A LETTER FROM MARGARET
As the weeks went on, Mum went off to work looking like a ghost. She had always been slim, but now she had lost so much weight that her dress and coat hung from her slender shoulders. I knew Granny was worried about her, but after the fateful night of Andy Baxter’s visit, Mum seemed resigned to the fact that Dad wasn’t coming back from what the papers were calling ‘the war to end all wars’.
Then suddenly, a week before Christmas 1921, she perked up and announced she was going out on the Thursday night to meet up with Milly, her colleague. She spent some time getting ready and at seven thirty she went out. I saw her standing at the tram stop across the road from our close. She waved before climbing aboard and I went back to my book. I was rereading Treasure Island and was immersed in the adventures of the characters, wishing I could live a life like them.
Granny was sitting by the fire, engrossed in her knitting pattern. I could see from the cover that it was a jersey for a child and I suspected it was a Christmas present for me. The pattern looked quite complicated, with a rope-like cable climbing up the front of the jersey. I wasn’t enamoured with it, but I knew I would be expected to wear it.
Suddenly she stopped looking at it and said, ‘Lizzie, did your mum say where she was meeting Milly?’
I dragged my eyes away from an exciting part of my book. ‘I think she’s going to Milly’s house.’
Granny nodded. ‘Oh, I see.’
I was in bed when Mum returned and I heard her speaking to Granny before she came through to the bedroom. Her cheeks were pink with being out in the cold wind and she didn’t seem her usual self.
‘Are you awake, Lizzie?’
I sat up in bed. ‘Did you enjoy your visit to Milly?’
She didn’t look at me as she climbed into bed. ‘Yes, I did. We had a good blether.’
The next day brought some good news for her in the shape of a letter from Aunt Margaret. Gerald’s posting in Rio was over and they would be travelling to his new post at Easter. They were heading to Lisbon, in Portugal, and Margaret said she was coming to see us before joining her husband.
Mum was thrilled at the thought of seeing her and so was I.
9
EASTER
It was Easter 1922 and Aunt Margaret was in the country. She was planning to visit us soon. Mum was so excited at the thought of seeing her after such a long time, and I was pleased to see that she seemed to be back to her usual self. Granny noticed this as well and she also looked pleased by the forthcoming visit.
I thought the time dragged by and I began to get impatient, but Mum warned me to behave. ‘You have to learn to be patient, Lizzie. You know what people say: Rome wasn’t built in a day.’
I was puzzled by her remark and wondered what Rome had to do with my aunt’s visit, but I wisely stayed silent and just nodded.
The weather was lovely and sunny but with a cool breeze and Mum couldn’t help saying, ‘I hope it gets warmer when she comes, as she will notice such a difference from South America.’
I would soon be moving to primary seven at school and I planned to tell my aunt all my news. Mum, however, warned me not to hog all the conversation when she arrived because she was going to spend an entire week with us. I felt it was like Christmas instead of the start of the Easter school holiday and I was ready to burst with suppressed excitement.
Mum was still visiting Milly on a regular basis, and one night Granny asked her as she put on her coat to leave, ‘Is Milly keeping well, Beth?’
Mum was just about to leave, but she stopped to look at Granny. ‘She’s fine, Mary, but obviously still heartbroken over the deaths in her family. Her mother has never recovered from the shock of hearing the terrible news and neither has Milly. They have a little shrine in their front room with the photos of both men and they mention it every time I visit.’
‘Don’t you find this upsetting, Beth?’ Granny seemed to be concerned about these visits.
‘Yes, I do, but I do my best to cheer them up.’ Mum glanced around the house to make sure she had her bag, scarf and gloves before giving me a quick kiss on my cheek as she went towards the door.
‘Can I come with you, Mum?’ I asked.
She shook her head. ‘It’s too late for you to be out, Lizzie.’
Granny looked thoughtful, but when she saw me staring at her, she smiled and said it was time for my cocoa, then bed. I wanted to ask her why she didn’t go with Mum; then I realised she had to stay at home to look after me.
Although I pretended to be asleep, I was always awake when Mum arrived home and I had noticed before her bright-eyed look, as if she had won some kind of victory, but I couldn’t figure out what victory Mum could have won.
The week before Aunt Margaret’s visit, however, she seemed distracted and pale when she arrived back, and I heard her suppressed sobs as she lay down in her bed.
I was alarmed. ‘What’s the matter, Mum?’
The crying stopped and she sat up. ‘Oh, I thought you were asleep, Lizzie.’ She searched for her hankie in the bedside-table drawer and wiped her face. ‘I’m just crying with pleasure at the thought of seeing Margaret again.’
After counting the days till our visitor arrived, a taxi drew up outside the close and Aunt Margaret stepped out onto the pavement and glanced up at the window where I had spent the past hour gazing out. She waved, and Mum and I went downstairs to meet her.
I was expecting her to have loads of luggage, but all she carried was a small suitcase. Mum ran to greet her, while I stayed in the background.
‘Margaret, it’s so good to see you.’ Mum was in tears as she spoke.
Margaret, in her usual practical fashion, said, ‘Let’s go upstairs, Beth.’ She turned to me and took my hand. ‘I hardly recognised you, Lizzie, you’ve grown so tall.’
I carried the suitcase upstairs and Granny was waiting at the door. Margaret laughed. ‘What a great welcoming party I’ve got. I feel like the prodigal daughter returning to the fatted calf.’ She gave Granny a big hug. ‘How are you keeping, Mary? It’s so good to see you all again.’
Granny and Mum had made a special meal for Aunt Margaret’s homecoming: mince and mashed potatoes followed by rhubarb crumble and custard. Margaret gave a small whoop of joy when she was told what was on the menu. ‘It’s been years since I had mince and tatties and rhubarb crumble and custard.’
Margaret put her suitcase in our bedroom and hung her coat on the hook on the back of the door. She was quite tall, with short grey hair and a weather-beaten complexion. She saw me looking at her and she laughed. ‘I’ve spent too many years living in a sunny climate, Lizzie.’
She wasn’t as pretty and petite as Mum, but she was better dressed, with a grey woollen skirt and a white, high-necked crêpe de Chine blouse. Her black boots had a row of tiny buttons up the side – I wondered how long it took her to fasten them up every morning.
Then Mum came in and looked at the suitcase. ‘Is the rest of your luggage arriving later, Margaret?’
‘No, Beth, this is all I’ve got with me, as I’ve booked into the Royal Hotel for a few days.’
Mum looked disappointed. ‘Oh, I thought you would be staying with us.’
Margaret put her arm around Mum’s shoulder. ‘I didn’t want to put Mary to a lot of trouble with my visit, but we’ll spend loads of time together.’
Then Granny called out that the dinner was ready and we all went through to the table by the window. Margaret enjoyed her meal, and afterwards when we were having a cup of tea she said, ‘I’d forgotten how good Scottish cooking is. I really enjoyed that.’
I was impatient to hear all the stories about some of the countries she had lived in, but I remembered Mum’s warning about me not bombarding her with my questions and childish chatter so I bided my time.
Later, when we were sitting around the fire, she produced three parcels from her case. ‘It’s just a small present for you all,’ she said as she handed them out. Both Mum’s and my parcels were
small, while Granny’s was larger.
When we opened them, Mum and I were delighted with a golden bangle each, while Granny had a very soft purple stole, which she put around her shoulders with a cry of pleasure.
‘I’ve never felt anything so soft, Margaret,’ said Granny, while Mum and I put our bangles on our wrists, where they almost glowed with magnificence.
‘Your stole is made with alpaca wool, Mary; it’s made from the fleece of a llama. And the bangles are made from South American gold, Beth. I hope you like them.’
We assured her that we were delighted with our gifts. I was on the verge of asking my questions, but she said, ‘This visit is for two reasons, Beth: firstly I wanted to see you all, but I’m on a house-hunting quest as well.’
Mum said, ‘What about Gerald’s new posting?’
Margaret explained the situation. ‘Gerald and I hope to come back here to live after he retires. He doesn’t fancy going back to Edinburgh but wants a house by the sea. I’m hoping to find something suitable in Monifieth or Carnoustie.’
Mum was delighted by this news. ‘When will this be, Margaret?’
Margaret laughed. ‘Oh, not for a few years, but you know what he’s like, he wants to be prepared when the occasion happens.’ She picked up her bag and took out a brochure. ‘I’ve booked into this hotel in Carnoustie for next week and I wondered if you would all like to join me while I look at houses.’
I jumped up. ‘Can I come as well?’
She laughed. ‘Of course you can.’ She turned to Granny. ‘I would love it if you could come, Mary.’
Granny shook her head. ‘Thank you, Margaret, but it will be better if it’s just the three of you, as you don’t want a decrepit old body tagging along.’
I happened to glance at Mum and was dismayed to see a look of relief on her face. Thankfully, Granny didn’t see it.
Mum said she would try to get a holiday from her work and it was all settled that we would head off to Carnoustie at the end of the week. The hotel looked quite grand and I was almost squirming with excitement at the thought of being away on holiday.
At nine o’clock, Margaret said she would have to get back to her hotel in Union Street, and Mum said she would go with her to see her settled in. I wanted to go as well, but Granny said it was my bedtime, so I had no choice but to go to the bottom of the close with them and stand and watch as they both boarded a tramcar.
The night had turned colder and I was freezing by the time I got back upstairs. Granny was cross with me for my foolhardiness in standing on the pavement.
‘You’ll catch your death of cold and then you won’t be able to go to Carnoustie,’ she warned me.
Appalled by this warning, I made up my mind not to get a cold, but once I was in bed and tucked up in my flannelette sheets and cosy quilt I soon warmed up.
It was almost eleven o’clock when Mum arrived back. Granny was asleep and I could hear Mum humming a tune as she got ready for bed. I was so pleased to hear Mum singing. I couldn’t recall a time in the last five years when she had been this happy.
10
CARNOUSTIE
The plan was to leave for our holiday on Saturday evening after Mum had finished her work. Mum had been talking about nothing else since Margaret’s arrival. She was a changed woman, and as she sat down for her tea on the Friday night she chatted happily about the plans for the coming week.
‘Margaret said it would make the holiday seem longer if we left on the Saturday evening. That way we can have the whole day on Sunday instead of travelling and arriving in the afternoon.’
The excitement was contagious, and I was almost bursting with anticipation about the holiday. There had been one little incident earlier in the week when Margaret had tried to persuade Granny to come with us. I was looking at Mum when she said this and I was sure she was holding her breath.
Granny thanked Margaret and said, ‘I would have loved to come, but I have an important meeting at the church on Sunday.’
I was worried when Mum visibly looked relieved again; in fact, she gave a huge sigh before covering her relief with a small cough.
Granny glanced over at her with a shrewd look. ‘I hope you’re not getting a cold, Beth, as it would be awful if you missed out on this holiday.’
Mum assured her it was just a slight tickle in her throat and nothing that a drink of water wouldn’t cure.
Margaret looked nonplussed by this small exchange, but she replied brightly, ‘Well, Mary, you know you’re welcome to come later in the week if you want to.’
Later, as we lay in bed, Mum said, ‘I would love your granny to come and spend some time with us, Lizzie, but I do want it to be the three of us too. I hope I didn’t give the impression I didn’t want her to be with us.’
Mum had our suitcases packed by the Friday night. They sat in the hall and by the way Mum glanced at them with a smile every time she passed them, anyone would have thought they were icons of pleasure.
Thankfully the weather turned sunny and warm by the time we were ready to leave. Granny was standing on the landing as we hurried down the stairs on Saturday and on impulse I turned around and gave her a big hug.
‘I wish you were coming with us,’ I whispered.
She held me close and smiled. ‘I’ll maybe come with you another time. Now, away you go and have a great time on the beach.’ She smoothed down my summer frock as if it was creased. ‘Now you’ve got your shilling in your purse, so treat yourself to some ice cream.’
I held up my little purse that hung from a cord around my neck. ‘Yes, I’ve got it here, Granny, and I’ll see you next week.’
For some reason, I felt sad at leaving her behind, but as soon as we reached the East Station, where the train was due to depart for our destination, the feeling passed and once again anticipation took over. The platform was quiet, as most of the daily passengers or day trippers had long departed for home and we had a carriage all to ourselves. Mum let me sit by the window and I was engrossed by all the passing scenery. The sun was setting and long shadows began to appear as we swept past houses and fields until I finally got my first glimpse of the river.
White Sands Hotel was just as the brochure had described: a white-painted two-storey building set in a large garden that overlooked the sea. As we entered the reception area, a large grandfather clock chimed eight o’clock and a young woman smiled at us from behind a miniscule desk. Aunt Margaret signed the register, and then a young lad took our suitcases up to the two rooms that had been booked. Mum and I were to share one while Margaret had the small single room next to us. I had never been in a hotel before and I gazed out of the window with pleasure at the view of the sea.
Aunt Margaret had booked a meal for us, and after a quick wash in the bathroom along the corridor, we set off down the carpeted stairs to the dining room, which also had a sea view. The room was quiet, as most of the guests had already dined, and I felt so important as a large cardboard menu was placed in my hands by the waitress, who wore a simple black dress with a white frilly apron.
We all settled for fish in a white sauce, which was called sole mornay, with tomato soup to start and ice cream with peaches as a pudding. Mum and Margaret had coffee in the lounge while I had an orange squash. A three-piece band was playing a selection of popular tunes as the lady pianist sang in a lovely soprano voice. I felt so grown up and smart in this new setting. I was pleased to see Mum looking so relaxed, her foot tapping out the rhythm. At one point she even began to sing quietly along with the soprano and Aunt Margaret smiled.
At ten thirty we made our way upstairs, and I was soon tucked up in bed with the sound of the sea coming through the open window. Mum moved around the room, getting ready for bed, and I was pleased that she was still humming one of the songs that had been played earlier.
The next morning, after a breakfast served by the same waitress, we set off for the beach. I was wearing my swimsuit under my new dress and although the sun was warm, the water was very cold when I vent
ured in for a swim. I let the cold waves wash over me and after a few minutes I began to enjoy myself. There was a rock out at sea, maybe a hundred yards or so from the beach, and I considered swimming out to it, but Mum suddenly called out, ‘Don’t go too far out, Lizzie. Stay near the shore.’
I waved and lay on my back, looking up at the sky, which was like a blue arc above my head.
I knew Mum hated the water and she could never understand why my father had enjoyed his swimming so much. Obviously I had inherited his love of being suspended between the earth and the air with just water keeping me afloat.
Half an hour later I was ready to come ashore and I quickly made my way to where Mum and Margaret had placed their deckchairs in a sheltered spot.
Margaret was telling Mum about her search for a house. ‘Gerald has given me an idea of the kind of place he wants and I have an appointment with a local solicitor this afternoon to see what’s on offer.’
Mum was curious. ‘Why is Gerald so keen to have a house by the sea, Margaret?’
‘His grandmother had a house in Berwick and he spent a lot of his childhood there, but he’s always fancied living in this area.’
Mum looked a bit dubious. ‘Will you both be happy when he retires? You have to admit you’ve had an adventurous life living in exotic places and you might find it dull living in a small town.’
Margaret laughed. ‘Oh, it’s not all that glamorous, Beth. Yes, we’ve seen a bit of the world, but do you remember what your father always said? “East, west, hame’s best.”’
Mum nodded and she looked sad. ‘Yes, I remember him saying it. He was always full of those pithy sayings.’ She handed me a large towel. ‘Hurry up and get that wet swimsuit off, Lizzie, because your arms and legs are turning blue.’
This was an exaggeration, but I wasn’t happy having to strip off my wet suit in front of Margaret and another two people who were walking along the beach. I picked up the towel and my clothes.
‘I’ll change in the hotel if that’s all right,’ I said, looking at my aunt.
Dragon Land Page 5