s not up to me. Can you afford it?’
‘Just about, but we could go anywhere and stay out all night if we wanted, too.’
She had nearly said he could stay inside all night with her, but she still didn’t feel free enough to let him do what he wanted … if he wanted it. She would be better to wait to see what developed before making any rash commitments.
Alistair could see that Gwen wasn’t happy in their new abode. Even after two months, she was missing her mother and her sisters. ‘I didn’t realize how much work the children were,’ she wailed one evening, while she was washing out the clothes their offspring had been wearing that day. ‘Mum or Marge or Peggy always saw to them if I was busy, but now I’ve got to do the cooking, the washing and ironing, make the beds and do all the cleaning, as well as look after the kids all day.’
Alistair pushed aside the thought that she was blaming him – she knew that they couldn’t afford a mortgage like Dougal was paying – but he still felt a wave of indignation at the thought of her lack of effort. ‘You’ve been blooming lucky, you know,’ he said, brusquely. ‘Not many young mothers have built-in nursemaids like you had at the hotel.’
Noticing her bottom lip trembling, he regretted his brutality. She was right – two infants must be an awful handful, and other mothers would have learned from looking after their first before a second came along, whereas Gwen had been thrown in at the deep end, so to speak. ‘I’m sorry, darling. It must be terrible for you on your own all day, but I have to work. I can’t leave Manny in the lurch, and we need the money.’
‘I know it’s not your fault, but I get so tired, and …’
‘Come here,’ he said, gruffly, reaching out and taking her in his arms. He hated to see her crying, especially when he looked at the situation from her side. He was blaming her for not making an effort, but he was just as bad. If he’d really wanted to, he could have bought the house Rosie was now occupying. Paying the mortgage would have been a struggle, but they would have managed, somehow. But … it was too late now. ‘Let me finish the washing for you, sweetheart,’ he murmured against her neck, ‘and you can go to bed. An early night should help.’
Left on his own, he dutifully scrubbed, then rinsed, all the little garments and spread them out on the pulley hanging from the scullery ceiling – the weather was too dodgy in October to chance leaving them outside all night – before tackling the napkins which were soaking in a pail. That was when he felt true sympathy for his wife. Fancy having to do this every day, maybe more than once, he thought, screwing up his nose. Wee David wasn’t a year old yet, but he smelt like a blinking adult.
Before going home the following night, he made a detour to see Ivy, to tell her how worried he was about his wife, and as he had hoped she would, his former landlady volunteered to have the ‘little dears’ for an afternoon every week. ‘More than one, if she wants,’ Ivy had grinned, ‘for I could eat them, they’re so adorable.’
‘We’re not so desperate you need to do that,’ Alistair laughed, ‘and you’d better not let Gwen know I’ve been talking to you. She’s a bit touchy.’
Ivy gave his rear end a playful pat when he turned to leave. ‘I’ll be the soul of tact, you know me.’
She did more than have the children for an afternoon a week. Working round to it gradually, she got Gwen to admit how tired she always felt, and how much of a struggle it was to get to Lee Green on her own with an infant, a toddler and a bag bulging with nappies for David and a change of clothes for both in case of ‘accidents’. This, Gwen explained tearfully, meant that she could only see her mother on Sundays, when Alistair was with her. Not letting the young woman suspect a thing, nor putting any pressure on her, Ivy arranged to accompany her there every Thursday and also to take the children off her hands for the whole of every Monday to let her get her weekly wash done and ironed, weather permitting.
‘And so peace reigns once more in the Ritchie household?’ Manny queried, amiably.
‘Oh yes,’ breathed Alistair. ‘Gwen’s much brighter, and Ivy’s tickled pink at having the brats. It’s a shame she never had any of her own, she’d have made a good mother.’
‘That so often happens. My Anna was the same … also your dear sister-in-law,’ Manny added, in case his employee thought he was lingering on his own trouble.
‘Dougal’s awful disappointed that Marge hasn’t fallen yet. He doesn’t think she’ll ever have any, and Rosie keeps asking when they’ll hear the patter of tiny feet, so you can imagine tempers are a bit frayed there. As a matter of fact, he’s speaking about joining the TA so he can have some peace. He says they train at weekends and have a week’s camp in the summer, and he wants me to join, too, but … I can’t leave Gwen.’
‘No, it is different for you,’ Manny agreed. ‘He can go off with a free mind, knowing that his wife’s mother and sister are next door if anything happens, or if she merely wants company. Still, if you did want to go, I am sure Ivy would be only too happy …’
‘I couldn’t ask her to do any more, she’s been so good to us already. I don’t suppose she’d mind, but I don’t want to take advantage of her.’
‘You are right, my boy.’ Manny lifted his black homburg and settled it comfortably on his head. ‘I may not come back until afternoon sometime,’ he said, as he opened the door. ‘Billy Ternent has asked me to have a look at some property he is thinking of buying.’
As he made his way to the bus stop, he pondered over what he had been told. He was always glad when Alistair confided in him; it took his mind off the worry which had been growing in his mind of late. No word had appeared in the newspapers, but it had begun to filter through by word of mouth that Adolf Hitler had been clearing the Jews out of Germany since he came to power, and so deep was his fixation against them, apparently, that there was every likelihood of him doing the same in Britain if he ever got the chance.
No! Manny scolded himself, he must stop fretting about something that may never happen, and think of a way to help poor little Gwen. It was only natural, never having been separated from them before, that she was missing her mother and sisters, as Alistair should have realized, but what could be done about it?
David had newly been bathed and changed when he filled his nappy, and Gwen felt quite irritated with him as she stripped him once again. ‘You do it on purpose!’ she ranted. ‘It’s the same every blinking day!’
‘Blinking day?’ queried little Leila, watching the operation with interest.
Her mother dropped the offensive articles into the pail she’d made ready. ‘I meant it’s a … bad day, darling.’
The little girl shook her head. ‘See sun! You pwomised.’
‘We will go out, when I get this brother of yours ready.’
‘David bad, Mummy?’
Gwen could feel her throat tightening in self-pity, her eyes prickling. ‘He can’t help it, though, he’s only a baby.’ It had been different when Leila was a baby, she thought, miserably. At the least sign of discomfort from her daughter, either Peggy or Marge had hastened to comfort her, and change her if that was what was wrong. She looked at her tiny son now, her heart filling with love instead of the anger she had felt a moment before. Things were getting her down so much that she’d have to be careful not to lose her temper altogether and do him some harm. She’d read of mothers who killed their infants because they were so tired they couldn’t cope with them.
She was throwing on her own coat – Leila having been told to rock the pram if the baby started crying – when the doorbell rang. ‘Manny!’ she exclaimed anxiously, when she saw who it was. ‘Has something happened to Alistair?’
‘No, no, I am sorry to have alarmed you. I was on my way to one of the markets when I suddenly felt like coming to see you. But you were going out?’
‘I take the children for a walk every morning and do the housework when they’re having their afternoon nap, but it doesn’t matter. I’m so
glad to see you. Won’t you come in for a cup of tea?’
‘If you do not mind, may I accompany you on your outing? I was not looking forward to trailing round the stalls, but walking with a lovely young woman? That is something I have not done for many a long year.’
A flattered smile stole across Gwen’s face. ‘I think you would have been a one for the girls when you were young, but I’ll be glad of your company.’
As they negotiated their way through the morning shoppers, Manny drew Gwen out to talk about herself, about her life at the hotel, and she described it so well that he could picture the three sisters making beds, helping in the kitchen, waiting at tables with a smile and a few words for each of the businessmen.
‘You miss it, don’t you?’ he murmured.
‘I shouldn’t, when I’m kept busy with these two, but it’s not the same. I think it’s the adult company I miss.’
‘Especially your mother and sisters, is that not so?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted, ‘it’s them I miss most. I miss having them to tell my troubles to, and I get so tired, sometimes, and I’ve nobody to speak to till Alistair comes home at nights. I do see Ivy Crocker twice a week, but she’s more interested in the kids than me.’
During the past fifteen minutes, Manny had been turning an idea over in his mind, a suggestion which would benefit himself as much as Gwen, and her last words gave him the courage to voice it. ‘I hope you do not think that what I am about to say is in any way improper, but I would consider it a privilege to be allowed to repeat this morning with you on a weekly basis. I, too, often feel the need of a confidante, someone with whom I can discuss my little worries … not that I have many since Alistair took over the running of the shop.’
‘I’d love to have you with me once a week, Manny, but are you sure you want to? I hope it isn’t because you’re sorry for me?’
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