Brow of the Gallowgate

by Doris Davidson

  Gavin laughed. ‘You’ve years ahead of you yet, man, but it is a good idea, and you’ll have to come to Edinburgh some time, too. It would make Ellie very happy to have you visit her.’

  A twinkle came into Albert’s eyes. ‘I’ll maybe do that when I come back, for the wanderlust might be on me after I’ve been halfway round the world.’

  They studiously avoided any mention of the old days – it was safer not to – and their talk was confined to comparing the children, discussing the family and Gavin’s intention of taking a partner into his practice.

  ‘Father and Gavin seem to get on well,’ Gracie said, one day when the two men went out.

  ‘They’ve always enjoyed each other’s company.’ Ellie was glad that her husband was looking much better over the past week. His work was taking its toll on him, but she hadn’t the heart to suggest to him that he give it up.

  Albert’s excitement about his coming journey prevented him from being upset when Ellie and her family went back to Edinburgh. He had judged it right, just giving himself enough time to recover from their visit.

  When the great day arrived, Joe took him to the station in the van, and waited with him until the train pulled out, and Albert waved from the window for as long as he could see the platform. Then he sat down, his stomach churning, and opened the magazine which Joe had bought for him.

  He laid it down in a few minutes, unable to concentrate. In fourteen hours he’d be in King’s Cross station, where Donnie was to meet him and see him on to the train for Southampton. Not one member of his family would be there to wave him off on the liner, he mused, but no doubt he’d survive.

  As he watched the countryside flashing past, he wished that he could have taken Bathie away somewhere before all the children came on the go, but they hadn’t been able to afford holidays. She’d never complained, but he sometimes wondered if she’d ever regretted marrying him and having so many bairns.

  A pleasant surprise awaited him at Edinburgh. Ellie had come to Waverley Station to wish him bon voyage, and although they had only just over ten minutes to talk, it made him feel that she loved him as much as ever, and his heart was full.

  When the guard blew his whistle, she grasped his hand. ‘I want your promise that you’ll come to visit me for a while, after you come back from seeing Flo. You’ve no excuse now.’

  Albert laughed. ‘No, I suppose I haven’t, and I promise.’

  Two other passengers had joined him in the carriage, so he settled back to speak to them, cheered by his favourite daughter’s thoughtfulness. Newcastle was the next stop, with the porters all jabbering away in a strange accent, then the stations flew past, York, Grantham, Peterborough, and it was no time before Donnie was shaking his hand in King’s Cross.

  ‘I’ll take you round the corner to have some breakfast, Father, I bet you could be doing with something to eat.’

  ‘Aye, I’m a bit peckish.’

  It was only a small workmen’s café, but the ham and eggs tasted delicious to Albert, and he had three slices of toast and two cups of tea, while Donnie smiled indulgently.

  ‘We could easily get a bus to Waterloo, Father, it isn’t far, but with your suitcase, I think we’ll take a cab.’

  As soon as he finished his breakfast, Albert was hustled outside, and before he got his breath back, he was installed in another train, on his way to Southampton.

  ‘Give my love to Flo and Will,’ Donnie called out, when the train moved off.

  ‘I’ll do that.’ If he ever get there, Albert thought nervously, as he sank down in the corner next the window. It was the last bit of his journey that worried him. Out on the open sea for so long, with no land in sight, and what if the boat sprang a leak, or something? Look at the Titanic, back in 1912. It was supposed to be unsinkable, but it had sunk, just the same. He felt lost and alone, and rather frightened, but there were no icebergs between here and New Zealand, as far as he knew, so that was something to be thankful for.

  Chapter Forty-four

  The sight of Flo and her husband waving on the quayside made Albert’s heart overflow with emotion.

  Flo, whom he hadn’t seen for more than six years, and Will Dunbar – looking every inch a businessman, although the glove on his left hand would never let anyone forget that he was a disabled ex-soldier – had driven to Wellington to meet him, and when he stepped cautiously off the gangway on to New Zealand soil, they greeted him ecstatically.

  Dashing away the tears with his sleeve, he muttered, ‘I must be getting old, carrying on like this.’

  Flo dried her own eyes. ‘I’m less than half your age, Father, and I’m having a good cry, too. Oh, it’s great to see you, and to have you here for a while.’

  ‘Only for a month, mind.’

  The long drive to Wanganui tired them all, but Will and Flo were rather alarmed by her father’s pallor and his dull, deep-set eyes, which brightened up a little when his grandson came running out of the bungalow to meet them.

  Flo’s mother-in-law – Mary Wyness as Albert would always think of her – followed Leonard out, having been left in charge of him while his parents were away, and looked embarrassed when her ex-employer embraced her warmly.

  ‘Oh, if only you could have ta’en Mrs Ogilvie wi’ you, an’ all,’ she whispered as she stepped back.

  His voice deepened. ‘Aye. Bathie would have loved to see you again, Mary.’

  ‘I’ll run you home now, Mother,’ Will said briskly. ‘But I’ll bring Flo’s father to see you in a day or two, when he recovers from his journey.’

  ‘Aye, the poor man must be fair dead beat with all his stravaigin’ aboot.’

  Albert did take a day or two to recover, but he was happy enough to sit with Flo through the day, and to get to know the little grandson he’d never seen before. Leonard was almost four now, and chattered to him non-stop, his accent fascinating his grandfather, being twangy New Zealand interspersed with an occasional word in flat Aberdeen, picked up, no doubt, from his grandmother, who still retained a lot of her native tongue.

  At breakfast time on the third day, Will had a suggestion to make. ‘I don’t know if you’re ready yet, Father, but. . .’

  ‘Call me Albert, lad, Joe and Martin always do now.’

  ‘Thanks. I was going to say I could drive you to my Aunt Jeannie’s house on my way to work. My mother’s going to be there, too, and I’d pick you up on my way home.’

  ‘That’s a grand idea, Will.’ Albert rubbed his hands with glee, then glanced at his daughter. ‘You’ll be coming, too, of course? And Leonard?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, Father. You’ll all be speaking about things that happened before I was born.’

  ‘Aye, right enough.’ He disappeared into the room he was sharing with Leonard, who was thrilled with the temporary camp bed that had been put up for him, and came back a moment later carrying his jacket and a pullover.

  Will’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You won’t need them, Albert, it’s hot already, and it’ll get worse as the day goes on.’

  Laying the jacket down, Albert said, ‘I’ll have to wear my pullover. I can’t let Mary and Jeannie see me in my galluses.’

  ‘Galluses?’ Will looked at his wife, puzzled by the word.

  ‘Braces,’ she explained. ‘He doesn’t trust belts.’

  Within ten minutes, Albert was hugging Jeannie just as eagerly as he’d greeted Mary two days before.

  ‘I’m right glad I can offer you a cup of tea in my house, at last, Mr Ogilvie, for many’s the sly cuppie I had off you when I was workin’ at the Gallowgate.’

  ‘You’ll be owing me some yet, then,’ he joked.

  The next few hours were taken up with, ‘D’you remember when . . . ?’ and his family’s early history was brought vividly back to him – Charlie’s baby croup, Ellie’s fall on the day of Mary’s wedding, the day when Flo and Will were born and the closeness which had developed between them even when they were small, and a hundred and one other incidents which had almos
t slipped his memory.

  Through it all, however, there was an underlying sad awareness that the most important person was missing from the reunion, but Albert, who could speak about Bathie quite calmly now with only an ache in his heart, was determined that there would be no tears. Each time either of the sisters appeared to be bordering on sentimentality, he would skilfully remind them of one of Ellie’s sayings and have them laughing again.

  When he mentioned the Sunday that Charlie had been lost, Mary said, ‘That must ha’e been terrible for you, right enough. Jeannie an’ me were away by that time, but Mrs Ogilvie wrote an’ told us all about it.’

  She paused and regarded him sorrowfully. ‘Mr Ogilvie, I’m awful sorry about what happened to Charlie. We still can’t get over it, him dyin’ like that on the very mornin’ after he came back. It was like he knew he hadn’t long to go, an’ he’d come back to die among his own folk.’

  Albert had been so involved in the distant past that it took a minute for his mind to adjust to this. Neither Flo nor Will had brought up the subject of Charlie’s death, and he’d almost forgotten why he’d made this pilgrimage. His suspicion reared up again, stronger than ever, but he could say nothing about it to Bella Wyness’s sisters.

  ‘Aye,’ he murmured, at last. ‘It was a terrible business, and I don’t suppose I’ll ever get to the bottom of why he left his wife like he did.’

  The two women exchanged glances, then Mary said, ‘Jeannie an’ me spoke a lot about it at the time, an’ we came to think Bella had something to do with that.’

  Lowering his head, he rubbed his hand across his chin. ‘It’s what I thought myself, but we’ll never be sure.’

  ‘I went an’ asked her,’ Mary continued. ‘But she just laughed an’ said she always knew Charlie Ogilvie wasn’t normal. It was her that wasn’t normal, though, spinning lies without battin’ an eyelid. She even tried to tell me, on the very day o’ Willie’s funeral, that he’d been . . . takin’ up with her before she wed Matthew Potter, an’ that wasn’t true.’

  Jeannie nodded vigorously. ‘She would have swore black was white an’ have you believin’ it, but we all knew she’d been jealous that Matt had offered to give Mary and Will a home.’

  Albert’s heart had sunk as he recalled how he’d lashed out at young Will that terrible day when he’d been out of his mind with worry about Bathie. ‘I’m sure what Bella said wasn’t true, Mary, but . . . did Will ever say anything about what I told him about you?’

  ‘That he wasna Willie’s bairn? Aye, he came out with that one day when he come back first, an’ he was as low as ever I’ve seen anybody in my life. He doesna hold that against you, Mr Ogilvie, an’ neither do I, for we understand you werena in your right mind at the time. It was only the truth you told him, when all’s said an’ done.’

  ‘I should never have said it, though, and I can’t tell you how much I regret it.’

  ‘It’s all forgotten about long ago, an’ I’m sure . . .’

  What Mary was sure about was never disclosed, because the door opened at that moment and Robbie Park walked in, so the two women left them to talk, while they dished up the lunch which Jeannie had prepared earlier.

  Albert’s old employee shook hands with him. ‘I thought I’d better let you have a while on your own with them, for they were dying to get you to themselves. They’re still a great pair for letting their tongues wag.’

  Albert grinned. ‘Aye, we’ve had a right good blether.’

  ‘Fine. I’d a few little things to attend to. You see, I’d a bit of heart trouble a few years back, and the doctor advised me to take things easier. So I put a manager into the store, a good man and very capable, but I can’t keep away altogether.’

  Albert smiled ruefully. ‘I know, Robbie, I’m the same myself. I let Gracie’s man take charge, and I’ve to bite my tongue to keep from saying things I shouldn’t, but they come out in spite of me, sometimes.’

  After their meal, Albert and Robbie recalled some of the awkward customers they’d had to deal with so long ago, then Robbie described how his own business had grown, while Mary and Jeannie sat back, pleased that Albert had a man to talk to, as a change from their female company.

  Robbie beamed when a young man walked in, about two hours later. ‘This is Ab,’ he explained. ‘You see, Albert, I didn’t forget my promise to you. His full name’s Albert Robert, but we call him Ab for short, though he’ll be thirty in a few years.’

  The young man shook hands, obviously embarrassed by the meeting. His parents had often told him that it was Albert Ogilvie who had paid their passage to Wanganui, and as a boy he’d pictured some sort of god, so he was very relieved when the man grasped his hand and said, ‘You haven’t disgraced the name, at any rate, for you’re a fine upstanding lad.’

  ‘My daughter, Jean, is working in Wellington,’ Robbie said, ‘but you’ll maybe meet her another day.’

  Jeannie would have liked Albert to stay for supper, but Will turned up to collect him, so they all shook hands with him and made him promise to come to see them again.

  The weekdays were usually spent quite quietly, shopping with Flo occasionally, taking Leonard out, having a stroll in the evenings with Will. Albert found it all very relaxing.

  At the weekends, Will took him farther afield. They went to see the hot springs at Rotorua, where Albert marvelled at the seething waters leaping high into the air, also to Mount Ruapehu, the dormant volcano which they told him was twice as high as Vesuvius.

  Albert was intrigued the first time he saw a family of Maoris, but on the trips Will took him, they often passed a group of their shanties and he became accustomed to them as part of the attraction of the area.

  Flo was pleased to see the gradual change in her father. By the third week, his step was sprightlier, his eyes were brighter and a smile came much readier to his lips.

  ‘I wish he would stay for a bit longer than a month,’ she observed to Will one night, when they were in their own room. ‘He’s looking a lot healthier now. Couldn’t we find out if he can change the time for him going back?’

  After considering it briefly, Will said, ‘Leave it, Flo. I expect he’ll be glad to be going home when the time comes.’

  Sometimes, before they went to bed, Albert spoke about Bathie, and the sadness returned to his eyes. Flo longed to comfort him then, but felt it was better to avoid showing too much emotion. She’d been dreading him asking about Charlie – in case both of them broke down – and was very relieved that he hadn’t, not yet.

  Will drove him to Mary’s occasionally, or to Jeannie’s, where he did once meet Jean Park, a younger, quieter edition of her mother. The weeks seemed to fly past until Albert realized that his holiday was almost over and he hadn’t done the one thing he’d come all this way to do. It wasn’t going to be easy, and it would have to be done diplomatically.

  He had the idea that Flo knew no more than she’d written in her letter, so it was Will he’d have to approach. He’d been on the point of tackling his son-in-law several times when they were out walking, but his courage had failed him at the last minute, and he began to wonder if it would be better just to leave it. But he knew he would never be content until he knew the truth, however much it might distress him.

  On his second last evening, Albert was silent and morose. Flo tried to draw him into a light-hearted conversation, but he continued to sit looking despondently into the fireplace.

  At eight o’clock, she said, ‘I’ll have to put Leonard to bed. Do you want to have a walk with Will, Father, or do you not feel up to it tonight?’

  His mournful eyes turned towards her slowly. ‘I’m sorry, I was remembering it’s four years since your mother . . . ’

  ‘Oh, I’d forgotten the date.’ Flo felt ashamed.

  ‘That’s all right, lass, but I’d like just to sit here, if you don’t mind. I’m a bit over-tired with all the excitement I’ve had lately, and I’ll have to be fit for my journey home.’

  ‘I’ll jus
t go and give Leonard his bath and you can sit and talk to Will. If you’re good, he’ll maybe give you a beer.’

  He raised a faint smile as she took the little boy out, then resumed his study of the unlit fire.

  Waiting for a moment, Will got to his feet. ‘What’ll it be, Albert? Beer or whisky?’

  ‘A beer, please. It’ll help to cool me down. I can’t get over how hot it is here, and it’s nearly December.’

  ‘It’s our summer,’ Will reminded him.

  When he accepted the tall glass, Albert braced himself to look at his son-in-law. ‘Can I ask you something, Will?’

  ‘Sure, go ahead.’

  ‘It’s about Charlie.’

  ‘Oh.’ The younger man’s smile was quickly replaced by a very guarded expression.

  Albert hesitated, then began to speak quietly. ‘You didn’t tell Flo everything, did you? Since I retired, I’ve had time to think, and I can’t help feeling it’s queer that . . . Bella Wyness died . . . nearly the same time as Charlie, by what I figured.’

  Will moistened his dry lips. He had anticipated that this would crop up some time, from one source or another, but had never been able to decide how to handle it. ‘What are you getting at, Albert?’ he hedged.

  ‘I’m asking if Charlie killed Bella Wyness, or if it was the other way round.’ It was out now, and there was no holding back. ‘I’d be obliged if you didn’t hide anything from me.’

  Looking at his father-in-law’s tormented eyes, then at the hands clenching convulsively, Will sat down heavily on the seat at the opposite side of the fireplace and took a draught of his beer. ‘I haven’t told anybody what really happened,’ he said, at last. ‘Not even my own wife.’

  ‘I’m his father and I’ve a right to know.’

  As if it were the most important thing in the world to him at that minute, Will kept his eyes riveted on his tankard. ‘I should have told you before, but . . .’ He was obviously wondering where to start, even if he should start, but when he glanced up, Albert’s commanding stare made him go on.

  He repeated the reason Charlie had given for his abrupt departure, looking at Albert now and then to see how he was taking it, then said, ‘He felt he had to get away from it all, what Bella was trying to do to him as much as what Vena was doing. I don’t know why Vena didn’t come here when she was put out of the house, or to Hetty, or my mother, that’s one thing I can’t understand – unless she wanted to put an end to herself, thinking Charlie didn’t want her.’