Brow of the Gallowgate

by Doris Davidson

  ‘I was oot wi’ Lily, next door,’ she volunteered. ‘We took a walk to the Brig o’ Balgownie.’

  ‘My mother’s invited you to supper on Sunday,’ he told her, ‘so I’ll come down for you about five, if that’s all right?’

  ‘Aye, that’ll be a’ right wi’ you, Vena, won’t it?’ the woman prompted.

  Vena nodded. ‘I’ll be waitin’ for you at five, Charlie.’

  ‘I’ll have to go now.’ He felt he couldn’t spend another minute in the stench of the horrible room.

  ‘I’ll walk up the road a bit wi’ ye.’ Vena took his arm, possessively. ‘I’ll nae be long, Ma.’

  As soon as they were outside, she said, ‘You’ll ha’e to excuse Ma an’ the state o’ the kitchen, but she’s had a hard struggle to keep things goin’.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ he answered politely, taking deep breaths of air into his suffering lungs.

  ‘Was your Ma angry when you tell’t her aboot me?’

  ‘Not really, and Father says we can have the two attic rooms to live in, so everything’s turning out fine.’

  ‘He’ll ha’e to pay for the weddin’, for Ma canna afford onything like that.’ She chuckled suddenly. ‘Will he buy me a white dress, Charlie? I’ve aye dreamed aboot gettin’ married in white since I saw a paintin’ o’ a bride when I was little.’

  ‘He might. We’ll ask him on Sunday.’

  In bed, Charlie couldn’t get the squalor of the Braces’ home out of his mind. Would Vena degenerate into a fat hag like her mother? No, no, it was unthinkable, and the girl would have a husband and a nice home, even if the rooms were small and next to the roof. She’d keep herself clean and tidy for him, and with his mother’s example to follow, she’d soon forget her upbringing.

  He was almost asleep when two voices floated into his semi-consciousness.

  ‘She’s awa’ to see her auntie.’

  ‘I was oot wi’ Lily, next door, and we took a walk to the Brig o’ Balgownie.’

  His befogged brain couldn’t cope with the discrepancy, so he gave up trying, and what did it matter, anyway? She’d been out with a friend, not another boy.

  On the Sunday afternoon, when Charlie ushered Vena Bruce in, Bathie’s mind instantly flashed back to Bella Wyness. This simpering girl had the same voluptuous figure, the same full lips, the same calculating look in her eyes, even the same fair hair. Was this what had attracted Charlie?

  She forced a smile and said, ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Vena. Sit there, next to Donnie.’

  Albert’s welcome was also a trifle forced, and he watched her closely. She wasn’t the type of daughter-in-law he’d hoped for, but if she made Charlie happy . . .

  Donnie had seen Vena before, waiting outside the club for Charlie, but he couldn’t help conjuring up a picture of what Charlie had told him they’d done in the back store, and found himself with an unfamiliar erection. He knew what it meant, because Charlie had explained it to him, and Albert, carrying out his fatherly duty somewhat belatedly, had told him what could happen when a boy’s passions got the better of him.

  The warmth of Vena’s leg pressing against his, whether accidentally or on purpose, made him feel even worse, and all he wanted was to get away from the thrill of it, so he excused himself from the table as soon as possible and went up to the room he shared with his brother.

  Ellie, unusually quiet, had taken in every word of the polite conversation, but nothing had given her a clue as to why this common-looking girl had been invited to supper. She knew better than to ask her mother, whose expression was far from happy, and decided to ask Donnie. After she washed the dishes, the girl went to help her young sisters make ready for bed, while Bathie went through to the parlour.

  Vena was sitting very close to Charlie on the couch, her leg rubbing against his, and his mother wished that she could tell him what a mistake he was making, but knew that he would resent any interference from her.

  As the conversation appeared to be flagging, she said, ‘Is it a long time since your father died, Vena?’ and was surprised by the wary look in the big blue eyes.

  ‘Aye, it’s a good few year ago now.’

  Knowing this to be untrue, Charlie stole a glance at her but she conveniently avoided his eyes, so he turned back to his father, to ask the all-important question.

  ‘Vena’s mother can’t pay for the wedding,’ he began, very cautiously. ‘She’s brought up five children . . .’

  ‘But it won’t be a big wedding,’ Albert interrupted. ‘Just a little get-together after the ceremony in the house here, and I’m quite prepared to pay for that.’

  ‘Vena wants a white wedding, Father, so will you buy the wedding gown for her as well . . . please?’ Charlie was quaking, but he’d have done anything to please his future bride.

  Albert frowned. ‘A white dress means purity, Charlie, and Vena . . .’ What he was inferring was quite clear.

  Bathie had been thinking it over. ‘Nobody needs to know that Vena’s . . . Let them have a white wedding, Albert, and that would save people’s tongues wagging.’

  ‘They’ll wag all the more when the bairn’s born.’

  ‘When it arrives, we can say it’s premature. Seven-month babies are quite common.’

  The flicker of alarm in Vena’s eyes was gone so quickly that Bathie believed she must have imagined it.

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ Albert conceded. ‘You’re my oldest son, Charlie, and I don’t grudge what I’ll have to spend. My wife’ll go with you to choose your gown, Vena, and you can have your white wedding in the kirk, if it makes you happy.’

  ‘Oh, thank you, Mr Ogilvie.’ Vena looked up at him coyly, from under fluttering eyelashes.

  Bathie resolved to keep the brazen hussy firmly in her place. She didn’t want Albert to be tempted again, especially by Charlie’s bride.

  Upstairs, after she’d seen her sisters settled for the night, Ellie went through to ask if Donnie knew why Vena Bruce had been invited to supper, but her eyes widened when she saw what her scarlet-faced brother was doing before he feverishly buttoned up his trousers.

  ‘Why don’t you knock before you come bursting in?’

  ‘What’s that?’ She pointed to the big bulge he was trying to cover with his hand.

  His colour deepened even further. ‘Never you mind. It’s nothing to do with you. Why did you come in here, anyway?’

  She was not to be diverted. ‘I never knew you’d a thing like that,’ she said indignantly. ‘It was just a little worm when we used to be bathed together in front of the fire.’

  ‘You didn’t have them, either,’ he muttered, pointing to her budding bosom.

  ‘They’re my womanhood,’ she informed him, repeating what her mother had told her when she’d asked why there were lumps growing out of her chest.

  Donnie answered triumphantly. ‘This is my manhood, then.’

  ‘Does every man have a thing as big as that? I’ve never noticed it on any other man I’ve seen.’

  ‘It’s not big all the time – it’s just because I was thinking about what Charlie did to Vena.’

  ‘What did he do to her? Why’s she here?’ The fourteen-year-old was very curious to find out what had been going on.

  ‘He put his thing inside her a while ago, and now she’s going to have a baby.’

  Ellie frowned in concentration for a moment. ‘If you put your thing inside me, would I have a baby?’

  ‘A man doesn’t do it to his sister, you idiot.’

  ‘Why not? And where inside her did he put it?’

  ‘Oh, shut up, Ellie. You don’t know anything.’

  She was quite aware by now that she didn’t know anything, but she meant to ask her mother at the first opportunity. ‘But why’s she here?’ she persisted.

  ‘Charlie’ll have to marry her, didn’t you even know that?’

  ‘Of course I knew that.’ She wasn’t going to let him know the full extent of her ignorance.

  ‘They’re
likely arranging the wedding now.’

  Taking one last glance at Donnie’s bulge, which was now subsiding, Ellie went downstairs with her knew-found knowledge.

  ‘Are the girls in bed?’ Bathie asked.

  ‘Yes, Mother. Is it true Charlie has to marry Vena?’

  Charlie looked shocked, Vena laughed, Albert glowered and Bathie was extremely embarrassed, but Ellie’s candid gaze didn’t falter.

  ‘Yes, it’s true.’ Bathie knew that her daughter wouldn’t be satisfied until she had an answer. ‘Vena’s going to have Charlie’s baby, but don’t tell anybody because it’s a secret. Now, be a good girl and go and sit with Donnie for a while.’

  ‘Donnie doesn’t want me there, he’s . . .’ It occurred to Ellie, then, that her brother might not want other people to know what he’d been doing, so she turned and went out.

  Albert laughed fondly. ‘She doesn’t get any better, does she? She never thinks twice about asking about anything.’ His face sobered. ‘You’ll have to arrange things with the minister, Charlie, and set the date as soon as you can.’

  ‘Yes, the sooner the better,’ his son said, ruefully.

  ‘Aye, Charlie, the sooner the better.’

  There was something in the tone of Vena’s voice, and the expression on her face, that troubled Bathie. This girl that Charlie claimed to have seduced had been no innocent, she thought, and the more she dwelt on it, the more certain she became. When Albert urged her, however, she agreed to go with Vena on Thursday to choose her white wedding gown. There was no point in arguing about it. Charlie had made up his mind, and any arguments would only make him more determined.

  They spent the next hour discussing what would have to be done to the two attic rooms before the newly-weds moved in, then Charlie took Vena up to see them. They’d been unoccupied since Mary Wyness and Willie Dunbar left for New Zealand, ten years before, although Flo, Gracie and Hetty sometimes played there if it was raining.

  Vena was shivering when they came back. ‘It’s awfu’ cold up there, an’ the rooms are nae very big, are they?’

  ‘They’re big enough.’ Albert sounded angry.

  Both the attic rooms were much larger than Mrs Bruce’s filthy kitchen, Charlie thought, and felt rather disappointed in her for criticizing them.

  When the young couple left, Albert glanced at his wife and shrugged his shoulders. ‘She could’ve been worse, I suppose, but not much. I just can’t understand Charlie, for she’s not the sort of girl I’d have thought he’d even look at.’

  ‘I don’t like her,’ Bathie said flatly. ‘There’s something about her . . . I don’t know . . . she’s forward and sly.’

  ‘She was likely putting a face on because she was awkward at meeting us for the first time.’

  ‘That’s not what it was. I’m not happy about it at all.’

  Albert grimaced. ‘I’m not happy about it, either, but what can we do now Charlie’s committed himself? If he hadn’t said he’d marry her, I could maybe have bought her off.’

  ‘Can’t you suggest it, yet?’ Bathie sounded hopeful.

  ‘Charlie’d be against it, and what’s done can’t be undone.’

  But Bathie couldn’t sleep that night, remembering the look on Vena Bruce’s face when she said, ‘The sooner the better.’ Was the child going to be born sooner than they thought? If so, the question was – how much sooner? And was it possible that it wasn’t Charlie’s child at all?

  Chapter Twenty

  After the small wedding party came back from Greyfriars Church, Bathie and Ellie served up the meal in the dining room, while Albert tried to keep the conversation at a respectable level. He found it increasingly difficult, because the bride’s mother became coarser and cruder in her speech as she downed glass after glass of whisky.

  He’d been horrified when he met her. He’d been prepared for a common woman, but her strident voice grated on his ears, and the gaudy, creased dress covering her gross body offended his senses. He was glad that he hadn’t invited either his or Bathie’s parents, even though he knew they’d be annoyed at not seeing their grandson being married.

  Charlie was thankful that the woman was at least clean, although her pendulous breasts, flopping over her uncorseted stomach, made him avert his eyes every time they fell on her.

  The woman was enjoying herself, however. ‘Vena’s lucky. I thought she’d be landed the same as me, an’ the bairn’d be left withoot a father, for I just ken’t that Dutch . . .’

  ‘Ma!’

  Her daughter’s warning flustered her momentarily, then, dropping one eyelid, she said, ‘I hope the bed doesna creak an’ let a’body in the hoose ken how often Charlie needs it.’

  Bathie was furious at the woman’s indelicacy, but knew that her previous suspicions about Vena had been justified. It hadn’t even needed the mother’s little slip to tell her that Charlie wasn’t the father of the coming child. The straining seams and gaping buttons on the white gown showed that Vena was more than two months pregnant. Much more. Charlie was being used as a scapegoat.

  Bathie couldn’t trust herself to speak, so Albert had to step in to cover the confusion at his son’s mother-in-law’s remarks.

  ‘What did your husband work at, Mrs Bruce?’

  Charlie drew in his breath. He’d prayed that his father wouldn’t ask that, and felt sick as the woman threw back her head and bayed with laughter.

  Wiping the tears of mirth from her eyes with her sleeve, she gasped, ‘Oh, Mr Ogilvie. Did Charlie nae tell you I’ve never been wed? Mind, I had eight bairns a’ thegither, though three o’ them died o’ the fever when they were infants.’

  ‘Oh.’ Albert was at a complete loss. He had heard of unmarried women having one or two children, for mistakes could happen, but eight? The father must have been married already.

  ‘Nae ane o’ the men would admit it was his bairn.’ Self-pity passed fleetingly across the woman’s sagging features, then she giggled. ‘But naebody can say I’ve been neglected that way, an’ they were a’ named after their Das – as far as I could work oot.’

  She waited, obviously hoping for a laugh, then added, ‘I wasna sure about Ina’s Da, but I didna want to forget George, for he’d a cock on him like a stallion.’

  Bathie found her tongue at last. ‘I must ask you to guard your tongue, Mrs . . . um . . . Bruce. That’s not the kind of talk I like to hear in front of my children.’

  ‘Oh, michty me.’ The woman became heavily sarcastic, and adopted an exaggerated English accent. ‘I beg your pardon, I’m sure.’ She lapsed into offended silence.

  Albert tried to ease the crackling tension. ‘Vena, I’m sure your mother would like to see your two rooms.’

  ‘Aye. Come on, Charlie.’ Vena jumped up and pulled her bridegroom off his chair, then led the little procession out.

  Because Ellie’s eyes were wide with interest, Bathie and Albert could only exchange troubled glances, and were deeply grateful to Donnie when he stepped in to prevent his sister from coming up with any awkward questions. ‘Ellie and me’ll do the dishes. Flo and Gracie and Hetty, if you three lend a hand, we’ll get them done all the quicker.’

  There was a flurry of commotion for a few minutes, then Albert and Bathie were left completely on their own.

  She looked at him tearfully. ‘I’m sure it’s not Charlie’s child. Vena’s too big. She’s supposed to be nine weeks on, like me, and I’m not even started to show yet. And there’s something about her . . . I just know she’s up to no good.’

  ‘Oh, Bathie.’ Albert was rather annoyed at her for being so suspicious. ‘She wouldn’t marry Charlie if it wasn’t his.’

  ‘Yes, she would, if the real father wouldn’t.’

  Mrs Bruce’s return silenced them. She came in on her own, her face disfigured by a leering grin. ‘I’ve tell’t them nae to bother comin’ doon. I’ll manage to see mysel’ hame, an’ maybe pick up a man on the road. A’ that whisky’s set my juices boilin’, an’ I saw for mysel’ that Charl
ie’s juices were boilin’ an’ all, an’ he could hardly wait to get stuck in.’

  Bathie was disgusted, but it came to her that this was a good opportunity to find out the truth, with the woman in such an inebriated state. ‘I’ve forgotten how far on Vena is.’

  Mrs Bruce tapped her nose. ‘It’s six month ony road, nearer seven, maybe. I mind on her comin’ in an’ tellin’ me this Dutch sailor had ta’en her twice in the lobby, an’ I just ken’t she’d land up wi’ a bairn in her belly.’

  ‘So it’s not Charlie’s?’ Bathie smiled and kept her voice light, hoping that the woman wouldn’t see through her tactics.

  ‘God, no. There was three or four after the Dutchman, but your Charlie was the only ane to believe her when she tell’t him it was his.’

  Bathie turned to her husband. ‘See Mrs . . . er . . . Vena’s mother down the outside stairs, Albert.’

  When he returned, she was weeping, softly and hopelessly.

  ‘I’ll throw the bitch out right now,’ he vowed.

  ‘No, we’ll tell Charlie in the morning, and we’ll have to accept it if he still wants her, but everybody’ll think the child’s his, and it’s going to be born in two or three months.’

  Albert held her heaving body for a moment. ‘I think you should go to bed, Bathie, and we’ll see what tomorrow brings.’

  When the newly-married couple came down for breakfast, Charlie looked embarrassed, but Vena winked at Albert, who was outraged but held his tongue for his wife’s sake.

  Bathie ate very little, and waited until her eldest son was finished. ‘I want to speak to you in private, Charlie, so we’d better go through to the parlour.’

  Vena frowned, and Albert was pleased to see a little touch of fear come into her eyes. He’d give all he possessed to see Charlie throwing her out on her ear.

  Telling her beloved son the truth about his bride was the most difficult thing Bathie had ever undertaken, and she wasn’t surprised that it took him some time to believe it.

  ‘Your father’s willing to pay her off,’ she said, at last, ‘and he’ll give her whatever she asks for.’ Charlie’s silence worried her, and she stood, uncomfortably, waiting for him to say something.