Cousins at War

by Doris Davidson

  Neil grimaced, ‘It did, but not any more.’

  ‘So that’s it? What went wrong?’

  ‘She found somebody else.’

  ‘Did you have it bad?’

  ‘Bad enough,’ Neil said guardedly.

  ‘I’d the feeling there was some dame in Aberdeen but good God, man, there’s plenty of fish in the sea. Forget about her and we’ll pick up a couple of dollies tonight. What about it, eh?’

  Forced to smile at Alf’s solution to his heartbreak, Neil decided to give it a try. ‘You’re on, boy. Look out, girls, Neil Ferris is on the rampage again.’

  Alf slapped him on the back, ‘That’s the spirit!’

  For the next few weeks, Neil went wild, not admitting that it wasn’t the same as it had been before. The only times he felt at all happy was when he took one of the motor cycles out on the road. They were what he loved now. They could be depended on not to stab him in the back.

  Eyeing her sister’s steadily-enlarging figure, Gracie asked, ‘How do you manage on the rations?’

  Hetty shrugged, ‘I get by.’

  ‘How? I’m always worrying about what to have for dinners and the girls and I have had to stop taking any sugar in our tea, haven’t we, Queenie?’

  ‘I’m used to it now,’ her niece smiled. ‘In fact, if I do forget and put in a spoonful, it tastes awful.’

  Hetty gave a little smirk. ‘I know a man who lets me have two pounds now and again . . . off the ration, you know?’

  ‘Black market?’ Queenie suggested.

  Gracie looked horrified. ‘Hetty Potter! The black market? Fancy you cheating like that.’

  ‘It’s not cheating. What’s the harm in buying extra when you can? I get butter and eggs from him too and a bit of beef sometimes, or pork. Of course, he charges more than the shops, but they wouldn’t give me so much.’

  Gracie was speechless . . . for a moment. ‘Money always talks, doesn’t it?’ she burst out, her face red with indignation.

  Trying to pacify her, Queenie said, ‘Everybody does it, if they think they can get away with it.’

  ‘Just them that can afford it, not us ordinary folk that have to make one penny do the work of three.’ Gracie turned on her sister again. ‘We’ve to survive on bare rations and we hardly ever see fresh eggs, just that dried stuff Lord Woolton dishes out. Anyway, the black market’s against the law. I’m surprised at Martin for letting you do it.’

  ‘Martin doesn’t know.’ Hetty appeared to think that this excused her but she was clearly a little uneasy now. ‘It’s nobody’s business, anyway,’ she added, defiantly.

  ‘Not until you’re found out. Never mind, I’ll come and see you in Craiginches,’ Gracie’s laugh was a touch sarcastic.

  ‘They wouldn’t send me to prison?’

  ‘Aye would they.’

  Queenie was glad when her aunts went on to another topic – they never kept up any quarrels – because the reference to Craiginches had brought back a painful memory. She had not thought about Callum Birnie for ages, but she felt her face growing hot, and hoped that Olive hadn’t noticed. The Easter holidays were nearly over and it would be a relief when she didn’t have to see her cousin so often. Olive hadn’t opened her mouth since she came in with her mother, but Queenie had been only too aware of the hostility in her eyes. Of course, she would still be angry that her warning had been ignored but it seemed to be more than that. Chancing a wary glance at her, Queenie was dismayed to find that Olive was regarding her with a smile of . . . it couldn’t be triumph? What would Olive have to be triumphant about?

  It was into April when Gracie suddenly burst out at the tea table, ‘You’ll never guess what Hetty’s been up to now?’

  Patsy gave Queenie a nudge but Joe groaned, ‘I’m fed up hearing what Hetty’s been up to. If she wants to buy up all the stuff on the black market, it’s up to her.’

  ‘She stopped buying stuff on the black market,’ his wife said indignantly as if her own integrity had been doubted. ‘She came in, as bold as brass, and said she’d bought black grapes . . . in a shop over the counter,’ she added hastily.

  ‘Black grapes? That must have cost her a pretty penny.’

  Gracie was quite pleased by the impact she had made now. ‘She said they were quite dear, and when I asked how dear, she said . . .’ Gracie paused, looking round to make sure that she had captured her audience, then ended grimly, ‘She said twenty-four shillings for the pound.’

  ‘Twenty-four shillings?’ Queenie gasped, and Patsy, quite shocked, muttered, ‘Just for a pound of grapes?’

  Wielding his knife and fork again, Joe said, ‘Hetty’s more money than sense, if you ask me.’

  Loyalty to her sister had been overthrown by her own sense of frugality and Gracie came out with her grievance, ‘It maddens me to think she can spend twenty-four shillings on something like grapes when most wives don’t get much more than that to keep a house and a family for a whole week.’

  ‘Aye, well,’ Joe said philosophically and popped another forkful of skirlie and potatoes into his open mouth.

  ‘Of course,’ Gracie murmured now, ashamed at having spoken so badly of Hetty, and determined to be fair, ‘It wasn’t as bad as the black market for she did buy them legitimately.’

  The howl of laughter which met this observation made her wish that she had never mentioned the matter.

  Walking back to school, Queenie remembered what Gracie had said about Hetty having more money than sense. It explained quite a lot about Olive in a way. She had never known what it was like to be dependant on anyone other than her parents and had got everything she wanted ever since she was born . . . but she wasn’t going to get Neil, no matter what she did. He didn’t like her, let alone love her, and she would have to give in gracefully – probably not gracefully but she would have to give in – when he told her that he loved his other cousin. Queenie’s heart started to thud. The day when Neil revealed his true feelings for her would be the happiest day of her whole life; it would make up for all the nights she had lain awake praying for him to tell her he loved her; it would even go a long way towards compensating for losing her parents and grandparents. It would be wonderful.

  Olive had watched for the postman every morning for weeks but he still hadn’t brought a letter from Neil. He was bound to have been shocked, she had allowed a few days for him to get over it, but he should have written by this time. He had never been prompt in answering of course and maybe he was stuck for the right words. She might have to wait until he came home to find out how he felt about Queenie now but she was quite sure that the story she had spun would have ended any budding romance. A different romance would blossom – the romance she had dreamed of for years – because she was going to be so sympathetic that he would turn to her willingly for comfort and, oh boy, she would comfort him!

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘I’ve applied to train as a State Registered Nurse.’

  Gracie looked at her daughter in dismay, ‘What’s happened? Has anything upset you at the office?’

  Patsy shrugged, ‘No, not really, but I’d like to be doing something more useful and I’ve always wanted to be a nurse.’

  ‘You never said anything about it before.’

  ‘They wouldn’t take me before I was eighteen.’

  ‘I wish I was old enough to do something,’ Queenie sighed. ‘I don’t fancy being a nurse but I’d love to be in one of the services.’

  Gracie’s frown grew deeper. ‘You’ll be going to university in October. I thought you wanted to be a teacher?’

  ‘So I do, but it’ll be years before I graduate.’

  ‘Your father wanted you to carry on your education and I know he’d be pleased you’d passed for the varsity. Stick at it, Queenie, you’ll have a good career when you finish.’

  Queenie sat back sadly but Patsy said, ‘Nursing’s a good career as well. Better than being a typist.’

  As Gracie suspected, when Joe came in for lunch he was on their
daughter’s side, beaming at her as he patted her back, ‘Good for you, Patsy.’

  Resigned, Gracie gave in, ‘At least you’ll still be living at home and won’t be going away anywhere.’

  Patsy looked uncomfortable, ‘They told me I might not get in at Foresterhill. I might have to go to Glasgow or Dundee or Edinburgh.’

  Her mother brightened a fraction, ‘Ellie would make sure you were all right if you’d to go to Edinburgh.’

  ‘I’m old enough to stand on my own feet.’

  Joe nodded. ‘She’ll be fine wherever she is, Gracie.’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  In bed, Joe patted his wife’s hand, ‘You should be pleased our lassie’s going into a good profession like nursing. She was getting fed up at her job.’

  ‘I suppose I got a shock that she’d done it without saying anything about it to us and I can’t help being sad that she might have to go away. That would be both our children left the nest.’

  ‘We’d still have Queenie.’

  ‘It’s not the same, for Queenie’s not really ours . . . oh!’ Gracie looked ashamed. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.’

  Scratching his nose, Joe said, ‘I know you weren’t happy when Helene left her here but I did think you’d grown to love her as much as I do.’

  ‘Oh Joe, I do love her but my head’s spinning that much, I don’t know what I’m saying. I’ll miss Patsy if she’s to go away and, I’ll tell you this, if Queenie ever does go into the forces, I’ll miss her just as much.’

  Raymond Potter, having done something entirely off his own bat for once, came swaggering into the house at five o’clock one evening in May. At his mother’s query as to why he was later than usual he announced proudly, ‘I went to Market Street for forms to join the army.’

  Hetty spun round from the cooker. ‘You did what?’

  ‘I got forms . . .’

  ‘I heard you! I suppose it was Patsy going to be a nurse that put the idea into your stupid head but you can tear up your forms – you are definitely not going into the army.’

  A little deflated, her son nevertheless stood his ground, ‘I bet Dad’ll let me go.’

  Hetty frowned, ‘He won’t, he’ll be mad. Couldn’t you have waited till you got your law degree?’

  An expression of disbelief at her gross stupidity crossed Raymond’s face. ‘I haven’t started studying for it yet,’ he said peevishly. ‘I won’t pass my exams to get in and I’d have to go to school for another year and I’ll likely fail again. The war could be finished before I get a chance to do my bit. Gracie and Joe didn’t stop Neil from going.’

  ‘You’re younger than Neil was when he went in.’

  ‘Only a year, and they said I’d be in Boys’ Service until I’m eighteen.’

  Hetty’s patience broke. ‘Go into the blasted army then. It won’t be my fault if you end up being killed.’ She looked at him repentently, ‘I’m sorry but I worried about your father in the last war though he didn’t come to Aberdeen till early in 1918. He was only sixteen when he went into uniform, he’d lied about his age, and he’d been in for less than two years when the armistice was signed.’

  Raymond grinned triumphantly, ‘I don’t see what you’re so steamed up about, then. If Dad was only sixteen when he went in, he’ll be all for me signing on.’

  ‘Don’t say anything to him tonight, Raymond,’ she pleaded. ‘We’re going to the theatre and I don’t want him to be in a bad mood. We can discuss it tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Oh, OK then.’

  Martin did not notice Raymond’s repressed excitement while they had their evening meal, but Olive did and when their parents went out, she said, ‘What’s up with you?’

  Happy to tell someone else, he burst out, ‘Mum told me not to tell Dad tonight but I’m joining the army.’

  ‘You?’ Olive laughed, scornfully. ‘The army wouldn’t take you, you’re too scrawny.’

  ‘They will if Dad signs the forms.’ Uncoiling himself from the settee, he stood at attention and gave her an elaborate salute. ‘Private Potter, Raymond, reporting for duty.’

  She burst out laughing, ‘You’ll never cut as good a figure in uniform as Neil.’

  ‘You’ve always got to get one over on me, haven’t you?’ he muttered, as he flopped down again, ‘but your precious Neil isn’t as almighty good as you think he is.’

  Olive’s brows came together, ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about, you long streak of misery.’

  Her continued sarcasm about his height and lack of girth stung him. ‘I do. I know about the trick he played on you.’

  ‘What trick?’

  ‘Well, it was really him and Alf.’

  As he hesitated, she snapped, ‘What about him and Alf?’

  ‘Neil was sick of you . . . I told you long ago he didn’t like you . . . and he got Alf to pretend he . . . you thought Alf was in love with you but that’s what they wanted you to think. He didn’t like you, either, and Neil helped him to write all those letters you thought were so wonderful.’

  Expecting her to go for him tooth and nail, he was alarmed at her ashen-faced silence but at last she whispered, ‘It’s not true. You’re just making it up to get back at me.’

  Too late, he regretted his indiscretion, ‘Yes, it is true. He told me last time he was here. Him and Alf hatched up the plot together and they were laughing at you.’

  Olive’s disbelieving eyes clouded briefly, then she said, ‘Neil wouldn’t make a fool of me and he didn’t start taking me out until after Alf told me about the other girl.’

  Trapped into it, Raymond mumbled, ‘Mum asked him to go out with you till you found another boyfriend. I heard her.’

  Her eyes narrowed as the full extent of Neil’s treachery hit her and she vented her anger on her brother. ‘You pig! You sneaking, dirty pig!’ Lashing out at him with her fists, she took him unawares and knocked him off the settee then, hoping to make him admit that it had all been a fabrication, she aimed a hefty kick at his solar plexus. Yelping in pain, he doubled up but she could tell by the way he was cringing from her that every word he had said was true. Raymond would never risk further punishment if he could avoid it.

  ‘Get up,’ she said, quietly. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, it wasn’t your fault.’

  He rose slowly, still clutching his middle, ‘I shouldn’t have said anything and Neil’s going to kill me if he finds out. You won’t tell him, will you, Olive?’

  She considered for a moment, her white face pinched with the shock of what she had learned, then said, ‘No, I won’t tell him. It might be better to play along with him.’

  ‘Goodoh!’ Relieved, Raymond eyed her accusingly. ‘I bet I’ll have sore guts for days.’

  A little of Olive’s spirit had returned. ‘I’ve said I was sorry. What do you want me to do? Grovel?’

  ‘You could stick up for me if Dad says he’s not going to sign the forms.’

  A glimmer of a smile appeared, ‘I’ll think about it. Now, I’ve got some studying to do.’

  When she went into her own room, it was neither the forms nor her books that occupied her thoughts; it was the awful revelation that Neil and Alf had made a fool of her. She had always believed that Neil cared for her, but Raymond had proved that he didn’t, that he never had and Alf’s old girlfriend probably hadn’t existed, either. It had been an excuse for dropping her. Not that she minded about Alf’s lies, for he meant nothing to her any more, but Neil was different. To think that he had helped Alf to write the letters she had thought were so romantic . . . they must have laughed themselves silly at her gullibility. It was sickening, degrading, and she wouldn’t let Neil off with it, but until she could think how to get back at him, she would give him no hint of the fury smouldering inside her. She would let him believe that she still loved him. . . she would let everybody think that she still loved him. She couldn’t fool Raymond, though, and she would have to persuade her father to let him join the army so that he w
ouldn’t be there to gloat over her.

  Having spent all day in lecture rooms without absorbing one single word, Olive spent that evening trying to come up with a plan to cause as much suffering to Neil as she could. For two whole hours she racked her brains but nothing would come to her. Exhausted and frustrated, she gave up. Her mind was in too much of a turmoil to plan anything and she would be wise to wait for a day or two until she calmed down. She was pleased now that she had told Neil those lies about Queenie, though she had swithered about posting the letter after it was written. In her confused state, it escaped her that what she had done to him was as bad as, if not worse than, the trick he had played on her. By her reasoning, her action had stemmed from love of him while his had come from dislike of her so there was no comparison. He hadn’t answered the letter but that wasn’t surprising. If, as she suspected, he had fancied Queenie, he’d have been cut to the quick by what he believed she had done, so she was out of the running . . . but did that matter any more?

  As she pondered over this, it dawned on Olive that it did matter, that she still loved Neil, despite what he had done. If he would only return her love, she would forgive him for the contemptible trick he had played and would never reveal that she knew about it – but if he persisted in holding her at arm’s length, she would make him regret it for the rest of his life.

  His heart beating an unfamiliar tattoo as he went upstairs, Neil walked in as if he owned the world. He was determined not to let anyone see how tense he was – especially Queenie and he ignored her as he spoke to his mother. ‘Mum, I could go some bacon and eggs if you have any.’

  Gracie, who always kept her own ration in case her son was hungry after his train journey, jumped to her feet at once, ‘It’ll just take a minute.’

  ‘You look better than you usually do after you come off the train,’ Joe observed, ‘but I suppose you get used to the travelling.’