by Millie Gray
Making her way to the Home for Neglected and Needy Children, Anna accepted that Rachel had been taken in there as she clearly met more than one of the criteria. Poor little Rachel had been labelled motherless with a drunken father and therefore was fully qualified to be in need of care and protection.
The spartan Home was run by strict Christians who opened their arms to those who were too young to be admitted for education at Dr Guthrie’s Ragged School. It was situated just off Great Junction Street and lay in close proximity to all the other buildings of importance in Leith.
Before she knew it, Anna was standing outside the imposing locked doors of the stone-built institution and she rang the bell vigorously. While she waited on the steps she remembered to offer up a quick prayer of thanks, recognising her debt to the Very Reverend John Thompson of St John’s East Church, who had intervened on her behalf and persuaded the committee, of which he was chairman, that she was a fit and proper person to take on the responsibility of caring for Rachel. Of course, there were conditions attached. First of all, she was required through the law courts to seek a substantial contribution from Gabby towards Rachel’s upkeep. Secondly, it would be necessary for her to undertake to bring up the child in the ways of the Lord.
The door finally was opened by the matron of the home – who, to Anna’s astonishment, was a dour spitting image of the now deceased but ever mournful Queen Victoria. The woman, who had obviously schooled herself to be able to give a regal look of disdain to anyone who had the temerity to knock at the door, snorted before stating, “We are just ending our devotions.”
“I was told I could collect Rachel Forbes at four o’clock,” challenged Anna, leaning back to get a clear view of the adjacent church clock and to check that it was just about to strike four.
The woman initially dismissed Anna’s reply with a scornful wave of her hands before giving a contemptuous look to the watch that was pinned to the bodice of her dress. “Punctuality,” she said, giving emphasis to every letter of the word, “is a virtue, but not when it interrupts the whole household when it’s giving thanks to our sweet Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ, for all he has bestowed upon us.”
Realising that there was no response that would appease the matron, Anna stayed silent and waited patiently to be admitted. She then had to remain seated for half an hour in a large, soulless and very chilly reception room before the matron swept in, followed by a dainty, large-eyed child. Although the hair colouring of the child was chestnut brown, she was quite evidently her mother’s daughter. Even though her mother’s hair had been blonde with red highlights, Rachel certainly did take after her mother in possessing an innate grace and charm. Anna also observed that she walked with a quiet air of dignity that could not possibly have been instilled in such an austere establishment.
“Rachel,” the matron said, rolling the ‘r’ for a few seconds before subjecting Anna to a prolonged scrutiny, “this lady is going to care for you from now on. Not with my blessing, I may add, but with that of those who should know best.” She now clasped her hands and gazed heavenwards in silent prayer.
Incensed by this show of piety Anna had wanted to retaliate but knew she must keep her temper under control until Rachel was safely within her own care so once more she said nothing.
The matron was not finished, however, and continued, “You will be residing, my child, in a place where there are drunkards and godless women of ill-repute. But you have been schooled in r-r-righteous,” again she lingered on the ‘r’, “ways and your duty is to honour your Holy Father, our Lord Jesus Christ, who sent you here for protection.” The matron then turned to Anna. “You may take her now, but remember to ensure that she acknowledges the goodness of our Saviour.”
Anna grabbed Rachel’s hand and swiftly made for a merciful escape. Nonetheless, as she fled from the house she thought that if that matron was an example of devout Christianity, she herself would feel more at home, tolerated and welcomed by the even stricter sect she had been brought up in.
Holding Rachel’s small hand firmly in hers, Anna fled along Great Junction Street towards the old Kirkgate. The street was teeming with bustling people and the noise was quite deafening. Rachel, who was still having to race to keep up with Anna, was amazed and her eyes grew larger and larger as she tried to take in the scene around her.
One old man was sharpening knives on a contraption that had bright red sparks flying from it, while close by he was being watched by a tall, dark woman who was carrying a strange animal on her shoulder.
Realising that Rachel was mystified, Anna stopped and spoke to the woman. “This here is Rachel, my late friend Norma’s lassie. Say hello to Maria, Rachel. Maria comes from Malta – that’s a place far away in the Mediterranean Sea. Her monkey comes from there too.”
Maria cackled as she ruffled Rachel’s hair. “Aye, the monkey on my shoulder,” she then put her hand up and began stroking the animal’s cheek, “is from Malta right enough but the drunken baboon that brought me here, with a promise of a better life …” and she now looked about her at the squalor, the filthy streets and broken-down barrows where people were hawking their wares, “well, he was spawned here.”
Leaving Maria, Anna and Rachel then encountered a huge beast coming towards them and all Rachel could hear was the clip-clop, clip-clop of the animal’s hooves as it trotted along the middle of the road, causing everyone to dodge out of its path. As terror engulfed her, Rachel frantically sought to bury her face in the skirt of Anna’s long coat while also seeking to calm her terror by grasping for a steadying hand.
Mystified, Anna squeezed the small fingers that had sought hers and bending down she pulled the child upright. Gently stroking her head she then said, “Calm yourself, lassie. It’s only a horse. Surely you’ve seen a Clydesdale pulling a cart afore?”
Rachel shook her head. It was then Anna realised that Rachel had never stepped outside the home for destitute children and how terrifying the busy streets of the Kirkgate and Tolbooth Wynd must seem to her. They were now passing Michael’s ice cream shop in the Tolbooth Wynd and Anna pulled Rachel inside. “A farthing cone,” she demanded from Michael Innarelli, the immigrant Italian shopkeeper.
“With or without raspberry?” asked Michael in his cheery Italian accent.
“Well, she’ll have it if it comes free,” retorted Anna, who watched as the ice cream cone was smothered in raspberry sauce. Smiling and feeling smug with generosity, she then handed the cone to Rachel.
“Lady, what do I do with this?” Rachel asked as the ice cream began to trickle down the cone and on to her hand.
All Anna could do was mutter, “Oh, lassie, you have so much to learn.”
Anna and Rachel were about to turn into the stairway of 18 Cooper Street when Gabby, from the opposite direction, reeled towards them.
“You’re fou’ early the day,” remarked Anna in disgust.
“Aye,” lisped Gabby. “Needed to quench my thirst. That’s what a hard-workin’ man has the right to dae.”
“So you say. Well, this here is Rachel. You know – your daughter by Norma.”
Gabby eyed Rachel up and down before replying. “What way is she no in the home run by thon sanctimonious auld cow? Ye ken, that holier-than-thou, administering bloody angel, just like yersel.”
“I petitioned the board and I’m now her legal guardian. Oh aye, she’s to bide at home with me. Mind you, I’ve to take you to court for her upkeep.”
Gabby cackled and fell against the wall.
“What’s so funny?” demanded Anna.
“Just that – you’re scuppered.”
“How’s that?”
Gabby was still sniggering. “Have you no heard the ship I was working on in Ramage and Ferguson’s shipyard is finished now? And I, along with aw the other Leith riveters, are idle again. So just you go to court – because even they law lords,” and he was now helpless with laughter, “cannae get blood out o’ a stane!”
“You’re forgetting Lloyd Geo
rge has just brought in new laws so that means you’ll be getting unemployment benefit.”
“Oh aye, the burroo, they’re calling it – and I hear it’s to be a whole bloody seven bob a week.”
“That’s right. So I’ll get a share. And, believe me, even a tanner that you’ll no be able to drink will suit me just fine.”
“Look!” Gabby was still euphoric, thinking he had bested Anna. “Even if it was ten bob a week you wouldnae get a sou because when I tell the court that I have two laddies to provide for and also have to pay a bleeding fortune in rent to that merciless factor, Michie in Charlotte Street—” and he now waved his left hand upwards to indicate the condemned tenement that 18 Couper Street was – “just to keep this hovel ower our heids, you’ll have had it!”
Anna put a restraining hand on Gabby’s arm, “You swine! I’ll get my due. You mark my words I will get it, one way or another.”
Gabby grabbed at Anna’s hand and then pushed her roughly. “That right?” he snarled. “Well hear me … not a penny will your grasping hands ever get o’ mine.”
Bella, leaning out of the window washing her hands and face in the outside sink, called back to her brothers, “There’s gonnae be a real rammy here. Auntie Anna’s raging at Gabby Forbes.”
Jimmy and Rab dragged Bella back from the window and as they leaned out, Rab immediately knew he had to somehow help his aunt. Turning round he grabbed a large cooking pot off the bunker, quickly filled it with water from the tap and sent the contents cascading onto Gabby’s head.
“Who the hell did that?” shrieked Gabby as the water drenched him. Looking up, all he could see was the crumbling walls and dark windows – but he did hear the mirthful cackling of the two boys.
When Anna entered the house she was about to remonstrate with the boys but couldn’t help laughing. “Thanks. That dirty pig did need a good dousing.”
Rab never really heard his aunt’s words, for instantly he was completely mesmerised by Rachel. He had never seen such a beautiful child before and when she smiled at him he knew he would love her forever. He then grudgingly admitted to himself that he was more than pleased that his auntie hadn’t taken in Freddie and Robert instead of Rachel.
3
TRAGEDY
“I don’t think, Miss Campbell, that you appreciate how generous I am being,” simpered Mrs Scott-Lyon who was still standing in the middle of the floor, being most unwilling to sit down in Anna’s kitchen for fear of catching something one would never get in Trinity.
Anna, who was sitting at her Singer sewing machine, looked disdainfully down at the old herring-bone tweed overcoat that Mrs Scott-Lyon had brought in and was still holding. “Oh, but I do. All I was saying was that I certainly could unstitch the coat and make you up a skirt but I would need to charge the hourly rate for the time taken.”
“Just a minute,” interrupted Mrs Scott-Lyon. “I don’t think you understand. I only wish a skirt made and all that is left – the majority of this superior Harris tweed material – you may have in payment for your services. Now is that not more than fair?”
Anna’s feet set the treadle in motion and she resumed stitching the material she had been working on before Mrs Scott-Lyon had appeared. “I explained,” she said with a demure smile. “I have quite enough work now with new material that I no longer need to unstitch old cloth which is so time-consuming and unprofitable.” Anna now looked critically at Mrs Scott-Lyon, deliberately allowing her eyes to linger on the mangy old fox fur draped over Mrs Scott-Lyon’s right shoulder before tauntingly asking, “Besides, wouldn’t a lady of your refinement agree that old material never looks anything but tired and second-hand?”
By now, an incensed Mrs Scott-Lyon was about to give Anna a tongue-lashing when the door burst open and a dishevelled five-year-old boy burst into the room. “Miss Campbell, can ye come quick? My mammy’s real no weel.”
Anna immediately stopped working the treadle and without so much as a “Good day” to Mrs Scott-Lyon, fled from her house, across the landing and into the Pratts’ single-end.
The Pratt family had been housed there ever since they exchanged with Gabby four months ago. By then Gabby had become desperate to get away from Anna and her constant complaining – about how he was neglecting his sons, Freddie and Robert, and of course her continual request for Rachel’s upkeep – so much so that he felt he simply had to put some distance between them. He was now staying in Coatfield Lane, off the Kirkgate, but that was only a five-minute walk away from Couper Street and at every opportunity Anna pitched up at Gabby’s door to harass him.
Anna had already realised that Rye Pratt was about to give birth to yet another child. She sighed, thinking that surely four was quite enough for any woman. “Right, son,” she said to Jamie who had just turned five, “you go back over to my house and fetch my bag.” The child looked bewildered and was about to burst into tears when his mother let out another wail.
“It’s the big leather nurse’s bag that I keep under the bed in the kitchen,” urged Anna, who was pleased to see Jamie nod and dash off.
The bag Anna had sent for was always at the ready because she was known as the Wise Woman for 18 Couper Street. It was she who tended the sick and did both the hatching and despatching, since no other medical help was freely available for the poor and needy. Today it was to be a hatching, and apart from there not being enough natural daylight, there was no gas light either. “You’ve not got a penny for the gas, Rye?”
“No-o-o-o,” wailed Rye. “Aw we had he took for the boozer.”
Anna shook her head just as Jamie returned lugging her bag. “No matter,” she said, opening the bag. “I have a torch in here and as I’ve just put in new Ever-Ready batteries, that will do us just fine.” Anna turned again to Jamie. “You just go off now, son. This is women’s work. But as you go along the lobby tell Mrs Smith I need her to help me.”
Two hours passed, with Anna and Jean Smith doing their best to ease Rye’s pain. The kettle was boiling on the fire, which was the only light the women had, Anna having said she would only use the torch when it was absolutely necessary. Suddenly Rye screamed, “It’s comin’. It’s comin’. I’m sure the heid’s near oot.”
Jean flung back the bedclothes and Anna sprang forward switching on the torch. “Right enough. You’re nearly there, Rye.”
Another five minutes of pushing and pulling and a baby girl slid into the world. “Och,” exclaimed Anna, switching off her torch. “With the size you were, Rye, I was expecting a real bruiser – but this wee mite, och, she’s no more than five pounds.”
“Oh,” screamed Rye. “I think something mair’s coming down!”
Clicking on her torch again and taking another look, Anna gasped, “You’re right! There’s another coming.”
Ten minutes later another small girl arrived but before Anna could switch off the torch Rye exclaimed, “Oh my God, I think there’s another yin coming.”
“Look,” exclaimed Jean, grabbing the torch from Anna and switching it off. “I think it’s that new-fangled light o’ yours that’s attracting them. So would it no be best to work in the dark?”
Disdainfully Anna wrestled the torch from Jean’s hand and, shining it onto the bed again, was relieved to discover that no other baby was on its way. Thankfully the problem was simply the last baby’s troublesome afterbirth.
Returning to her own house, Anna found a note from her brother Andy saying he had checked the Shipping News in Leith library and found that Rab and Jimmy’s ship had docked at Southampton two days ago and it was quite possible the boys might reach home today.
Quickly she grabbed her shawl from the back of the door and ran to Dalgleish’s grocery store at the foot of Dock Street. “Mr Dalgleish,” she breathlessly cajoled, “you know I never ask for tick. Don’t believe in it. But my laddies are on their way home from their first voyage and I need to have a nice tea ready for them. Pay you back tomorrow when I get paid for three of my sewing jobs.” Anna hated to be so grove
lling and thought if only that blasted Gabby had pitched up with Rachel’s keep she wouldn’t have needed to come begging like this.
“Anna, you saying you need some eggs?”
“Aye,” nodded Anna, “and with five of us sitting down thegither – well, I’ll need half a dozen.”
Mr Dalgleish smiled. “And a half-pound o’ best butter? And nae doubt bacon?”
“Most certainly. And make it Wiltshire at that.” Anna winked before adding, “I’m grateful to you because I know you’ve been refusing tick to a lot of people.”
“Aye, but now that Ramage and Ferguson have a couple of ships on their books the men will all be back to work in the next few weeks so I’m being a bit more … let’s say … relaxed.”
Gathering up her messages Anna was about to leave the shop when Mr Dalgleish asked, “Would you also not need some bread and rich tea biscuits?”
Anna shook her head. “Mrs Smith got me a second-day bread cheap from Scott-Lyons this morning.” She giggled. “Or, as they would say in Trinity, a cutting loaf, and as for the biscuits – well, since Bella got a start in Crawford’s biscuit works, I’ve got plenty.”
“Aye, but will they no aw be broken an’ in bits?”
“Och, Mr Dalgleish, do you no know my mouth’s that wee I can only eat broken biscuits!”
“What’s the matter with you, Bella?” demanded Anna.
“Just that I’ve been out slaving all day, taking hot trays out o’ ovens, and here it’s seven o’clock and I’m still waiting for my tea. Honestly, my belly thinks my throat’s cut.”
“Look! Patience is a virtue you don’t have.” Anna glanced at the alarm clock on the mantelshelf and sighed, “Okay. If your brothers are no here in half an hour then I’ll give you your tea.”