The Gourlay Girls
Page 21
‘Aye,’ Granny said, ‘they’ll maybe knock me oot the night but ah’ll still have tae face the morrow.’ She wiped away her tears with the back of her sleeve. ‘But ah’ll face it, don’t you worry. An’ better than any o’ them. Ah’ve had tae face the loss o’ weans before.’
It was much later, after Houston had gone, that Teresa suddenly said, ‘What about Malcy? Is he all right?’
‘Oh yes,’ Wincey said bitterly. ‘He’s all right. They’re keeping him in hospital for a couple of days but he’ll survive all right. His kind always do.’
‘Wincey,’ Teresa said gently, ‘Charlotte loved him so much and he loved her. He’ll be broken-hearted. We’ll have to go and see him, give him a bit of support.’
‘What? Oh no, Teresa, you can count me out of that.’
‘Now, now, it’s what Charlotte would have wanted.’
‘I’m sorry, Teresa, I couldn’t. It’ll be as much as I can manage to be civil to him at the funeral.’
Erchie sighed. ‘We know he had his weaknesses, hen, but he’s no’ a bad man. He was good tae Charlotte in his own way. He made her happy.’
‘Oh really?’ Wincey queried sarcastically. ‘You think so?’
‘Ye’re an awful bitter wee lassie.’ Erchie shook his head. ‘Ye’ve aye felt the same about Malcy, an’ he never did ye wan bit o’ harm.’ He hesitated. ‘Have ye no’ been mixin’ him up wi’ somebody else, hen? Are ye still daein’ that? Maybe that’s yer problem.’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Erchie.’ Wincey rose. ‘All right, I’m off to bed. I feel the tablets beginning to work, don’t you?’
‘Thank goodness they’ve worked for Granny anyway.’ Teresa gazed over at the hurly bed where Granny was lying, toothless mouth hanging helplessly open. ‘Goodnight, Wincey,’ Teresa added, ‘although it’s been anything but a good night, hasn’t it?’
Wincey kissed Teresa, said goodnight to Erchie in passing and went through to her own room. There she quietly wept.
Next morning she got up very early and went to the factory to pin a notice on the door saying what had happened and that the factory would be closed for the rest of the week as a mark of respect. All the employees would be shocked, she knew. Charlotte was very well thought of by everyone. Then Wincey saw the undertaker about a date for the funeral before putting a notice in the local paper, as well as in the Glasgow Herald. Teresa had sent telegrams to Florence and the twins, and was now awaiting their arrival.
Wincey booked the Co-op for the funeral tea. They had all agreed that it was best to keep busy, and they were soon dealing with a steady stream of friends and neighbours coming to the house to express sympathy and to grieve with them. Teresa kept making pots of tea and putting plates of sandwiches and cakes and biscuits on the table. The blinds were kept pulled down, and during the day the kitchen and all the rooms were in a ghostly twilight.
‘It doesn’t seem right that Charlotte’s lying in the Co-op undertaker’s parlour,’ Teresa said. ‘She should have been here in our front room.’
‘Naw, naw, hen,’ Erchie said, ‘her place wis in her own front room, up in Broomfield Street. But ye can understand Malcy jist lettin’ her go to the Co-op. He’s no’ gettin’ oot till the funeral day, so he couldnae be wi’ her in their hoose.’
‘I suppose so,’ Teresa said, ‘but it doesn’t seem right, not having a wake for Charlotte.’
‘A wake?’ Granny bawled. ‘There’ll be nae Popish carry-on while ah’m here. An’ when ah go, don’t ye dare hae one for me, Teresa Gourlay, or ah’ll come back an’ haunt ye. Ah’d birl in ma grave if ye did that.’
‘Oh, all right, Granny. I won’t have a wake for you. But it’s not just folk of my persuasion who have wakes, you know. It used to be—’
‘Never mind what it used tae be. It’s no’ gonnae be. Can you no’ take a bloody tellin’?’
‘Now, now, Granny. It’s not like you to swear.’
‘It’s no’ like me tae have a wake either.’
Teresa rolled her eyes and gave up.
Wincey sat quietly for much of the time. She was dreading the day of the funeral, not only because of her grief at Charlotte’s untimely death, but also at the prospect of facing Malcy. As far as Wincey was concerned, Malcy—and Malcy alone—had been the cause of Charlotte’s death. Never before had she hated him so much.
* * *
At the funeral, he looked a pathetic figure, with his bruised and swollen face, his head in bandages and his arm in a sling. He sobbed through the service. Everyone felt acutely sorry for him and Wincey hated him all the more.
‘Look at the two-faced hypocrite,’ she said to Houston at the funeral tea.
Houston stared at her in silence for a moment. ‘He’s genuinely upset, Wincey. I’ve spoken to him more than once in the hospital. He’s more than upset. He’s broken-hearted and he blames himself.’
‘And so he should. He was to blame. I’ll never forgive him. Never.’
‘Just as you’ll never forgive your grandfather? Do you think you’ll ever change, Wincey? Do you think you’ll ever forgive yourself? I’m beginning to wonder.’
She had begun to recognise the warning signals in his expression, in his voice. She was going to lose him all right.
After the funeral tea, he said he had to go. He had a patient to visit and so Wincey returned to the Balgrayhill with Erchie and Teresa. Erchie pushed Granny’s wheelchair. Florence and the twins returned to Clydebank.
* * *
Eventually the time came to reopen the factory. Life had to go on. Wincey was sitting at her desk in the office when Malcy knocked at the door and came in.
‘What do you want?’ Wincey asked him coldly.
‘I feel terrible about this, but I don’t know what to do.’
‘Do about what?’
He hesitated. ‘They’re still after me for the money. Charlotte said she was going to pay Mrs O’Donnell.’
‘I’m not Charlotte.’
‘Look, Wincey, I’ll never gamble again. I swear. This has finished me.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’
‘But if you don’t come up with the money in the next few days … They’ve given me a week’s grace because of what happened to Charlotte. But they’re going to kill me. They’ve told me, Wincey. They said they’d finish the job this time. And I believe them.’
‘All right. I’ve got a week to let you know. Now, if you don’t mind, Malcy, I’m busy.’
‘Wincey, don’t do this to me, please. I feel bad enough as it is. I loved Charlotte. Maybe I didn’t as much as I should have at the beginning, but who couldn’t grow to love her once they knew her? She was such a sweet and loving person, Wincey.’
‘She was indeed, Malcy. Now I really am very busy.’
After he’d gone she thought she’d feel some sort of satisfaction. But she didn’t. She knew he was a weak man and she didn’t believe his vow about never gambling again. She did believe, however, that Mrs O’Donnell’s men meant what they said.
‘Here,’ Wincey thought, ‘is revenge being handed to me on a plate.’
Yet it didn’t feel sweet. She kept remembering Charlotte saying, ‘I love him, Wincey. He’s not a bad man. He’s been nothing but kind and gentle and loving to me. He can’t help the gambling. It’s an illness. We’d be perfectly happy together if only he could get cured of that.’
‘Oh Charlotte,’ Wincey thought, ‘if only I could be like you.’
She still felt Charlotte was near to her. There were two desks in the office, her own desk, and Charlotte’s directly opposite. How often had they sat like this working quietly across from one another, every now and again glancing up and smiling at each other. If Charlotte had been here and heard how she’d just spoken to Malcy, how would she have felt?
‘Oh Charlotte,’ Wincey said to the empty desk, ‘I’m so sorry.’
She sat for a long time struggling with herself. Then she went out to the machine room and said to one of the g
irls, ‘Tell Malcy to come to the office.’
In a few moments, he had returned to stand in front of her desk like an errant schoolboy. She suddenly felt tired of hating him, tired of hating.
‘This is what Charlotte wanted, Malcy.’ She handed him the cheque. ‘She also wanted to go to Mrs O’Donnell to talk to her and make it perfectly plain that there would be no point in lending you any more money. I’ll do that now, shall I?’
‘Thank you, Wincey.’ He accepted the cheque. ‘You can talk to her if you want, but there’s no need. I won’t be here to borrow money from her again. I’m joining the Army. There’s nothing to keep me here now.’
‘I see.’
Again she struggled with herself. ‘Take care then, Malcy.’
He nodded and turned to go. Just before he left, Wincey said, ‘I’m sorry we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but rest assured, for all your faults and no matter what you did, Charlotte always loved you.’
He nodded and quickly closed the door.
A few minutes later Erchie came in, and without his usual knock at the door.
‘What huv ye been sayin’ tae Malcy?’
‘Why?’
‘The poor fella came oot o’ this office an’ across the machine room like a bat oot o’ hell wi’ tears streamin’ doon his face.’
‘Poor Malcy,’ Wincey said. ‘I just told him that, for all his faults, Charlotte always loved him.’
‘Oh?’ Erchie looked taken aback. ‘That wis nice o’ ye, hen. He did love her, ye know.’
‘Yes,’ Wincey said. ‘I know.’
‘Well,’ Erchie said, ‘ah’ll see ye later, hen. Ah can see ye’re busy the now.’
She managed to smile. ‘Yes, I’ve an important letter to write.’
Then after she was alone again, she took up her pen and began.
‘My dear mother and father ….’
Other B & W Titles
by Margaret Thomson Davis
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the clydesiders
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COPYRIGHT
First published 2000 Hardback, Paperback
by Black & White Publishing Ltd
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This electronic edition published in 2014
ISBN: 978 1 84502 804 6 in EPub format
ISBN: 978 1 90326 509 3 in paperback format
Copyright © Margaret Thomson Davies 2000
The right of Margaret Thomson Davies to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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