Spotting Callum standing near the door when she arrived at school, Queenie gave him her sweetest smile – he was quite nice, really, just a bit too young for her liking – and his glum face cleared. ‘You’re later than usual. I was wondering if you were sick, or something.’
She was thrilled that he had been waiting for her. ‘I was just dawdling.’
‘I wanted to ask you something. My dad gets complimentary tickets from His Majesty’s for displaying their playbills in his window. He can’t use them this week, so . . . would you like to come with me?’
Queenie had never been to the theatre – she sometimes went to one of the cheaper cinemas with Patsy, but that was all – so this was too good a chance to miss. ‘I’d love to.’
His blush, which had started when he asked her, grew much deeper at this. ‘Would you? Honestly?’
‘Honestly, and thanks for thinking about me.’
‘Tonight, ten past seven outside the door to the stalls?’
‘OK.’
Gracie wasn’t too happy about her niece going out with a boy, but Joe said, ‘Let her go. She needs some enjoyment.’
Patsy teased her a little, but not unkindly, then offered to make up her face, at which Gracie said, sharply, ‘I don’t want her looking like a tart. That would just be asking for trouble. What kind of boy is this Callum, anyway?’
‘He’s nice, Auntie Gracie, he’s in my year at school.’
‘Oh, he’s the same age as you? I was a bit worried in case he was a lot older.’
Joe shook his head. ‘They’re just a couple of youngsters. They’ll not do anything wrong.’
‘I should hope not.’
Gracie’s mind would have been easy if she’d been a fly on the wall of His Majesty’s Theatre that night. Callum handed Queenie a small box of chocolates as they took their seats, but she forgot about them until the interval. ‘I was carried away with the play,’ she apologised.
‘So was I,’ he laughed.
Over the next fifteen minutes, they discussed the plot and how it would end, commented on the scenery and had a look at the rest of the audience. The box of sweets was empty by the time the lights dimmed, and they sat back in their seats to be enthralled all over again.
Out on the pavement afterwards, Queenie heaved a sigh. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed anything so much. I’m glad you asked me.’
‘So’m I, though I didn’t really think you’d come. I can’t let you walk home on your own, though, so where d’you live?’
‘In King Street, and I’ll manage by myself. I’m not afraid of the dark.’
‘My dad said I had to see you home.’
Laughing, she said, ‘Then I can’t congratulate myself that it was your idea?’
‘Well . . . no, but I do want to. I couldn’t help noticing how . . . different you looked tonight.’
‘It’s my cousin’s make up,’ she chuckled, adding, a little apprehensively, ‘It’s not too much, is it?’
‘No, it makes you even prettier than you usually are.’
A warm glow spread through her. ‘Little grains of powder, little drops of paint, help to make a lady look like what she ain’t. That’s what my grandma used to say.’
‘You suit it, though. Um . . . Queenie, this won’t be the only time you’ll come out with me, will it?’
She was pleased by the uncertain pleading. ‘Maybe not.’
Callum slid his arm round her waist. ‘I think you’re the nicest girl I ever met.’
‘Only think?’ She had to tease him; she didn’t want him to get serious about her.
They had come to the foot of Schoolhill, and had to let a tramcar on St Nicholas Street pass before they could cross over to go up Upperkirkgate, so Callum took the opportunity to pull Queenie round and kiss her. ‘I’ve been wanting to do that all evening,’ he whispered.
She was bitterly disappointed. She had sometimes wondered how it would feel to get her first kiss, but was that all it was? Two sets of dry lips touching for a moment? It had done nothing for her . . . not even the hint of a thrill. They walked on silently, and she wondered if Callum felt as let down as she did. But her natural ebullience did not let her brood for long, and she was soon telling him about Neil and Patsy, and how Auntie Gracie and Uncle Joe had accepted her into their family after her parents died. There was no self pity in it, not even when Callum murmured that he was sorry about her mum and dad. ‘I was lucky,’ she assured him. ‘I couldn’t have a better home than I do now and a ready-made brother and sister, as well. Do you have any brothers or sisters?’
He groaned. ‘A twelve-year-old sister, that’s all. She’s a proper pest at times.’
He went on to air his innumerable grievances at his sister until they arrived at King Street. His goodnight kiss did no more to Queenie than his first, and she climbed the tenement stairs thoughtfully. Was something wrong with her, or was it Callum’s fault? Perhaps it was the first time for him, too, and he didn’t know how to kiss. Well, it didn’t matter, she decided as she went into the house. Her first real kiss was still to come.
Her aunt gave her a critical stare then obviously relaxed. ‘Did you enjoy your night out?’
‘It was great. Callum gave me a box of chocolates, but I was so interested in the play that I forgot about them until the interval.’
‘Any left?’ Patsy asked, smiling hopefully.
‘No, it wasn’t a big box, and we ate them all.’
‘That’s romance for you,’ Joe declared, winking at Gracie, who just said, ‘It’s time you were in bed, Queenie, and you too, Patsy. You’ve both to get up in the morning, remember.’
As soon as they were in the bedroom, Queenie asked, ‘Have you ever been kissed?’
Shaking her head, Patsy smiled. ‘Did Callum kiss you?’
‘If you can call it a kiss. It was like a little peck you give a baby.’
‘So there isn’t any romance? Better luck next time.’
‘I think I’d prefer an older boy . . . a man with experience.’
Patsy frowned. ‘Some older men have too much experience.’
‘Have you been out with a man?’ Queenie said, eagerly.
‘I wouldn’t want to go out with an older man, I’ve enough of them at work. They come up behind us and before we know where we are, their hands are all over us. It’s horrible.’
‘I wouldn’t mind letting a man do that once, to see how it feels. Why don’t you like it?’
‘I might like it if it was somebody nice, somebody a bit younger, but they’re all over forty, and I just smack their fingers. They’re a lot of creeps,’ Patsy shuddered. ‘One of the other typists went out with the manager once . . . she hoped he’d put her up for promotion . . . but she swore she wouldn’t go again.’
‘What did he do?’
‘She said he nearly tore the clothes off her. She managed to get away from him, but half the buttons were missing off her blouse and she’d to buy a new set and sew them on before her mother washed it. He doesn’t look at her now, and she’s sure her promotion’s up the spout.’
Queenie got into bed. ‘Struggling with him must have been exciting while it lasted?’
‘She said she was terrified. She thought he’d go mad with lust and kill her. You’d better watch yourself, Queenie, you haven’t a clue what men are really like.’
‘But all men can’t be like that?’
Switching off the light, Patsy lay down beside her. ‘All the ones I know are. Now, you’d better stop asking questions or Mum’ll be through telling us to be quiet.’
Queenie closed her eyes, but could not still her curious brain. Why did older men behave like that? Had they been the same when they were young, or did lust develop with age? But Uncle Joe was old, and he didn’t show any sign of it. No, it must be just some men and it would make no difference what age they were, so some young men must also be consumed with lust. This was more disturbing. How could a girl tell? She couldn’t ask a boy if he was liable to attack
her, she’d have to wait and see. Neil had never touched her . . . except to tickle her, and that was in fun, as any brother might do to his sister, and Callum had done nothing out of place. He hadn’t excited her, and he hadn’t seemed excited either, but it might be safer not to go out with him again.
When Alf said that he’d had a letter from Olive, Neil felt a surge of elation – she had stopped writing to him at last. ‘You’ve done it,’ he crowed. ‘How long are you going to wait before you break off with her?’
Alf considered briefly, then said, ‘If I do it too early, she’ll just start on you again.’
‘Aye, I suppose you’re right. OK, you’d better carry on. I don’t want her turning to me on the rebound from you. She’d be even worse than she was before. Now, are you coming with me to that dance tonight, or are you keeping your body pure for darling Olive? Every man to his own poison.’
‘Cut out the sarcasm! Of course I’m coming to the dance. You should know me by this time . . . always ready for a bite at a fresh cherry.’
‘Even at Olive’s cherry?’ Neil teased.
‘Hell’s bells! I just took her out as a favour to you, and if you don’t stop harping on about her, I’ll write and tell her everything.’
Neil looked aghast. ‘You wouldn’t?’
‘I would, so just watch your step, my fine lad. Will you help me to write to Olive tomorrow? I don’t know what to say to her. It can’t be too lovey-dovey, just enough to make her think I care for her a little bit.’
‘You don’t, do you?’
‘Christ, no!’
Reading Alf’s letter again, Olive wished that he wasn’t so far away; if he was stationed somewhere near Aberdeen, they could see each other more often. He had begun by writing ‘My Dear Olive’, but did he really mean it, or did he think that it wasn’t so formal as just putting ‘Dear Olive’? Anyway, he said that he had enjoyed her company and looked forward to seeing her again, so he must like her. Her heart speeded up as she read the next sentence. ‘I live in hope that we can repeat our kisses and maybe even improve on them.’ He could really worm his way into a girl’s heart. This was something else to tell Frankie Lamont and Polly Frayne, although they thought her boyfriend’s name was Neil, and she would have to be careful not to make a slip.
At the first chance she had, she looked for the two girls, and began by crowing, ‘I’d a letter today.’
‘Oh yes?’ Frankie sounded sarcastic. She had not believed Olive’s exaggerated description of ‘Neil’s’ kisses when he was on leave, and was not prepared to believe anything else.
Polly, however, was agog to know what was in the letter, and Olive allowed her to take a quick look at the relevant part. ‘Could he improve on his kisses?’ she asked, then.
Olive gave a coy smile. ‘I don’t think so, but maybe he’s meaning something else would be an improvement on kisses.’
‘Yes, that’s what it’ll be,’ Polly exclaimed in delight. ‘He must really love you, and I bet you’ll treasure this for as long as you live.’
‘Yes, it’s the first love letter he’s ever written to me.’
If Olive had known how Alf and Neil had laughed together as they made up the flattering phrases, she would not have been so happy and would probably have scratched their eyes out but, in her ignorance, all that concerned her was answering the letter. Should she tell Alf that she longed to see him, that she was in love with him, or was it too soon for that? They had only been alone together twice, and it might scare him off, but surely it would be all right to admit that she had enjoyed the kissing as much as he had.
Callum Birnie had looked so downcast when Queenie refused to make another date that she had given in, and although his kisses hadn’t swept her off her feet, they had been quite an improvement on his first one, and they were always getting better. Thinking it over as she went to meet him again, she remembered having heard her grandma saying, ‘Practice makes perfect,’ and it seemed to be true. . . unless he’d been taking lessons. She giggled at this idea. She liked him very much, but she wasn’t sure that she loved him, and if she wasn’t sure, she probably didn’t. She enjoyed being with him – they had the same sense of humour and could talk easily together – so it would be best to let their relationship drift along. Perhaps love would come in time.
Callum was waiting for her outside the Picture House – he was always first – and his chubby boy’s face broke out in a grin when he saw her. ‘I was wondering if we should go for a walk tonight? It’s too hot to be inside, isn’t it?’
‘It is hot. Where’ll we go?’
‘Where our feet take us?’ He took her hand and turned her round to go down Bridge Street. ‘I like that dress, Queenie. It suits you much better than the school uniform.’
‘Thanks, and you look quite good yourself.’
‘It’s a new sports jacket. I pestered Mum till she gave in and bought it.’
‘It makes you look older.’
He seemed pleased. ‘That was the idea. Nobody’ll know that we’re still at school. I look stupid in a blazer at my age.’
She couldn’t resist teasing him. ‘I’d say looking stupid comes naturally to you.’
He laughed. ‘We’re a pair, then.’
It didn’t annoy her; she knew that he didn’t mean it, any more than she had. They often swopped insults this way, and Patsy had said it was a sign of affection, that no one could make fun of a person they didn’t like – not to their face.
Their walk, which he had planned before meeting her, took them through the Arches, underneath which no one could ‘lay’ on the cobblestones, like Flanagan and Allen sang, because they were occupied by fish houses, with scales and pieces of fish lying about the road. Queenie curled up her nose at the stench. ‘This is a beautiful place to take a girl, I must say.’
‘Watch your feet,’ he warned. ‘It’s slippery here.’
In a few minutes, they came out on Riverside Drive, with the Dee flowing swiftly and silently on their left, the last lap of its journey to the sea. At the opposite side of the water, on the crest of the steep bank, a squat building was silhouetted starkly against the setting sun. ‘What’s that?’ she asked, a trifle uncertainly. ‘It looks eerie.’
‘That’s Craiginches, the prison,’ Callum laughed, ‘so you had better behave, or they’ll drag you inside.’
‘I wondered why there was such a high wall all round it.’ She shivered. ‘Do any of the prisoners ever escape?’
‘I think some have but they’re always caught.’
‘I don’t really like being here.’
Sliding his arm round her waist, Callum held her closely. ‘I won’t let any of the nasty men catch you.’
She had to laugh, and felt better for it. When they came to the gate to the Duthie Park, he said, ‘We can go in here and have a seat, if you like?’
‘Yes, I wouldn’t mind.’
There were few people about, and they found an empty bench with no difficulty. Sitting down, they both stretched their legs out and kicked off their shoes, the simultaneous timing making them laugh. ‘It’s impossible to be grown up,’ Queenie said, in a moment. ‘We’re still kids, taking off our shoes because our feet are hot.’
He turned to her slowly. ‘I don’t feel like a kid when I’m with you.’
She enjoyed his kisses for some time, until he shifted his hands from her shoulders to her breasts. ‘No, Callum,’ she said sharply, drawing back from him.
‘Why not? I’m not going to do anything wrong. I just want to feel them.’
She pushed him away, and searched for her shoes with her feet. ‘I think we should go back now.’
Gripping her arms, he pulled her up. ‘We’re not going back yet. Come on, Queenie, let me. . .’
‘No!’ But his lips came down hard on hers, and his quick breathing alarmed her – he was consumed with lust! If she’d managed to put on her shoes, she thought, distractedly, she would have kicked him, but she would only hurt her toes if she did it now. When
one of his legs tried to prise hers apart, she lifted her knee and, with full force banged it into his groin, making him yelp with pain and let her go. It was her chance and she took it, grabbing her shoes off the ground and running as quickly as she could.
He was doubled over and didn’t attempt to follow her, but she kept running until a stitch started in her side. After she got her breath back, she leaned against a wall to put on her shoes, thankful that she wouldn’t have to walk over the fishy scales in her stocking soles. To make sure that Callum wasn’t coming after her, she took a quick glance behind her before walking on. The sun had gone altogether, although it wasn’t pitch dark yet, but it was still frightening to be on her own in this deserted area. She imagined that she saw a man cowering in the shadows of one of the Arches and broke into a run again to get past, but it was just a few wooden fish boxes, stacked rather higgeldy-piggeldy. Slowing down, she gave a hysterical giggle. She was being paranoiac, but she hadn’t far to go now until she reached civilisation and could relax.
Patsy had been right. All men, young and old, were tarred with the same brush. Even Callum, whom she had thought was a nice boy, had turned out to be as bad as the men in Patsy’s office, wanting to touch, wanting to claim her virginity. If she hadn’t got away from him, she’d have been in desperate straits. He might have made her pregnant, and what would she have done then? Auntie Gracie would probably have thrown her out and Neil would have been shocked that she had let a boy do such a thing to her. Yes, Neil was different; he was a nice boy. He would never touch any girl like that.
Cousins at War Page 9