‘Do I look that desperate?’ Sarah said, grinning and giving him a push so that he fell against Maurice, who gave him an even heftier push back.
Then the desserts arrived, and the younger group at the bottom of the table looked at their own then had a good look at everyone else’s.
‘Och, I wish I’d gone for the trifle,’ Danny moaned a touch dramatically, craning his neck to see what the people at the other end of the table had. ‘The Christmas puddin’ is that tiny you need a microscope to see it!’
He dug Sarah in the ribs and then caught the attention of the other girls. ‘Watch this,’ he said, winking and with a slight slur in his voice. ‘I think I’ll put the wind up oul’ Frosty Ferguson.’
‘Oh, don’t dare!’ Heather said, half-laughing and half-afraid.
Danny put his elbows on the table and leaned forward. ‘Hey, Muriel!’ he hissed in her direction. ‘Any chance of swappin’ my Christmas puddin’ for your trifle?’
Muriel Ferguson looked startled. ‘What?’ she asked incredulously.
‘Swappin’,’ he said, gesturing to his dish of pudding and cream. ‘I know you’re not as greedy as me, and I thought you might prefer a wee bit of Christmas puddin’ instead of that big dish of trifle. I know you’re a healthy eater, and all that sweet stuff isn’t good for you or yer figure!’
Muriel shook her head disapprovingly, deciding the offer wasn’t worthy of a reply. ‘It’s worse you’re getting instead of better,’ she told him curtly, and turned to speak to the person next to her as if Danny had just disappeared out of sight.
The girls were all helpless with laugher, and Heather was trying to look as if one of them had just told a joke.
‘You’ve a blidey nerve, Danny Fleming, so you have,’ Maurice told him. ‘And don’t think Muriel will forget it – you’ll be paying for it this time next year.’
‘Aw, stuff her,’ Danny said, brave with the wine and beer. ‘I’ll not be losin’ sleep over it anyway.’ He leaned across the table to touch Heather’s hand. ‘How’d you like me an’ Maurice to walk you down to the station later on?’
Heather drew her hand away, but laughed good-naturedly at him so he wouldn’t take offence. ‘It’s only a two-minute walk,’ she told him.
‘Not if we go slow,’ he replied. ‘We could go that slow that we could make it last all night.’
‘Would you listen to that, patter-merchant!’ Sarah scoffed, shaking her head. ‘Who d’you think you are, Danny Fleming? James Dean or Frank Sinatra?’
‘I can be whoever Heather likes,’ Danny said, sighing loudly and leaning back with his hands clasped behind his head. Then, in an unexpectedly good voice, he started to croon, ‘I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas’, causing uproars of laughter at the table.
Later, as she walked to the Central Station, linking arms with the small, stocky Danny on one side and the lanky Maurice on the other, and Sarah and Marie linking the boys on the outside, Heather couldn’t believe how much she had enjoyed herself with the crowd.
She reached the station red-faced and glowing – her dark hair now flowing freely – with Danny singing what he thought was a slowed-up romantic version of ‘Jingle Bells’. All the girls were giggling and laughing, the five of them still linking arms as they walked through the station concourse heading for the Edinburgh train that passed through Rowanhill.
The seven o’clock train hadn’t arrived yet, so the gate to the platform wasn’t open and groups of last-minute Christmas shoppers and other office-party people were milling around the platform entrance.
‘We’ll stay wi’ you till your train comes,’ Danny told Heather. ‘I wouldn’t like to leave you on yer own. You don’t know what could happen to a good-lookin’ girl like yoursel’.’
She shook her head. ‘I’ll be fine – honestly. There’s no need to keep you all back. There’s a good few people waiting here, and I’ll probably know some of them.’
Maurice laughed. ‘We’re better off standing here than back drinking in the pub.’ He gestured to his smaller friend. ‘If he has much more, I’m going to have to throw him over my shoulder and carry him home!’
As they all stood chatting and laughing, Danny turned to Heather. ‘Whit’s yer sister like?’ he asked, his Glasgow accent more pronounced with a drink in him. ‘Is she as good-lookin’ as you?’ He inclined his head slightly, looking at her from under his brows in the moody manner affected by James Dean and Marlon Brando.
‘Better,’ Heather said airily, throwing the other girls a glance that she hoped indicated that she needed rescuing, but it went right over their heads.
‘Is she dark-haired the same as you?’ he said, reaching a hand out to touch the bottom of her hair.
‘No,’ Heather said, moving out of his reach. ‘She’s blonde actually. A bit smaller and thinner than me and blonde.’ She stood up on her tiptoes now to see if the train was coming in the distance.
‘A blonde, did you say? She sounds a bit of all right to me,’ Maurice chimed in. ‘When do we get to see her?’
Heather started laughing. ‘Never – Kirsty’s far too busy to be bothered with boys at the minute. She’s putting her singing career first.’ Kirsty had never said those exact words, but it was obvious where her priorities lay at the moment. She was either up in their bedroom doing strange singing exercises to strengthen her voice or out rehearsing and meeting people with that Larry Delaney.
Eventually, the train appeared in the distance – a small black dot with a flickering light – and then very slowly it snaked its way into the station.
‘Right, that’s me,’ Heather said, joining the moving queue towards the gates that were now being opened. She gave a little wave. ‘Have a happy Christmas, everybody – even if the weather forecast says it’s not to be a white Christmas!’
‘You’ll let me know about the show at the Pavillion?’ Sarah checked. ‘You’ve got the number of the phone box across the street from us?’
Heather nodded, glancing back at the queue.
‘When anybody answers,’ Sarah reminded her, ‘just say it’s for Sarah Fox and they’ll run across to the house and get me.’
‘Hey, Heather,’ Maurice Smith said, suddenly rushing up beside her. Heather turned around to see the lanky, balding Maurice holding a small plastic twig of mistletoe above his head and bending down towards her for a kiss. ‘Away you go!’ she giggled, but she wasn’t quick enough to retreat, and he landed a smacker on her cheek.
‘My turn now!’ the smaller Danny called, elbowing Maurice out of the way.
‘Oh, no!’ Heather said, backing off. Then, seeing the hurt look in his eyes, she immediately felt sorry for him. She pressed a finger to the middle of her cheek. ‘There,’ she told him with an exaggerated sigh.
‘You’ve made my Christmas,’ Danny whispered, then planted his warm lips on the spot she had indicated.
It was only when she was getting off the train at Rowanhill that Heather realised that Liz and Jim had been on it too. She concealed her surprise at them being together shopping in Glasgow, and especially being on their own, because Jim had always been loud in his protests about getting involved in female activities like that.
‘How on earth did I miss you at the station?’ Heather asked them, as they walked down from the station to the village together. It was a pleasant walk as the night was surprisingly mild, more like early October than the latter part of December.
‘We were up at the very front of the queue,’ Liz explained, with a pained expression, ‘because we just missed the six o’clock train and had to hang about for another hour. We were making sure we got on this one OK.’
‘Did you have to hang about in the station all that time?’ Heather asked.
‘No,’ Jim said, grinning. ‘We went to a pub just down the road and I had a couple of pints while we were waiting.’
Liz dug him in the ribs with her elbow. ‘After Christmas you’ll have to cut out all the drinkin’.’
‘New Yea
r,’ he countered, a frown on his face now. ‘I’ll definitely be having a few drinks over the New Year. You canny not drink at the New Year.’
Liz gave a great exaggerated sigh and shook her head at Heather. ‘What is he like?’ she said, casting an adoring smile in Jim’s direction.
‘I’m not the worst,’ Jim said airily, moving the heavy carrier bags from one hand to the other. ‘Are you OK carrying those other bags?’ he checked with her now.
Liz nodded. ‘Aye, I’m fine – they’re not that heavy.’ She turned to Heather. ‘I bet you never thought you’d see the day when Jimmy would be actin’ the gentleman?’
‘Gentleman Jim,’ he said, making a little bowing gesture. ‘That’s what they call me.’
It suddenly struck Heather as they walked along chatting that there was a big change in the way Liz and Jim were getting on. Usually he was all cocky and full of himself, and the one making all the decisions about where they were going and what they were doing. But now Liz seemed more confident and in control, while he seemed far more eager to please. Heather wondered what had brought about the big change.
She motioned towards all the shopping bags they were carrying. ‘What on earth have you two been buying? You look as if you’ve bought half of Glasgow.’
‘We went into the Barrows,’ Liz told her, with a delighted grin. The Barrows was a huge weekend indoor market in Glasgow that sold absolutely everything a lot cheaper than the shops. ‘They’ve great bargains now wi’ it bein’ Christmas Eve tomorrow,’ she went on. ‘They’re sellin’ loads of things off cheap. You should go in tomorrow yerself.’
‘I have all my Christmas present bought weeks ago, and anyway I can’t,’ Heather explained. ‘Lily’s comin’ home and we’re all going to be at the house waiting for her, a sort of welcome-home party.’ Her face suddenly became serious. ‘I wouldn’t miss that for the world, not after all the wee soul has been through.’
‘Aye, right enough,’ Liz said, looking more serious herself now. ‘I got her a small Christmas present from the Barrows, so I’ll maybe drop down with it tomorrow. I wanted to have a word with Kirsty anyway.’ She glanced up at Jim, as though checking something, and he gave a slight nod.
Heather bit back the words ‘What about?’, realising that it would appear really nosy. It’s just that it was strange that Liz would want to speak to Kirsty when she was Liz’s best friend. Kirsty and Liz got on fine, but it had always been Heather and Liz, and they knew most things about each other.
They slowed up as they came towards Liz’s house on the main street. ‘How’s the job goin’ in Glasgow? D’you like it as much as the office in Wishaw?’ she asked.
‘Great,’ Heather said. ‘They’re all nice and friendly, I had a lovely Christmas meal out with them all this afternoon. When you come to the house tomorrow we can catch up on each other’s news. My mother will make you one of her famous Advocaat and lemonades.’
‘Brilliant,’ Liz said, beaming. ‘I love them, and I only ever have them at Christmas at your house.’
‘Have ye seen Gerry around lately?’ Jim asked, trying his best to be casual, but you could tell by his awkward stance that he had been waiting for an opportunity to ask.
‘No,’ Heather said quietly, ‘but then I wouldn’t expect to see him. It’s not as if we’re still going out or anything.’ She paused, pushing her dark hair behind her ear. ‘I suppose he’s busy making plans to go to Australia after Christmas.’
‘No,’ Jim said quickly, ‘he’s not going now. He’s postponed it till the summer. He decided to take the promotion at work here instead and see how it goes. If it all works out and he decides to stay, he’s talkin’ about buying a car and everything.’
‘You might regret that you finished with him,’ Liz put in. ‘Especially when you see him driving about in a fancy car. And there are loads of girls after him. I’ve even had girls I work with askin’ all about him.’
‘I think you’d still have a chance, if you’ve changed your mind,’ Jim said. ‘I don’t think he’s as keen on any of the other girls he’s been going out with.’
Heather suddenly felt uncomfortable. ‘That’s all over and done with,’ she said, looking at her watch. ‘I need to go, there’s a radio programme I want to catch at nine o’clock.’
‘See you tomorrow then,’ Liz said cheerily. ‘And we’ll swap our own Christmas presents then too.’
‘Fine.’ When Heather turned to give them a wave, she was surprised to see Jim going into the house with Liz. Normally he was in a big rush to get to the pub or the local Miners’ Club on a Friday night. She walked on home, mulling over the situation, and still wondering what had brought about such a change in Jim Murray.
‘I kept you a bit of fish,’ Sophie said, looking up from her Christmas edition of Woman’s Own, ‘and there’s some chips cut that will only take ten minutes to cook if you’re hungry.’ She had just finished clearing and washing up after herself, Fintan and Kirsty’s customary Friday-evening meal of fish, chips and peas.
‘No thanks, I’ll just have a cup of tea,’ Heather called from the hallway where she was hanging up her coat and things. ‘I ate loads at the Christmas meal and I’m still full.’ She came back into the kitchen, where her mother was now pouring them both a cup of tea from a freshly made pot. ‘It won’t go to waste, I’m sure my daddy will eat it for his supper later. He loves fish between bread and butter.’ She sat at the kitchen table beside her mother. ‘Has Kirsty gone out singing already?’
Her mother nodded. ‘She’s out with the band. She’s only tonight and another night next week and then she’s finished with them.’
‘She’s done brilliantly getting taken on with that Larry Delaney,’ Heather said. ‘Although I think she’s going to find it very different from all the laughs she’s had with the band. This is far more professional and serious.’
‘If she doesn’t like it,’ Sophie mused, ‘then she can always leave.’
‘She’s got to at least try it out though,’ Heather said, ‘hasn’t she? I was in a similar position with the job, and I’m really glad I took it now. Can you imagine my last office taking us out for a fancy Christmas “do” or anything like that?’
‘Was it a nice meal?’ Sophie asked.
‘Fabulous,’ Heather breathed, picturing the Christmas tree and the lovely table in her mind all over again. ‘It was the nicest place I’ve ever been in, and the dinner was beautiful.’
Sophie put her elbows on the table now, intrigued. ‘What did you all have?’
Heather went over the evening in great depth. ‘We had sherry and wine as well,’ she suddenly remembered. ‘Mr Walton paid for all the drinks out of his own pocket.’
Sophie looked warily towards the hallway. ‘Be careful about sayin’ anything about drink to your father,’ she warned in a low voice. ‘He mentioned to me just the other night that he was sure Kirsty had had a few drinks after she’d been out rehearsing.’ She gave a little sigh. ‘He wasn’t a bit happy about it. He said anything can happen to young girls if somebody gives them drink . . . they can be taken advantage of.’
Heather’s brows came down. ‘It’s Christmas, for God’s sake,’ she said, shaking her head in disbelief. Her father could come over all awkward about nothing at times. ‘I could count the number of drinks I’ve had in my life on one hand, and I’ve never seen Kirsty drinking anything with alcohol in it apart from a lemonade shandy.’
‘Well,’ Sophie shrugged, ‘your father worries . . . two young girls goin’ out into the world. And even though you’re my own, I have to say that you’re not two bad-looking girls either.’ She looked down at her Woman’s Own, thinking of some of the articles she had just read. ‘Times are changing, and it’s not just drink. Look at that young Helen Kelly, barely eighteen and having to get married.’
‘Well, there’s no fear of that happening to me or Kirsty,’ Heather said briskly. ‘I want to see a bit of the world before I get tied down, and I’d say Kirsty has bigger
ambitions than pushin’ a pram around in the next few years.’
‘Well, I wasn’t suggesting that,’ Sophie said, putting her hand out to cover her daughter’s. She gave it a little squeeze. ‘Oh, by the way,’ she suddenly remembered, ‘you and Kirsty got a Christmas present each in the post.’
‘Who from?’ Heather asked, trying to shrug off the feeling of irritation with her parents. Really, she and Kirsty had given them very little to be worried about over the years, and instead of being grateful for that, her mother and father seemed to grow even more protective – especially her father. You’d think he’d ease off a little especially since it was Christmas.
Sophie went to the ribbed-glass kitchen cabinet and brought out a small box wrapped in gold paper. ‘It’s from your Auntie Claire,’ she said quietly, handing it to her. ‘She sent us a lovely Christmas card and a present each for you and Kirsty.’
‘That was really good of her,’ Heather said, feeling her earlier annoyance draining away, like air seeping slowly from a balloon. ‘She hasn’t sent anything since she got married, has she?’ There weren’t that many adults in the family who gave them presents now the girls were older, and those who still did were greatly appreciated. Sophie shrugged. ‘She made it quite plain when nobody would go to the wedding that it would be up to us to make the first move.’
There was a little pause. ‘Well,’ Heather sighed, ‘I can see her point. She must have felt really rejected. It must be horrible to be cut off from your family. I couldn’t imagine it.’
‘Well, it’s never going to happen to you, is it?’ Sophie smiled. She looked thoughtful then. ‘Claire has sent Lily things every year since it happened, because she felt she was too young to understand, and because she’s her godchild, but I don’t think Mona told Lily who they were from. And there were one or two things that I don’t think she even gave her. Pat mentioned something about a doll that Mona threw in the bin.’
The Grace Girls Page 18