by Millie Gray
“So you’ve gone back to the old Leith ways of dealing with a wayward wife, have you? God, are you no just a hero? You ken something, Tam? It must be a guid ten years since I’ve seen a wife beaten and humiliated in public. And for what? Because, in my Dinah’s case, she got a wee bit consolation for all the loneliness she felt ever since you went away?” Tam stood as silent and still as a statue while Patsy went on, after first grabbing the belt from him and hurling it high in the air over into the allotments. “Look, why don’t you make a real job of it and go right back to the time when stoning to death was a woman’s fate?” she sneered at him.
Dinah meantime had taken the opportunity of her mother’s intervention and with the help of Mary, her dear mother-in-law, she managed to stagger to her feet, limp over the road and escape into the safety of her home.
Tam was now breathing heavily and tears were brimming in his eyes but Patsy was not to be deterred. “And tell me this, Tam. Have you always been a clean tattie?” Patsy turned to the crowd and bellowed with a broad sweep of her arm to indicate that she included them all, “And you lot can get going. The peep-show’s over for the night. And something else … Is there even one among the ugly lot of you who could cast the first stone in my Dinah’s direction?” She paused before giving a final taunt to the onlookers. “Jealousy’s a hellish thing, is it no?”
Patsy then turned to Tam. “You coming home with me or do you mean to entertain your dim-witted audience here with another barbaric pantomime performance?”
When Patsy and Tam entered the house they went immediately into the kitchen where Mary and Etta were attending to Dinah’s wounds. “Think that gash on your knee needs a stitch,” said Etta as she tried to stem the blood.
“No. I don’t want to go to the hospital,” protested Dinah. “They would want me to charge him and I don’t want that. Even if he has ruined my last pair of nylons!”
“Why not charge him? He blooming well deserves it,” argued Etta, who was beginning to wonder what fate awaited her if Harry ever worked it out that her darling son wasn’t his!
“I’m not thinking of Tam. I’m thinking about what might happen if the authorities get involved.”
“Well, if that’s what you want. But along with it will go a bonny scar on your bonny knee.”
“Right,” said Patsy. “Things have to be settled in here and not outside, making a public spectacle of yourselves.” A long silence followed. “So I take it the two of you want to call it a day?” Both Dinah and Tam shook their heads. “So the sticking point is wee Joe?”
Tam nodded. “I want him out of my house.”
“And I still say: if he goes, so do I!” retorted Dinah, who had not been cowed in the slightest by the beating.
“Okay,” said Patsy, nodding. “How about a compromise – like I take him and you can see him every day?”
“And would that suit Senga?” Dinah replied. “And by the way, where is Senga?”
“She’s run away,” piped up Elsie, “and she’s taken wee Joe with her.”
“Took wee Joe with her?” exclaimed Patsy.
“Aye. Put him in his go-cart alang wi’ what she thought they’d need.”
Dinah forgot all about her wounds, grabbed hold of Elsie and started shaking her. “But why has she gone?”
Elsie’s eyes grew wide with fear as she wondered if she was to be the next one to be belted. “Because … because …” she stammered.
“Because what?” howled her mother, shaking her vehemently.
Tam went over and relaxed Dinah’s grip on Elsie. “Look, darling,” he said softly. “Don’t be afraid … Daddy’s sorry … He was bad – but do tell us why Senga’s left home?”
Elsie looked imploringly at her two nodding Grannies before looking back at her father and then uttering reluctantly, “Because she doesn’t want you to … kill him!”
Ten-year-old Elsie, who was desperate to be part of the search, was ordered to stay at home in the care of Tess while everyone else went out to hunt for Senga and Joe. Having made his decision, Tam, who had now taken full charge of the situation, resolved it would be best to break up into pairs. So Tam joined up with his mother Mary. Dinah went with her mother Patsy, and Johnny attached himself to Etta. It was agreed from the start that, since they would be leaving at five o’clock, they would all meet up at seven, whether or not they had managed to trace the missing children.
Elsie had been looking out of the window for half an hour when she called to Tess, “Here’s Daddy and Granny Mary coming back but they haven’t got Senga and Joe with them.” Tess made no reply but joined Elsie at the window. “And look,” Elsie cried as she pointed, “there’s Mammy and Granny Patsy and they haven’t got them either!”
Once assembled in the living room, both exhausted grannies flopped down on chairs and remained speechless. What words could they have spoken that might possibly ease the situation? Two of their grandchildren were missing and it was all because the parents, their own adult children, had lost control of themselves.
Tam too sat down and buried his head in his hands. He was desperate to find a solution but none was forthcoming. Slowly he raised his head. Placing his hands at the back of his neck and entwining his fingers, he gave a long hard look at Dinah. She seemed to have aged ten years in the last few hours. Her lovely face was now taut and drawn, while her body sagged with fatigue. His eyes travelled down to her legs and he winced as he saw the cuts and bruises that had been inflicted by none other than himself! There and then, he vowed that no matter what happened in the future he would never lift his hand to her or his children ever again. Brutality of the kind he had meted out was for barbarians and if he continued to act like one then those who had brutalised him in his captivity would have won.
Dinah was the first to speak. “Right,” she said, her voice shaking with emotion, “I think it’s now time to get the police involved.”
A long silence followed before Patsy replied, “No. It’s only half past seven … let’s give it till nine … there’s still plenty of daylight.”
“You’re right, Patsy,” agreed Mary. “No polis until it’s really necessary. Besides, Johnny and Etta aren’t back yet and they might hae found them.”
“Will I put the kettle on?” asked Tess, who could think of nothing else to say.
Etta and Johnny had searched in all the most likely places and all the most unlikely places for Senga and Joe – every school playground and every play-park. They even begged the scoutmaster of the 11th Leith troop to let them search the Log Cabin Scout Hall in Craigentinny Road but there was still no sign of the missing pair. From there, they went up to Findlay Gardens and, just as they were approaching Restalrig Crescent, they saw Sam Campbell, a sharp-witted twelve-year-old – who’d had to grow up fast when his father deserted the family and left them destitute – jumping over the railway dyke.
Johnny whistled to alert Sam and Sam stopped and turned. “What’s up?” he asked.
Approaching the wall, Johnny jumped up to sit on the dyke while Etta got out her cigarettes and lit up. “Have you seen oor Senga and Joe?” were Johnny’s opening words.
Sam shook his head. “Naw. Last time I saw Senga she was reciting in the poetry competition.”
“Aye, she won,” replied Etta.
“So she should,” agreed Sam. “She sure is guid at speaking – even though she’s got a bandy leg.”
Etta shook her head and Johnny just ignored the remark about Senga and the poetry competition, where she had come first in the whole of Edinburgh, even beating all the posh fee-paying school children. It still rankled that Senga was to be presented with her prize by the Lord Provost up at the City Chambers but that snob of an English teacher at Norton Park School had said it would be better for another pupil – someone else who would create a better impression for the school than Senga with her deformed leg and no school uniform – to receive the accolade, and then Senga could receive it from her. When Senga had come home and told her mother and Grann
y Patsy what the teacher had proposed, Dinah was incensed and threatened to pull the school down on Miss Strang. Patsy, who very rarely swore, just advised Senga that she should tell Miss Strang to stick the prize up her big arse! And Senga never did accept the prize.
Johnny was about to go and look elsewhere but Etta, who knew Sam very well, said, “Sam. There was another wee spot of trouble …”
“About the poetry prize?”
Etta shook her head. “No. About wee Joe – well, Senga’s run away and taken him with her.”
Johnny snorted through gritted teeth. “Etta! Nobody was to know.”
Etta just patted Johnny on the arm. “Look, I’ve known the Campbell family for years … they won’t say a word and Sam here will know, if anybody does, where someone would go if they wanted to hide for a while.”
Sam became thoughtful. “You know,” he said eventually, “if I was doing a runner I think I’d get myself over this dyke so I could get to the Bare Lady …”
“Bare Lady?” asked Etta.
“It’s a big oak tree just this side of the Eastern General Hospital wall. There’s a rope swing there – has been for years – and now the bark is aw worn and white.”
“But,” argued Etta, with incredulity in her voice, “that’s railway property. Trains pass by twice a day.”
“Aye,” replied Sam, “and the train drivers ken us aw and they just wave to us and blaw us a tune on their whistle.”
“Och, but you could be killed,” Etta pointed out.
“Naw,” replied Sam, “look, there’s enough room for three football pitches before the railway line – and just look at the height and breadth of that embankment behind the field.”
“Okay,” Johnny interjected, “but what guid would it be for Senga to get to the Bare Lady?”
“Well she could hide oot in the gang hut we built just ahint the tree last year.”
“But how would she know it was there?”
“Because my eejit sister Carrie took her there last week.”
Etta was now climbing up on the dyke.
“Where you going, Etta?” asked Sam.
“To this gang hut, because I just know she’s there.”
“Naw,” replied Johnny. “I’ll go. You go hame and tell oor Mammy and Daddy where I’m going and where we think Senga and Joe are hiding oot!”
When Etta arrived back at Restalrig Circus she quickly imparted the news that the most likely whereabouts of Senga and Joe could be the gang hut over by the railway line. Now in possession of this possible answer to their problem, they all decided that they would go and find out.
“Well,” exclaimed Etta, “if we were to go over the dyke on Restalrig Road, none of you Grannies would make it – in fact, even if we went round and climbed over the Restalrig Crescent way it’s going to be hard going,” she continued, failing to explain how she knew that.
Undeterred, everyone was determined to go where Senga was supposed to be holed up.
The residents of Restalrig Crescent were treated to a truly unique spectacle as they witnessed the heaving of the grannies, especially of overweight Patsy, up onto the railway wall and then being unceremoniously pushed over the other side. After that, they were amused to see everyone else follow, even Dinah – who had sensibly removed her high heels.
Once over the wall, Etta directed them along the well-worn path at the top of the embankment. All those who had never been there before were astonished that, once past the sand pit, they were faced with a panoramic view of lush green pasture bordered by yet another embankment. At the end of the small green glen and looking towards the top of the embankment, they saw the trees – tall majestic trees that looked as if they had stood there since time began. To reach the small glen, however, they had to climb down the first embankment. As was to be expected, Patsy and Mary held on to each other but they inevitably lost their footing and rolled together to the bottom.
Once everyone was down the hill, Tam, followed by Tess, Elsie and Dinah, raced ahead until Patsy, who was helping Mary to her feet, shouted, “Wait for us. We’re family too!”
The group now changed from running to walking until the two grannies finally caught up.
“Where’s this gang hut now?” asked a breathless Patsy.
“Up there somewhere … I think,” came Etta’s none-too-confident reply.
“You mean we’ve got to climb up that blooming mountain?” moaned Mary as she surveyed what looked to her like another Arthur’s Seat.
Etta nodded and they began to climb but nearly stopped when they heard a noise of an approaching train. “Quick,” shouted Etta. “Lie down in the long grass.”
“Why?” asked Dinah.
“Because it’s an offence to be here. It’s railway property and you could end up having to pay a fine … or worse.”
All managed to get down into the grass except Patsy but when the train passed the driver gave her a wave, a toot on his hooter and then hollered, “Nice night for a stroll.”
Patsy waved back and replied, “Sure is. I’ve lost my dog and I’m just looking for him.”
By dint of pulling and pushing the two grannies, they all eventually arrived, none the worse, at the top of the steep brae. Then Tam hesitated. He just wasn’t certain which way to go until Etta pointed to the Bare Lady and said, “I think it’ll be somewhere just beyond that tree.”
Etta was right and soon they were all gathered at the entrance to a makeshift gang hut.
“You in there, Johnny?” shouted Tam. The sack curtain that was acting as a door was pulled aside and then Sam, followed by Johnny, crawled out. “Senga and Joe in there too?”
“Aye, Mr Glass,” replied Sam, “but they’re no coming oot until proper terms, that I’ll negotiate, hae been agreed.”
Along with Dinah, Tam, who wondered who this young upstart of a laddie was and what right he had to arbitrate, went to push past Sam who held up a warning hand. “Did ye no hear what I said? Negotiations first.”
“What blinking negotiations? We want them hame and that’s all there is tae it,” fumed Mary. “Noo, get oot of my way, you bloody naebody!”
“Language! Language! Mind yer language – there’s a wee laddie in there!” warned Sam as he pointed his finger at Mary.
“Okay,” Tam conceded. “Could Dinah and me sit doon with you and Senga and work something oot?”
Sam sniffed and drew in his cheeks. “Aye, just ye twa, because that’s aw there’s room for, onyway.”
Tam and Dinah entered the gang hut and, peering into the gloom, saw Senga sitting on an old carpet holding Joe on her knee. Relief seeped into them both. In fact, the whole scene looked so absurd that Dinah found herself having to choke back her laughter.
“Now,” began Sam, “Senga here has certain conditions that hae to be met afore she leaves this place o’ sanctuary.”
“Sanctuary!” exclaimed Tam, looking around the squalid structure.
“Aye. Number one is that naebody is to kill wee Joe here.”
“That was just an expression uttered in time of stress,” defended Tam diplomatically.
“And twa, he’s to stay at Restalrig Circus, where Senga promises she’ll look efter him.”
“I agree to no killing him but I think it wuid be best if he stayed with Granny Patsy.”
Senga shook her head.
“If that’s yer last word,” Sam spat, “then aw I’ve got to say is that we’ll adjourn this meeting until tomorrow when, nae doot, ye’ll hae changed yer mind.”
Tam now turned and spoke directly to Senga. “So if I don’t let him stay at Restalrig Circus, you won’t come home?” Senga nodded. Tam pleaded, “But why?”
“Because I love him and if he’d been a bran scone that was a bit mair fired than the others you’d aw hae been fighting who was gonnae hae it.”
Tam tried hard not to laugh at her simple reasoning. “Look,” he said. “All I want is for us all to be family again but he’s not mine – not my own flesh and blood.”
Sam bent over and took Senga’s hand and squeezed it. She felt a surge of love and admiration for him race through her – feelings that would never leave her. But she thought, “Why would he ever look at me? He’s handsome and brave and I’m more than a year older than him and just plain and stupid.”
Tam looked at Senga and Sam. He knew he was beaten and so the terms laid out by Sam were agreed, to everyone’s delight – even a third condition that hadn’t been negotiated, that they all adjourn to the chippie in Restalrig Road and have their tea. Naturally it would be fish suppers all round!
After that they all went home. Tam suggested that Joe should sleep with Johnny as three girls in one bed was quite enough.
“No,” replied Senga, who was still not sure that everything had been worked out to her satisfaction. “He sleeps with me.”
Tam shrugged and indicated with a nod of his head that he and Dinah should go to their room.
Senga was the last to retire as she had to wash Joe and then get him ready for bed. When finally she slid beneath the bedcovers, still firmly holding on to Joe, she noticed that Elsie was sitting bolt upright. “Listen,” whispered Elsie. “Do you hear that? What’s Daddy doing to Mammy now? Should we not go in and save her?”
The thumping of the bedstead against the wall grew in speed and noise and Senga gave a little laugh. “No need to worry, Elsie. I used to hear that noise before Daddy went to war – and know something? The louder the noise and the panting, the better Mammy would sing the next morning.”
“Hmm,” retorted Tess, lifting her pillow to put it over her head. “Well, if that’s the case, after tonight’s performance she’ll be singing the Hallelujah Chorus in the morning!”