Silver Linings

by Gray, Millie

  The idea that Hugh could come home to rescue her reputation was tragically beyond his control because during the latter part of June 1915 he and most of his battalion were led like lambs to the slaughter at Gallipoli. Kate had been inconsolable when she learned of Hugh’s death. She couldn’t bear to be in the house with her mother, who was going to feel so wronged when she confessed. How was she going to find the courage to tell her dearest mother that she was pregnant with Hugh’s baby? She had been grateful that it just happened to be stocktaking that heartbreaking weekend. This had meant she would be out at work both Saturday and Sunday and on Monday … Well maybe, just maybe, she would find the courage to speak to her mum.

  Sherry Stivens and Kate were up in the attics of the department store going over the records and they seemed to find that six whaleboned corsets and half a dozen pairs of pure silk knickers were missing. To be truthful, Kate, who was now feeling wretched, wasn’t in the least bit concerned about the corsets having been spirited away. Nor, unlike Sherry Stivens, did she have any interest in who was wearing any of the six pairs of silk knickers. Rising laboriously up from the floor she sighed deeply. All she could think of was trying to ward off the faint feeling that was now overwhelming her. Instinctively she knew she was going to fall backwards down the steep worn wooden steps of the attic and she remembered holding out her hand to Sherry in the hope she would grab it. Sherry did at first appear as if she was going to take hold of Kate’s outstretched hand and save her. However, without any warning, a perplexed look of sorrow and regret crossed over Sherry’s face. Clenching her fist tightly she then withdrew her hand and clasped it to her chest. These actions, of course, resulted in Kate tumbling down and down into merciful oblivion.

  Kate also remembered Sherry holding her as they waited for an ambulance and she knew she did not imagine it but Sherry’s tears washed down on her as she whispered, ‘You and your mum would not have coped. This is a godsend of a way out. Believe me, it is.’

  How, wondered Kate, did Sherry discover her plight? It was one thing that she had stumbled upon the truth, but why did Sherry judge that because Kate’s family had not the resources of her family that the child would be better to stay unborn? Of course, the baby – Kate and Hugh’s child – would have been called bastard and Kate herself labelled a whore and easy meat. Kate knew all of that. In addition, if she claimed that Hugh was the father then Hugh’s parents would have been deeply offended that she was besmirching the memory of their hero son. They would have proclaimed that she was nothing but a lying whore who had accused their son when he was incapable of defending himself. It would also have meant the breaking up of the important and long-time friendship between the Anderson and Brown families.

  Now, still standing, and gazing unseeing from the window, Kate shrugged. No use going over and over that awful year, the year to end all years when she lost the love of her life as well as the right to be a mother, and these two happenings had left her filled with deep melancholy.

  Turning, she looked down at her niece. Poor Kitty just sixteen and saddled with Rosebud. Wouldn’t it be right, she thought, for her now to take the burden from Kitty and accept the responsibility of rearing the toddler herself? Was this not an opportunity to get retribution for all she had suffered?

  Having made up her mind to suggest to her brother, Johnny, that Rosebud would be better off being brought up by her, she lightly tiptoed from the bedroom.

  Striding back into the living room, Kate found Johnny had just finished brushing his hair. Without uttering a word he then proceeded to put on his jacket. Kate immediately pulled on his sleeve whilst sharply uttering, ‘Here, brother dear, where do you think you’re going?’

  ‘Over to the Learig pub to wet my whistle,’ retorted Johnny as he swept Kate’s hand from his jacket.

  ‘No, no, you’re not,’ Kate decreed, ‘because I want to speak to you.’ Kate glanced around the room. ‘As a matter of fact I want to speak to everybody in this house.’ She hesitated before emphasising, ‘Right now.’

  ‘What about?’ huffed Jenny. ‘And if you’re going to go on again about me not doing enough for the war effort, then let me tell you, I bloody well am. I mean, who do you think keeps the welcoming stations going?’ Jenny, who was obviously offended, sniffed long and loudly before continuing her tirade. ‘None other than the churches’ Women’s Guilds, of which I am proud to be a full participating member.’ Jenny, her eyes now ablaze, exhaled through gritted teeth. No one spoke because they knew she was not finished and no one was brave enough to stop her from concluding her sermon. ‘So that means three nights a week the women in South Leith Parish Church are up there making soup, sandwiches, tea and just talking to the laddies and lassies before they catch a train out o’ the Caledonian or Waverley stations and only God kens if they will ever come back alive.’

  Johnny acknowledged his mother’s war contribution with a nod of his head before making for the door. ‘Johnny,’ screeched Kate, jumping in front of him to bar his way, ‘didn’t you hear what I said? Come on now, we as a family have a big problem that we have just got to get sorted out.’

  ‘That right?’ uttered Johnny before he allowed a derisive cackle to escape him. ‘Well let me tell you, Kate,’ he continued loudly, ‘the only big problem in here … is you. So if you don’t mind, get out of my way.’

  ‘No. We have to talk about Kitty and her being saddled with a year-old bairn.’

  Roughly pushing Kate aside, Johnny blustered, ‘And I hope you’re no laying the blame for that at my door?’ Kate could only shake her head so Johnny went on, ‘And let me tell you before you go on and reorganise all our bleeding lives, you should have been in Robb’s this afternoon. Ye know, that’s the shipyards where I slave to provide for this household, and you would have seen what a bloody problem is!’

  Johnny’s eyes glassed over and he visibly sagged. In his mind’s eye he was seeing the brave Cossack destroyer limping into Leith Docks. His thoughts now blocked out everything except his remembering how the Cossack had had the bad luck to be in the North Sea and get herself rammed in the blackout. ‘The blasted merchant ship didn’t see her,’ he mouthed. ‘Only thing that saved her from being cut in two was her super-mounted 4.7 gun turret.’ Johnny’s head was now swinging from side to side and he said quietly, ‘All these brave young sailors – just bits of bairns really they were.’ His mother and sister could see and hear now how thinking over the events was obviously unnerving him. ‘Ye wouldn’t believe it,’ he hoarsely whispered, looking directly at his sister but seeing her not, ‘but there were men, including me, openly weeping as we watched her struggling into berth. Up to six feet down by the head she was and her mess decks completely awash. Completely engulfed they were.’ He brushed his hand roughly under his nose before continuing: ‘Oh dear God, some of the young lads hadn’t been able to escape. Slaughtered they were and their broken bodies are tangled up in the bloody wreckage, so they are.’ Tears were now racing profusely down his cheeks and he could only go on haltingly. ‘Told you, I did, they were just bits o’ bairns so they were, but we’ll treat them – as best we can – with respect.’ Johnny now looked at his own sons before muttering, ‘Because they were all some mothers’ sons, so they were.’

  Kate and Jenny were also shaking their heads now. They could see that the events of the day had completely gutted Johnny. Kate thought that they should have known when he said he was going over to the pub on a weeknight that there was something sorely amiss. He only ever went out to the pub at the weekend.

  Blind to his mother’s and sister’s reaction, Johnny sniffed loudly. Then he inhaled deeply before continuing. ‘When we start in the morning the first thing we will have to do is cut the poor souls out with the oxyacetylene cutting plant. Then it will be full speed ahead on to the repair and that will take us four or five weeks, so it will. The Cossack captain, that de Pass bloke, says that the poor smashed-up wreck of a ship still has urgent war business to attend to. Went on to say that no matter
what, we will have to get her ready to sail again as soon as possible.’ Johnny rubbed his chin before sarcastically chortling, ‘Suppose that means that we will have to do the impossible once again and get her shipshape in four weeks and no five.’

  ‘How will you manage that?’ Kate asked.

  ‘Just means that for the next month or so the hale of the repair yards will be concentrating on the Cossack.’ A long, tired sigh escaped Johnny before he added, ‘That also means life will be what’s come to be normal now. All of us tradesmen taking it in turns to work twenty hours a day, which will include us donning our Home Guard uniforms at night because we are the only blooming thing that stands between the Gerries and you lot!’ Johnny now had his hand on the door handle, and as he pulled on it he turned to face Kate directly again. ‘So, dear sister, you deal with the problems in here as I, and all the lads in the yards, have got our bloody hands full – and not only in the day but in the bloody night as well.’

  Kate submissively stood aside. She accepted that Johnny and his mates in the yards had more than enough to cope with so she would have to find the solution to Kitty’s problem herself. After all, she thought, we just have to win this war. And we in Leith have to give the brave sailors every chance that we can to get the food in or we will be starved into submission. She drew herself up before accepting that she and the rest of the family would have to do all that they could to make life easier for the men in the shipyards. Kate acknowledged that, like Leith folk had always done, they would need to accept the blows that would come their way in this war. But, as in the past, no matter what was thrown at them they would always gather themselves together, get themselves shipshape again, and sail on with their lives.

  KITTY’S STORY

  If you asked Kitty Anderson what kind of a childhood she had had, she would shrug simply before uttering, ‘Up until I was thirteen it was better than any princess’s.’ This statement really did ring true because Kitty was the adored only daughter of Johnny and Sandra Anderson and she very diplomatically took after both of them. To say she was beautiful would be an overstatement but she was strikingly handsome. Her crowning glory was her platinum-blonde hair that was like her father’s, but instead of the tight ring curls, Kitty’s hair flowed down in deep waves. It was just a pity that her nose also resembled that of her father’s: whereas a man could get away with a puffy, slightly-on-the-large-side nose, on Kitty it seemed to detract slightly from her femininity. This one drawback, however, was hardly really noticed by anyone because she had inherited her mother’s most unusual glinting green eyes and her tall, willowy, slim but busty figure. This, along with her mother’s bubbly personality, with which she was also endowed, resulted in no one failing to be anything but enchanted by her.

  To be truthful, there were times that Kitty’s two older brothers, Bobby and Jack, and her younger brother, Davy, could have seen her far enough. Like the time when Kitty was just turning fourteen and leaving David Kilpatrick’s School in Great Junction Street. That was when Sandra had announced at the tea table that she was determined that Kitty was not going to be factory fodder. She was positive that, unlike her brothers Bobby and Jack, who were indentured apprentices, her Kitty would find life on the factory floor just too coarse.

  Aunt Kate, who was now manageress of the ladies’ underwear section in the superior Leith Provident Department Store in Great Junction Street, was then summoned by Sandra to be reminded that family was family and that it was her duty to offer Kitty, who was called after her, a position in her department.

  Kate had only been appointed to the post of manageress and buyer of women’s lingerie a short twelve months ago. That was when Sherry Stivens’ mother had died, and not only was Sherry released from being punished for having given birth to a daughter out of wedlock, but she also had inherited the grand house in Trinity and a considerable fortune. Sherry, without giving the statutory period of notice, had resigned. ‘No more,’ she declared, ‘will I spend my days trying to push a fifty-inch waist into a twenty-six-inch corset – and as for hitching up belly-kissing sagging bosoms, I’ve had more than enough.’ Turning to Mr Jameson, the store’s manager, she added sweetly, ‘So, sir, don’t bother sending on any due wages to me because I’m setting off to tour Europe. Imagine it – little old me sitting by the banks of the River Seine sipping coffee.’ The picture that Sherry painted of her whiling away her time in foreign parts was dashed, however, because hadn’t she forgotten to tell Hitler of her plans. If she had then perhaps he would have put his plans to invade Poland on hold – or postponed them forever.

  To say that some of her staff, especially Myra Ford, who had two years more service than Kate, were put out by Kate’s elevation to department head was an understatement. This being so, there was just no way Kate would dream of upsetting the apple cart further by engaging in nepotism. A long pause had elapsed before Kate tentatively said, ‘Look Sandra, I do love your – I mean our – Kitty dearly but I am not brave enough to cope with any further staff resentment …’ Before she could explain further Kitty had flounced into the house.

  ‘Mum,’ Kitty crooned before anybody had time to speak. ‘Know what?’ Sandra and Kate both shook their heads. ‘I was sent by the school today for an interview at Oxo’s offices in Constitution Street and I start there on Monday as,’ Kitty now worked her fingers to indicate that she could type, ‘a clerkess/typist.’ Kitty grimaced and inhaled and quickly exhaled loudly before adding, ‘Only problem is they pay a … monthly salary.’

  ‘A clerkess/typist,’ Sandra spluttered, grabbing hold of Kate’s hand. ‘Did you hear that, Kate, and a monthly salary? Oh, oh, now that must be a first for Ferrier Street.’ Suddenly Sandra’s eyes widened and her hand shot to her mouth. ‘Kitty darling,’ she hoarsely whispered, ‘you didn’t say where you really lived? I mean, you did remember that it is important when you go for interviews for good jobs to say that you live with your granny in a bought house in Parkvale Terrace.’

  Kate had a quiet chuckle to herself. She was remembering when she, her mum and dad had moved out of the ‘stair house’ in Ferrier Street and into Parkvale Terrace. The house was in one of the upmarket colony streets across from Leith Links and round the corner from Vanburgh Place.

  Some of their neighbours in Ferrier Street did think they were getting above themselves by being able to buy a house outright. Especially a house that had its own front door, an outside coal box and a little garden where you could hang out your washing or have the luxury of being able to sit and sun yourself. The purchase of the house came about because the three of them worked full-time and her mother never allowed a penny to leave her purse unless it was under escort. Also, debt was shunned by the prudent, because there was no job security. Suddenly you could find yourself without an income and left with no way of paying your obligations.

  The moving to Parkvale Terrace worked out for Johnny too because he and Sandra moved into the vacated house in Ferrier Street before the fire required re-stoking.

  ‘Were you going to say something, Kate?’

  Kate shook her head. ‘Not really, Sandra,’ she said, hesitating. ‘It was just that, on second thoughts, I had decided that Kitty would be such an asset to any establishment and that I should employ her. And yes, there would be tons of flak coming my way, but it would be worth it.’ She hesitated and sighed before adding, ‘I’m just so disappointed now that Kitty won’t be wishing to come and work with me when a firm like Oxo has offered her a position.’

  Looking askance at her mum and her Aunt Kate, all Kitty did was chortle before saying, ‘You thought that I, a proficient typist with a fifty-words-per-minute certificate, would want to spend my life selling knickers!’ She huffed before she added contemptuously, ‘You two should realise that there is life beyond Leith Provident’s Great Junction Street store!’

  Kitty had fitted in very well when she started to work in the Oxo offices and, being ambitious, she continued to upgrade her secretarial skills – she even sat for, and was awarded
, the much sought-after Pitman’s One Hundred Words per Minute Shorthand Certificate. This certificate was immediately framed and hung on the wall for all who visited the house to see.

  Sandra, who was just so proud of Kitty and her achievements, always made sure that Kitty was smartly turned out in freshly laundered clothes. To say Kitty blossomed after leaving school was an understatement. On a Saturday, her half day off, she loved to treat David, her younger brother, to an afternoon up the town where they would go to see a film in either the Playhouse or Salon picture houses. That was not the end of the treat, however, because Kitty would then ask David, ‘Well, will it be a pot of tea and bun in Littlejohn’s café in Leith Street or will we really push the boat out and go to Mackie’s on Princes Street and have a praline tart with our tea?’

  Kitty felt really good about taking David out on a Saturday afternoon because there was an added bonus in that it meant her mother could have an afternoon all to herself to do whatever she wanted. Never, thought Kitty, did any mother sacrifice herself for her family the way Sandra did. Kitty was so grateful to her mother for providing the little extras in life, such as her fine clothes and meat for the boys’ dinners in the middle of the week. This was all made possible by Sandra taking on a job as a cleaner in Lorne Street Primary School. She also took on another three-hour weekly job cleaning the Kennedys’ house. These people owned the two upmarket shops on Lochend Road that sold groceries, fruit, vegetables and sherry.