The House on Rosebank Lane

by Millie Gray

  Also by Millie Gray

  In a Class of Their Own

  In a League of Their Own

  Crystal’s Song

  Eighteen Couper Street

  The Tangling of the Web

  When Sorry is Not Enough

  Silver Linings

  Moving On

  A Cut Above

  First published 2019

  by Black & White Publishing Ltd

  Nautical House, 104 Commercial Street

  Edinburgh, EH6 6NF

  www.blackandwhitepublishing.com

  This electronic edition published in 2019

  ISBN: 978 1 78530 260 2 in Epub format

  ISBN: 978 1 78530 223 7 in paperback format

  Copyright © Millie Gray 2019

  The right of Millie Gray to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This novel is a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Ebook compilation by Iolaire, Newtonmore

  For my grandchildren

  CONTENTS

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  About The Author

  Acknowledgements

  ONE

  1953

  It was a time of great joy, but also unrest in Scotland, and indeed all over the United Kingdom.

  Hogmanay of that year saw Kirsten Mowat meandering her way along Edinburgh’s Fountainbridge. The brown-haired, turquoise-eyed lassie was walking arm-in-arm with her sweetheart, Duncan Armstrong. She breathed in with deep satisfaction as she thought how exciting the year had been. Most importantly to her, in the year she’d turned eighteen, Duncan Armstrong had fallen as madly in love with her as she was with him.

  Kirsten hunched her shoulders and gave a quick sniff as she conceded that the year had also seen other great things happen. Firstly, the beautiful young princess Elizabeth had been crowned as Queen, then there was the launching of the Royal Yacht Britannia, followed by Edmund Hillary conquering Mount Everest. She allowed a soft grin to adorn her face as she recalled how she and Duncan had cheered and cheered with all the other dancers in the Palais de Dance when the mountaineer’s triumph was announced.

  She tucked her arm more firmly through Duncan’s as they continued to stroll down Lothian Road. It was at this point that she acknowledged there had been other less glorious happenings, too. Some she was not so sure about; like the hanging of Derek Bentley. He had not actually committed murder – unlike John Christie, who was also eventually hanged, but rightly so. To Kirsten, Christie was the epitome of evil. The demon had lied about Timothy Evans being responsible for his wife and child’s murders. Those lies resulted in Evans being found guilty of the crimes and hanged. Kirsten shivered as she thought how Evans’s mother might now be awarded a full pardon for her son, but that would not bring him back from the dead. Kirsten’s thoughts now turned to the Cold War. She loved all the intrigues and complexities of politics! Russia was dangerous; she just knew it. The country had tested its own hydrogen bomb, after all. Oh yes, the threat of war seemed to be looming again. But as they dawdled their way on to Princes Street, it was not this pending conflict that was really on Kirsten’s mind. Something else required her urgent attention.

  Inhaling deeply, she drew herself up straight. Time, she acknowledged, to stop reflecting on the world’s concerns. They were out of her control. It was time to think about the anguish and strife that would engulf her and all she held dear when she released her own explosion of atomic proportions.

  She shuddered: there was nothing else for it now but to get on with what she had to do. Duncan, the darling of her heart, would be the first to be acquainted with her confession. This was only right because he was the one, like she, who would be most affected.

  ‘Duncan, darling,’ she ventured. ‘I have something I need to tell you . . .’

  Her face fired. She trembled. She could not go on.

  ‘Like what?’ he said, as he began to dance around her affectionately.

  ‘Know how . . . well . . .’ She paused to swallow some air. ‘We did what we should not have done until we were churched?’

  ‘Yeah, I liked that. Hope you’re saying you fancy doing it again tonight.’

  ‘I certainly am not!’

  ‘And why not?’ He was nudging her playfully. ‘Admit it, you liked it too, because I was good at it . . . very good.’

  ‘You’re right there. Too good by half, you were.’ She sniffed. ‘But, there’s always a price to pay for sinning – and in our case . . .’ She stopped and turned towards him. ‘Duncan, I’m pregnant!’

  ‘You’re what?’ Duncan blustered. His feet stopped dancing and his jaw dropped.

  ‘You heard. You’ve put me up the Swanee!’

  ‘Eh! Oh no. Gosh!’ He grimaced, then added, ‘What am I going to tell my mum?’

  ‘Tell your mum!’ Kirsten gasped as she started blubbing like a child. ‘Don’t you think that what we say to my mum is what will take some doing?’

  ‘There, there, sweetheart,’ Duncan soothed, taking her into his arms. ‘You know I want to marry you, so now it will be sooner rather than later.’ He stopped to take a deep breath before adding, ‘So what? Stop bawling and I’ll tell you what we’ll do.’

  ‘Run away?’

  ‘No, there’s no need for that. You see, we just won’t tell anyone about the baby coming until we are married.’

  ‘But who would marry us? I mean, where will we go to get churched?’

  ‘No church, darling. I’m afraid it’ll be the registry office for us.’

  ‘But you know how my mum is with her Island ways: if I don’t marry in the church, well . . . she’ll go stark raving bonkers. We’d never hear the end of it – what will they say back home in Shetland, on and on she’d go –’

  ‘Maybe so, but you having an illegitimate bairn would be even worse for her to thole!’

  Kirsten cringed when she heard Duncan utter that word: illegitimate. Surely she hadn’t been so irresponsible as to have her child labelled a bastard!

  But as they walked on, they both agreed that their wedding day should be arranged as a matter of urgency. Without either of them telling another soul.

  TWO

  On the morning of their special day Kirsten managed to secrete her handbag and purple Tammy hat, along with her loose three-quarter-length new tweed coat in a lovely soft shade of lilac, into a shopping bag. Discretely leaving the bag behind the outside door, she then waltzed into the kitchen of her mother’s home on Largo Place.

  ‘Mum,’ she began gaily, ‘I’m meeting up with
Harriet at the baths. After we’ve had a swim we’ll be going to the pictures, so don’t worry if I’m home late.’

  Her mother, Aileen Mowat, was a dumpy, canny woman. This being so, Kirsten was not surprised when she replied, ‘That’s just fine, my dear. But wait a wee bit and I’ll make you and Harriet up a shivery bite.’

  ‘No thanks, Mum,’ Kirsten replied as she tucked her wrapped-up towel even tighter under her arm.

  ‘But, lassie, it’ll be a long day for you, and you won’t be wishing to embarrass yourself by fainting with the hunger.’

  ‘I won’t be peckish because we’re having a chippie before going on to the Palace Picture House to see that Laurel and Hardy film,’ Kirsten answered before going forward and kissing her mum on the cheek.

  Truth was, Kirsten was swamped with guilt. Lying to her mum didn’t come easy. That was because her mum was so very truthful in her dealings with people. Added to that was the important fact that Kirsten was the youngest of Aileen’s three children. She was also her only daughter. Kirsten’s heart sank as she remembered that her mum was putting a little bit by every week so her ‘baby’ could have a wonderful white wedding.

  Aileen was about to respond further, but before she could start the outside door had clicked shut, leaving her with nothing but the fading echo of Kirsten’s high heels as they raced from Largo Place.

  Before going into the registry office Kirsten nipped into Leith Victoria Swimming Baths so she could don her finery in a damp little changing cubicle. Finally, as she fitted on her hat, the guilt that had swamped her all morning disappeared to be replaced by a surge of utter elation. Within an hour she would be Duncan’s legal wife. Her treasured dream would come true. She was not simply in love with him, but was completely besotted.

  As she emerged from the swimming baths, she caught a glimpse of Duncan waiting for her at the registry office door. Today, if it was possible, he looked even more handsome and desirable, with his dark hair shining in the sun. Kirsten pushed aside the thought that she had been keeping a secret from him for two days: it was the right thing to do. To be his wife was all that mattered to her.

  Before entering the wedding booth to pledge themselves to each other, they had to ask two passing strangers if they would assist them by being their necessary witnesses.

  And then it was done. With none of the finery of Kirsten’s dreams, but her heart swelled at the sight and feel of the pale gold band on her finger.

  Then, after a celebratory cup of tea and slice of shortbread in the café on the corner, the newlyweds decided to face the music. Duncan rightly insisted that his mother should be the first to be told that they were now husband and wife.

  It would take some doing to tell Jessie Armstrong that her precious son, Duncan, was now a married man. Big and buxom, Jessie had been the stair-heid bully of 35 Admiralty Street before she had been rehoused a year or two back in Edinburgh Corporation’s new Granton Housing Scheme.

  It wasn’t just that Duncan would be leaving the family home that was the problem. Oh no. What mattered was that his earnings would now be going to support Kirsten and not Jessie. This being the case, Kirsten decided that this was the moment, before they boarded the number 16 bus on Great Junction Street, to tell Duncan the secret she had been keeping. She prayed he would welcome it and see that it could soften the blow for Jessie when Duncan told her of their marriage.

  She sidled up close to him. ‘Duncan, darling,’ Kirsten began, coyly. ‘Know how I said that I was expecting, and believe me I probably will be soon, but as from the day before yesterday, well . . . I’m just not!’

  Wrenching himself free from Kirsten, Duncan stared at her with incredulity before hissing, ‘You’re not? Don’t flipping tell me that you knew there was no need for us to rush into a shotgun wedding and you still let us go ahead with it!’ He tore at his hair. ‘Kirsten, are you saying that you’re not?’

  Tearfully, she nodded.

  ‘No, no,’ he stammered. ‘I can’t believe you allowed me to go into that registry office when there was no need! Are you mad?’

  Taken aback, Kirsten desperately felt for the wall. Driving herself hard against the rough brick, she mumbled, ‘But, but, we are in love. So it’s only right that we became husband and wife. Duncan, our marrying means that we can do anything we please. So what’s the problem . . . darling?’

  ‘The problem, sweetheart, is that you trapped me. And now I have to face my mum and tell her I got married, and not because I had to do the decent thing by you. Kirsten, she would have accepted that.’ He paused. ‘Och, can you no’ see that your mum and mine would have been able to cope with us having made a mistake, but now it will look as if we’re sticking two fingers up at them.’

  But if Kirsten thought that Duncan’s reaction was fearsome it was nothing to what she experienced when they told Jessie.

  *

  It wasn’t just Jessie’s flexing of her upper arms, which resembled the swinging hams that the Danish Bacon Company supplied to the Leith Provident store, that terrified Kirsten. No – utter terror engulfed her when Jessie folded these muscular arms across her capable, heaving bosom and spat, ‘You’re nothing but a little shit, Kirsten Mowat. Don’t you realise that I need his wage packet coming in here. Need it especially now his dad is dead and gone. True, my lassies work – naw, slave – like I did, right enough. No’ in the Roperie but in Crawford’s Biscuit Factory. But the two of their wages, even with two bags of broken biscuits thrown in, doesnae make up what a man brings in. So how the hell can I, without any forewarning, hope to get ends to meet? And aw because a wanton lassie couldnae keep her knickers on.’

  Jessie then sank down on one of the kitchen chairs and, having shoved a pile of crumpled banknotes off its bleached white surface, began to gently bang her forehead off the kitchen table.

  ‘Mammy,’ Duncan pleaded, while he tried in vain to restrain her, ‘please stop hurting yer puir heid. Mammy, I never meant to hurt you, but Kirsten said she had a bun in the oven and all I was trying to do was do the right thing by her.’

  As the words registered Jessie stopped hammering her head off the table. Very slowly she lifted her head to face Kirsten. Her eyes were now jigging in time to her twitching mouth. She got to her feet and began to advance towards the girl. Duncan, realising what his mum was about, jumped towards her, hollering, ‘Quick, Kirsten, get yerself out of here before she kills you!’

  Kirsten leapt to put distance between Jessie and herself, but as she crossed the doorstep Jessie caught her by the hair and dragged her backwards.

  ‘Dinnae fash yourself . . . True, I should gie you a right good pasting, but ken something, scum like you is no’ worth daeing time for.’

  By now Kirsten’s head was pulled so far back she felt Jessie’s spittle on her face as she spoke.

  ‘But listen, and listen good, because I’m putting my curse on you now. Someday you will remember what you did to me and my laddie this day. Oh aye, you’ll get your comeuppance. Paid back seven times worse than what you’ve done to me, you’ll be. And when it happens you’ll hear me thanking my good God for getting even with you. Oh aye, Miss Hoity-Toity, you’ll ken then what it feels like to have the feet kicked from under you.’

  Uncurling her fingers from Kirsten’s hair, Jessie gave her a violent push. Terrified, Kirsten, who up until then had never experienced so much as a raised voice at home, found herself lying in a bedraggled heap on the floor.

  She now had two compelling desires. One was to escape from her mother-in-law. The other was to physically retaliate – punch and slap Jessie. Retaliate she could have done, but she wasn’t the street fighter Jessie was. This being so, she knew she would come off worse and it would be in her interests to scarper and live to take Jessie on another day. That would be a day when Jessie was weaker and she was stronger.

  Getting herself up, she escaped by bolting out of the door and into the stairway. Daylight streamed down on her when she finally stumbled out into Royston Mains Gardens. Thank
ful, but without allowing herself the luxury of catching her breath, she immediately headed north towards the bus stop. Here she would be able to board a bus that would take her home to Leith.

  Leith, where sanity reigned, and where she would be safe.

  Twenty-five minutes later, as Kirsten alighted from the bus, she felt pure relief. She then, and only then, let her tears cascade. As the moisture trickled down her cheeks she turned into Largo Place and headed for home.

  THREE

  The scene at Jessie’s left Duncan with a dilemma: should he run after Kirsten, his lawfully wedded wife, or should he remain with his mum and try to salvage something of their relationship?

  Before he could make a decision, Jessie hollered, ‘Like your useless faither before you, so you are!’

  Duncan flinched at the venom in her voice, but asked meekly, ‘What do you mean, Mammy?’

  ‘That you too have abandoned us! Callously left your sisters and me to fend for ourselves!’

  Duncan’s face was now a picture of perplexity. ‘Mammy,’ he began hesitantly, ‘Dad didnae desert us . . . he died.’

  ‘Aye, but he chose to gasp his last.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Just that other folk trip up and hit their heid on the causeway but they dinnae leave their family in the lurch. Naw, naw, they get up and get back on with their job.’

  Duncan shook his head. He knew it was useless to argue with his mother, whose warped reasoning always suited her ‘all the apples fall on me’ view of the world. Instead, he said quietly, ‘Mammy, I ken Kirsten took me for a hurl but she’s young and she loves me and all she wanted to do was make sure I never strayed from her.’

  ‘That right? And what will happen now to our Nancy, who has nae chance of catching a man because of that damn birthmark that covers the whole of one side of her face?’ Jessie stopped to purse her lips and sighed deeply before adding, ‘And the blame for poor Nancy’s affliction is again aw down to your useless faither.’