by Millie Gray
Rachel was all for further probing into her aunt’s background but Anna was aware she’d already said too much to eight-year-old Rachel, who had inherited her mother’s innate abilities and was therefore more able than fifteen-year-old Bella to hold an intelligent conversation. Slowly lifting the bowl away from Rachel, Anna then announced, “Time for you to get ready. The boys will be expecting us. And I like to get a front seat.”
“But Auntie, what are we going to do about Rosa?”
“Tell her to come on Monday afternoon after school and also say to your other pal, Jenny Steele, that she’s welcome to a jam piece too.”
Rachel and Anna should have made good time to Lochend Road but a young, lugubrious-looking lad, Sandy, who was obliging Anna by carrying away the dead on the back of his father’s horse-drawn coal cart, appeared to be anxious to engage her in conversation.
Cocking his head he quickly began, “Anna, admit it now. You and I are making a name for ourselves. We’re the talk of the place.”
Anna, who had at first decided to quickly walk on past Sandy, drew up sharply. “Look here,” she shouted then continued in a rasping whisper, “I hope you’ve not been reading anything into my falling on top of you and grabbing your leg when both of us missed our footing and fell into the Poorhouse Mortuary last Saturday night.” Sniffing indignantly, Anna drew herself up before adding, “Knocked poor Frank Skinner off his trolley, so we did. Honestly, if he hadn’t been dead already he’d have died of fright – I nearly did! Should have that place lit at night, so they should.”
Sandy cackled. “Not that kind of name. After aw, you’re auld enough to be my granny.”
Anna’s mouth dropped open as she thought, His mother maybe – granny never.
“I mean,” continued Sandy, quite unaware of the effect his statement had on Anna, “that folk are now saying you and I make a great pair of undertakers.” Anna’s mouth gawped further and her eyes rolled. Still undeterred by her reaction, Sandy sallied on regardless, “And not only do they say we’re good at it but they’re also saying we both look the part. Natural we are.” Sandy preened himself as he admired his reflection in Binnie the butcher’s window. Anna also looked at the reflection and admitted that in his case people were probably right because the corpses they attended to very rarely looked quite as dead as him.
She was about to question his reasoning when he went on, “And we are so guid now that half o’ our customers pay and get lowered into bought plots.” He paused briefly and looked at Anna’s stoical expression, becoming aware she would still require some more convincing. “Look,” he cajoled, nudging her with his shoulder, “at what we made last month. And I can tell ye – it was far more than I ever make from lugging bags o’ coal up three and four flights of stairs.”
Anna knew that what Sandy was saying was true. Most people now paid for her services. Okay it might only be a wee something or it might take them a few months to square up, but so what? Aye, Sandy and she were making an honest bob. Certainly not by much, but she could now pay her way without wondering where the wherewithal was coming from. And who knows? If she and Sandy did make a go of it one day, she might even be able to buy some china cups and a linen table-cover to sweeten up Rachel.
Still pondering, she mumbled, “But what will your dad say? After all, he’s no going to be happy that you’re not going to be helping him with his coal deliveries any more.”
“You’re right, he’s no happy. He says it’s just like me to want to take on a dead-end job.” Sandy adopted a far-away, dreamy look before adding, “But I have ambitions. Gonnae get a proper hearse, so I am. Oh aye. Folk now want to go on their last journey in style – no, if they can help it, slung on the back of a coal cart whether it’s been washed or no. So I’ll cut the prices o’ the posh undertakers and oor ain folk will be able to go on their last journey in style – in a glass-sided black hearse, no less.”
This statement jolted Anna and she quickly declared, “Look, I’ll help you start a business but understand this – them that cannae afford to pay still have to be accommodated.”
“Done!” chortled Sandy. “We can still do that. And to show good will, I’ll even have them carted away to Seafield cemetery in my hearse – mind you, out o’ normal business hours of course.”
“But where’s all the money coming from for this hearse?”
“A wee borrow here and wee borrow there.” He stopped, cocked his head and winked knowingly at Anna. “Believe me, some clever Leith business folk see that no matter what happens people always support their local undertaker and keep dying! Remember last year when there was a seven and a half week dock strike, there was no money – no nothing. Only thing that increased was folk giving up the ghost and passing away.”
“Look, I’m in a hurry right now. But tell you what, I’ll think about it, but if I do come in with you it would only be as your teacher. I’m no wanting folk to think that I’m now money-grabbing and they cannae come to me for help.”
“Please yersel’. And, again to show goodwill I’ll even take on your own lassie, Bella. Oh aye, with her face always tripping her she’ll be a real asset!”
By the time Anna arrived the only seat left for the Industrial School Brass Band Concert was at the back where Rachel had kept a place for her.
“This is your fault, Auntie,” hissed Rachel standing up so she could see over the sea of heads.
“What do ye mean?”
“Just that you’re spending so much time talking to that guy that looks like Frankenstein.”
“And who’s Frankenstein?”
“Oh Auntie, you know fine he’s the monster in that Mary Shelley book. I told you about it last week after Jenny Steele, whose father lets her read any kind of book, told me about it. So scared I was I couldnae sleep. And remember, Auntie, you asked me if that was the same Mary Shelley – as the feminist you admire – and I said it was.”
Before Anna could reply, the conductor called for silence by tapping his baton. Soon the hall was filled with the sound of the boys’ brass band playing popular tunes of the day. Anna was so delighted to see Freddie and Robert both included in the ensemble but she wasn’t prepared for Robert being called forward to give a solo performance of “Land of Hope and Glory”.
As the notes faded, a rapturous standing ovation filled the hall. Anna, who was first to have leapt to her feet, was obviously overcome with emotion. Partly because Robert quite evidently had the natural ability to become a competent musician but more worryingly because she wondered if the piece had been chosen because of all the talk of a war being in the offing!
Immediately after the concert, Freddie and Robert joined Anna and Rachel at the back of the hall. “That was a very fine performance, Robert,” Anna declared, patting him on the shoulder. “Your mammy would have been so proud.”
“Aye, but no my dad,” he replied bitterly. “And there’s nothing to stop him from being here.”
Anna could have launched into a tirade about Gabby’s failings but decided that would only add to the boys’ resentment, so she asked, “In here, do you hear much talk of a war coming?”
Freddie nodded. “Aye, five of our laddies joined the army and six the navy last year, and there’s talk that another dozen will go this year.”
“As many as that?” queried Anna.
“Aye. But that’s because most of the boys here haven’t got homes to go back to and the army and navy are good options for them.”
“But that won’t happen to you two. When the time comes you’ll both make your home with us – that is with the girls and me.”
Rachel beamed with delight until Freddie started to snigger.
“Oh, I see,” he said taking care over each word. “When we’re auld enough to be working and no longer a burden, both you and our erstwhile faither are willing to have us. No bad, Robert, eh? Oh aye, son, what’s being said is that when you’re fifteen and I’m sixteen and we’re having to leave here, awbody wants to find us a bed.”
* * *
Anna was still mulling over the events of the day. Sandy’s idea of starting an undertaking business she put to the back of her mind. It was the realisation that Gabby had already intimated that he would take the boys back when they were released that was vexing her. After the upright-start they had been having in the Industrial School, going back to live with Gabby and his debauchery would be so utterly wrong. The only hope she had, and it was the one that was keeping her going, was that there was more than a distinct possibility that Gabby would drink himself to death in the near future.
So engrossed was she in her thoughts that she was quite unaware that the outside door had opened until her brother Andy spoke, “Did I no tell ye when I was home on leave in June that the assassination of yon Archduke Ferdinand would lead us all into war? And here we are just two months later, and we’ve declared war on Germany! Now if that’s no putting the cat among the pigeons, I dinnae ken what is.”
“Declared war on Germany, have they?” Anna replied absently, as her thoughts were still on what might happen to Norma’s boys when they were released. Rising, she continued with bitter irony, “Now, is that no a clever thing to do.”
“Anna, I know you’re all against war. Don’t know why – because you’ll no be, like us men, fighting in it.”
“Naw. But when all you stupid men and boys go off to play warriors, I’ll be here holding all the families together. And talking of holding the fort, remember to take the legs for your alarm clock back.”
Andy puffed as he reached up and took a small paper bag off the mantelpiece. “Had to take the legs off the clock or she would have pawned it for drink. And how was she when I was away?”
“If you mean, was your Rosie sober every day then …”
Andy gasped. “How the devil she got herself into such a mess I simply dinnae ken.”
“Suppose it’s too much to ask that you might concede that Rosie having eight bairns in eight years and only two surviving might have something to do with it.” Andy’s only reply was to click his tongue. “I think you know, brother, that if I had been Rosie, not only would I have found refuge in Red Biddy, I’d also have jumped into the docks.”
“Aye, but thank God she’s Catholic, so jumping in the docks is no an option.”
“Talking about Rosie being a Catholic, your Johnny came over to me just about four month ago. Breaking his heart, he was.”
“About what?”
“Och, nothing really. Just didn’t like that his mother was lying in the gutter blind drunk and that two ministering angels, masquerading as nuns from the convent – the ones that come and take two loaves of bread from her every week to feed the orphans – were kicking her all black and blue. Mind you, that priest, Father what’s his name?” Anna stopped till she recalled, “Father Kelly. Aye, well him. He came on the scene and told the holier-than-thou sisters to get back to their convent. Picked Rosie up out of the gutter. Took her to the chapel house and talked things over with her. Supported her, he did, while she kicked the drink habit. And, good for her, she’s been on the wagon ever since. So, brother, you can go off to war or back to sea with no worries – because both me and Father Kelly will be here to look after your responsibilities.”
Andy’s face was purple with rage. “What’s got into you, Anna? You’ve turned into a right shrew. Finding fault with awbody, so you do. And it’s blooming true, what folks say, that you’re worse than any of these suffragettes ever were. You know if you hadnae been so brittle someone might have taken you off the shelf. But naw, you have to give everyman you meet a tongue-lashing.”
“That right? Well, let me tell you. Get used to it because … I’m just starting.”
The door opening, which had been preceded by a loud knock, halted Anna and Andy’s argument.
“Oh, it’s yourself, Jack,” Anna said sweetly as the police officer came into the middle of the room and laid down a sack on the table.
“Just a wee boiling of my garden tatties for you and your lassies, Anna.”
Andy chortled, but before leaving he managed to whisper to Anna. “Now any man who’d come a-courting a feminine lassie would bring her flowers from his garden … It says it all, Anna … you get wooed with a big bag o’ garden tatties!”
8
A STRANGER COMES ASHORE
The late bright October sun streamed into the room and Anna had flung the window wide open to welcome it and the cool accompanying breeze. Eyes closed, she now sat on the bunker nursing the newborn baby. How grateful she was for the cool air that blew relief on her perspiring face.
It hadn’t been a long labour, only two hours, and Rye Pratt had been such a help to Anna by assisting in the safe delivery. A sly smile spread over Anna’s face as she thought, If anyone should be expert at births it should be Rye – after all, hadn’t she delivered all eight of Rye’s bonny babies who were all still alive and vigorously kicking unlike—
“Anna.” Rosie’s tired voice interrupted Anna’s thoughts. “Did the bairn make it?”
Swinging her legs down on to the floor Anna then made her way towards the bed. “Sure. Now how could you doubt it? Surely you knew I wouldn’t let you down.”
Before answering Rosie struggled up in the bed and Anna laid the baby in her arms. Pulling down the shawl Rosie gazed at the child. “Well at this size it has to be a dainty lassie.”
“Naw. It’s a laddie. And, okay, he’s no a heavyweight but sometimes the wee ones surprise you and flourish the best.”
Rosie nodded but Anna could see she wasn’t convinced. After all, before today Rosie had had eight births. Only Johnny and Ella had survived and the death of Paul had been the cruellest blow. “Know what?” murmured Rosie, cradling her new son close to her breast. “I don’t think this wee mite will ever be a Samson but I’m so grateful to God for giving him to me that I’m going to call him … David.”
Anna smiled, “A wee Davy in our family – is that not just dandy?”
Davy was four weeks old before his father came home on leave. Before Andy left on his last voyage, six months earlier, Rosie had known she was four months pregnant but she’d decided that, with the war raging at sea as well as on land, there was no use in giving her own Andy any further worries – so she hadn’t told him.
“Well I never,” exclaimed Andy when confronted with his new son. He then pointed backwards with his thumb. “And this here is Gus Cochrane who comes from the far-flung Hebrides. We’ve been told we’re not home for long so it’s no use him trying to get back to Stornoway.”
“Stornoway. Where’s that?” queried Rosie.
“Capital of Lewis – one o’ the biggest of the islands in the far-flung Hebrides but Gus comes from a tiny wee island nobody’s ever heard of. But o’ that’s bye the bye, didn’t I say to him he could bunk in with us but …”
Rosie eyes rolled before she suggested, “Would he not be more comfortable at Anna’s? She doesnae have a bairn greeting four and five times in the night wanting fed.” Rosie chuckled, “Och, Andy, our wee Davy here likes to be sook-sooking aw night long, so he does.”
Stroking Davy’s wee face Andy nodded his approval.
When Andy arrived with Gus in tow, Anna was more than a little surprised. On learning that Andy was asking her to put him up (just for a few days, he had emphasised) she was even more disconcerted.
“Suppose I could,” said Anna hesitantly. “But that means the girls will have to sleep with me in the living room. What’s your name, by the way? I didn’t quite catch it.”
“Gus Cochrane,” came the answer accompanied by a warm, engaging smile.
Anna took her time to study the young man. He was so very tall, dark and handsome. She could see by his tanned skin that there was some truth in the rumour that a hundred or so years ago a Spanish galleon had floundered in the ever turbulent sound of Barra. The story also said that some of the young seamen had reached the shore on numerous Hebridean islands. Chuckling, Anna mused to herself that the survivors must have lo
oked so much like Gus that it was no wonder the women on the islands had been more than happy to mate with them. Hence the reason that most men who came from the Outer Hebrides and the north of Scotland had that intriguing, seductive and mesmerising Mediterranean look about them.
“So it’s settled then. Gus will be with you until he gets word to board his ship.”
Still unable to take her eyes off the Adonis-like young man and wondering why she felt quite so apprehensive, Anna nodded her agreement.
“And I’ll pay whatever you ask,” Gus hurriedly assured in his enchanting lilt.
Far from calming Anna, she found her misgivings were growing out of control again.
By the time Rachel came back in from school, Anna had rearranged the house to accommodate the lodger.
“What’s going on? Are you getting us ready to do a moonlight?” Rachel asked, picking up her Wellingtons that had been thrown out of the bedroom and into the living room.
“A friend of your uncle Andy’s is going to be lodging with us for a few days.”
“Thank goodness for that. I thought you hadn’t the money to pay the rent.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Rachel,” huffed Anna, who prided herself in being a good manager of money.
Rachel looked absently about before asking, “But why can’t she share your bed? After all, you have the big bed all to yourself and Bella and I have to share the wee one.”
“She’s a he. So you, Bella and I will all have to bunk in together.”
Kicking her Wellingtons under the bed, Rachel grumbled, “And here was me running all the way home to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
Rachel drew herself up and looked haughtily about. “Just that I have come first – in the whole school’s composition competition!”