Waters of the Heart

by Doris Davidson

  ‘They’re all there,’ she assured him, ‘but now I can prove none of them were stolen.’

  He scratched his head, then said, ‘I’d better get Sergeant Binnie to come and see this.’

  Several hours later, Hugh was sitting with Cissie on his knee. ‘I’d have been a goner if it hadn’t been for you. That sergeant asked me dozens of questions. Where was I born? Where were you born? What was your maiden name? Why did I leave Aberdeen? He was so sure I was guilty he nearly had a fit when the bobby told him what you’d done.’

  She gave a delighted chuckle. ‘I know. He came storming in ready to give me a right doing-down for moving the boxes, and he’d to change his tune when I checked over the receipts with him. I wish I’d remembered them before.’

  ‘I’m thankful you remembered them at all,’ Hugh smiled, kissing the lobe of her ear. ‘The only dodgy thing was the Woodbines, but with you proving you bought the rest of the stuff, and having a delivery note for them, they let me go. I don’t think they suspect Ross, but the sergeant on the desk said they’ve warned the firm to keep a sharper eye on their stocks, so I hope they catch whoever it is the next time he tries it.’

  At half past nine the following morning, the manager of the wholesale tobacconist came to offer Hugh his job back. ‘I’m sorry I was so hasty, but with you – um, living with a woman who sells cigarettes, you can understand why I jumped to the wrong conclusion.’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t,’ Hugh said, quietly, ‘and you’ll have to find another driver.’

  Taken aback, Mr Burnett gripped his mouth then turned and stamped out. Hugh looked apologetically at Cissie. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll look for another job. I couldn’t have worked for him again, not after the way he treated me.’

  ‘I wouldn’t think so,’ she said, indignantly, ‘and there’s no hurry for you to find another job. It’s coming up for Christmas so I could be doing with help in the shop. It’s a good while since I heard from Mrs Barbour, but the last time she wrote she said I should take on an assistant, so she’d be willing to pay you.’

  ‘I can’t sponge off an old woman, but I’ll help you out till your busy time’s past.’

  When the post was delivered the following morning, Hugh took a quick glance through it. ‘All invoices as far as I can see,’ he observed, coming to the last one. ‘No, this one’s from Grangemouth. Mrs Barbour likely. You said you hadn’t heard from her for a while.’

  Cissie’s smile vanished when she looked at the envelope. ‘This isn’t her writing. I hope nothing’s wrong with her.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ she exclaimed, in a moment. ‘She’d a stroke last month, and she died yesterday morning from another one. It was a neighbour that wrote. Oh, Hugh, the poor old soul. I should have gone to see her when I didn’t hear from her for so long. Grangemouth’s not far.’

  He had taken the letter from her. ‘She’s to be buried in Rosebank Cemetery. Is that where her husband’s buried?’

  ‘I don’t know, but her son’s buried there.’ She related the story of the troop train, then said, ‘I’ll have to go to the funeral on Saturday.’

  ‘That’s all right. I’ll easily manage the shop on my own.’

  ‘I’ll only be about an hour, maybe less. She was so good to me, it’s the least I can do for her.’

  Something had occurred to Hugh now, but he could see that Cissie was too upset to discuss it. ‘Go and make yourself a cup of tea,’ he told her. ‘You’ve had a nasty shock.’

  Cissie was too taken up with her own sad thoughts to see that Hugh was also preoccupied, so she was surprised when he said, ‘Cissie, have you thought what Mrs Barbour’s death means to you?’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Had she any relations apart from her sister?’

  ‘Just the son that was killed.’

  ‘So the shop’ll go to her sister.’

  ‘Oh!’ Cissie’s eyes clouded. ‘I see what you’re getting at now. Her sister was an invalid. She’ll likely sell it.’

  ‘And the house,’ Hugh reminded her.

  ‘I suppose so.’

  They looked at each other for a moment, then Hugh said, sadly, ‘It’s one thing after another, isn’t it? First, the business with the cigarettes, now this.’

  ‘We’ll soon both be out of a job – and a home, and I’ll never be able to have Ricky back now.’

  Hating to see her so despondent, he said, ‘Don’t look on the black side, my dearest. We’ll still have each other, and we’ll get by, whatever happens.’

  She was not to be cheered. ‘It’ll be a poor Christmas with this hanging over our heads.’

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  1929

  The Christmas and New Year rush for gift boxes of chocolates and sweets, and presentation packs and tins of cigarettes, kept Cissie and Hugh too busy to dwell on their troubles – too busy to do anything except eat and sleep. They had even given up their half days and Sundays to comply with their customers’ demands, and things did not ease off until the third week of January.

  ‘That’s surely all the first-footing past now,’ Cissie sighed one night.

  Hugh sat down and slackened his tie. ‘I haven’t had the energy to give you a cuddle for ages.’

  She perched on his knee and hugged him. ‘I missed it.’

  Fifteen minutes later, Hugh observed, ‘We shouldn’t really complain about being busy. Whoever buys the shop’s going to be impressed by what we’ve taken in over the past six weeks, though I thought you’d have heard something by this time.’

  ‘Maybe Mrs Barbour’s sister’s going to keep it, but I wish we knew, one way or the other.’

  Having seen that Hugh enjoyed his stint as her assistant, Cissie persuaded him that she needed him permanently, and insisted on paying him a wage out of her takings, entering it into her cash book so that everything was above board. They worked well together. Hugh had a good way with the customers, and they took turns in time off for meals. It was such a perfect arrangement, they almost forgot that it must come to an end.

  One dreary, sleety morning in February, Hugh was having a quick look at the Scottish Daily Express while they had no customers, when he exclaimed, ‘Good! They’ve caught that thief at last. That’s a weight off my mind, for I’ve always wondered if they still suspected me.’

  ‘Was it Ross?’

  ‘No, and it’s nobody you’d know. He was caught redhanded yesterday and admitted he’d been stealing for over a year.’ Hugh fell silent again as he read the rest of the article, then he burst out, ‘For God’s sake!’

  ‘What is it?’ Cissie asked anxiously.

  ‘Listen to this. “Last December, when the thefts were first discovered, it was suspected that the culprit was Hugh Phimister, another van driver with the same firm. It was thought that he was stealing the cigarettes to give to his common-law wife, Cissie Dickson, née McGregor, to sell in her small confectioner/tobacconist’s shop in Duke Street, Leith. He was released from police custody when Mrs Dickson produced evidence that cleared him. Both parties, originally from Aberdeen, are reported to be relieved that the thief has been found.” Why the hell did they drag that up after all this time? Nobody’s been near us to ask how we felt, and whoever wrote this must have got it all from the police.’

  ‘They must have been short of news, and it doesn’t matter, does it? At least it says you were innocent. I just wish it didn’t say I was your common-law wife, though that’s likely what everybody thinks I am.’

  Hugh was still too angry to notice this. ‘I’d like to get my hands on that reporter. I thought I’d heard the last of it when I walked out of the police station.’

  Cissie was in bed before the dreadful thought occurred to her. Anybody who saw that article would know where she came from, where she lived. What if her father saw it? Her maiden name had been given, so he would know it was her. He’d make a beeline for the shop, and he might end up killing Hugh – like he had killed poor Jim Robertson – as well as her. She wondered if sh
e should go through to tell him how afraid she was, but he’d been so tired when he went to bed it would be cruel to deprive him of the sleep he needed, and in any case, what could he do?

  After going over and over it in her mind all night, she decided not to tell him at all, it would only worry him. She would keep on her guard for the next few days, and if her father hadn’t come by then, she would know he hadn’t read the newspaper, wherever he was.

  Just after ten next morning, Cissie was making tea in the back shop when she heard a customer coming in. Hugh was at the counter, so she paid no attention to the mumbling voices until he called, ‘Cissie, somebody wants to see you.’

  ‘I’ll be through in a minute,’ she called back cheerfully, but, as she filled the teapot, she was gripped by a fear that made her break out in a sweat. Could it be her father? Hugh had never met him and wouldn’t recognise him. Laying kettle and teapot down with hands that shook as if she had the palsy, she stood for a moment, panic-stricken, until common sense took over. Even if it were her father, what could he do in a place as public as this, where somebody could walk in at any minute?

  Taking several deep breaths to compose herself, she went through, halting in the doorway in disbelieving delight then running forward and throwing her arms round her step-mother. ‘Phoebe! Oh, Phoebe!’

  ‘You’d better take them upstairs,’ Hugh smiled.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said, wiping tears of happiness from her cheeks. ‘I didn’t notice you there as well, Richard.’

  He gave a light laugh. ‘I think I’ll stay down here to let you talk to Phoebe on your own.’

  Upstairs, the two women hugged rapturously again for a moment, then Phoebe said, ‘I wouldn’t have known where to find you if I hadn’t seen a stupid article in yesterday’s Daily Express. I didn’t have time to read it till late last night, and I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw your name. I’ve been nearly sick with worry since we came back from America and found you’d disappeared.’

  ‘But I wrote to you and you never answered.’

  ‘There was a mountain of mail, but nothing from you.’

  They looked at each other in puzzlement, then Phoebe burst out, ‘I bet Bertram still has a key! I wouldn’t put it past him to let himself in when we were away. He would recognise your writing if he’d been nosying through our letters, and he’d likely destroyed it.’ Her nose wrinkled again. ‘But I sent a cable to you telling you Richard had been taken ill in San Francisco, so you’d know we were held up.’

  Cissie looked blank. ‘It must have come after I left. Was it serious?’

  ‘He had cancer. For a while the doctors didn’t think he would live. They pulled him through in the end, but it was a long, slow business and they couldn’t promise that they’d cured it completely, so we will have to make the most of our time together,’ she paused sadly, and Cissie could see just how much she loved this man.

  ‘I was a bit put out you never wrote to ask how we were, but I can understand now. He wasn’t fit to travel for a long time after he got out of hospital, and we’ve only been home for a few months. Anyway, when I told Richard last night you were in Leith, he said he’d take me to see you this morning and I hardly slept a wink.’

  Cissie’s smile was somewhat tremulous. ‘Hugh was annoyed at that reporter, but I feel like writing to thank him now. If it hadn’t been for him . . .’

  ‘Cissie,’ Phoebe interrupted, ‘I want to know why you left Bertram. He said you’d found somebody else and walked out, but we knew you wouldn’t have left Ricky.’

  ‘It’s the last thing I’d have done, but Bertram wouldn’t let me have him. How is Ricky, Phoebe? Is he all right?’

  ‘He’s a wee darling. Not so wee now, he’s three past.’

  ‘Yes, I know. I used to pine for him, but I could hardly keep myself at first, let alone him. I went back to Dundee a few times, you know, though I just stood near the house to see him when Elma took him past in the pram, but at least I knew he was being well looked after. I often think about him, though I never say anything to Hugh.’

  ‘You still haven’t told me why you left Panache.’

  It was more than an hour later when Richard went upstairs to find his wife with her arms round Cissie, who was weeping quietly. ‘Should I have stayed in the shop?’ he asked.

  Phoebe shook her head. ‘Come in. We’ve been having a heart-to-heart talk, and you’ll not believe what this poor girl’s been through. I’ll tell you when we’re going back in the car, for she’s had enough just now.’

  Standing up, Cissie swallowed hard then said, ‘Sit down, Richard, and I’ll make some dinner.’

  While she prepared a meal, her stepmother said, ‘I always said Bertram was a bad lot, and he still hardly speaks to me though he lets us take Ricky out for an hour on Sundays.’

  ‘He won’t remember me now,’ Cissie said, sadly.

  ‘It’s a good thing he has Elma, for Bertram’s out all day and doesn’t bother with him much. I know how you must feel about her,’ Phoebe went on gently, noticing the tightening of Cissie’s face, ‘but she’s very good with Ricky. I’d say she loves him as much as Richard and I do.’

  ‘It’s not the same as having his own mother.’

  Phoebe hesitated briefly. ‘Do you want to have him back?’

  ‘Oh, yes! You don’t know how much I want to have him.’

  ‘I wondered, seeing you’ve got Hugh now.’

  Noticing that Richard had gripped his mouth as though in disapproval, Cissie said, ‘Hugh’s my lodger. I don’t sleep with him.’

  Richard seemed relieved. ‘I wouldn’t blame you if you did, but I’m glad you don’t.’

  ‘I told him about Ricky, and if by some miracle I ever did manage to get him, I’m sure Hugh would be pleased for me.’

  ‘Yes,’ Richard put in, ‘he was saying he wished you could be reunited with your son. He’s a fine man, Cissie.’

  ‘You don’t have to tell me that.’

  When lunch was ready, Cissie said, ‘We’ll have ours first, then I’ll go down and let Hugh up.’

  ‘Can’t he eat with us?’ Richard enquired.

  ‘One of us has to mind the shop . . .’ She broke off with a little giggle. ‘What does it matter for one day, a day as special as this? I’ll put a card in the window to say we’ll be shut for one hour, and we can all sit down together.’

  The meal over, Hugh ordered her to stay with her visitors. ‘You’ll have a lot to speak about. I’d just be in the way.’

  Richard stood up with him. ‘Something tells me I would be in the way, too, so if nobody minds, I’ll go for a walk.’

  Phoebe waited until he closed the door, then said, ‘Why didn’t you divorce Bertram, Cissie?’

  ‘I tried to, but the solicitor I saw said I didn’t stand a chance, for it was my word against Bertram’s and Elma’s.’

  Phoebe shook her head. ‘Richard’s a respected businessman, and he would vouch for your character. You don’t even sleep with Hugh, though I can see you love him.’

  ‘Bertram would swear blind I had, and he’s just as well known in business as his father nowadays.’

  ‘It’s worth another try. Think about it, Cissie.’

  ‘It wouldn’t work.’

  Her stepdaughter looked so downhearted that Phoebe decided to tell her some of the things she and Richard had done in America, and was pleased when Cissie brightened and started asking questions about the places they had visited. When that topic was exhausted, they reminisced about their time in the mill, and after a while, Cissie said, ‘Do you ever hear anything about Jen?’

  Phoebe’s cheery face sobered. ‘She died over a year ago.’

  ‘Oh, poor Jen. She wasn’t a bit well when I saw her. That was after Bertram – you know.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have known anything about it if I hadn’t run into Johnny Keating one day.’

  ‘Johnny Keating?’ Cissie could still recall her anger on the day he ended their friendship.

&n
bsp; ‘He’s married now, with twins, and he said he’d been so worried about Jen after she had to stop work he’d made his wife, Babs, go to see her. As he said, “Jen was lying on her bed, just a rickle of bones.” Anyway, Babs had got a doctor in, and she was in hospital visiting Jen when she died.’

  Cissie gave a deep sigh. ‘I’m glad she wasn’t on her own at the end.’

  ‘Johnny paid for her funeral,’ Phoebe went on, ‘so you see he wasn’t as bad as you thought. Oh, I wish I’d gone to see her sometimes.’

  ‘I only went when I’d nobody else to turn to.’

  They sat in silence for a moment, thinking with affection of the woman who had taken them in when they were homeless, twice, in Cissie’s case, then Phoebe said, ‘We’d some laughs with her. Remember . . .’

  The rest of the afternoon passed in more reminiscences, and they were astonished when Richard appeared just before six with a large bundle in his hands. ‘I’ve bought fish and chips to save you having to cook again, Cissie,’ he smiled.

  ‘Oh,’ she gasped, ‘I forgot about supper.’

  ‘I thought you might.’

  At eight o’clock, Richard got to his feet. ‘It’s time we made tracks for home, Phoebe, my dear.’

  ‘You’ll come back to see us?’ Cissie asked, anxiously.

  ‘Every week,’ Phoebe assured her.

  ‘Could you make it on Wednesdays? That’s our half-day and we’d both be free to enjoy your company.’

  ‘Wednesdays it shall be,’ laughed Richard.

  The two women hugged each other again before they went out to the car, and when Cissie joined Hugh behind the counter, she sighed, ‘This has been the best day of my life – apart from the day you walked in.’ Then she remembered that she hadn’t told Phoebe that Tam was no longer in prison. They’d had so much to talk about that it hadn’t entered her head, and perhaps it was all for the best. It would only have alarmed her, and, in any case, he would have turned up yesterday or today if he had seen the newspaper article.

  By the time they closed the shop, Cissie had more or less convinced herself that she had nothing more to fear on that account, and let her mind turn to what her stepmother had said. Sitting down beside Hugh, she said, ‘Phoebe told me I should divorce Bertram.’