In a Class of Their Own

by Millie Gray

  “It’s dark, Sam,” whispered Carrie, looking around for a patch of light. “Look, could we no ask Dad for help?”

  Sam stopped his make-shift guider by putting his foot down on the pavement to stop it rolling. “Daddy? Dinnae tell me you havnae got it intae yer thick skull yet that yon eejit has gone aff to find himsel’ and has got lost.” He paused. “Look, I ken his daein’ a runner has made life awfae tough for us. It’d be great if he’d help but let’s face it, hen, he’s no gonnae.”

  Sam then spoke more to himself. “A Christian he is noo. A pillar o the Chapel. So the only wey we can get the money to pey the rent,” he hesitated before emphasising, “is to steal it.”

  “Steal it! You mean rob a bank?”

  “Aye. But richt noo they’re shut, worse luck.”

  “Oh, Sam, I could never steal money. And Sam, if you rob a bank you’ll land in …” Now it was Carrie’s turn to hesitate.

  “I ken,” interrupted Sam, “a Hame with bars on the windaes.”

  “No. In the burning fire aneath the floorboards,” sobbed Carrie before turning away. “I’m away to see what I can find to sell.”

  “Aye, awa ye go then,” Sam called after her. “And remember. It’s at least a bleedin’ fiver we need.”

  Carrie nodded and thought: “I wonder if Jesus felt as bad as I do when they nailed him to the cross. Good Friday it is today – for everybody but us.” She pulled her scarf tight around her neck and shivered.

  Sam dragged his guider into the entry and parked it in the stairwell. The clatter alerted Hannah, who shot out of her chair and on to her feet. Before opening the outside door she thought she’d better hide the book she’d been reading. So she reached up and popped it behind the soap powder on the scullery shelf.

  “Oh, goodie! I see you’ve got somethin’,” she said with relief as she took one of the two bags that Sam was holding. “And you know it’s all thanks to me and my continual praying.”

  “Eh?”

  “Yes, that’s what I’ve been doing ever since you left - praying. And God has answered our prayers.”

  “Aye, just like he answered his ain laddie’s and left him hingin’ aboot aw day,” sneered Sam, pushing past his sister.

  “Sam Campbell! That’s blasphemy,” Hannah gasped.

  “Naw. It’s the hale truth. Oot aw night in the pissin’ rain I’ve been and what has yer prayin’ got us?” Sam’s feet lashed out at the bags. “Nowt that’ll bring in a tosser. Just a bag of coke aff the railway line an’ some rolls an’ buns that were gettin’ chucked oot o the store.”

  “That all?” Hannah asked taking the coke to store it in the glory hole.

  “Well, to be truthful, I did get something else.” Sam grew excited. “A guid place for us all to hole up in if we do get kicked oot.”

  “What?” Hannah exclaimed.

  Sam was looking down at his shoes. “See these, Hannah? My shoes are like paddlin’ pools. Aw flippin’ sodden. An’ it’s supposed to be the bluidy spring.”

  Hannah was about to speak when a high-pitched scream and a great thump on the outside door sent them both rushing to open it. There, prostrate on the doormat, lay Carrie.

  “What on earth has happened?” asked Hannah as she tried to dodge the apples, onions and potatoes that were rolling around the landing.

  “Some eejit went and left that guider sticking out, that’s what’s happened,” sobbed Carrie. “And I’ve just tripped over it and broken my leg.”

  “Never mind yer bleedin’ leg, ye blind bat,” said Sam, pushing the guider further into the stairwell and then picking up one of the sacks that Carrie had let drop. It clinked. “An’ I hope you havnae broken ony of thae bottles? Because that really would bring tears to ma een.”

  After picking up every bit of the fruit and vegetables, the children took themselves back into the scullery. A limping Carrie staggered over to a chair. Sam stared hard at her dripping wet hair and swollen blue fingers. Without a word, he lifted a towel and began to rub her hair dry. “Ye look like a droookit rat that’s ‘scaped aff the Titanic,” he sniffed.

  “A drookit rat?” she snivelled. “I’ll be lucky if I don’t die of pneumonay.”

  “Cut out the dramatics, Carrie,” Hannah commanded. “You’re a wee bit wet and cold. So what?”

  She started to look into the bags Carrie had brought in. “More importantly, what did you get?”

  “Well, there’s the chipped fruit and vegetables that we’ve just picked up.”

  “That’s mair chipped noo,” chuckled Sam.

  “And a bag of rags I left in the coal bunker. But they won’t fetch much. Not many woollens.”

  “That all?” Hannah exclaimed, her tone insinuating that Carrie was worse than useless.

  Carrie blushed. She didn’t like being accused of letting the family down. “No,” she quickly defended herself. “There’s four empty beer bottles in that sack.”

  “Only four?”

  “To be truthful I did get eight but…”

  Sam stopped rubbing Carrie’s hair. “Ye greedy wee pig. You went and sold the other fower and bocht a bag o chips for yerself, didn’t ye?” he accused, thumping her on the back.

  “Ouch! That was sore, Sam. And I didn’t buy any chips,” Carrie protested.

  “Then what happened to the other four?” asked Hannah.

  Carrie gulped before whimpering, “Look, I met a wee squatter lassie. Her mother had gone off for a good time with some GI. The wee lassie was out in all that rain looking for somethin’ to eat and no only for herself but her two wee brothers an aw.”

  “Oh, Carrie,” sighed Hannah, bending to count the bottles in the sack. “It’s nice to help people. But we need all the help we have for ourselves right now.”

  Carrie’s lip trembled as she bowed her head for a few seconds. Then suddenly she looked up and her eyes were sparkling. “But I also got a half-crown from Granny!”

  “You didnae tell Granny aboot the mess we’re in?” said Sam in alarm.

  “Course not. What more could she do? She already gives us half of her five shilling pension. Poor Granny. I’m that sorry for her.”

  “Sorry for Granny?” Hannah asked, unable to hide her concern.

  “Aye, how do you think she feels about our Dad leaving us. He’s her son after all. The poor soul beggars herself to make it up to us.”

  “Did she say anything about him?”

  “No, Hannah. All she ever says is that she’s had nine bairns and only three are still living. Now she wishes it had only been two.”

  Hannah and Sam exchanged glances but said nothing while Carrie went on. “She just asked me when I went in if there was something up? Like Mammy flinging me out again for setting up cheek. I just said no. And if there was anything wrong we could easy fix it ourselves.”

  “That richt? Then hoo aboot tellin’ us hoo?” demanded Sam as he went to light the gas under the kettle. “Whae’s for tea?”

  “Me,” sighed Carrie. “And is there any bread for toast?”

  Sam shook his head.

  “But there are some nice stale rolls that Sam got.”

  “Nice stale rolls, Hannah,” grumbled Carrie, taking a roll from Hannah and tearing it apart in the hope that the inside was soft. It wasn’t. “You know, some day I just know we’re going to be rich. I said that to Granny and she said, ‘Aye that’ll be right. When our boat comes in’.”

  Hannah sighed. “So you didn’t get much to help either, Carrie?”

  Her sister shook her head and went on gnawing at the roll.

  “But I did get something to help us,” Sam exclaimed. “A place to stey.”

  “You don’t say!” said Hannah while she warmed the teapot. “Now where exactly is this place?”

  “Doon the road in Craigentinny. You ken the auld army camp that’s noo been taen ower by the squatters.”

  “Oh, Sam, that squatters’ camp is worse than a pigsty,” wailed Carrie. “We just couldnae take Alice there when she comes
home.”

  “And I couldn’t stay there either,” exclaimed Hannah, banging the filled teapot on the table. “I’m going to be a doctor or a missionary and I’ve never heard of any folk like that living in a squatters’ camp.”

  But before Carrie or Sam could answer her, a loud knock came to the door and a decidedly drunken voice called out. “Open up! Open up! Open up in the name o the bluidy law.”

  All three children looked in consternation at each other. Without saying a word they joined hands, crept out of the scullery and sidled along the living room wall.

  “The law,” squealed Carrie as the door was hammered again.

  “Should we open up and see who it is?” whispered Hannah.

  “No,” replied Carrie. “You know what Mam says – we’re not to open it to anyone.” Then she gasped. “And what if it’s the rent man wanting his money?”

  “Rent man? You’re cuckoo, Carrie. That lot hardly work when they hae to, so there’s nae bleedin’ chance of them comin’ oot on a blinkin’ holiday,” quipped Sam in a hoarse whisper.

  The hammering came again. Louder this time. And, while the children huddled closer together, the voice thundered, “Open up, I say. Open up. It’s yer Granddad and I’ve got sweeties for you.”

  Hannah and Carrie collapsed against the wall with relief. Sam pushed them aside and opened the door cautiously. In reeled Gabby, their grandfather, who in his youth had been an articulate, handsome and debonair lad, but now – thanks to fifty years of abusive drinking – was little more than a shrunken shambles of a man.

  Gabby had just recovered his balance when he tripped over his own feet and did a pirouetting stagger across the room before collapsing in a heap on the floor. While this impromptu display was going on, the children just stood and stared in astonished silence. But when Gabby half rose and spluttered, “Some pissin’ weather we’re haein’,” they all had to stifle a giggle.

  Carrie was the first to stop laughing. She felt instinctively that she should help her grandfather to his feet, but the stench of alcohol, mingled with the stink from his unwashed body and hair, made her retch and turn away.

  Trying to focus his bleary eyes, Gabby squinted first at Hannah and then at Sam, before his gaze finally came to rest on Carrie. That brought a crooked smile to his face and without uttering a sound he fished around in his pocket and brought out a bag of sweets, which he shooggled noisily before handing them out to the children. “Bluidy lucky ye are,” he warbled. “Ah hae jist laid hands on some of ma Post-War Credits the day and I’ve backed a couple of winners forbye.”

  “How much have you got?” Hannah asked sweetly, taking a single sweet.

  “Nane o yer bluidy business, Miss Smarty-pants,” snapped Gabby. “And yer snobby bitch o a mither’s no getting ony o my thirty-five pounds neither. So there.”

  Wide-eyed and gaping, the three children all looked at one another. Eventually Hannah said, “Our Mam’s very hard up and you owe her, Granddad. You know you do.”

  “What we’re saying, Granddad, is this,” explained Carrie, taking a big breath before helping him to his feet. “Could you no see your way to giving her a wee loan?”

  “Naw I couldnae. And why should I?” grunted Gabby belligerently.

  “Cos she’s yer ain dochter and she’s skint,” replied Sam.

  “Some dochter,” sneered Gabby. “D’ye think I dinnae ken thon uppity bitch disnae want me comin’ up here an’ giein’ her a showing-up? Worst thing I ever done was lettin’ that bleedin’ sufferin’ get influence her.”

  “What suffering get?” asked Carrie, looking apprehensively from her granddad to Hannah and Sam.

  “The blethering skite means Mammy’s auld freend Eugenie, the suffragette. No a sufferin’ get like him,” Sam whispered back.

  “Uh-huh,” was all Carrie said as she began to pat her grandfather’s arm, and gently crooned, “and Mam does like you coming up here, Granddad. It’s just that she doesn’t like you being an alcoholic.”

  “Al-co-ho-lic?” thundered Gabby, staggering about the room. “I’m nae al-co-ho-lic. It’s just that I’m partial to a dram or twa.”

  “Aye, and he’s no drunk aw the time neither. It’s just that he gets less and less flipping sober,” remarked Sam ruefully.

  “See you?” Gabby snapped, aiming punches that Sam had no difficulty in dodging. “Ye’re a razor-blade mooth just the same as yer bluidy mither.” Gabby turned to Carrie and wheedled, “Come on, hen, help us through to the lavvy.”

  Once Carrie had complied meekly, Hannah asked, “Is he safely in the bathroom?”

  “Aye, and I shut the door on him.”

  “Look,” Hannah whispered. “He’s got money and we need some of it.”

  “Money? He’s a millionaire,” Carrie gasped. “I’ve always dreamed of being rich but a Granddad with thirty-five pounds – that’s scary. Really scary.”

  “Be quiet, Carrie. We’ve got to think of a wey o partin’ Granddad from his dough,” said Sam, scratching his head as he tried to figure out a way of doing just that.

  “That’s easy,” said Hannah. “We steal it.”

  Carrie yelped before breaking out of the circle. “Steal it! Look, Hannah, stealing money is different from us finding tatties in a field that need dug up and apples needing shaken out of a tree.”

  “You think so?”

  “I do, Hannah, I do! Because, as you know, stealing money is breaking God’s commandment, and Jesus isn’t too keen on it either.”

  “But it’s just like the food and coal that Sam and you found,” Hannah argued before becoming aware that Sam wasn’t listening. “Are you still part of this family, Sam?”

  “Aye.”

  “Right then. Now listen, both of you. I’m convinced that Jesus knows it’s a fiver we need and that’s exactly why he sent Granddad up here to visit us. Now d’you think you can get the money away from him, Carrie?”

  “Me?” shrieked her sister, looking aghast at the others.

  “Yes! Surely, if he’s to be robbed by anyone, it would be kinder if it was his favourite.” Hannah smirked. “That’s you, Carrie. Isn’t it?”

  “Don’t talk rubbish,” said Carrie. “But I will do it cos when I took Granddad through to the bathroom I looked in on Paul. Lying asleep like a wee angel, he was. Only thing is that Alice isn’t there beside him. But she soon will be when I take the money.”

  “Dinnae, Carrie,” interrupted Sam. “See, when you start on like this ye’re the only yin that can mak me want to greet. But ye’re richt. We hae to keep this roof ower oor heids for Paul and Alice’s sakes. There’s nae wey they could survive in a Hame. They’re just too wee.”

  Just before Gabby reeled back into the scullery, Carrie started to write out an IOU.

  “Surely you’re not going to put that in his pocket?” exclaimed Hannah.

  “No. I’m going to put it behind the gas meter.”

  “You’re what?”

  “Come on, Hannah, you know that’s where we keep the pawn tickets and when we have the money we go and take them out and get our stuff back. It’s just the same with this IOU. Yes, when I have the money to pay Granddad back, I will,” Carrie replied solemnly as she got up and hid the IOU behind the gas meter.

  “Ye’re no the full shillin’, Carrie, so ye’re no,” began Sam, but Hannah broke in before he could go on.

  “Ssssssh! Here he is.”

  Gabby duly appeared bearing a half-bottle of whisky in his hand. Unscrewing the top, he lifted the bottle unsteadily to his mouth and took a long hard swig before dragging his hand across his lips.

  “Drink up, Granddad,” Sam encouraged, pulling up a chair.

  “That I will, son,” and with that he took another long swig. “Here’s tae us an’ wha’s like us. Damn few and …” Gabby didn’t finish his recitation. Nor did he sit down on the chair. Instead he began gradually to sink to the floor. The bottle dropped from his hand and the pungent liquid seeped into the worn faded linoleum.

&
nbsp; “He’s asleep,” pronounced Hannah.

  “Deid drunk, ye mean,” said Sam, giving Gabby a kick with his foot.

  “Whatever. But it’s safe now. So go on, you two.”

  “And what’ll you be doing, Hannah?” asked Carrie.

  “I’m going to sit beside Paul, naturally. We don’t want him waking up in the middle of all this.” Hannah flounced out of the scullery, leaving Sam and Carrie to exchange glances.

  “Right,” said Sam at last. “Let’s get started.”

  “But, Sam, I’m scared. What if we get caught?”

  “Then they’ll just hing us.”

  “Hang us?”

  “Just joking, dopey! Ye dinnae get hung at twelve. They jist birch ye wi’ a cat o nine tails.”

  “What!” shouted Carrie, backing away.

  “But dinnae worry. It doesnae break yer neck; it only taks the skin aff your erse.”

  Carrie jumped again when Gabby let out a loud snore. “I suppose,” she remarked stoically, “that whatever’s going to happen to us will.”

  “That’s right. And we’ve just got to save oor hame. No maitter whit.”

  Carrie and Sam dropped to their knees and began cautiously crawling towards Gabby. Sam went on one side and Carrie the other. Sam signalled to Carrie that they must roll Gabby over. So they pulled and pulled, but he just wouldn’t budge.

  “Ye’ll need to push while I haul,” Sam whispered, but he now saw that Carrie was trembling and was quite unable to do anything. “Get a grip, Carrie,” he urged through his clenched teeth.

  Carrie took a deep breath and then shoved at Gabby with all her might until he slowly rolled over. In his coat pocket her first find was the bag of sweets. She shoogled it joyously before picking one for herself and then popping a second into Sam’s mouth.

  “Look, dopey, I cannae haud on much longer. So will ye get a move on?” pleaded Sam

  Carrie furtively searched all of Gabby’s outside pockets, but all she found was another half-bottle of whisky, a couple of broken biscuits, a twist of Bogey Roll tobacco, a box of Swan Vesta matches and, finally, a clay pipe.

  “Try his inside pockets,” urged Sam, tightening his grip on Gabby’s coat.