‘He liked it,’ Marie laughed. ‘I think he wanted to get hold of my titties.’
‘Aye, no doubt he did, but if you carry on like that in front of him, it’s not just your titties he’ll touch. He’ll end up doing the same to you as he was doing to Sally. Is that what you want?’
Shuddering, Marie said, ‘No, and I’ll not do it again.’
Marie was too proud of her perfectly formed bosom, Cissie realised, and she’d been lucky Da hadn’t been well when she flaunted it in front of him. If he had been, he’d have had her down on the bed before she knew what was happening. As long as Sally was there, she was safe, but after that . . .
Cissie shivered. She’d been afraid for her sister before, but it would be much worse after Sally left.
Chapter Eight
On her second week with the McGregors, Sally Johnston was on her way to the outside lavatory when she met Mrs Gibb from the floor above and took exception to her inquisitive stare. ‘Who the hell d’you think you’re lookin’ at?’ she shouted.
Bridling, the other woman answered, equally aggressively, ‘One o’ Big Tam’s bidie-ins by the looks o’ you, and you’re the worst-looking I’ve seen yet.’
‘You impudent bitch!’ Fists at the ready, Sally made to follow Mrs Gibb as she ran upstairs, but as she explained to Marie later, ‘I couldna wait, I was bursting for the lavvy.’
Marie couldn’t help laughing, and rekindled Sally’s anger by observing, ‘She was right, though. You’re no beauty.’
Sally was still seething from both insults when Tam came home, and couldn’t wait to air her grievances. ‘You’d better go up and gi’e that woman a bit o’ your mind,’ she ended. ‘I’m not stoppin’ here if I’ve to put up wi’ the likes o’ her and Marie.’
His scowl deepened. ‘Nobody’s forcing you to stay.’
‘So that’s the way o’ it? Right, I’m off!’
Nobody was sorry when she packed her bag and marched out, her yellow hair straggling out beneath her flat hat, her painted lips set in a tight straight line. Cissie glanced across at Marie, who raised her eyebrows as if to say, ‘Good riddance,’ and even their father seemed to be relieved.
When he went out after supper, Marie said, ‘Will he be away to look for another one?’ and Cissie shrugged. There was no telling what he would do.
They were all in bed when he came home, but he had no one with him, as far as Cissie could hear, and she knew she’d have to keep on the alert again, until he found somebody.
Cissie knew that Joe resented having to stay in on Saturday nights, but she had other worries on her mind. Over the past few weeks, Hugh’s kisses had become more demanding, and the feel of his need against her made her own body cry out to be satisfied. She often wondered if she would have the willpower to stop him if he tried to do anything more, but he never did, and she went home each week glad that she hadn’t been put to the test.
Marie surprised her one day by saying, in a voice tight with excitement, ‘When I was in the butcher’s this forenoon, one of the lads asked me out, so I said I’d meet him at the Queen on Saturday at half past seven. I thought I’d better make it the same night as you go out with Hugh,’ she added.
‘That’s good.’ Cissie understood her reason for this and was grateful. ‘What’s his name?’
‘I’ve heard them calling him Lewis, but I don’t know his last name. I’ll find out on Saturday.’
‘Maybe Lewis is his last name,’ Cissie suggested.
Marie looked thoughtful. ‘I never thought about that.’
‘You’d better not be late home, or Da’ll go daft.’
‘I haven’t told him I’m going out, yet, and he’ll likely go daft about that, and all.’ Marie tossed her fair hair. ‘Not that I’m caring. He can’t keep me in.’
‘Don’t be too sure,’ Cissie muttered.
It took all her powers of persuasion, backed by Joe’s, to make Tam agree to let Marie go out with the young man, but eventually he said, ‘All right, Marie, but I want you home by nine. That’s late enough for a girl of fourteen.’
Marie cast a look of appeal at Cissie, who said, quietly, ‘She’s nearly fifteen. Make it ten.’
‘Good God! Has a man no say in his own house?’
Joe chanced a smile. ‘Not when there’s so many females. Any road, Marie’s got her head screwed on the right way, and she’ll come to no harm.’
‘She’d better not, or I’ll break the laddie’s neck.’
Cissie was making ready to meet Hugh on Saturday when a disturbing thought occurred to her. Marie looked grown up, yet she still had a child’s mind and would be too easily – perhaps willingly – led astray. ‘How old’s Lewis?’
‘About twenty, maybe more.’
‘Does he know you’re not fifteen yet?’
Marie shrugged. ‘He never asked.’
‘Don’t let him do anything wrong.’
‘I can let him kiss me, though, can’t I?’ Marie said, a little anxiously. ‘You let your lad kiss you.’
‘Hugh didn’t kiss me the first time we were out. Anyway, he’s a decent lad, and we don’t know anything about Lewis.’
‘He’s decent, and all, Cissie. I’m sure he is.’
‘Well, just one kiss, nothing more. Cheerio.’
As usual, Hugh was waiting. ‘I’m taking you – home with me tonight again,’ he told her, his faltering voice making her sure that he was nervous. Was he going to tell his family that they loved each other? He said nothing as they went along George Street, and she wondered if she had been over-optimistic. Maybe it was only a birthday party for one of his brothers? But he seemed too tense for that – not worried tense, more like he was nursing a wonderful secret. Could he be going to ask her to marry him, in front of his family?
When they reached his tenement, he stopped her before she climbed the stairs. ‘I’d better tell you before we go up, Cissie. You see, my mother’s gone to see her sister and Ian and Callum are out, and all.’
‘Are you telling me there’s nobody in your house?’
‘No – I mean yes, there’s nobody in. We’ll have the place to ourselves.’ He regarded her hopefully. ‘Please, Cissie?’
At first, she felt disappointed in him for not telling her before, then it occurred to her that he could easily have taken her into the empty house without telling her at all. She knew it would be dangerous to be alone with him for hours, but love swept away every iota of her common sense.
‘Please, Cissie?’ he repeated, and she nodded shyly.
While he was hanging up her coat, she was trembling with guilt at what might happen, and she realised, when he came to stand next to her, that he was trembling, too.
‘I shouldn’t have come,’ she whispered. ‘If you’d told me nobody was in when I met you first, I’d . . .’
‘That’s why I didn’t tell you. I knew you wouldn’t come, but I promise I won’t do anything . . . Oh, Cissie, I love you.’
This was too much for her and she turned to him blindly. ‘I love you, and all, Hugh.’
He pulled her onto the couch, and for the next fifteen minutes nothing mattered to her except the ecstasy of his lips against hers, the sensation that he was drawing her love into him. Her head was swimming, she ached for him when his hands began to explore her body, but suddenly she pushed him away. She had recognised the harsh breathing of a man in the heat of passion, a man who might behave like her father did with his women, and revulsion flooded up in her.
‘Oh, God!’ Hugh groaned. ‘Please, Cissie, please?’ His hands held her in a vice-like grip. ‘You have to let me. I can’t bear it.’
‘No!’ she screamed, struggling to get up. ‘No! No, Hugh! You promised you wouldn’t.’
He released her so abruptly that she was catapulted to the floor, but ignoring his outstretched hand, she scrambled to her feet. When she looked at him, the hurt bewilderment in his eyes almost made her sorry for refusing him, until she noticed that he was holding his crotch and felt si
ck again. ‘I’m going home – by myself,’ she said firmly.
He followed her when she went to get her coat. ‘I’m sorry, Cissie, I couldn’t help myself. I shouldn’t have taken you up here, it was asking for trouble.’
Spurning his apology, she slammed the door and ran down the stairs. She should have known, she thought, angry at herself for trusting him. All men were tarred with the same brush. They only wanted a woman for one thing and didn’t consider how the woman felt about it. Her hands fumbled with the outside doorknob in her haste to put as much distance between her and Hugh as she could, and she raced along George Street oblivious to the startled looks of the people who had to jump out of her way. She was in her own tenement lobby before she remembered that Hugh had given her the chance to refuse before he took her into his house, and she had let him believe that she wanted . . . But she had wanted it then. The truth made her stop in her tracks. She had known perfectly well what would happen and still she’d gone with him. She had only herself to blame.
Her feet dragged as she climbed the stairs. That was the last she would see of Hugh and she did love him. When she went into the kitchen, her father was sitting alone at the table with an empty bottle in front of him, his face flushed as it always was when he’d had too much to drink. He looked up in surprise. ‘You’re home early, Cissie.’
She tore off her coat and took her anger and frustration out on him. ‘It’s your fault. If I hadn’t heard you making those awful noises with your whores, I’d have let Hugh . . .’
The abrupt halt, and her evident confusion, told him what had happened. ‘So you stopped your lad from taking his way with you, did you?’
Ashamed at having said so much, she turned to leave, but this time he was too quick for her – jumping up and pinning her arms to her sides. ‘Come to your Da, Cissie, lass,’ he crooned. ‘I’ll not take no for an answer like him.’
She was no match for his drunken, brute strength, and he swivelled her over to the bed and forced her down, despite her frantic struggles, one massive hand clamped over her mouth to stop her screams. The smell of whisky on his breath nauseated her and she thrashed her head from side to side trying to shake off his hand, not aware that his other hand was opening her buttons until his fingers squeezed her bare breast. His burning lips came down on hers, and not knowing that her bucking body was inflaming him even more, she kept fighting him when he hauled down her drawers and settled on top of her.
During the next few minutes, Cissie learned why her father made the revolting noises she had so often heard, and was certain that he would rip her apart before he was finished with her, but, at last, the final, strangled shout issued from him, and she could feel him pulsing inside her.
Breathing heavily, he remained on her for some time before he rolled off mumbling, ‘I’d forgotten how good it is with a virgin.’ His lascivious eyes hardened. ‘If you ever tell a living soul about this, I’ll swear you begged me for it because your lad wasn’t man enough.’
She was past caring about anything except the excruciating pain in her innards, but she had to get away from him in case he took her again. With a great effort, she managed to swing her legs over the edge of the bed, but before she could pull her skirts down, his hand gripped her shoulder. ‘Oh, Christ! I’m sorry, Cissie.’
With a violent movement, she freed herself and stood up, her legs almost giving way as they took her weight. ‘I don’t know what came over me,’ Big Tam was muttering as she staggered into the lobby. ‘It was you saying . . . I could picture what your lad . . .’
She didn’t hear the rest, and when she went into her own room, she stood with her back against the door, thankful that Marie wasn’t there to see the state she was in, and too full of shame to wonder why Pat and Joe hadn’t heard anything. Realising that something was trickling down her legs, she took off her clothes to see what it was, and discovered that she was bleeding. Not ordinary blood like when she had her monthlies, but mixed with something sticky. Had some vital part of her been pierced? She couldn’t go back to the kitchen to wash herself, so she made do with rubbing herself clean with a handkerchief.
When she felt calmer, she lay down, bitterly regretting having been so foolish as to tell her father what Hugh had tried to do. It must have sounded like an invitation, which he’d grasped before she realised what was on his mind.
Some fifteen minutes later, the lobby door opened, and when she heard the two voices, she realised that both her brothers must have been out. In the next minute, Pat came bouncing in to tell her where they had been.
‘Da said you weren’t feeling well, but I had to tell you. Joe said it was too fine to bide in, and he took me to the beach. He asked Da to come, but he said he was too tired.’
Not tired enough, Cissie thought, dully, but tried to show some interest. ‘Did you enjoy yourselves?’
‘Oh, yes, we walked along the sand for a while, and then we went back up to the prom and Joe took me on the Scenic Railway. I was a bit scared, and so was he, though he tried to make out he wasn’t, but it was awful good fun.’
‘It’s time you were sleeping,’ Cissie said, wishing that her brothers hadn’t gone out, or that they’d come home half an hour earlier.
Marie came in on the dot at ten, and Cissie had to listen to her enthusing about the lad she had been out with. ‘Lewis is his last name. His first name’s Wilfie – Wilfred, I suppose – and he took me to the Electric Theatre. You’re awful quiet, Cissie. Have you fallen out with your Hugh?’
‘Yes.’ She left it at that. At least it made her sister stop chattering.
Marie soon fell asleep, but Cissie lay weeping silently for most of the night. When she heard her father coughing and moving about in the morning, she felt herself shrinking from having to face him. Giving Marie a push, she said, ‘I’ve an awful sore head. I think I’ll stay in bed.’
Assuming that she was still upset about quarrelling with Hugh, Marie looked at her sympathetically. ‘It’s my turn to cook the dinner this week, and your turn for the kirk, and Da’ll not be pleased if you don’t go.’
‘He’ll know why I’m not going.’
‘You’ll never believe this,’ Marie burst out when she came in again after washing herself. ‘Da wants to go to the kirk, but he doesn’t want any of us with him. D’you think he’s ill again, Cissie? He looks awful.’
Well may he look awful, Cissie thought, vindictively. It would be a blessing for all of them if the filthy pig died. But he was too wicked to die, worse luck.
When she heard him going out, she rose to help Marie with the dinner, and Pat, delighted at having a reprieve from the usual Sunday worship, turned to Joe. ‘Has Da ever been at the kirk before?’
Joe made a face. ‘Not that I can mind on. There must be something wrong with him, for he never said anything when I told him I was enlisting.’
Cissie whipped round. ‘Was it last night you told him you were enlisting?’ She was willing to believe that this was what had upset her father and led him to defile her, though she would never forgive him for it.
‘Aye, I told him when we came back from the beach.’
So Da hadn’t known before that, Cissie thought. ‘Was he not angry?’
‘He looked as if he didn’t care one way or the other. It surprised me.’
It didn’t surprise Cissie. Apart from anything else, Da must have known why Joe stayed in on Saturdays and would be pleased when he went away. Well, it didn’t matter now. She wouldn’t be going out with Hugh any more – and she’d go to bed at the same time as Pat when Marie was out.
Her stomach churned when she heard her father’s feet on the stairs, but he didn’t look at her when he came in. Maybe he was ashamed at what he had done, but it was too late. She wished that she had someone to confide in, to share the burden of what her father had done to her, but who could she tell? Miss Birnie was a kind, caring woman, but she was a spinster and would be shocked to the very depths of her being, and the only other person she could think of w
as Aggie Robertson, who was over seventy and must have heard worse things in her time – if anything could be worse. She couldn’t speak about it yet, though. Maybe tomorrow.
Having half expected Hugh to come to the dairy on Monday, Cissie was quite relieved when he didn’t. She had enough on her plate without coping with him, too, though she still loved him and it would have been comforting to know that he still felt the same about her.
The rain was lashing down when she finished work, yet she walked home slowly, trying to think how to tell Aggie what had happened, and her clothes were drenched when she reached Schoolhill. But she was desperate to talk to somebody.
‘My, Cissie!’ Mrs Robertson exclaimed when she opened the door. ‘Come in and take off your coat, it’s dripping wet.’
The girl followed her into the kitchen and sat down by the fire. ‘I want to tell you something, but I don’t know where to start.’ Abandoning self-control, she burst into tears. ‘Oh, Aggie, Da did an awful thing to me on Saturday night.’
It was as though a huge hand wiped the smile off the old woman’s face. ‘That’s what I’ve aye been feared for, lassie, kenning Big Tam.’
‘He said it was better with a virgin,’ the girl sobbed. ‘Aggie, what’s a virgin?’
‘Something you’ll never be again, that’s one thing sure. It’s a lassie that hasna been touched by a man – like your Da did to you.’
‘If another man . . . would he know I wasn’t a virgin?’
‘Aye, lass, he would. Your maidenhead’s broken now, and you wouldna bleed a second time.’
‘Was that why I was bleeding? I thought my insides had got punctured . . .’
‘My poor dearie. Well, it’s done now and we’ll just have to pray he hasna landed you wi’ a bairn.’
‘None of his whores landed with bairns.’ Cissie had often wondered why they hadn’t when her mother had had so many.
‘They ken’t how to prevent it.’
‘What’ll I do?’ Cissie wailed. ‘What’ll folk say if I’ve a baby, and it would be worse if they knew Da was the father.’
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