Granny said, ‘Dae ye no’ think ah’ve enough wi’ ma arthritis, without givin’ me a heart attack as well?’
‘It wasn’t my fault. He must have been driving too fast.’
‘If he’d been drivin’ too fast, he’d huv splattered ye aw over the road. Ye wernae lookin’ where ye were goin’.’
‘Och well,’ Teresa said. ‘You’re all right, dear. That’s the main thing.’
‘Oh look,’ Charlotte said. ‘He’s stopped at that big house at the end of the road. He’s turned into that garage.’
‘Well, thank you, Wincey,’ Malcy said. ‘That’s all we needed to help us get on with our neighbours.’
Wincey felt like bursting into tears. She was still shaken and now angry with herself. More than anything she regretted giving Malcy a chance to score a point over her.
‘Come on, Wincey.’ Teresa began pushing Granny’s wheelchair. ‘We’re all dead beat. It’s time we were home. Good night, Malcy. Good night, Charlotte.’
Wincey gratefully followed Teresa away along Broomfield Road, and then round onto the Balgrayhill, where Erchie took over the chair. Granny said, ‘Ma tongue’s hangin’ oot fur the want o’ a cup o’ tea.’
‘All right, Granny. I’ll put the kettle on as soon as we get in.’
Teresa hurried on in front and up the close to unlock the door. Wincey took off her coat and hat and scarf and in the privacy of her room, breathed deeply a few times before she could get control of her emotions. A cup of tea was a comfort and she was able to say, ‘I’m sorry for giving everybody a fright. It was my fault, right enough. I was so taken up with waving the twins off.’
‘Och, just forget about it, dear. You’re all right. That’s all that matters.’
Wincey drank another cup of tea before going to bed. Then she lay for a long time feeling strangely uneasy and apprehensive.
18
‘I don’t know what the world’s coming to,’ Virginia said. ‘You would have thought that some kind of lesson would have been learned from the last war. But no. Did you see that terrible picture in the papers of that Chinese baby sitting among the debris of Shanghai’s railway station, screaming for its dead mother? Poor wee thing.’
‘I know.’ Mathieson shook his head. ‘The Japanese air force were responsible for that. But what about when the Chinese were supposed to be bombing Japanese warships on the river, and the bombs fell on an amusement park. Over a thousand civilians were killed that time. They reckon over two thousand civilians have been killed so far. That’s the insanity of war. Life’s short enough as it is, but instead of making the best of it, and learning how to live in peace with each other, the whole human race is hell bent on exterminating each other.’
Nicholas sighed. ‘Bums knew what he was talking about. “Man’s inhumanity to man”, and it’s not just the Japanese and the Chinese, by the look of it. The Germans and the Italian Fascists are just as crazy.’
‘Yes,’ Mathieson said, ‘I don’t like the sound of what’s going on over there. Have you heard about the new ‘concentration camp’ the Nazis have built? Buchenwald, I think it’s called. For years they’ve been these camps to imprison Jews, communists and trade unionists. But what signals have our government and our leaders been sending out? The Duke and Duchess of Windsor said they were charmed with Hitler and delighted by the Nazis. And look at the reception they got when they visited Germany. They certainly didn’t give a damn about shaking hands with murderers.’ Mathieson’s face contorted with disgust. ‘The aristocracy and all the religious leaders, including the Pope, have been doing the same old pals act. Have any of them condemned fascism or supported the Jewish people? Or the communists? Or the trade unionists? Not on your life! I’m sick to my soul of their hypocrisy.’
‘I’m with you on that, James,’ Nicholas said. ‘Remember what the priest Camara said. “When I gave food to the poor, they called me a saint. When I asked why the poor were hungry, they called me a communist.”’
‘Yes,’ Mathieson agreed, ‘and it could apply to quite a few good socialists I’ve known.’
‘If only someone like Maxton could stir things up and open people’s eyes to what’s really going on,’ Nicholas said, ‘But then again, I don’t think he’s been the same since Wheatley died. Wheatley had the long term vision.’
‘The sad thing is’ Nicholas continued, ‘I don’t think even Maxton could do much to influence the way things are going. It’s just like last time—war’s on its way and there seems to be no way of avoiding it.…’
Virginia had been making a pot of coffee. Now she filled the cups that were set out on the coffee table. Mathieson shook his head, then after a few sips of coffee, he said, ‘How’s the book going, Nicholas?’
‘I’ve hit a tricky bit. I’m not sure where it should go from here.’
‘What they call a writer’s block, is it?’
‘Not exactly. I’ve several choices and I’m just not sure which ones to take.’
‘Would it help to talk about it?’
‘Huh!’ Virginia gave a sarcastic laugh. ‘That’ll be the day. Nicholas guards his writing as if he’s got state secrets locked away in that room.’
‘I used to talk to you about my writing,’ he reminded her.
‘That was a long time ago.’
‘Yes.’ Nicholas looked away. ‘A lifetime, it seems now.’
‘Well, it’s not my fault you’ve changed,’ Virginia snapped.
‘For goodness’ sake,’ Mathieson said, ‘nobody’s said anything was your fault, Virginia. What’s up with you these days? You’re so touchy. I don’t know how Nicholas puts up with you. No wonder he shuts himself away so much.’
‘That’s right.’ Nothing made Virginia more furious than when Mathieson defended Nicholas. ‘Gang up against me as usual. I’m getting sick of this.’
Putting down her coffee cup, she left the room.
‘She’s never been the same,’ Nicholas told Mathieson, ‘since Wincey disappeared. I don’t know what to do. At the moment I couldn’t share my writing with her, even if I wanted to. I’m in too much difficulty with it. I need all my concentration, but I keep getting distracted … I’m worried about Virginia.’
‘She used to help you sort out difficulties.’
‘Yes. But that was mostly with my poetry. Novels are different, and she wouldn’t understand this one. I got the idea from Wincey’s disappearance, you see. It’s not Wincey but it is about a young girl who suddenly disappears.’
‘I see.’
‘I keep wondering what Virginia will think. It’s death to the writing of a book if you feel someone’s breathing down your neck all the time.’
‘But she isn’t. Time enough to worry about what anyone thinks once the book’s in print.’
‘That’s normally my attitude. But this feels different.’
‘It’s only fiction. You’re a novelist. Everyone knows that.’
‘Yes, but … the girl in my book is still alive. I worry in case this could awaken the hope in Virginia that Wincey might still be alive. She’s liable to grasp at any straws and I don’t believe for one moment that my daughter is alive, James. I only wish the story I’ve worked out could be true. But it’s only a story. And I’m just a storyteller.’
‘A very good one, and much more, Nicholas.’
‘Can you understand my dilemma, James? With Virginia, I mean.’
After a moment’s silence, Mathieson nodded. ‘Poor Virginia. You’re right, of course. She hasn’t been the same. Over the years, she has changed. But then I suppose we all have. She should realise that you loved Wincey as much as she did and you’ve suffered too. But life has to go on. It’s over five years now, she can’t go on grieving forever. No-one would expect either of you to forget Wincey but life has to go on and there’s your son to think of.’
Nicholas smiled. ‘It’s fortunate I suppose that Richard is so self-sufficient. I’m sure he felt as devastated as any of us about what happened five years ago but
he’s been getting on with his life. Doing very well in the RAF, by all accounts. Virginia thinks he looks very handsome in his uniform. She’s very proud of him. So is my mother—she dotes on the lad, always has done. He’s coming home this weekend.’
‘That should cheer Virginia up.’
‘I’m hoping so.’
‘Can I give you a word of advice?’
‘Fire away.’
‘For God’s sake, Nicholas, take the weekend off work. It might even help you. Maybe then you’d go back to it with a fresh mind and a new perspective.’
Nicholas looked worried again. ‘I’ll see.’
‘Nicholas, you’re not helping anyone by shutting yourself away so much.’
‘It’s the nature of this job. You’ve often said so yourself, James.’
‘I know. But there’s surely a limit. Anyway, I suspect that it’s more than that. It’s your method of escape. You’ve not properly accepted or faced the loss of your daughter, any more than Virginia has. Only she has no escape. And not much support from you either, by the look of it.’
Nicholas flushed with annoyance. ‘Now that’s not fair, and you know it, James. I don’t work twenty-four hours a day. I do spend time with Virginia. But you see what happens when I do. It’s like walking on eggshells.’
‘Nicholas, just take the weekend off and be with your wife and son.’
For a few seconds, Nicholas looked like a trapped animal, then he suddenly capitulated. But not with good grace. ‘Oh, all right, if it’ll stop the pair of you nagging at me.’
‘Cheers.’ Mathieson lifted his coffee cup and took a careful sip. His twisted mouth made drinking and eating difficult but with careful concentration, he usually managed. Only rarely did he have a spill and he liked to have a napkin handy just in case.
‘Is Richard going to get home for Christmas as well?’
‘We’re hoping so, but we’re spending Christmas at my mother’s this year. She insisted. She’s still very strong willed, my mother.’
‘Yes, I have noticed,’ Mathieson said wrily.
‘I’m sorry she’s never very pleasant to you, James.’
‘Oh, it doesn’t bother me. We don’t meet very often, after all.’
‘We’ll have the usual party here at Hogmanay though.
You’ll come to that, I hope.’
‘Yes, I’ll look forward to it.’
‘What’ll you do for Christmas? I hope you’re not going to be on your own.’
‘No, one of the other teachers at the college has invited me to his place on Christmas Day.’
‘Good.’
Just then Virginia re-entered the room. ‘What’s good?’
‘James has been invited to spend Christmas with one of his colleagues.’
‘Did Nicholas tell you of the jolly Christmas we’ve to look forward to? Or at least, I have to look forward to. It’ll be all right for him.’
‘Here we go again,’ Nicholas groaned. ‘I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to stand this.’
‘How much you’ll be able to stand this?’
Virginia’s voice rose and suddenly Mathieson snapped, ‘Oh, shut it, the pair of you. I’m off.’
‘Oh, you’re all right,’ Virginia said bitterly. ‘You can just walk away.’
‘Virginia,’ Mathieson said, his voice quiet again, ‘look at me. And you say I’m all right.’ With the help of his stick, he managed—but not without a struggle—to get up out of his chair.
‘James, I’m sorry. Half the time I hardly know what I’m saying these days.’
‘That’s only too obvious, Virginia. And if you don’t pull yourself together, you’re not going to be all right. And that’s putting it mildly.’
19
Wincey had been doing some shopping in the Co-op in Springburn Road when she heard the commotion. On approaching to investigate she discovered what was a fairly common occurrence in the winter. The cobbles were icy, causing a horse to slip and clatter down. On this occasion it was the coalman’s horse.
‘Come on, Mac,’ the coalman was encouraging the terrified animal. ‘Up ye come. Come on now, son.’
A crowd had gathered around watching in anxious sympathy as the beast struggled, with rolling eyes, to rear up and try to get hooves on the ground. Neighing loudly and struggling valiantly, it fought to reach a standing position. Then failing and crashing down again, it lay, eyes bulging, in helpless terror. Eventually the coalman was forced to loosen it out of its shafts. This took a bit of time and effort. Every strap and buckle had to be loosened until the animal lay free and had only itself to raise, with no shackling cart to make its task more difficult. Sparks flew from its hooves as, with a tremendous effort, it heaved itself up and found its balance.
As soon as this happened, a cheer went up from the crowd. Wincey shared their relief. She was fond of horses. She remembered holidaying in the Highlands and being taught to ride a pony. It was one of the few really happy memories of her childhood.
She crossed the road, a shopping basket slung over her arm, and quickened her pace along Springburn Road. She had come out to do the shopping in her dinner break from the factory. Granny was suffering one of her bad turns and Teresa didn’t like leaving her to go out to the shops. Wincey was very conscientious about taking time off work and never took advantage of her senior position in the firm. She expected her employees to be conscientious workers and time keepers, and believed that bosses should show a good example. The employees knew, of course, that there were occasions when she had to be away from the factory on business, and that was different.
Unfortunately, Malcy was neither as conscientious nor as good a worker as he used to be. He often disappeared from the factory floor and on more than one such occasion, Wincey had seen him with the local bookie. She tried to keep her mouth shut and not say anything, either to Malcy or to Charlotte. She felt it was Charlotte’s responsibility to speak to Malcy and had no doubt that if she did complain to either of them, she would only be met by indignation and anger. In the first place, Malcy would deny his gambling and Charlotte would be only too eager to believe him. She’d heard him tell Charlotte when he’d returned to the factory after over three hours’ absence that he’d been helping someone who had been involved in an accident. He described how he had administered first aid and then gone with the man to the hospital. It has been one of the occasions when Wincey had been out negotiating a new order. Returning along Springburn Road, she’d seen Malcy so she knew that he was lying.
And what a liar he was. He had looked genuinely offended and hurt at Charlotte, when she had asked him in her usual gentle way where he’d been.
‘It’s too bad if the husband of the owner can’t take a few hours off for whatever reason, and not be quizzed like a common criminal when he returns.’
Charlotte had been upset and effusive in her apologies. He had taken his time in grudgingly forgiving her. Wincey felt like killing him and it was only with great difficulty that she managed to control her feelings.
By the time she reached the close, she was quite out of breath with hurrying up the Balgrayhill, carrying the heavy shopping basket. She had forgotten her key and had to pull the door bell. A harassed Teresa opened the door and immediately turned back along the hall and into the kitchen.
‘Granny’s not been at all well. I was just saying that I think we should send for the doctor.’
‘Och,’ Granny said, ‘fur aw the good he is, we might as well save oor money.’
‘Now, now, Granny. Surely he can do something for you.’
‘The same as he aye does. Gives me more painkillers an’ if ah get any stronger wans, they’ll be knockin’ me unconscious. Ah’m half asleep aw the time as it is.’
‘Well, at least we could get a prescription for more, so that we have plenty in reserve for you, Granny. I wouldn’t like you to go short, and maybe run out on a Sunday when all the chemists are shut.’
‘Och, please yersel’. Ye’ll dae that a
nyway.’
‘I could go to the surgery for the prescription, Teresa,’ Wincey said. ‘I could run along for it now.’
‘You’ve had nothing to eat yet, dear.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Yes it does. You can go for it after work, on your way home maybe. There’s enough to keep Granny going just now. Just you sit down and have some stovies. And there’s apple and custard for pudding. Erchie’s been and away.’
‘The coalman’s horse fell down the road,’ Wincey said as she took off her coat and draped it across the back of the chair. She kept her hat on. ‘The poor beast was terrified but the coalman loosened it from its shafts and it managed to get up. It was still trembling though.’
Teresa dished a steaming hot plate of the potato, onion and sausage mixture.
‘Och, the poor beast,’ Teresa sympathised.
Granny said, in between groans of pain, ‘Ah once saw wan gettin’ shot. It broke its legs goin’ doon.’
‘Oh dear. Could you manage a wee spoonful or two of stovies, Granny?’
‘Well, starvin’ me’s no’ goin’ tae be likely tae cure ma pain, is it?
Teresa settled herself on a chair beside Granny and began feeding her with careful spoonfuls. Granny usually managed to feed herself but today her hands had swollen up.
‘I hope Charlotte’s taking her share of the work nowadays, Wincey,’ Teresa said unexpectedly.
‘Oh yes, I’ve no complaints about Charlotte.’
‘It’s just I get the feeling you’re getting the heavy end of the stick these days, dear.’
It was true that Charlotte was taking time off but that was as a result of Malcy persuading her to have occasional days in Edinburgh. Actually, they’d had quite a few days in Edinburgh now. He’d also taken her—for a special treat, he said—to the races at Ayr and they planned to go there again. Perhaps Charlotte had mentioned this to Teresa, but Wincey would never be disloyal to Charlotte, even to her mother. Charlotte genuinely loved Malcy and he could twist her round his little finger. That was Charlotte’s trouble.
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