by Gray, Millie
‘Hmmm,’ was all Johnny replied.
‘But what I do know,’ Jock whispered, leaning forward towards Johnny, ‘is that you shouldn’t be asking all these questions. Sure you go on too much about things that are no for eating. Honestly I am beginning to think that you’re some sort of double agent.’
‘Look, I only asked what they prefabricated buildings that we’ve spent so much time banging the gither are for.’
‘Best finish our pints and get ourselves home.’
‘Aye, but if we want to walk in on the first chime of the New Year how about we go and have a sit-in fish tea in the chippie up the road?’
‘See, is that no what I’ve just been saying that when you talk about food you keep yourself out of trouble.’
By the time Johnny got himself home his sons Jack and Davy, along with their pals – and thankfully Colin, Jack’s best mate, who was tall and dark – had been the house’s first foot.
Johnny immediately took himself into the kitchen where Kitty was making a pot of tea just in case any guests were teetotal. ‘Happy New Year, darling,’ Johnny chuckled before hugging Kitty tightly. ‘And I hope it is a good one for you.’
Extricating herself from her father’s embrace and lifting her sherry glass, Kitty sighed, ‘You know, Dad, I do so miss Connie. So how about you get yourself a dram from off the table there and we toast her good health.’ Both now had their glasses raised and Kitty continued, ‘Here’s to you, Connie, and thank you for helping me get through these last few years and whatever it is that took you away I hope you’ve got it sorted out now and you’re getting yourself back to us.’
Johnny nodded. ‘Aye, and I also say hurry back, lassie, because not only do Kitty and Rosebud miss you, but so do I.’
The SMT bus had just revved up and then sped out of Whitburn on Sunday 4 January 1944 when Connie accepted that she had to pass an hour before it would drop her off in St Andrew Square.
They were barely away from Whitburn’s Cross when the conductress relieved her of a bob for a single to Edinburgh. It was then that Connie snuggled down in her seat and for the first fifteen minutes, as they had called in at Blackburn, the old Livingston village, then on to the Calders, she tried hard not to think about anything except these places that had been so important to her in her childhood. Mid Calder was receding from view and she could do nothing other than go over the events of the last ten days.
These happenings she knew could alter her whole life and the very way she looked at it. To be truthful, it had been such an earth-shattering shock for her to accept the fate that had befallen her. As Sighthill loomed over the horizon she inhaled deeply, trying to convince herself that the decisions she had come to and what she had done, and would do, were the right things to do. Some would say that she should have heeded the teachings of the Bible. She shrugged. They could say that, but they didn’t have to live with her conscience; she did.
By the time she finally reached Restalrig it was seven o’clock in the evening. She shrunk down into herself. Grateful she was for the dirty, black fog that added to the blackness of the night. Yes, she was just so pleased to have this shroud to conceal her.
Tiptoeing into the stair she felt her way along the passage and was relieved when her right hand grabbed for the stair banister. She had scaled the steps up to the first landing and was just about to turn towards her own door when the Andersons’ door opened and Johnny, torch in hand, came out.
‘Is that you, Connie?’ he barked, shining the flashlight into her face.
Connie nodded. ‘The last time I looked in the mirror that was who I was, right enough.’
‘Very funny. Don’t you realise that I’ve been worried sick about you? Where the hell have you been and why did you do a runner?’
A deep intake of breath through her nose was necessary before Connie plucked up her courage to say, ‘Johnny, if you have a minute or two to come into my house … I will try and explain to you … bring you up to date with some happenings …’
‘Tell me here on the landing.’
‘No. What I have to say is private and confidential and not for discussion like a stairheid rammy.’
‘Phoo oo oo,’ Johnny puffed. ‘Look, I was just going downstairs to our shed to get a couple of briquettes to keep the fire going through the night. I mean it’s just so Baltic right now that you just have to try to keep some heat going. But once I’ve done that I’ll come over. Mind you, I’ll probably have Kitty and Rosebud in tow.’
Connie leant forward and grabbed Johnny’s right arm. ‘No, Johnny, what I have to say is for your ears only.’
Half an hour passed before Johnny’s light tap came on Connie’s outside door. On hearing it, the apprehensive Connie had the desire to ignore it. She wondered if he would be able to cope with what she was about to confide to him and would he understand her reasons for not doing what seemed proper?
On opening up the door, Connie deliberately did not switch on the light. She really felt that what she had to say to Johnny was best said by the light of the fire, which, thanks to a Neill’s firelighter, was now aglow.
When Johnny followed her into the living room she indicated to him that he should sit down. Watching her pour two liberal glasses of whisky, Johnny concluded that she was preparing him for a shock.
Sitting herself down on a chair opposite him Connie swallowed hard before she slowly began. ‘Johnny, there are two things that happened to me that I have to tell you about.’
‘Uh huh,’ Johnny responded as the amber liquid warmed his throat.
‘But I think I should start with the second one first and then I’ll go on to the first thing that is what really concerns you and yours.’
‘Fine.’
‘Now the day that I left I had been so sick and dizzy all day that I just wanted to crawl into my bed and die there. Within an hour I was awakened by someone knocking on my door. Reluctantly I got up and there on the doorstep was a ghost from my past.’
‘A ghost?’
‘Well he looked like a ghost. He was so pale and drawn. Immediately I asked him in.’
‘Your husband, what’s his name?’
‘Mark Sharp. No it wasn’t him.’
‘Then who?’
‘None other than Jamie Oman, my husband’s lover, and the poor soul was completely bereft. You see it turns out Mark was knocked down and killed in the blackout.’
Johnny made to butt in but he was silenced when Connie put up a restraining hand.
‘Poor Jamie, who had stood by Mark through all the years and affairs,’ she continued, ‘thought he had nothing else to do but get Mark buried.’ Connie sniffed back her tears. ‘You know people who are … well … like Mark and Jamie have no rights. They are treated like scum. I was so sorry for Jamie; he truly loved Mark. So much so he forgave him everything and all he wanted was to get him laid to rest respectfully.’
‘So what was the problem then?’
‘As I’ve already said – Jamie had no rights so it had to be Mark’s next of kin who would see to his disposal … and that unfortunately was me. So you see, what else could I do but go through to Glasgow with Jamie and sort things out? We did that and then we decided to take Mark to Whitburn and lay him to rest in the old churchyard cemetery beside his grandparents. I should add there was a bank book so even after we paid Brownlees, the undertaker at Whitburn, there was a four-figure sum left. The bank would only pay it to me and I know you will think that I am daft but I did not want Mark’s money. So,’ she grimaced, ‘I just took fifty pounds to cover my expenses and loss of wages and I handed the rest to Jamie.’
‘I take it he didn’t want it.’
‘Not at first. But I persuaded the poor soul that it was only right that he take the money. And before you say anything, I truly believe that it was Jamie’s right. Whatever else, he and Mark had spent their lives like a married couple and therefore he should inherit what Mark left.’
‘So that was it then?’
Connie sho
ok her head. Getting to her feet she then went over to her handbag and from it she fished out an official-looking document which she pushed into Johnny’s hand.
After quickly scanning the paper Johnny commented, ‘It’s Mark’s death certificate, but why would you want that?’
‘Well, I will now have to go up to the Edinburgh Corporation and ask for the rental deeds for this flat to be changed into my name and they may, and quite rightly so, decide that I, as a widow with no dependent …’ She hesitated and he could see her face was now afire before she elaborated. ‘I have no children, so I may be transferred to a one-bedroomed house on the other side of the road.’
‘Is your probable flitting the second issue you want to speak to me about?’
Connie was now gnawing on her right index finger and Johnny rose up and grabbed her hand. ‘Biting your finger isn’t going to tell me what’s worrying you. So come on, let’s both sit on the settee and you can tell me there.’
No sooner had Connie sat down next to Johnny than she was convulsed with tears and sobbing. ‘Johnny,’ she tentatively began, ‘I know you will be angry and please believe me I never thought it could happen, but on the day I ran away to Glasgow, I was happy to scamper because I realised that I was … Oh, Johnny … Pregnant!’
‘What?’ he exclaimed before jumping up and running his hands through his hair. ‘You don’t mean … You just can’t … I mean, how old are you again?’
‘Thirty-eight.’
‘Good grief! I know that life begins at forty for most and I was hoping it would for me too, but … a baby!’
Connie was weeping quietly now. ‘Thank you, Johnny. Thank you. Thank you.’
‘For what?’
‘Not trying to say that the mess I am in … I mean that … you would not have denied that the baby was yours. Oh, Johnny, that is so good of you.’
‘What else could I do because I know for sure that you were a virgin …’ He gulped and shook his head. He did not say to Connie but his thoughts were now on his mother’s warnings to him when he was just a teenager and they were as binding today as they were then. ‘Johnny,’ she would warn, ‘remember if you get a lassie into trouble you have to do the right thing by her and marry her. No child should go through life without the protection of their father’s name. It is so degrading to be labelled a bastard and therefore second class.’
His reminiscences were interrupted when he heard Connie say, ‘So you see, Johnny, when I went through to Glasgow I was desperate. Completely out of my mind with worry, I was. I just couldn’t think of anything other than finding a solution and quick at that … so I …’
Johnny was now backing away from Connie. ‘No. Please don’t tell me that you went to one of these places up an alley or somewhere as sordid and …’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘You aborting our child!’
Connie at first cackled and then, going over and striking Johnny on the shoulder, she hollered, ‘All my life I have wished to be a mother. That is why I took on your brood. Do you ever think of how much time I put in with Kitty, Davy and Rosebud? Abort?’ Connie was now lovingly rubbing her hand over her stomach. ‘Me, abort? Oh no, do you think so little of me that you think I could do that?’
‘Then what was the solution you came to?’
‘Well, now Mark has died, and I spoke to Jamie and he says he will corroborate my story, I will claim that Mark was the father of my precious bundle. So that means, Johnny, you don’t have to …’
‘No. I don’t have to … But I bloody well will. Mark dying changes everything. You are now free to marry me and I am free to marry you.’
Utter relief seeped into Connie, causing her to collapse down on to the couch. ‘You mean you will marry me, and soon at that?’
‘Precisely … and in the meantime, because I lost one wife who was a bit on the old side to be having a baby, away you go through to your bedroom and get your things and move into my house.’
‘Move into your house right now?’
‘Aye. You will be properly looked after there.’
‘Don’t be silly, Johnny. Once I’m your wife I will move into your house because I will have the right to do so. But at this present time it would not only cause upset and tongues to wag but—’
‘Let them wag. I don’t care.’
‘You wouldn’t, but Kitty, Jack and Davy would. Besides, by waiting the six weeks it will give Kitty time to accept that there will be two women in the Anderson household.’
‘Look, as far as I’m concerned we have made a child together so technically we are married and in six weeks we will also be churched so …’
‘As I have already said I don’t think your family, especially your holier-than-thou mother, would find me sharing your bed …’ – Connie gulped – ‘easy right now. And, Johnny, neither would I.’ She hesitated before quietly adding, ‘And what is also important to me is … Johnny, do you … do you love me?’
‘To be honest I missed you so much when you went away that I realised that I have grown very fond of you … but to love you like I loved Sandra … well, in time, who can tell? Right now what I’m offering you is … to work very hard to provide for you and our child and my name as protection … is that enough to be going on with?’
If she was disappointed she hid it well but she did accept his terms. After all, if she was being truthful she loved him so much that any terms he laid down would have been acceptable to her.
Everyone thought that Connie and Johnny getting married would be welcomed by Kitty. After all, was this not her way of escaping and being able to lead her own life? But Kitty was a young romantic and she still thought that Johnny’s love for her mum, Sandra, should endure, even beyond the grave.
The morning after what Kitty had thought was the worst Sunday night of her life, she found herself kneeling down by her mother’s grave. ‘Mum,’ she began as she patted the snow-covered mound, ‘I thought you should know that Dad, who should be remaining loyal to you, is going to marry … marry Connie Sharp. He says it’s got nothing to do with how he felt about you – and still feels about you. It’s because he’s lonely and as he’s a relatively young man it is only natural that he wishes to share his life with someone.’ Sniffing and blubbering, Kitty continued, ‘Mind you I don’t think it will be … well, you know … a proper marriage. I think he just wants a pal – especially as he knows I want to go out and get a job. Anyway, what do you think?’
‘Not quite sure what to think,’ a disembodied voice replied.
Kitty jumped and quickly looked about until her eyes landed on the figure of one of the gravediggers. ‘What do mean?’ demanded Kitty. ‘And you shouldn’t be listening in to people’s private conversations.’
‘That so?’ the man huffily replied. ‘Well if you want to keep it private you should just talk to yourself. Anyway what I think is that your dad should get married again and you, Miss, should take the opportunity to do something with your life.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Just that it is about time you and your brothers and the rest of them should stop coming here and pestering this poor woman with all your problems.’
‘Pestering her? I’m only trying to give her all the family news.’
‘Aye, and then ask her what she thinks.’ The man now turned to point at the large Italian memorial stone and added, ‘See there at the top of that memorial stone it says RIP. Well that means “Rest in Peace”, and how your mother ever gets to rest in peace I sure don’t know. Not a week goes by without someone coming in here and telling her something that she doesn’t want to know or can’t do anything about.’
Kitty grunted, before deciding to leave the cemetery, there and then. Going out of the gates she decided to go and tell Jenny the news about Johnny and Connie. Hoping she was that she would get the right answer from her grandmother – the one she wished to hear.
Jenny’s response, however, was not what Kitty expected. But then someone saying, �
�Well he could do a lot worse and look at the advantages for you,’ wasn’t quite music to Kitty’s ears.
‘What advantages?’ shrieked Kitty.
‘Well as history tells us there is nothing but war when two women share a kitchen. And I have always thought it was a shame that you were tied down when your mum died. So grab the chance. Away and look for a job.’
‘A job?’
‘Aye, find yourself some work that pays well. And by the way, I think since there is the rationing to contend with, that your dad and Kate should get married on the same day and then I will only have one wedding tea to beg, borrow and cook for!’
‘Aunt Kate is getting married too?’ Kitty asked.
‘Aye.’ Jenny sniffed long and hard before adding, ‘To that Polish fellow.’
All Kitty could respond with was a large gulp.
Kitty was still fuming when she left her grandmother’s house. To be truthful she was in a sort of smouldering daze. Just as she was passing the midwife’s house, halfway up Restalrig Road, she jumped when a voice called out, ‘Hello there, Kitty, is this you on your way home after delivering another baby?’ When no reply was forthcoming from Kitty, the midwife, who had attended after Kitty had delivered Dora’s baby, said, ‘You look upset. As they say, Kitty, a trouble shared is a trouble halved, so why don’t you come in and have a cup of tea and tell me all about it?’
An hour later Kitty was on her way home and whatever advice Joan Fowler had given her it put a spring in her step. Indeed, as she purposefully strode out, she seemed to have regained her positive attitude to life.
A couple of days passed before Kitty managed to get Jack to herself. ‘Jack,’ she began confidentially, ‘what do you think of dad getting married again and what difference do you think it will make to us?’
Jack, for the next few minutes, blew his lips in and out in a series of small puffs. Kate could see that ever-cautious Jack was going to measure every word before he uttered a syllable. Eventually he drawled, ‘Have a feeling, Kitty, and it is just a feeling, that there is more to this than meets the eye. I mean, the peal of wedding bells came out of the blue. And if they knew they were going to be a couple why did she disappear over Christmas?’