The Gourlay Girls

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The Gourlay Girls Page 10

by Margaret Thomson-Davis


  ‘Do you really think so, James?’ Virginia gazed anxiously over at him.

  ‘Of course she loved the pair of you. How can you doubt it? It was perfectly obvious to everyone else.’

  ‘Was it, James?’ Nicholas asked with an anxiety that matched that of his wife.

  Mathieson rolled his eyes. ‘For God’s sake, you’re both being ridiculous now. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. Of course Wincey loved you. And she was proud of you both. I used to see it in her eyes every time she looked up at either of you.’

  ‘Thank you, James,’ Virginia said quietly.

  ‘Yes,’ Nicholas echoed. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Nothing to thank me for. I’m just stating facts. Now, you’ve had your grieving time, so put it behind you. Get on with your lives. And try to be happy, for God’s sake.’

  ‘All right. All right.’ Nicholas smiled. ‘We take your point. Now let’s have a drink. Let’s drink to the future.’

  ‘That’s more like it.’ Mathieson gave one of his grotesque twisted grins. ‘How’s Richard these days?’

  ‘Better you didn’t know,’ Nicholas said.

  ‘Don’t tell me he’s taken after your father and gone into munitions?’

  ‘No, but my father would have been pleased, I suppose. He’s joined the Air Force. He’s training as a pilot and loving it.’

  ‘So he’s going to be cannon fodder this time around.’

  Virginia cried out in horror, ‘James, don’t say that. I can’t bear it.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Virginia. But it does look as if there’s another war brewing.’

  ‘You’re such a pessimist, James. You always have been.’

  ‘Well, I only hope I’m wrong.’

  Suddenly Nicholas said, ‘There’s still that money, you know.’

  ‘What money?’ Mathieson asked.

  ‘In my father’s will. He left Wincey a large sum in trust until her twenty-first birthday. It gave my mother quite a shock when she found out about it. I’ll never forget her face at the reading of the will.’

  Virginia said, ‘She never really liked Wincey. She thought she was too much like me—which was utter nonsense, of course. Poor Wincey wasn’t a bit like me, either in looks or in any other way.’

  ‘What are you going to do about the money?’

  ‘She would have been seventeen now. We can’t bear to touch the money yet. After her twenty-first, we’ll see. But at the moment, both Virginia and I feel we’d rather give the whole lot to charity. It’s not as if we need it.’

  Virginia said, ‘You’ll stay for dinner, I hope, James.’

  ‘Thanks. If you’re sure it’s all right.’

  ‘When has it not been all right, James?’ Nicholas laughed. ‘You’re one of the family, and always welcome. You know that.’

  ‘I’ll go through and see to it.’ Virginia went through to the kitchen. She had a daily cook and a cleaner—Mrs Rogers and Jessie Conway. Mrs Rogers was just taking off her apron when Virginia arrived in the well-equipped, spacious kitchen.

  ‘I’ve left the potatoes peeled and ready salted in the pot,’ Mrs Rogers said. She was an efficient cook and enjoyed the job, but she was glad to be heading home regularly every afternoon. She was a widow with two children at school. ‘And the pie’s all ready there just to pop in the oven. There’s fruit salad in the fridge and a jug of custard. Or you could heat up an apple pie. I made two yesterday.’

  ‘That’s fine. Thanks, Mrs Rogers. Now off you go. Jessie got away on time, did she?’

  The cleaner just came in for four hours.

  ‘Yes, she did the stairs and the bathroom and cleaned up here.’

  ‘Fine. See you tomorrow then.’

  After Mrs Rogers had gone, Virginia switched on the kitchen wireless. It was a request programme and George Formby was twanging away at his ukulele and cheerily singing ‘Leaning on a Lamppost’. Then came a woman vocalist who began the sad refrain, ‘Can I Forget You’. Virginia rushed over and switched the wireless off.

  15

  Wincey knew it was only a matter of time. She knew it would come, and it did.

  Charlotte said, ‘It’s only right that we should make Malcy a partner, Wincey. He can’t just go on working in the factory as an ordinary employee.’ Her eyes shone. ‘I thought I could make a partnership my wedding gift to him.’

  Wincey took a deep breath. She must try to keep calm and not criticise Malcy. She knew it would only make matters worse. Charlotte would never listen to a word against him.

  ‘I’m sorry, Charlotte. I can’t agree to that.’

  ‘Why not? What have you got against Malcy?’

  ‘It’s just that I believe the secret of our success is our partnership—just the two of us. I don’t want to spoil it by changing anything. We could give Malcy another job. He’d make a good salesman. He could travel about as—’

  ‘I don’t want Malcy to travel about, as a salesman or anything else. I want him here beside me. No, it has to be a partnership, Wincey. I can’t disappoint him.’

  ‘So you told him.’

  ‘Well, just hinted a bit when he was so worried about how awkward it was going to be at work once we were married.’

  ‘I see.’

  Charlotte brightened again. ‘So it’s all right with you?’

  ‘No. I’m sorry, Charlotte. It isn’t, and it never will be.’

  ‘So Malcy was right.’ Charlotte sounded bitter now. ‘He said you would try to spoil everything for us. He said he didn’t know what he’s ever done to you to make you dislike him so. And neither do I, Wincey.’

  ‘Can we just leave it now, Charlotte?’

  ‘No, we can’t. I’ll go to a lawyer. I’ll get Malcy a partnership one way or another.’

  ‘Well, you’ll no longer have me as a partner. Or anything else. I’ll wash my hands of the business altogether.’

  ‘You can’t do that.’

  ‘Just watch me.’

  ‘You know I can’t do without you. Especially now. You’re the only one who knows—’

  ‘That’s right, Charlotte. And what does Malcy know?’

  Charlotte’s cheeks were crimson. Wincey had never seen her look so angry. ‘I’d give up the factory and sell everything and be content to be Malcy’s wife, rather than hurt or insult him.’

  ‘I don’t want to hurt or insult him, Charlotte. And you can give up the factory if you like. I’ve no doubt that I can find other work if I have to. I have plenty of contacts now.’

  Charlotte left in high dudgeon. She was off to meet Malcy—their last meeting before the wedding, in fact. Wincey was confident that Malcy would not welcome the idea of Charlotte killing the goose that laid so many golden eggs. Charlotte returned late that night and Wincey pretended to be asleep. She knew, however, by the way Charlotte was banging about the room that she was angry—and it was with her.

  Next morning at breakfast, Charlotte addressed Wincey with bitterness. ‘Well, it’s only too obvious that my Malcy is a lot more reasonable and generous-hearted than you.’

  Before Wincey had time to say anything, Teresa asked, ‘What’s wrong? What do you mean, dear?’

  ‘I wanted to give Malcy a partnership in the firm as a wedding present. As I told her, it would be awkward for us both if he continued as an ordinary employee after we were married. But oh no, she wouldn’t have it. She threatened to ditch the business altogether rather than have my Malcy as a partner.’

  ‘It has never worried you,’ Wincey struggled to control her temper, ‘to have your father working as an ordinary employee.’

  ‘That’s different.’

  ‘Yes. Erchie is a much more experienced and more senior member of the staff, as well as being the head of the family.’

  Erchie said, ‘Ah appreciate what you’re saying, hen, but ah’ve always been quite happy to leave the runnin’ o’ things to you an’ Charlotte.’

  ‘I know, Erchie. But what do you bet Malcy wouldn’t be. That’s what I�
�m afraid of. I don’t blame Charlotte for not understanding and being angry with me. She loves Malcy and good luck to her. I sincerely wish her and Malcy every happiness as man and wife.’

  ‘Och aye, hen, ah’m sure ye do. Come on, Charlotte. Ah don’t like tae see you an’ Wincey fallin’ out. Ye’ve been like sisters tae each other for years. Closer than the twins.’

  ‘That’s right, dear. We don’t want either of you to be upset so near to the wedding. What did Malcy say? Is he angry as well?’

  ‘No, he is not.’ Charlotte assumed a quiet dignity. ‘That’s what I was trying to say. He simply told me that he would be the last one to come between me and Wincey, or have us give up the factory, even though he’d have loved to have me just stay at home and look after him all the time. I tried to insist that he was the only one who mattered to me, and I’d gladly give everything up for him. But he wouldn’t hear of me giving up the factory.’

  ‘I’ll bet,’ Wincey thought, but she said nothing.

  ‘How about making Malcy the manager, hen? That would be something, would it no’?’ Erchie turned to Wincey. ‘How about that, hen?’

  Wincey shrugged. ‘Yes, that’s all right with me.’

  ‘Charlotte, hen?’

  ‘I suppose it’s the next best thing. I’ll mention it to Malcy and see what he says.’

  ‘Good, good.’ Erchie rubbed his hands. ‘An’ whit are ye aw goin’ tae dae wi’ yersels the day?’

  Florence and the twins had already left for work but Wincey and Charlotte were not going in to the factory. It was the day before the wedding and there was still quite a lot to do.

  Teresa said, ‘We’re having our hair done for a start. And there are dresses to collect. Away you go out the road, Erchie. And remember, keep in the pub with your pals tonight. We’re having Charlotte’s hen party.’

  ‘What? In here?’

  ‘Yes. Charlotte doesn’t want to be traipsing away into town and coming in late at night. She wants to get her beauty sleep tonight. We’re just going to have a few of the neighbours in for an hour or two and a bite of supper. But no men allowed. Do you hear?’

  ‘Poor old Erchie,’ Wincey thought. ‘He’s not even been invited to Malcy’s stag party.’ No doubt Malcy would be living it up in town, treating all his gambling pals, lording it, showing off. She prayed that he would be kind to Charlotte. Charlotte had always been such a loving and generous-hearted person. She deserved someone who would love and cherish her.

  Gradually, during the rest of the day, Charlotte’s coolness towards Wincey was melted away by the happy preparations for the wedding. By the time the neighbours started to arrive, it was as if there had never been any bad feeling between them. Charlotte was not a person to harbour ill-feeling for long.

  Mrs McGregor arrived with her three eldest girls, Lexie, Minnie and Jeannie. Each one of them brought a bottle.

  ‘Oh here,’ Teresa laughed. ‘Do you want us all to get drunk?’

  Then came Mrs Donaldson and her two girls, Mary and Joan. Then a couple of Charlotte’s friends from the church, Sarah and Betty. By this time the kitchen was packed and so they all moved through to the front room. There Wincey started the gramophone going with a cheery record of ‘Seventy-Six Trombones’, which could hardly be heard above the excited chatter. They were all coming to the wedding and were eagerly looking forward to it.

  By the time they’d had a few drinks, Mary and Joan Donaldson were well away. They got up to sing a duet—first of all ‘Some Day My Prince will Come’ and then, for an encore, ‘I’m Wishing’. Both efforts sent everyone into a splutter of giggles because unfortunately neither Mary nor Joan had the slightest chance of a prince or any other man coming, no matter how much wishing they did. For one thing, they’d inherited their mother’s ample girth, chubby faces and short-sightedness, which required very thick pebble glasses. Blissfully unaware of the cause of everyone’s mirth, however, the girls continued to put heart and soul into their performance, even going on to their tiptoes and doing a little dance for good measure.

  The party, including the supper that Teresa had prepared, was a huge success and everyone agreed that it was much better ‘havin’ a pairty in yer ain hoose—ye can let yer hair doon’. Even Granny agreed that it had been ‘a rerr night’. She had also treated the company to a couple of songs, first of all ‘The Bonny Wells o’ Weary’, then, after another few drinks, a rousing rendition of ‘The Red Flag’.

  The next day everyone had a long lie in bed. Teresa as usual was up first and making a pot of tea. Soon everyone was milling about trying to get ready.

  ‘This is ridiculous, Mother,’ Florence complained. She’d recently changed from addressing Teresa as Mammy to Mother. Copeland & Lye’s was having a terrible influence on Florence, Granny said. Who would have thought it, her of all folk.

  ‘She’s been totally corrupted by the bourgeoisie, She’ll be callin’ me Grandmother next!’

  ‘What’s ridiculous, dear?’ Teresa asked.

  ‘This awful dump of a house. I mean, that black hole of Calcutta of a toilet for a start. And out on the stairs, Mother! It’s just not hygienic. And not being able to have a bath without traipsing about a mile up the road. It’s high time we moved to a decent place with a room for each of us, and a bathroom.’

  ‘Now, now, dear. It’s just a wee bit of a crush today because of the wedding. Give yourself a wash at the sink.’

  ‘That’s another thing. It’s not hygienic to sleep, eat, cook and wash in the one place. And Granny’s chanty is absolutely disgusting. We’ll have to move, Mother.’

  ‘Ye’ll be auld yersel’ wan day,’ Granny wailed.

  ‘Now, now, Granny,’ Teresa soothed. ‘She didn’t mean that you’re disgusting, dear. Just your chamber pot.’

  Charlotte said, ‘We’ve offered to pay the rent of a bigger place with a bathroom, haven’t we Wincey?’

  ‘Yes. And it’s an awful nuisance having to go out to the close for the toilet, right enough, Teresa. Especially in the winter. And the girls should have a room of their own, and not a room that has to double as a sitting room either. And now that Granny has her wheelchair, we could hurl her into the bathroom no bother.’

  Teresa sighed. ‘Right enough. A bathroom would be a great help.’

  Florence, forgetting her poshness for a minute, shouted out, ‘Oh Mammy, does that mean we can move to a better place?’

  The twins joined in. ‘Please Mammy. Please.’

  ‘Och well, as long as it’s still in Springburn.’

  ‘Hurray!’ Florence and the twins joined hands in a circle and danced around.

  Charlotte said, ‘I’m going through to the room to get ready.’

  ‘All right, dear. I’ll just see to Granny. I’ve just her hair to give a wee tidy.’

  Granny’s hair had once been long and jet black. Erchie always cut it for her, making it neat and short. She wore it sleeked down with a side parting and fixed on one side by a large brown kirby-grip. Teresa gave the dark grey head a gentle brushing and then replaced the kirby-grip.

  ‘There you are, Granny. All smartened up.’

  ‘Them shoes are killin’ me. Ye know how bad ma feet are.’

  ‘You can’t wear your old slippers to a wedding, Granny. Try and suffer them till after the service. At the reception I’ll slip them off under the table. Will that do?’

  ‘Ah suppose it’ll huv tae.’

  Soon the packed kitchen was rustling with taffeta dresses in pale blue and lavender. Then the kitchen door opened and Charlotte came in looking like an angel in her white dress and veil. Tears came into Erchie’s eyes.

  ‘Oh hen, ah’m that proud o’ you. Ye look that nice.’

  Wincey embraced her. ‘You look lovely, Charlotte. I’m so proud to be your bridesmaid. We all are, aren’t we girls?’

  There was an enthusiastic yell of agreement. Once more, Wincey made a secret prayer.

  16

  Virginia left the house and entered the Botanic Gard
ens by the side gate. With its famous Kibble Palace and pleasant grounds, it was a popular park for residents of the West End of the city. It was after lunchtime. She’d eaten the meal alone, as usual. Nicholas was shut away in his writing room with his flask of coffee and sandwiches to have if and when he remembered.

  Walking in the park in the warm May sunshine was better than sitting at home doing nothing. May Day was past, with its exciting marches and colourful banners carried aloft. Then all the rousing speeches. Nicholas hadn’t even taken a day off for that. She had gone with Mathieson and a crowd of other socialist activists. Afterwards they’d enjoyed a meal and lots of heated talk in Miss Cranston’s famous Willow Tearoom in Sauchiehall Street. It was designed by Charles Rennie Mackintosh and much admired for its unusual furniture and decor. The talk as usual had been wide ranging and not solely about politics. It had been an exhilarating day altogether. In the days since then, quietness and loneliness had crept up on her once more.

  Nicholas was not enthusiastic about having friends round very often while he was working on a book. Nor did they go out as much as they used to. At least not to the jazz evenings which had been so lively and such fun. They had got to know quite a few musicians. They had met them through Andy Daisley and his Balmoral Enterprises. Andy represented many of the best musicians and organised festivals and concerts in Glasgow. Through him, famous musicians from all over the world came to perform in the city. All she and Nicholas seemed to do together nowadays was visit his mother, even though, she suspected, this was more of a duty than a pleasure for Nicholas.

  The park was quite busy with strollers like herself. Some wore nanny’s uniforms and pushed prams. Virginia entered the heat of the Kibble Palace and wandered among the tropical plants, trees and statues. Virginia killed a half hour or so admiring the plants and passing the time of day with one of the workmen. He told her that they made up a yearly seed list which went out to all the botanic gardens in the world. Requests came back for seeds from countries as far away as Czechoslovakia and Australia.

 

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