Crystal's Song

by Millie Gray

  PART TWO

  16

  Dinah was busying herself in the kitchen. The family would all be home for the special dinner they always had at exactly one o’clock on a Saturday. Hot Scotch pies, sausage rolls and bridies were invariably bought by Senga from Dickson’s renowned Home Bakery in North Junction Street. Senga didn’t seem to mind the wee detour on her way home from Bond Nine where she worked. How could she deny the weekend treat not only to the family but to herself as well?

  The pies, after a little reheating in the oven, were served straight but the sausage rolls and bridies were laid out in the large frying pan and a tin of Heinz beans was poured around them before they too were given a nice gentle warm-up on a gas ring.

  This Saturday afternoon, all except Tam had assembled and taken their allotted places at the table, the aroma of the heated delicacies only adding to everyone’s pangs of hunger.

  “Can we no start noo?” asked Johnny, who was anxious to be fed immediately. “I’ve got a gemme at two o’clock.”

  “We’re waiting for your Daddy. And by the way, since the two of you work in the shipyards thegither, why did he no come up the road with you?”

  “We just got oot the gate and that guy …”

  “What guy?”

  “Och, let me finish, Mammy, before you butt in.”

  Dinah was now over at the cooker giving the frying pan a good shoogle. “Blast! The beans are drying up,” she huffed, before going on: “You were saying, Johnny?”

  “That guy Dad was a prisoner of war with …”

  “Eddie Gibson?”

  “Oh Ma, my stomach thinks ma throat’s cut so will you just gie me ma bridie and beans and then I’ll be better able to tell ye about the guy.”

  With a sigh, Dinah started to set out the dinner and handed the first plate to Johnny who smiled before attacking his bridie and beans with such vigour that the sauce dribbled down his chin. After he’d wiped the dripping relish with the back of his right hand he licked that too.

  Dinah was about to remind Johnny that he’d still to tell her about the man his Daddy had met when the door opened and in strode Tam. “Where the devil have you been?” Dinah demanded. “I held the dinner back for you. The bairns were nearly eating the table they felt so hungry.”

  After ruffling Elsie’s hair, a smiling Tam took his seat and Dinah placed a plate with two Scotch pies in front of him. Putting Dinah out of her agony, Tam began to answer, while reaching over for the HP Sauce bottle. “Andy Young met me at the yaird gates. Had some information for me.”

  Flashing her gaze towards to the ceiling, Dinah moaned, “Oh, no! And what does Mr Chips think you should be doing noo?”

  “Well,” responded Tam, slapping the bottom of the sauce bottle so hard that a large dollop landed on Elsie’s plate – which caused Elsie to wail that she didn’t like brown sauce and all the more so when it was flung at her.

  “Well,” began Tam afresh, “Andy says that noo I hae my City and Guilds certificate, he’s spoken tae a pal up at the Heriot Watt College – in Chambers Street, ye ken – and he says they’ll accept me to dae an ONC in Building Construction.”

  “And how’ll you do that and what’ll it do to put bread on this table?” Dinah demanded, rapping the table and giving out a deep sigh of exasperation, which she hoped would signal to Tom that she was utterly fed up with his teacher pal, Andy Young, who kept putting such grandiose ideas into her husband’s head!

  Tam finished his first pie with obvious relish before answering with a chuckle. “The ONC isn’t much by itself but it’ll take me on to the HNC which,” and he put up his hand to emphasise the next point, “I don’t really need to get me into Moray House Teaching Training College but it would stand me in good stead – and get me used to studying forbye.” Dinah just sat and shook her head. “Mind you,” continued Tam, “the other thing is that while I’m getting on with the qualifications at the Heriot Watt, I’ll be able to keep the day job and go to evening classes three nights a week.”

  Dinah realised she would need to try another tactic so she wheedled, “But Tam, won’t working all day and all this studying at night school no be too much for you?”

  “No,” said Tam, taking her hand in his and squeezing it. “Thanks to you, I’m fit enough now. And when I do get my HNC, I’ll still be young enough to get on this special Post-War Emergency Training Scheme. Honestly, they’re so short of teachers – and they specially want to promote technical subjects to get the economic recovery going – that they’ve got to do something,” he bragged, while giving Dinah a knowing wink.

  “But Tam, you’re doing well enough, specially with all the overtime. So why …?”

  “Look, I’m tired of being a naebody. See, when I graduate from Moray House, I’ll be a professional. Andy says he knows I can do it. And the twa years at Moray House I ken will be the hardest for us because we’ll hae to get by on a grant.”

  “What grant?”

  “The one they gie you because I’ll be full-time at the college, Dinah. Andy says it will be enough for us to live on.”

  “Andy says!” yelled Dinah. “And has your blessed Andy tried supporting five bairns for two years on a measly grant?”

  “You know fine he’s no married. And we’ve only got Elsie and …” Tam swallowed as he always did before adding, “wee Joe to be kept now.”

  “I keep wee Joe,” Senga protested. “That’s why I work in the Bonds.” Senga knew the fact that she was a Bond Lassie irked her father. He’d wanted her to get a nice job in an office or at least in a shop like Tess. What Senga had never told anyone was that she’d tried to get a job in the élite Jenners Department Store on Princes Street as a trainee window-dresser but had to give up that dream. They did train you right enough but that was all – no pay, just the prestige of being able to say you’d been trained in Jenners. She had also attended for interview at Binns at the West End of Princes Street and at Patrick Thomson’s on the Bridges but the requirement that both legs should be straight prevented her from being offered a position. Senga was also aware that her Daddy, though he tholed Joe, was still not comfortable with him. So, in order to cause wee Joe the minimum of resentment, she’d taken the job offered to her in Bond Nine because the money was good. It paid far in excess of posh jobs!

  “Onyway,” said Tam, turning to Dinah while popping into his mouth the bread he’d used for mopping up the remaining sauce on his plate. “It’ll be four years till we’re on the grant and by that time,” he gulped, “Joe’ll be at school and you can get yourself a wee job.” Dinah started to laugh. “What’s so amusing about you going out and doing your bit?” spiered Tam.

  “Just that, as you’ve said, you’re fighting fit again. So fit actually that it’ll be another five years and eight months before I can take on a wee job to keep the home fires burning!”

  Tam’s mouth sagged. “Are you saying …?”

  Dinah smiled, “Five weeks gone – and before you suggest I get rid of it, remember I’m a Catholic.”

  “You never got rid of him,” Tam now pointed with his index finger towards wee Joe, “so why would you want tae get rid of my legitimate …?”

  “Don’t you dare say Joe’s no legal,” retorted Dinah, going over and placing her hands over the boy’s ears. “But to get back to your burning desire – yes, my bonny lad, you can please your pal Andy and go to Moray House – but ask him first how you’ll cope with all those sleepless nights that’ll be coming up in eight months time!”

  When Senga arrived at her Granny Patsy’s house, she leant over and tapped on the kitchen window. Immediately the window opened upwards and Patsy stuck her head out. “Nearly ready,” she called, looking admiringly at wee Joe in his go-car. “My, you’ve got him looking just dandy the day. New coat?”

  “Yeah, I got it in the Store. Mind you, he’d no clothing coupons left. Daddy wouldn’t give him any of his. Says he’s got to get a new funeral shirt and suit now he’s put on weight.”

  “Doe
s he think somebody’s about to kick the bucket?”

  “Other than Granddad Glass …?”

  “He’d be a right miss and I don’t think so,” interrupted Patsy, her voice full of disgust.

  “Well, no. Counting granddad, I think everybody else is okay except …” Senga hesitated. She wasn’t sure if she should tell Granny Patsy about Mammy and Daddy’s fall-out. It could be looked upon as being disloyal. But she’d no need to worry for Patsy had taken her head in through the window again and Senga could hear her granny’s outside door being banged shut.

  As soon as Patsy appeared outside, she pushed Senga away from Joe’s go-car and took over pushing the vehicle along the road. “Johnny away on ahead to the football field?”

  “Aye. They’re playing down on Leith Links – and, Granny,” Senga paused for she hated hurting Patsy, “Johnny says even if the ball knocks his head off you’ve not to run on to the field shouting ‘foul’ and then go about lashing out at the laddie that’s collided with him!”

  Patsy sniffed before explaining, “That was a mistake last week. I never meant to land that Sam Campbell a shot.”

  “Oh, so you forgot he plays on the same side as Johnny?”

  “Sort of. But you see, when I saw our Johnny falling over him I thought he’d deliberately flung himself down on the ground. How was I to know he’d been wrong-footed by the other team’s inside-right?”

  Senga smiled. She never could stay angry for long with Granny Patsy. She knew that when Granny Patsy did things like smack Sam Campbell it was because she was so besotted with her grandchildren. She was just wondering what life would have been like without her when Patsy stopped pushing the go-car and asked, “You were saying everybody was all right except … except who?”

  A long silence followed but, as Patsy made no attempt to move on, Senga resolved to tell her what she would find out anyway. “Granny Patsy,” she said, “now this is secret. Very secret.” Patsy crossed herself to acknowledge she was to tell no one what Senga was about to impart. “Well, Daddy’s been listening to Andy Young again.”

  “So what?” remarked Patsy. “He always gives him good advice. Look how he and that Fred guy got him through the war – and not only that, he taught him to read and write.”

  “That’s the problem,” explained Senga. “Now he can read and write, he wants to be a teacher.”

  “How could he be that? He’s only a joiner.”

  “Yeah, but if he goes to night school at the Heriot Watt he could do studying and exams and then go on to teacher-training at Moray House College.”

  “Hmmm,” Patsy half sang. “Good for him. And that wouldnae half cheer up his mammy.”

  “But that’s not all …” Senga paused. “He also wants Johnny to go with him.”

  “Johnny?”

  “Aye, he thinks Johnny should be trying to better himself and it would get him paid his worth.”

  “You mean he’d be paid more than your Dad?”

  “Naw, Granny, he wouldn’t be paid more that way but he would be able to work the hale thirty years or so to get a full pension. Daddy’ll be forty-three when he qualifies so he’ll only get a wee pension.”

  “Aye,” agreed Patsy, as she moved on. “But it would at least be a pension. Maist of us hae to depend on the State and it’s in a right state, is it no?”

  “Here, would you look at that?” shouted Senga, as they neared the playing fields. “The game’s started and oh, oh, oh!”

  “Is that Sam Campbell scoring again?” commented Patsy to Senga, who was now blushing and gasping. “Know something, Senga? He always seems to have that red face effect on you. Do you fancy him or something?”

  Shaking her head vehemently, Senga exclaimed, “Me fancy him, Granny? Don’t you know he’s a whole thirteen months, two weeks and three days younger than I am?”

  “Oh, I see. So you don’t want to be caught cradle-snatching?”

  Refusing to discuss her secret feelings for Sam Campbell, even with her Granny Patsy, Senga decided on a quick change of subject. “Here, Granny,” she simpered, “do you think if I took wee Joe to the barber’s he could cut away most of these lovely black corkscrew curls that seem to annoy Daddy so much?”

  “Well, you could try, but know something? Joe having his hair straightened won’t stop you having a crush on bonny, tall, curly-headed Sam Campbell!”

  17

  “This your first time?” asked the woman in the bed opposite to Dinah.

  Dinah reluctantly turned her gaze away from the small delicate bundle she had just given birth to. “No and yes,” she replied. “You see, it’s the first time I’ve given birth in a hospital – my other six were born at home.”

  “Seven in all you’ve had?” Dinah nodded. “And you look so g-good still,” the woman began to stammer. “What I mean is, you dinnae look as if you’ve been yased as a breeding machine.”

  Ignoring the woman’s remarks, Dinah looked down once again at her precious baby. “Think I’m going to call her Myra after my mother-in-law.”

  “One o’ your other bairns called after your own mammy?”

  “No. One Patsy at a time is quite enough for this world.”

  The woman was now out of bed and came over to sit beside Dinah. “My name’s Rosalie O’Donnell. I’m from west of the Shannon.”

  “Thought you might be Irish with that lovely brogue of yours. I’m Dinah Glass. Think they’ve put us thegither because we’re getting on a bit for having bairns.”

  Rosalie laughed and her whole face lit up. “This wee soul now,” she said, pulling down the baby’s shawl to get a better look. “Did she come as much as a surprise as mine did?” Dinah nodded.

  “I’m forty, would you believe it? My youngest laddie is eighteen and here’s me … Ah well, the milkman’s got a lot to answer for.”

  Dinah looked quizzical but decided not to pursue Rosalie’s confession – if it really was one. “I’m thirty-eight but my last wee one, a laddie, is just three. You know, I just don’t know what it is about April the first that makes me feel I have to give birth!”

  The evening visiting session officially allowed no more than two visitors at the bedside, but since no one was willing to be left out of the group that had come to inspect the new member of the Glass family, Dinah had continued to have her whole family crowd round her.

  Tam was first to pick up little Myra and his eyes moistened as he held her. “Think she’s very like you, darling,” he said, looking directly at Dinah.

  “Any good news?” Dinah replied.

  Tam handed Myra to Patsy who promptly summoned Mary to come over and admire the latest addition. “Any good news, you ask?” he said thoughtfully, taking Dinah’s hand in his. “Now, let’s see. Would Johnny and me passing our first-year exams at the Heriot Watt count?”

  Dinah pulled her hand away from Tam’s. “No! But winning the pools would!”

  “But you know I’m against gambling, so I don’t do the pools,” protested Tam.

  Dinah was about to make a caustic retort when a drunk and dishevelled man staggered into the ward and lurched his way to Rosalie’s bed. “Another wee thon,” he lisped. He tried to bend over the bed to kiss his wife but almost fell over. Regaining his balance he then shouted to the whole ward, “Ken what all the boys in the docks thaid?” No one spoke so he went on. “They thaid, they did, that thomeone had had it in for me!”

  To which Rosalie replied quietly, with a wink to Dinah, “Didn’t believe me, did you? But now you do.”

  Before anything else could be said, Tam and Johnny had to take their leave of Dinah so as to go to their evening class. Both grandmothers meantime were anxious that the children shouldn’t start asking what Rosalie meant so Patsy blurted out, “Here, Dinah, you’re never going to believe this – but Mary and me hae joined the Co-op Women’s Guild.”

  Dinah’s eyes widened in mock amazement as she replied, “Oh, that’s the most exciting thing I’ve heard since Betty Grable insured her legs for a mill
ion dollars.”

  Patsy well knew that Dinah was being sarcastic and she nudged Mary before going on. “You tell her, Mary. Tell her just where we’ll be going with the Guild and who we’ll be seeing.”

  Mary looked warily about the ward and a coy look overtook her before she confided, “Blackpool! And we’ll be staying in a Bed and Breakfast!”

  “Blackpool? And staying in a Bed and Breakfast!” exclaimed Dinah. “But how on earth can you two – especially you, Mammy, who’s always pleading poverty – possibly afford that?”

  “Well,” continued Mary, relishing her moment of glory, “it’s only for the September weekend, Dinah. No for the whole week.”

  “And,” Patsy quickly interrupted, “as we start paying it up from now, not only will it all be paid for before we go, but we’ll also hae saved up oor spending money.”

  “And remember, Patsy,” Mary continued, with a deliberate pause to add to the suspense, “that it also includes oor tickets to see Joseph Locke in the theatre – and in the Winter Gardens, at that. Just imagine it.” Mary now looked over to Patsy and grinned. “Little old us going to the Winter Gardens to see all the big stars!”

  “Next thing you’ll be telling me, Mary, is that you’ll be getting a wee perm before you go.”

  “It’s already been booked – and Etta’s going to lend me a suitcase.”

  By the time the September weekend came along, the household in Restalrig Circus had settled down, complete with baby Myra. All that is, except for wee Joe, who couldn’t understand why everything wasn’t still revolving around himself. “Jealous wee blighter,” remarked Tam, who took every opportunity to pick Myra up and nurse her – something he wasn’t seen to do with Joe when anybody was about.

  Dinah and Senga, lugging the suitcases, escorted the two grannies down to Fire Brigade Street where all the buses were lined up, ready to take the eager passengers to Blackpool for the weekend.