He knows, she thought, but he won’t tell. In any case, he didn’t know the whole, tragic truth.
It was well after midnight before she went upstairs, and she could hardly believe her luck in finding her mother fast asleep. She undressed without putting the light on, then crawled into bed to save making any kind of noise. Her turbulent emotions kept her from relaxing, and at last, in a desperate attempt to calm herself, she counted the roses she could see dimly on the wallpaper in the moonlight straggling through the skylight window. She lost count several times, and had to start at the beginning again, and it wasn’t until she heard Fergus coming in, just before one, that she settled down to try to sleep.
She was still keyed up, however, and was jerked back into anxious puzzlement a few minutes later, when it occurred to her that he was often out late like this. Where had he been for the hour and a half since he left her? Had he gone to another girl for comfort? Was it a girl, and not one of his mates, who lived in that high tenement in Market Street where he’d gone when they were coming back from the Bay of Nigg? That was the night Jack Thomson had come out of the Club Bar and had taken her home, and had given her a lecture on letting herself be taken in by Fergus. How could he have known what Fergus was doing, anyway?
She fell into a troubled sleep at last to dream that she and Fergus were making love and her mother was standing over them, shouting. The shrill voice cut through her nightmare.
‘Renee! You’ll be late for work, if you don’t hurry.’ Thankful that it had been a dream, the girl jumped out of bed, and dressed at full speed. When she went into the dining room, she saw that her mother was in a state of agitated excitement. ‘Come and hear what Fergus has just been telling us. He’s joined the army, and he leaves next Monday.’ Anne’s voice was too bright.
Renee was grateful that Fergus had prepared her for this and relieved that her mother had forgotten how late she’d come home the night before. Feigning astonishment, she said, ‘That was sudden, wasn’t it?’ Keep calm, that’s it. The shock and the leave-taking were over, but the pain would always remain. Jack and Tim glanced at each other as if a load had been taken off their minds, then they plied Fergus with questions. Mike took no part in this, and Renee thought that he was probably dreading the time his call-up papers would arrive and he had to take his leave of Babs Sandison.
When the four boarders left for work, Anne turned to her daughter. ‘I’m glad you weren’t upset about Fergus joining up. It was the best thing he could have done, for all our sakes.’
‘I suppose so.’ The girl marvelled at her own fortitude. His departure would certainly save any further unpleasantness and suspicion between her and her mother. They would be able to live in peace, with no jealousy, but she doubted if she would ever forgive her mother for being her rival for Fergus’s love.
That Tuesday evening was the first that Fergus had spent in the house for months, and he sat down with Anne, Tim and Jack, to play pontoon, while Renee did some mending. She had recently found, not far from the office, a little shop where she could buy chiffon lisle stockings for eightpence ha’penny per pair, which was a big saving compared with the one and eleven the Union Street stores charged for the thicker rayon pairs she had been wearing before. The chiffon was quite fine, and didn’t ladder, but if a snag wasn’t stitched as soon as possible, it developed into a huge hole.
About half past ten, Mike Donaldson arrived home looking very sheepish. ‘We’re getting married, Babs and me,’ he announced, his eyes going round the assembled, astonished faces, daring them to laugh.
Tim and Jack jumped to their feet, almost capsizing the rickety card table, now covered with cups, saucers and plates.
‘Good for you, Mike! She’s the right girl for you.’ Tim slapped his brother on the back with a force that practically winded him.
Jack pushed himself forward. ‘That’s great news! You’ve got my very best wishes.’
Anne and Renee had also risen to their feet to offer their congratulations. ‘I wish you both every happiness,’ Anne said, smiling earnestly. ‘I hope you have a long life together, and, as the saying goes, may all your troubles be little ones.’ Her eyes twinkled mischievously.
Renee exploded with laughter as she realised the double meaning. ‘That’s good, Mum, but honestly, Mike, I wish you all the best for the future. When’s the wedding?’
‘I’ll have to arrange things with the Registrar, and have the banns cried in Babs’s kirk and mine in Turriff, I suppose.’ Mike pulled a face, causing more amusement.
Fergus stood up then, and went over to the excited group. ‘You’re a lucky man, Mike.’ He shook hands soberly and went to the door. ‘Goodnight, all.’
‘I wish I’d some drink in the house so we could celebrate properly.’ Anne looked wistful, because liquor was a luxury which she couldn’t afford.
‘It doesn’t matter, Mrs Gordon. I’m happy enough as it is.’ Mike’s beaming face was a testament to that.
‘Are you going to buy her an engagement ring?’ Renee wondered if staid Mike had remembered about such a thing.
‘Aye. We’re going on Saturday afternoon. Oh, I’ll be staying here this weekend, Mrs Gordon, if that’s OK?’
‘You know it is,’ Anne assured him.
‘What’s the best jeweller to go to, do you think?’
Anne considered. ‘There’s a few good shops in Union Street and George Street, and you’ll likely have to try more than one if Babs is difficult to please.’ She laughed as Mike twisted his mouth and rolled his eyes in mock horror.
‘What made you suddenly think of getting married?’
asked Tim. ‘You never mentioned the idea to me.’
‘It was Fergus joining up that did it.’ Mike was serious now. ‘I’ll likely be called up shortly and . . . well, I wanted to get everything settled before I’ve to leave Babs.’
‘I tell you what.’ Anne looked animated. ‘Invite her here on Sunday, and we’ll have a special tea seeing you’ll be here this weekend. It’ll be a sort of belated celebration.’
‘I’ll stop here the weekend, as well,’ Tim put in. ‘So I’ll buy some beer and a bottle of whisky . . . and what do you drink, Mrs Gordon?’
‘It’s a long time since I had anything. It doesn’t matter, really. Wait – get a bottle of sherry. That’ll do for Renee and me, and Babs as well, like enough.’
Jack joined the planning. ‘I’ll give you money to buy some fancy cakes, or something, and I’ll come back on Sunday afternoon instead of night. I can’t miss this.’
Mike’s happiness seemed to pervade the house for the next few days, and most of the conversation was centred on his wedding. Even Fergus entered into the good-natured teasing that Mike had to undergo, and it was only very occasionally that Renee remembered, with dismay, that Monday was drawing nearer – the fateful Monday when he would be leaving, without having a chance to give her any further sign of his love.
Chapter Eleven
It was Sunday morning before Anne Gordon and Renee heard Mike’s description of the ring Babs had chosen. He’d come in very late on Saturday night.
‘The man in the shop said it was a half-hoop diamond,’ he said, grinning bashfully. ‘And it was exactly what she wanted. It was the first place we tried, and we got the wedding ring there, as well. The banns have to be cried for three Sundays. So the date’s set for Saturday, the seventh of October at two o’clock in John Knox, Mounthooly – that’s Babs’s kirk.’
‘He’s asked me to be best man.’ Tim tried not to look too proud. ‘And Babs’s sister’s going to be bridesmaid.’
‘That’ll maybe lead to another wedding,’ Anne smiled.
‘I haven’t met her yet, but you never know.’ He winked at Mike and Renee.
‘Aye, Moira’s a real bonnie lassie, as well,’ Mike said, seriously, ‘and she’s just a month or two younger than Tim.’ Renee felt a stupid tw
inge of . . . it couldn’t be jealousy. It must be unhappiness because everyone else was so up in the clouds, and the next day would be the saddest one she was ever likely to experience.
The special tea was quite a celebration, with the whisky and sherry helping the conviviality more than a little. They all agreed that Babs and Mike were ideally suited, and the newly engaged couple had to put up with much teasing, until Anne was forced to caution Tim and Jack for their ribald remarks, which were becoming rather more than suggestive.
Fergus Cooper had not stayed in, and Renee noticed that the atmosphere seemed to be more free and easy without him, but, at last, Mike took Babs home, and Jack and Tim went to bed, slightly tipsy but in very good humour.
While Renee helped her to clear up, Anne said, ‘That went off very well, I think.’
‘Yes, it did. Mike and Babs looked really happy.’
‘He’s a decent lad, Renee. I wish . . .’ She checked herself, then went on, ‘I wish Jack and Tim would find nice girls, too, though maybe Tim’ll fall in love with the bridesmaid at the wedding.’
Knowing that her mother had been on the point of saying she wished that she would find someone decent, Renee wondered sadly what the future would hold for her. She could never love anyone else as she’d loved Fergus, and she’d always remember, as he’d said she would, that he was her first lover, but was it possible that she could ever care enough for another man to want to marry him? She didn’t think so, and so she’d likely end up an old maid, working in Brown and Company’s office in Union Street until she retired.
Anne broke into her thoughts. ‘It’s time we were in bed.’ Fergus was first at the table the following morning, although he hadn’t returned home until long after the party was over, and he grinned when Mike and Tim, then Jack, appeared, obviously ‘under the weather’, followed by Renee, also looking somewhat pale.
‘You should have been there, Fergus,’ Tim remarked, after the previous night’s jollifications had been discussed.
‘Aye, I’m sorry I couldn’t manage, but I’d a lot of things to attend to.’
Renee’s head ached; she would never drink so much again. It had been only sherry, but it was the first time she’d tasted it, and the three – or was it four? – glasses had gone straight to her head. The question of what Fergus had to attend to that had been so important did cross her mind, but she surmised he’d been saying goodbye to his friends, and she couldn’t cope with trying to think about it.
He remained seated when the other three stood up to go to work. ‘I won’t be coming with you, for Saturday was my last day at the yard. Cheerio, boys. All the best, and I hope your call-up papers get lost in the post.’
‘God, I’ve been that taken up with myself, I clean forgot you were leaving the day.’ Mike looked really repentant, and went over to shake hands. ‘Good luck, Fergus, and we’ll be hearing how you get on?’
Tim leaned over to give Fergus another hearty handshake. ‘Aye, the best of luck to you – but we’ll maybe meet up sometime when we’re all in the forces.’
Jack laughed as he came forward. ‘It’s not very likely the four of us’ll ever be in the same place at the same time, but you never know. Look after yourself, Fergus.’
He grinned. ‘I’ll do that, and I’ll be thinking about you on the seventh, Mike, wherever I am.’
Renee swallowed the lump which had risen in her throat, and rose to help her mother to clear the table. When she had to leave to catch her bus, she had to steel herself for the formal parting from the man to whom she had lost her virginity, and who would be taking her heart with him when he left.
‘Goodbye, and good luck, Fergus,’ she said steadily, aware that her mother was watching them intently.
‘Goodbye, Renee.’ He extended his hand and squeezed hers so tightly that she had to keep herself from wincing.
Immediately he released her, she picked up her hand-bag and went into the hall to put on her jacket. As she slipped her left arm into her sleeve, she slid her right hand into her pocket, with no real expectation of finding anything there.
Her heart leapt with joy when her fingers encountered a folded sheet of paper, but she withdrew her hand quickly. She decided to wait until she was on the bus before she read it in case her mother came through and caught her.
She was barely seated when she pulled it out and unfolded it.
Darling Monday Girl,
I’m writing this on a bench in the Victoria Park, thinking over the happy times we had here. It’s Sunday evening and I can picture you enjoying yourself at Mike’s party, but my heart is breaking at the thought of never seeing you again after tomorrow morning. That’s why I couldn’t join the celebration. I couldn’t have sat and watched you all that time without being tempted to kiss you.
I wish you were here with me now, so I could hold you in my arms just one more time, but this is goodbye.
Please think of me sometimes, because I will never forget you.
All my love for ever, and ever,
Fergus.
A tear ran down Renee’s cheek as she folded the letter and put it in her handbag. She couldn’t bring herself to destroy this precious love-letter, ever, but she would have to keep it in a place where her mother was never likely to find it. Under the lining paper in the chest of drawers! That would be perfect, because she always tidied out her own things, and nobody else would ever think of looking there.
She settled back in her seat, much happier than she’d been when she rose in the morning, because at least he’d been thinking about her yesterday. Well, she’d be thinking about him when the train left at twelve o’clock, whatever she was doing, and . . . But he wouldn’t be leaving the house until about half past eleven, and that meant he’d have three hours alone with her mother. Three whole hours! What would they get up to, with three hours to say goodbye? Would he try to get round Anne again, and make her believe she was the only person for him after all? He surely couldn’t be so treacherous, not after what he’d written in his letter. But he’d proved before that he was a confirmed liar, so was he to be trusted?
Renee’s spirits had reached a new low ebb by the time she entered the office, and her pale face and dejected manner prompted Sheila Daun to ask, ‘What’s up? You don’t look very happy with yourself.’
‘Fergus goes away today. He joined the army.’ It took a great effort to talk about it.
‘Oh, I’m sorry. He’s the one you liked best, isn’t he? But don’t be so upset about it, he’ll be back when he’s on leave, and he’ll write to you to let you know how he’s doing.’
Renee wanted to say, ‘He can’t write, and he’ll never be back, so I’ll never know what he’s doing,’ but it was impossible without going into long explanations which would shock and disgust the other girl. She tried to apply herself to her work, but her mind kept returning to the house in Cattofield, and what might be going on there. During their mid-morning teabreak, Sheila tried to cheer her up, but it wasn’t until after twelve that Renee relaxed, with a guilty sense of relief that Fergus would have departed from Aberdeen altogether.
She made no mention of him at lunchtime, and neither did Anne. They spoke about Mike and Babs, about a possible romance springing up between Tim and Babs’s sister Moira, about the celebration of the evening before, about anything except the person who was uppermost in their minds, and who had caused them both so much happiness and pain. When she returned to work, Renee still knew nothing of his ultimate leave-taking, but the great weight which had been pressing on her all forenoon had lifted. It was all over – the doubts, the suspicions – for ever, because he’d never be allowed to come back to the house now he’d left it.
Only the love and heartache would remain to haunt her.
Chapter Twelve
The arrangements for his wedding were all that Mike Donaldson could talk about. ‘We can’t afford a big do, and Babs’s mother’s a wido
w like you, Mrs Gordon, so there’ll just be the four of us at the kirk, then we’re going back to her house for a meal. She wanted to do that much for us, at least.’
‘Where are you going for your honeymoon?’ Renee had romantic ideas of a bridal suite in a luxury hotel somewhere.
‘That’s another thing we can’t afford,’ he said, ruefully.
‘I’m going to ask my folks this weekend if they’ll let us spend our wedding night there. You see, I’d my holidays in the Trade’s Week in July, when the yard was closed, so I’m only having the Saturday forenoon off, and I’ve to start on the Monday.’
Renee felt very sorry for Babs, being denied a proper honeymoon, but perhaps she’d be happy enough just being in Turriff with Mike as his wife. As Anne had said, he was a decent man and he’d be a considerate husband.
On the Thursday after Fergus left, Jack and Tim succeeded, after much persuasion, in coaxing Renee to go to the Tivoli with them. ‘It’s variety,’ Tim told her. ‘You’ll enjoy it.’
Anne put in her tuppence-worth. ‘Oh, yes, Renee, your dad used to take me there, years ago, and it’s different from the pictures, completely different.’
‘Music-hall turns,’ added Jack. The girl reluctantly agreed to go, for she knew that Tim and Jack were doing their best to keep her mind off Fergus, and she was grateful that they had not fixed the outing for a Monday.
The Tivoli was in Guild Street, on the opposite side from the railway station, and on the bus going into town they told her about some of the famous acts which had appeared there in the past. The bus stop was quite a distance from the theatre, but they walked down Bridge Street and joined the queue which had already formed.
‘We can only afford the gods,’ Tim remarked. ‘But it’s not that bad.’ They reached their seats by climbing up a spiral staircase, up and up and up, until Renee thought they must surely go through the roof of the building, and she experienced a surge of vertigo when she stood at the top of the steep steps between the rows of seats inside the actual balcony. It was like looking down a near-vertical precipice, and she was afraid to move in case she lost her footing and catapulted right down and over the brass rail at the foot, into the stalls below. But Tim took her hand and went in front of her, while Jack held her waist to steady her from behind, and they descended slowly and carefully.
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