In a Class of Their Own

by Millie Gray

  “He does?” was all Carrie could say.

  “Well, that’s what Miss Leishman says he does,” Alice pouted.

  “Oh then, that part will be just great for you,” Carrie enthused with genuine feeling as she went over and hugged Alice. “And you’ll do it so well because you have all the experience of our back-green concerts behind you.”

  Alice looked askance at that. Back-green concerts were hardly what she’d call good experience for a Greek drama. As far as she was concerned, Carrie had only organised these so she could charge the other children in the street twopence to get in – and anyway the profit always went on ice-cream pokes smothered in raspberry sauce when Tony Boni arrived on his ice-cream tricycle.

  “Have you told Mam?” Carrie asked, unaware that Alice was thinking of ice-cream days – days when they were all just bairns and when a penny to buy an ice-cream cone was all they longed for.

  “Tried to,” answered Alice dreamily, “but she said she didn’t want to hear another word from any of us tonight.”

  Carrie grimaced. “Well, she’ll have got over Hannah by the morn and you can tell her then.”

  Alice nodded, but Carrie could see she was disappointed that Rachel hadn’t shown any interest in her news, so she rubbed Alice’s nose comfortingly before saying, “Never mind. Now, come and help me on with my dress.”

  When at last Carrie made her triumphant entry into the living room she was startled to find that Will, splendidly attired in his Highland outfit, was already waiting for her. To pass the time he had sat on the settee chatting to Sam but as soon as he saw Carrie he jumped to his feet and a long wolf-whistle escaped his lips.

  This alerted Rachel, who was in the scullery, and she quickly ran into the living room, where she was confronted with a vision of Carrie as she’d never seen her before. She tried to speak, but the tears she’d been shedding ever since Hannah left started to surface again.

  “Well?” asked Carrie, giving a twirl that made the tulle skirts of her dress billow out invitingly.

  “Fine,” Rachel nodded. “Aye, fine feathers make fine birds,” she muttered thickly -acknowledging that Carrie had indeed been transformed into a swan.

  “They certainly do!” Will said, taking Carrie’s coat and placing it on her shoulders.

  Once Carrie and Will had left, Sam asked, “Ony tea left, Mam?”

  “Aye, I’ll just heat it up.”

  “Richt, and while ye’re daeing that I’ve somethin’ to tell ye. Here, Alice – awa ye gang to the chippie and get me a bottle o Vimto.” And he flipped Alice a half-crown so that she could go for his favourite brew – and be out of the way.

  Rachel said nothing as Alice went out, but she did remember Sam wanting to tell her something earth-shattering yesterday. Well, she thought, I could do with some good news after the bombshell Hannah has just delivered.

  “Pit my notice in, I hae,” said Sam casually.

  The fish-slice that Rachel was using to turn the fried potatoes slipped from her hand. “You’ve what?” she gasped, turning to face her son squarely.

  “Pit my notice in.”

  “But why? You’ve got three years in and in another two you’ll be a fully qualified marine engineer.”

  “Aye, but the polis …”

  Rachel’s hand flew to her mouth. She had always wondered why the stupid police hadn’t caught up with Sam before – but why now of all times? Och, she argued to herself, why couldn’t his luck have held out till he’d finished his time – before he had to do time of a different kind?

  “Mam, are ye aw richt?” asked Sam, coming over to turn off the gas under the frying pan that by now was sending billows of blue smoke about the scullery.

  “All right, you ask?” she demanded. “You’re about to do time and you think I should be all right?”

  Sam began to chuckle. “Dinnae be daft. I’m no gonnae dae time.”

  “Just probation?” Rachel squealed as relief flooded over her.

  “Weel, I’ll hae to dae twa years’ probation richt enough, but I’ll no be startin’ that till I come back.”

  Rachel shook her head and gesticulated wildly. “Sam, you talk in bloody riddles, you do. Now can we please go back to the beginning?”

  Sam nodded “Richt-oh, Mam.”

  “You’ve put your notice in because the police have caught up with you? Is that right?”

  “They’ve no exactly caught up with me. I kent ever since last week that they were efter me.”

  “Then why the hell did you no stop doing what they were after you for?”

  “Because I like playing fitba’, Ma.”

  Rachel shook her fist in exasperation and when Paul and Alice, who had just returned, came into the scullery, they thought Rachel was about to explode. And she did, grabbing Sam by the front of his jumper. “Are you saying you were lifted by the polis for playing bloody football?”

  Sam struggled free of his mother. “No lifted, Mam. I’ve been offered a job wi’ them and I …”

  “What!” Rachel, Sam and Alice all yelled in unison.

  “Aye.”

  “But – you’re a bandit, Sam! You’re the robber no the cop,” giggled Alice, setting Sam’s bottle of Vimto on the table.

  Sam was not amused. “Okay, so it was the reference frae the sergeant that runs the force’s fitba’ team that got me the interview. But an Inspector also had a wee word wi’ me efter I came tap in the entrance exam. Oh aye,” Sam cocked his head jauntily. “He telt me that they’d been lookin’ for somebody like me for a lang time.”

  “That right?” said Rachel, still perplexed. “But don’t you realise, Sam, that you’ll have to do your National Service now you’ve given up your apprenticeship?”

  Sam explained patiently, “That’s anither thing I’ve to tell ye. I’m joining the Royal Scots next week.”

  Rachel’s face became drained of all colour as she remembered the day on the bridge when Sam had got the job at Robb’s and Bella had warned that Sam should never annoy the Chinese. “No, Sam,” she groaned, hitting her chin with her clenched fist, “the Royal Scots are being sent out to Korea and there’s a war going on out there. Shooting and firing at each other, they are.”

  “That’s right,” Paul joined in, growing fearful for Sam as well. “And they’re daein’ it wi’ real guns and bullets that can kill ye stone deid.”

  It was after one o’clock in the morning when Rachel heard the taxi draw up. She’d been sitting by the fire with the light out since Sam, Paul and Alice had gone to bed. In her mind she had gone over and over the events of the day. How could life yet again be so cruel to her? Hannah’s betrayal – as she saw it – had been the hardest to bear. Sam’s departure from sanity had been easier for her to cope with because she could see that he would probably make a great career in the police. After all, he’d always be one jump ahead of the thieves he was chasing. She smiled to herself, picturing Sam in the CID chasing Chalky, who was finding it hard to fathom if Sam was running away with him or after him. Suddenly she realised that Carrie had still not come in. She tiptoed over to the door and listened before softly opening it. Carrie and Will, who were leaning against it, nearly fell on top of her.

  “What’s going on here?” Rachel demanded, becoming aware that Carrie’s coat was open and that Will’s hands were inside.

  Carrie’s face fired. “It’s just that Will’s hands are cold, Mam.”

  “That right?” Rachel snorted, hauling Carrie towards her. “Then you just tell him to buy a pair of gloves.”

  “Mam,” said Carrie plaintively, “Will and I have an understanding.”

  “That’s right,” echoed Will. “We have an understanding.”

  “You have an understanding, do you?” Rachel cried in maternal rage. “Well, let me tell you that my understanding is that your understanding thinks that you can molest my daughter. So I want you to understand that, even if you do have an understanding, you are never ever to put your hands inside my daughter’s coat agai
n until you have more than an understanding. And now do you understand my understanding?”

  “Oh, Mam,” wailed Carrie. “All Will and I are trying to say is that he’s going away to sea and when he comes back we’re going to get engaged and then get married.”

  Rachel exhaled loudly as she hauled Carrie further into the house before banging the door firmly on Will.

  “Why did you do that, Mam?” bleated Carrie as she tried to push or pull Rachel away from the door. When she finally realised her mother was immovable, she retaliated, “Are you frightened I’d end up like you?”

  “What do you mean?” shouted Rachel as a deep fear rose within her.

  “Well, I managed to work it out. You got married in October and Hannah arrived the following April. So you see, you were expecting her long before Dad and you got married!”

  Rachel swallowed hard but stayed mute, biting on her lip.

  “And I think that’s the reason you’ve always loved Hannah more than me.”

  Rachel still said nothing, but her thoughts raced. How, she wondered, could she possibly explain to Carrie that she loved her every bit as much as Hannah? That she had only been trying to make it up to Hannah for the fact that she had tarnished her – that she had somehow conceived her in sin.

  “And it wasn’t like how you think, Mam,” Carrie sobbed, breaking into Rachel’s thoughts. “He only had his hands inside my coat.”

  “Inside your coat the night, Carrie,” Rachel, who still had her back to the door, whispered more to herself, “but by tomorrow you’d find his hands …” She didn’t finish what she was about to say for she didn’t need to. Carrie had stomped off into the bedroom to take off the ball gown. As it tumbled to her feet, she felt the warm magic of the night drift away to meet the cold reality of dawn.

  By the following Friday night the row between Rachel and Carrie had been long forgotten and Carrie was sitting at the table in the scullery reading her beloved Red Letter. She had been there ever since Rachel, Paul and Alice had gone to bed two hours ago and had just about reached the climax of the story when the front door opened and in came Sam. He and the boys he worked with had been out for his farewell do.

  “Whit are ye daein’ up?” Sam asked Carrie as he struck a match and lit the gas under the kettle.

  “Thought you might be stottin’ fu’ and you’d need me to put you to bed,” she giggled, relieved, in truth, to find him quite sober.

  “Me drunk? Nah! Whenever I’m tempted, the sicht o Gabby staggering aboot wi’ his big blue neb …” Sam made a circle with his finger and thumb and ringed them around his nose, then wobbled his middle finger, “… has put me aff drinking for the rest of my life, so it has.”

  “Well, I know the pong coming off you is a fish supper in that pocket,” said Carrie with a smile, pointing to the bulge in Sam’s right-hand overcoat pocket. “But what in the name of heavens is that bulge in your other pocket?”

  “The king of drinks,” Sam sang, digging in his left pocket and bringing out a bottle of Vimto. Then, reaching into the other pocket, he brought out the newspaper-wrapped delicacy. “C’mon noo,” he coaxed, winking at Carrie, “let’s sit doon and hae a guid tuck-in.”

  Carrie took the fish supper from Sam’s hands, unwrapped the newspaper and spread it out on the table. Sam opened the Vimto and they had both just lifted the first chips to their mouths when they found themselves faced with pyjama-clad Paul and Alice coming into the scullery. “Aw, God!” exclaimed Sam. “Noo I’ll hae to share it amang the fower o us.”

  Alice confirmed that by going over to get four cups from the cupboard. She had just sat down again when Paul pranced over to the cupboard, lifted out a bottle of tomato ketchup and was about to splash a large dollop of it onto the chips when Sam grabbed him by the arm.

  “See you, Paul?” Sam teased playfully. “Ye’ve aw the big bricht ideas aboot being a lawyer and ye dinnae even ken that it’s muck sauce that goes on fish and chips when they’re being washed down with Vimto – nae tomati.”

  Undaunted, Paul pulled himself free, went back to the cupboard and took out a plate. And, as they all silently watched, he picked up a handful of chips along with half the tail of the fish and put them on the plate before picking up the bottle and liberally dunting some tomato sauce on to them. To their amazement, he then lifted his cup and toasted them boldly, bragging, “And I will be a lawyer. Oh aye, I’ll mak a fortune out of defending aw them crooks that you’re gonnae nick, Sam.”

  All four looked from one to the other for a second, then their laughter rang gaily round the room.

  “Aye, ye just micht,” Sam chortled, before his voice changed as it became choked with emotion. “Ye see, Paul, things werenae too bad for you and Alice. Ye grew up in the palmy days. Ye’re gettin’ to bide on at schuil and Alice is gettin’ tap-dancin’ lessons – no robbed like Carrie and me – an’ maybe puir Hannah even mair so.”

  “Robbed? Robbed of what, Sam?” Carrie queried in amazement.

  “Oor childhood! Never allowed just to be bairns and just to play.” Sam sniffed before he continued. “Oh aye, cos we were deserted and betrayed by oor ain kith an’ kin, we were foisted wi’ responsibilities awa beyond oor years.”

  “Be fair now, Sam,” said Carrie, who was desperate to get Sam’s mood to lighten. “By the time Paul was ready to go to Leith Academy we could afford the blazer for him.”

  “A second-hand yin, if ye don’t mind,” Paul chimed in.

  “Aye, but yer scarf and tie were new. Brand-new. I ken that cos I went wi’oot to buy them for ye,” Sam reminded him.

  “That’s quite enough, Sam!” Carrie fulminated.

  “Aye, ye’re richt enough.”

  Realising he was upsetting everyone, Sam got up and ruffled Paul’s jet-black hair in a gesture of reconciliation. “A lawyer ye want to be, son? Me? I just wanted to be an ace fitba’er.” He paused and then added wryly, “But I stopped believin’ in fairy tales when I was eight years auld.”

  “Did you really, Sam?” laughed Carrie. “I’ve never stopped believing in them. Oh no! I remember dreaming that one day I’d have a half-loaf all to my self and a whole tin of condensed milk to spread on it – and I got it. And then I dreamt about a whole Mars bar for myself…” She stopped and giggled as she grabbed hold of Sam by the arm. “And now that I can afford one, I’m sick if I take more than one wee slice. And know something else?” Carrie’s eyes became dreamy. “I know that some day Will and me will have one of those semi-detached houses with the rose gardens over on the posh side of Learig Close.”

  Now it was Sam’s turn to laugh. “Semi-detached hoose, Carrie? Ye were ayeways semi-detached.”

  Desperate to get in on the game, Alice heaved a sigh and blurted out, “I remember how we used to dream about having electricity and enough hot water to fill the bath in the bathroom. And now we have hot baths and wash our hair, not in that old-fashioned Dreen, but in posh Amami shampoo every week.”

  Before Sam could snub Alice, Carrie lifted her hand to warn him that it would be cruel to remind her how she and Paul had had life easy compared to the older ones. Sam heeded the unspoken advice and joined in the game. Picking up a chip that he had dragged through the muck sauce, he teased, “D’ye remember, Carrie, hoo I’d dip my chips in yer egg yolk? An’ cos we were the mankiest, we’d be the last to be dumped into the wash tub and scrubbed clean by Mammy.”

  Sam’s eyes moistened, and his face grew more serious. “An’ I hinna forgotten yer ornaments, Carrie. Oh aye! Some day I’ll get yer Dresden shepherd and shepherdess back for ye.” Sam stopped, and then his eyes twinkled as he nudged Carrie. “Mind ye, I dinnae ken hoo lang it’s gonnae tak, but I do ken that some day – I just will.”

  Carrie smiled and, stroking Sam’s cheek, whispered, “I don’t think these ornaments were so important. What was important was that Mammy kept us all together and that we got there in the end.”

  Sam nodded. “Aye, we never sterved. Never got chucked out by the cooncil.
Never got lifted by the polis. And Mammy never …”

  Alice interrupted Sam. “Know what you mean. And know something? If this house could speak it’d tell better stories than you’re going to write one day, Carrie.”

  Carrie nodded. “Wish Hannah was here right now. Mammy’s still real upset about her.”

  “Nae need to fret aboot Hannah and Mammy,” said Sam reassuringly. “They’re special tae each other, an’ afore ye ken it, Hannah will hae a bairn an’ aw the sea atween Oban and Lochboisdale will never be ower rough or ower deep enough to keep them apairt.”

  Carrie’s eyes began to sparkle and she looked upwards over her shoulder. She nodded again and again and again. And she kept repeating, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

  “Och, dinnae tell me ye’re anither yin that’s gonnae be speaking to the deid,” teased Sam, rolling the newspaper into a ball before flinging it lightly at Carrie.

  “Just being like you and Auntie Bella – foretelling the future.”

  “And what is our future to be?” Alice gasped, desperate to know if one day she would really go to Hollywood and take over from Alice Faye.

  “Ah well,” said Carrie, in mock imitation of Bella, “that was our very own Granny Rosie that came through there just now. She says we all have a long, long, road to travel and …”

  Sam broke in. “We’ll hae oor ups and doons and oor successes and failures, cos that’s hoo life is. But when ye’ve had a Leith education ye can bounce back frae onythin’.”

  Carrie nodded. “Aye, and …”

  Sam interrupted again. “Cos we were lucky enough to be brocht up by oor Mammy – we hae the backbone, no only to dae a double bounce, but to dae it wi’ class!”

  COPYRIGHT

  First published in this edition 2009

  by Black & White Publishing Ltd

  29 Ocean Drive, Edinburgh EH6 6JL

  www.blackandwhitepublishing.com

  This electronic edition published in 2012

  ISBN: 978 1 84502 551 9 in EPub format