by Paul Kelly
“I’d like to smoke it Tom, but “ he could think of no excuse as he blushed a brilliant scarlet, but Willie saved the situation.
“Can we keep them for another time, Tom, please?”
Tom Carey smiled when the boys suggested that they should keep the cigars for later. He knew that neither of the boys ... or rather ... young men had ever smoked a cigar before in their lives ... He also was aware that they would prefer to experiment in private. Who knows what sort of a fool they might have made of themselves if they had lit up there and then ... Tom smiled his understanding and Mary and he retired to the lounge.
“Do you boys want to stay here and talk together in private or would you like to join us in the lounge for coffee or something stronger perhaps?”
Wattie swallowed hard and his eyes popped out of his head as he stared at Willie.
“Thanks Tom. We’ll stay here ... Is that O.K. with you Wattie?”
Wattie nodded with a sigh of relief.
“Willie .a’m bustin’. Ah need tae go a place.”
“It’s at the top of the stairs on the right ... Wattie.” Said Willie and Wattie tripped up the stairs, already clutching his crotch.
“Just leave the penny on the seat ...” Willie laughed and after a short
Time had passed, Wattie returned to the living room where Willie was waiting for him.
“Ah never thought I’d stop, Willie. Ah just went on an’ on,” he said and checked his flies for security. “That’s a smashin’ lavvy you’ve got up there, Willie,” his eyes rolled in lavish appreciation. “Wish ah could get into that bath ... It’s like a swimmin’ pool.”
Willie looked at Wattie.
“Don’t you have a bath at home, Wattie? We had one even in our old house and that was built much the same as yours.”
Wattie blushed.
We have a tin bath, Willie. It takes an age tae fill it and then ye have to get in quickly before the water gets cold again. It’s best in front of the fire.”
Willie looked down at the floor before he viewed his friend with sadness. He had known Wattie all his life and he was still finding out things about him that were new. Wattie was even poorer than he had imagined and he thought things had been bad for his family. His reaction was spontaneous.
“Come on Wattie.”
“What? Where are we goin’?”
Willie went into the lounge.
“Mammy Can I have a fresh towel for Wattie please? He’d like to have a bath before he leaves home tomorrow.”
Mary was initially confused at her son’s request, but as she looked into Willie’s eyes, she understood. He had that resolute clean-cut appearance of doing something positive, regardless of the significance to others that she knew so well in his father. Without further ado, she brought two large bath towels and some fresh soap for Willie’s friend. Wattie was dumfounded.
“Thank you Mrs. Blair. I’m sorry I didn’t mean ...”
“Wattie we are delighted Enjoy your soak.” she replied as she glanced a proud look in Willie’s direction as he was about to slap Wattie’s backside.
“Get up them stairs, Jimmy Watts and scrub .” Wattie ran up the stairs like a gleeful two-year-old and Willie called out after him. “Don’t look for the rubber duck, Mate ... We don’t have one of those sorry.” but Wattie heard nothing in his excitement. He undressed as quickly as he could and lowered himself slowly into the foam filled bath, determined to savour every minute of his new found experience. He closed his eyes and slid down into the water until he was totally submerged and only his head could be seen above the white foamy bubbles. The suds were thicker, more warming and soapier than he had ever known and he hummed contentedly to himself as he scrawled the loofa across his shoulders.
“Oh! ma darlin’, Oh! ma darlin’, Oh! ma darlin’ Clementine...”
“If ah had a bath like this, ah’d stay in it for hours. Wish my Mammy could see me now.”
Tom brought a bottle of old French brandy into the living room where Willie was waiting for Wattie to finish his ecstatic ablutions.
“Have a snifter of this stuff, both of you. It’s a very old year and it will bring some colour to your cheeks.”
Willie poured two glasses and waited for his friend to appear from upstairs, but Wattie’s cheeks were already coloured as he wrote his name on the steamed-up mirror.
“James Watts bathed here...” before he turned to another large mirror on the opposite wall and wrote “20.12.1994”
He dressed and went downstairs, glowing with pride and smelling truly masculine from the after-shave that he found on a shelf in the bathroom.
“With Tom’s compliments, old chap,” mimicked Willie in his Old school tie voice and handed the brandy to Wattie. “May all your days in the army be happy ones ... Happy Christmas Wattie. Happy Christmas ....”
Wattie returned the greetings and his eyes flashed as he looked again to the stairs that led to the bathroom.
“Thanks Thanks for everything Willie. That bath is wonderful. No wonder you always look so clean.”
Willie grinned and hoped this was only the first of many baths that Wattie would have in his house. He hoped Wattie would return from the army as he was then wholesome and innocent and totally loyal, but he had his doubts. Didn’t life in the armed forces make a difference to most young men? Didn’t it give some a dream of grandeur that was only an illusion to go with the uniform? His thoughts were clouded and he didn’t want to accept them.
“Wattie ... You will look after yourself, won’t you?” he said and his voice was sad.
“Of course I will and anyway, the war is nearly over. I’ll probably be in the army for only a few months, my Mammy says and she knows about these things. but I wish you were coming with me, Willie I’ve known you all my life and I wish we could be together in the army.”
Wattie’s face took on a frightened faraway expression for a moment and his usual grin had gone as he peered into the glass and swished the amber liquid around the sides before he turned away from his friend.
“What is it Wattie ... Is there something on your mind?”
Wattie looked more serious than Willie had ever known him to be before. In their years of close friendship, they had always enjoyed a good laugh together and Wattie only looked serious when there was something seriously troubling him in his mind.
“Willie,” he turned to face Willie again as he spoke, “Willie Do you think about Charlie a lot?” Willie was hurt when he said that. He had touched a raw nerve that vibrated and cut deep into his heart, but Wattie persisted in his question. “Do you Willie?”
Willie stared into his cognac.
“All the time Wattie ...All the time,” he murmured sadly but Wattie seemed almost relieved at the answer he had been given.
“I know I’m only a friend Willie I mean, I’m no’ yer brother, am I? I’ve never been very close to my own brother. Well he left home a long time ago. All ah got from him was his cast-off clothes.”
Willie wondered what was coming next as Wattie falteringly continued.
“If anything should happen to me ...” he said, but Willie cut him short.
“Don’t talk that way Wattie. Nothing will happen to you and as you have said yourself ... the war will be over very shortly,”
Wattie touched his friend’s hand gently and ignored his protest as he went on...
“If anything should happen to me,” he repeated gravely, “I just want to thank you for the great years we’ve spent together and to ask you... Will you think about me sometimes? Like you do about Charlie, I mean ....”
Willie put his arm around Wattie’s shoulder and pulled his head down towards him where he embraced him warmly.
“You’ve got a lot of harm to do yet, before you go, Jimmy Watts, so no more of this talk. Do you understan
d?”
They smiled together as they drank their brandy, as all good friends would do, leaving the empty glasses on the table before them, but Willie was worried that night when he went to bed, over the way Wattie had spoken to him and because of the strange feeling he had about him even before the conversation began. He pushed his face hard into the pillow and closed his eyes, but sleep would not come to him. Instead, he reached out for Charlie’s prayer book which he kept by his bedside and opened it at random. He strained his eyes under the light of the bedside lamp to read the page he had opened.
“My grace is sufficient for thee” it read and then his eyes fell upon the next line. “Sufficient for the day, is the evil thereof.”
He closed the book and returned it to the table before he made the Sign of the Cross and switched out the light.
“Goodnight Charlie,” he murmured as he dropped off into sleep, “Take care Wattie Take care.”
Chapter Sixty
Wattie reported to his base at Edinburgh Castle along with two hundred other young men, most of them from the Glasgow area, but he felt very much alone. He knew none of the boys who lined up beside him in the barracks for the initial roll-call. Several names were shouted out and answers were rattled off like the rapid beat of a kettle drum.
“Watts J.” ... his name was eventually screamed out at him from thin air and he jumped to attention.
“Yes Sir,” he answered, not just quite as he had been instructed and he saluted with the left hand.
“Watts J.” came the voice again as a burly, heavy looking sergeant approached him.
“Are you Watts J?” he shouted in Wattie’s ear and the noise made him jump again.
“Yes Sir. That’s me.”
The sergeant observed his new recruit with a sneer.
“At ease, soldier. Your number is 14891735. Got that?” the sergeant nodded his instruction and stuck out his large chin. “And you don’t salute me or call me Sir. I’m a sergeant ... a non-commissioned officer of the realm, understand?” Wattie stood in fear and he knew his voice was shaking as he answered,
“Yes Sir. I mean, yes sergeant, Sir.” He was confused.
“Now repeat after me,” the sergeant mocked, “SLOWLY if you don’t mind.”
“Yes sergeant,” Wattie obeyed in a tremulous voice.
“14891735 Watts, J. Private,”
Wattie obeyed as instructed.... well nearly as instructed. “148 .9 17 . 35 Watts J. Privates,”
“Not Privates, you pratt that’s your balls an’ things an’ I don’t want to know about them. That’s your ruddy number for as long as His Majesty requires you in his services ...Got that ... although I don’t know what the army’s coming to when they recruit the likes of you, lad. What the hell were you doing in civvy street may I bloody ask ...?”
“Yes sergeant I was in menswear sergeant.”
“Oh ... In menswear were we now. Well that’s interesting. Maybe they’ll be able to use you in the company store, now MOVE ... One two, one two. Left right, left right ....”
“Wattie moved, but the movement he made wasn’t what the sergeant required and he was all the more confused.
“HALT, 14891735 Watts J ... Got that?”
“Yes, sergeant ... Sergeant ...?”
The non-commissioned officer of the realm gave Wattie a wicked look from his beady eye.
“Yes Watts, J. 14891735?”
“Do I have to use that big long number every time I say Yes sergeant?”
The sergeant drew in his breath, making a whistling sound with his teeth as he threw out his chest.
“I think you would have been better to have remained in menswear, Watts J. an’ the fuckin’ answer is ‘NO’ ...You use the last three numbers only so that makes you Watts J. 735. Got it?”
Wattie thought for a few moments before he nodded and smiled.
“Watts J. 735, sergeant,” he shouted and the sergeant heaved a sigh of relief and moved on to his next instruction, leaving Wattie repeating quietly to himself, “Watts J. 735 Watts J. 735 Watts J. 735.”
“Alright, alright ... When you are issued with your pay book, although God knows why they should pay you to stand looking like a bloody pratt, I’ll never know. Straighten yourself man. Your slouching like a pregnant duck. You will only get your money if you verify who you are and that is 735.”
Before he could say another word, Wattie finished his sentence for him. “Got that,” he said and blinked complacently. The sergeant was taken by surprise when he thought of Wattie’s response as he cocked his thick head to one side and his eyes narrowed before they brightened in his head. He felt sure that at last, Wattie had got it.
The pay books were issued all round and everyone gathered in groups, chatting over the events of the day, but the time of privacy and happy conversation was short lived.
“Right you lot. Line up here in a straight line, shortest to the left, tallest to the right, MOVE!”
There was a scuffle as the sergeant sorted out his fatigues for the day.
“You lot,” he separated several of the young recruits in groups of twenty, “Report to the stores for clothing, rifles and equipment.” He went through the motion again and gathered another number of recruits together. “You lot to the M.O for medicals.” ... Wattie was unfortunately in the second group.
“Oh! Gawd Here we go again,” he sighed and trousers were dropped, groins were poked and everyone had to cough. Apart from some rude remarks at the medical examination with the old refrain that the new recruits should wear boxing gloves in bed, the day passed quickly and effectively and two hundred more young men were transformed overnight into khaki-clad rookies. Wattie thought he had heard some very rude words at school but he was stunned at the permutations concocted by His Majesty’s army. He heard words that he never knew existed and no-one bothered to interpret.
“Do all boxers wear their boxing gloves in bed?” he enquired, only to be told that if they didn’t then they bloody well should and so he accepted the situation and resolved to tell Willie all about that when he should next see him. One just grew in the knowledge as one progressed. That was how it was done.
***
Blackie reported for duty at H.M.S Norbert in Rosyth and he couldn’t wait to get into the snazzy uniform; the uniform of his dreams and Rosie, his friend of the Hat and Lion days, vowed to write to him every day until she died. So life passed a little easier for him in His Majesty’s navy. He had no great difficult with the language either and in fact, was able to introduce a few new words to the Jack Tar vocabulary, which caused consternation among many of the able-bodied seamen and merited him unbound admiration from his fellow ratings. Blackie was soon to become one of the lads and would never wear any kind of gloves in bed ... even at the threat of going blind.
Chapter Sixty-One
Mary read Aggie’s letter again and again and she was happy for her, if still a little worried about the life she had embraced.
Dear Mammy and Tom,
Thank you for having come with me on my first day here at the convent. I hope you got home safely. Everyone has been so kind and I am very happy. Reverend Mother has given me permission to write this letter and I will be allowed to write one every month, until I enter the Noviciate. Please give my love to Sadie and Robert and give Fiona a big kiss for me. I hope Willie has got over his blushes and tell him that I send him also a very big kiss. Four other girls entered the same day as I did. There were two from Glasgow, one from Falkirk and another from France, believe it or not. We were all allowed to talk freely on our first day and we had some good laughs and began to feel easier in each other’s company. The professed sisters have to observe long silences, but there is a period every day, after Compline, when we are all together and needless to say, the chatter never stops, however as soon as the bell rings, everyone and everything is sile
nt again. We are advised against ‘particular friendships’ and of course, I can understand that, but one of the postulants ... I think she has been here for over three months, makes me laugh so much as I think she is so funny. She makes me laugh, even when she is being serious. She has a wonderful face all rubbery like and I daren’t look at her in chapel. She knows the effect she has on us, but she is full of life and everyone loves her ... Maybe too, because she is the oldest postulant here. She is thirty-two.
Today I received the postulant’s habit. It is a black, knee-length dress and apron, with a shawl-like cape over the shoulders and a wee small veil to cover the head and hide the hair and ears. Sadie would laugh if she saw me, but as there are no mirrors here, I can’t laugh at myself, thankfully.
After six months and if we are accepted by a Community vote, we enter the Noviciate and it is then that our training for the Religious Life really begins with one full year before we make simple vows. I have been asked by the Reverend Mother to choose a Religious name, because as I am sure you already know, nuns don’t use their own Christian or family names after profession and they usually take the name of a favourite saint. Perhaps you could let me know if there is any name you would like me to have but don’t ask Willie as I am sure he will give me one that will make all the nuns laugh. Besides, I don’t want to have my own will in anything from the start of my Religious Life. I would prefer to give Our Lord all I am and have and that is precious little enough, you will agree as I didn’t need a degree to work in the biscuit factory, did I?... and any knowledge I gained there is of no use to me here. I’ve waited so long to love Him in the way in which I can do now, here in Carmel and my cup runneth over...
God bless you all, my very dear loved ones. We are allowed a visit every month, if anyone can make it and you know I would love to see you, but don’t worry if for any reason, you are unable to visit. I will understand.