by Millie Gray
Perplexed, Molly reached over and sought for Kirsten’s hand. ‘Just take it steady. We have all the time in the world. And I’ll stay silent and just you tell me what happened today. Kirsten, love, what has distressed you so?’
It took Kirsten half an hour to tell her heartbreaking tale. When she was finished she lowered her head onto the table and sobs wracked her slender frame. Molly got up and went round to Kirsten. She lifted her distraught friend up into her arms.
‘There, there,’ she whispered as she bent down and kissed her hair. She hesitated while silently thinking, Duncan Armstrong, you are an unfeeling, selfish bastard, that’s what you are. You know how vulnerable Kirsten is. How she worries about Dixie. Every spare minute she has is spent on him. Then there are the girls – they are just bits of bairns still and to leave them – for goodness sake, man, they are your kith and kin.
Molly, being astute, accepted that it was highly unlikely that Duncan would come back. He had gone to Canada with Nessie Souter. Nessie Souter, who had at last got a man to commit himself to her, would hang on to him like a leech. So where did this leave Kirsten? Finding work was the answer, if the four of them were to survive with any sort of dignity. That solution was impossible because Dixie was only three, and Kirsten would not allow him to go full-time to nursery. She had to have him with her. It was true that once he went to school – Molly sighed, as she acknowledged that was two years away – Kirsten would thankfully then have to stand back a bit. The plus in this was that it would mean she could go out and find work around the school hours. However, right now Kirsten had no – or very few – options.
Kirsten, still crying profusely, was contemplating her plight as well. She wondered where she could find employment that would allow her to take Dixie with her. She considered Jessie’s suggestion that she go into money lending, but that needed capital. Money she did not have. Besides, there was something about lending money to your hard-up friends and charging them interest that made her squirm.
Slowly, her sobs began to subside.
‘Nothing to make you feel better than a good cry,’ Molly remarked with a wry chuckle. ‘And now you have got that out of your system, time to think about what to do.’
‘I know. I suppose I could uproot the children and go to Shetland.’
‘Is that something you think you would like to do?’
‘To be honest no, but if the alternative is landing out on the street – well, no, the children are my responsibility, so I have to stay here and just get on with whatever. I might even . . .’ She shuddered. ‘No, I don’t think I could ever do that.’
‘Do what?’
‘Sell my body.’
Molly chuckled. ‘Yeah, like me, where we would never condemn a lassie that did it, it is not a road either of us would wish to travel.’
Kirsten nodded. ‘No way! No. No. No way!’
‘Having laid that to rest, would you consider the housekeeper’s job for this Stella woman?’
‘No. That is the slippery slope. Well, as far as I am concerned it would be.’
Molly mused. ‘Needn’t be, and just think, her massage training would really benefit Dixie. You know how his tantrums have seemed worse of late.’
‘They have and how.’ Kirsten hesitated. ‘It’s strange, Molly, but he misses Duncan. Oh aye, even although his daddy has abandoned him, the poor wee soul can’t forsake his daddy.’ Kirsten paused, thinking that human nature was perplexing. ‘Now, tomorrow,’ she continued, ‘I’ll have to go, cap in hand, down to the DSS and register. At least from them I will get enough to pay the rent and scrape by at subsistence level. Then . . . I will have to look for work. Just take whatever I can get, just so long as they allow me to take Dixie with me.’
‘Take Dixie with you! You are joking?’
‘No. You see if I, like Duncan, was to go out of his life, even only for a few hours every day, that would be so cruel. The wee soul wouldn’t cope.’
Molly just smiled. If any of them would cope, it would be Dixie, she thought.
ELEVEN
Fourteen days passed. Indeed, it was a frustrating fortnight, which saw Kirsten desperately trying to find work. All she wanted was paid employment that would fit in with her parental responsibilities. Unfortunately, there was no employer who could or wished to accommodate her exacting terms. The Department of Social Security did provide her with enough resources to keep her afloat. But getting ends to meet was a never-ending struggle.
To add to her problems the weather became inclement. As bad as her financial position was, she was faced with the necessity of buying the girls wellington boots. Problem was, she had no money for such seeming luxuries. In sheer desperation she had to approach her mother-in-law for a loan. Jessie had at first humphed and hawed, before handing over the necessary cash. She then had the temerity to suggest to Kirsten that, as she couldn’t find anyone wishing to employ her on her terms, she should go into some sort of business for herself.
‘And what kind of business would that be?’ Kirsten had asked.
‘As I have already said, money lending is one option,’ Jessie had retorted with a knowing nod of her head.
‘So, you are again pushing me towards becoming a penny-pinching Shylock?’
‘No. All I am saying is you should consider becoming a friend in need to your pals. No’ just the folk here in Granton that are short of a bob or two before payday. Naw, naw, they are everywhere, even in Balfour Street.’ Rubbing her hands and grinning, Jessie continued, ‘See my customers when they’ve no’ got the price o’ a loaf of bread, they ken that they can depend on me to see them all right. And, Kirsten, they also ken I’ll no’ be asking any awkward questions. Nor do I ask them to sign on the dotted line.’
Kirsten did not reply. It was true that no one signed for their loan from Jessie. No, but it was also true that all the transactions were written down in Jessie’s notebook. The same notebook that went everywhere with her – even to bed!
Unaware that Kirsten was lost in her own thoughts, Jessie continued speaking. ‘And, Kirsten, they dinnae miss the penny or two when they pay back on payday. And don’t forget twelve of those pennies make a bob.’ She hunched her shoulders with delight as she cackled. ‘And two hundred and forty makes a pound. And know what, that’s the rent taken care of!’ She paused to suck in her lips before adding, ‘Or the bairns’ wellington boots paid for!’
Kirsten got the message loud and clear. Yes, she was taking the moral high ground and implying that Jessie charging the poor interest on loans was immoral.
Nonetheless, when she required the where-for-all to put boots on her children’s feet, she had no hesitation in accepting the ill-gotten funds from Jessie.
Kirsten cringed. She had to set her principles aside because her children were in need. Though she still thought money lending was one step away from what Stella Wise’s girls did for a living.
The thought of Stella Wise had her considering the job she had been offered. Now, if she was going to lower her morals, would she not be better being a housekeeper? Surely, she argued with herself, managing Stella’s affairs was a good few steps up from money lending and at least another two up from . . . True enough, but Stella had said she would only keep the job open for her for a week. A fortnight had now gone by.
*
Kirsten had to screw her courage to the sticking place. She tossed and turned all night, trying to find a solution to her problems other than taking up Stella’s offer. In the end she had to admit there seemed to be no other option. In two years’ time, when Dixie was five and away to school, she would then be able to seek more – she gulped – suitable employment. She couldn’t worry about what other people thought. She alone was responsible for her children. Soon she would need to tell her mother that Duncan had deserted her and the children. And never could she explain to her mum that, to make ends meet, she intended to work for Stella Wise, who she had since realised was a woman known to the authorities for . . . She gulped again as she silentl
y mouthed the words: running a brothel. Even to hear such words spoken would shock her mother. Kirsten was well aware that her parents’ Shetland beliefs meant that the family came first. This being so, Kirsten would be urged to round up her brood and make her home with her parents in the Northern Isles.
And so, here she was at the front door of Stella Wise’s house. She hesitated. She knew full well once the door opened and she was faced with Stella there would be, if the job of housekeeper was still on offer, no going back. Her finger was poised to push the bell button when the door flew open.
‘Well, well . . .’ Mrs Baxter, who was about to fling a pail of hot soapy water down the front doorstep, stopped, startled, and looked Kirsten up and down. ‘You’re two weeks late. But after the disaster we’ve had with the woman Mrs Wise employed when she thought you weren’t going to take up her offer, you might still get the job.’
Kirsten smiled.
Wishing to alert Stella, Mrs Baxter turned her head to face the inside of the house and hollered, ‘Here, Mrs Wise, you’ll no’ believe this, but that Kirsten lassie is here on the doorstep.’
Within a minute, Stella appeared. ‘Oh, it’s good to see you, Kirsten. And you have brought little Dixie with you.’
‘Yes,’ Kirsten stammered. ‘I thought, that is if you don’t mind me taking up your offer to teach me to massage . . .’
‘Massage? Yes, that would be good for Dixie. But I was also hoping you would be interested in the job of housekeeper. Now, before you answer, I am aware that you, like me, would not wish, nor ever could consider, the business carried out in my rented rooms.’
Kirsten nodded and Stella smiled. A bargain was made.
TWELVE
1965
So, to Kirsten’s surprise, two years passed quickly with her working as Stella Wise’s housekeeper. Years during which she learned to be independent and provide for her children. She learned, too, some of Stella’s massage skills, which transformed Dixie’s tendency to tantrum. But then, all too soon, August arrived and it was time for five-year-old Dixie to start his schooling.
The beginning of his formal education was a milestone not only for Dixie, but for Kirsten as well. Entrusting anyone with the care of Dixie, even her mother or Stella, was very difficult for her. Indeed, he still slept with her. So, how was she going to be able to hand over his daily well-being to strangers? At this present time, nothing would convince her that his teachers would understand what a miracle he was. That the bright happy child before them once only weighed two pounds fourteen ounces, that his two tiny siblings hadn’t lived and his own survival hadn’t felt in any way guaranteed.
On the morning that she had to take Dixie to Lorne Street Primary School, a well-run Edinburgh Corporation establishment, Kirsten was in a state of apprehension. Her mother, Aileen, had foreseen just how difficult this day was going to be for her daughter and had come all the way down from Shetland to support her.
Aileen took over getting the girls ready for their first day back at school after the summer holidays. This left Kirsten to get Dixie dressed. First, she donned his crisp white shirt and tie, then it was time to lift him into short, grey knee-length flannel trousers. While she was assisting him he repeatedly asked her why he couldn’t just go over to the school with his sisters.
‘Darling,’ Kirsten replied ever so gently, over and over again, ‘you are going to school for the first time. All the children in your class will have their mothers with them. Your sisters go to school with their chums.’
When she arrived with Dixie at the school, she was introduced to his class teacher, Miss Elliot. Shaking the woman’s hand, and deliberately looking into her eyes, Kirsten couldn’t help but be impressed. Here, she reckoned, was a woman who was not only very capable and dedicated but also seemed instinctively to know how difficult this day was for Kirsten. She would, without a doubt, strive to assist Dixie to reach his full potential in his first years in school. And so, with bittersweet gladness in her heart, Kirsten watched as Dixie took his new teacher’s hand and sat at a low table alongside his classmates.
On arrival back at her home her mother could see that Kirsten was very emotional. Aileen recalled that when Bea and Jane had started school Kirsten had felt that she was no longer their universe, that others would now also play an important part in their lives. Going to school at five years old, that was the signal for all children that they were preparing to go out into the big world where they would one day make their own way.
Dixie going out the door that morning was even harder for Kirsten because she had sacrificed so much for him. Her whole world revolved around him and to hand him over to someone else, Aileen knew, was unbearable to her daughter. After all, had she not taken up the job with Stella Wise because Stella allowed her to take Dixie with her to work? Aileen smiled. That was all true, but now Kirsten could find work that would fit in with the school day – and she no longer had an excuse for staying in Stella’s employ. Thankfully she could now move to something more respectable. A job where she could hold her head up and honestly say to people what her job was.
But Stella had become rather frail recently and now needed Kirsten just as much as Kirsten had once needed her. To Aileen’s chagrin, she knew that Kirsten would remain ever so willingly in Stella’s employ.
The bond between Kirsten and Stella had begun on that first day at Castle View House. This was because, unlike the previous job-holder, who had only lasted a week, Kirsten fitted in with Stella’s wishes. Unlike her poor predecessor, who had thought that she could make more money for Stella by cutting down on not only the fees paid out to the girls but also on their food and general household upkeep, Kirsten from the very start had cottoned on to what Stella was all about. She quickly understood that Stella, although appearing eccentric bordering on bizarre, was a shrewd businesswoman. Yes, she was involved in a murky trade, but Stella tried to give her girls, her most valuable asset, good and fair conditions of employment. What she wished to achieve was that her working girls were the best in the trade. And so they had to know that they were appreciated and that their well-being was of importance. This being the case, she made sure her employees had regular medical check-ups and saved some of their earnings so that they would be able to leave the trade when they got better opportunities. She also insisted that the girls did not share their wages with any man. If she found out that they did, she would dismiss them on the grounds of gross misconduct.
Kirsten’s view was that prostitution should not happen. But she also realised that it seemed to have always existed, since time began. If it wasn’t going to go away, then surely Stella’s approach was the correct one.
Kirsten, whose working hours were 9.30 a.m. until 1.30 p.m., had been working with Stella for six months before she came into contact with any of the girls.
She would always remember meeting Marigold Thomas, Stella’s right-hand evening manager. Marigold was a statuesque lady of mixed race. Kirsten noted that her beautiful black hair was always swept up and held in place by two diamante-adorned combs. Her hair, however, although lovely, was not her main attraction. It was her soft, twinkling brown eyes that mesmerised you. Kirsten also thought that she must be a very warm person because the girls always turned to her if they had an issue to resolve. This estimation of Marigold was confirmed when Stella confided to Kirsten that, although Marigold was a working girl herself, she could rely on her to shepherd the other staff on duty. Under her watch, Marigold would not tolerate any of her charges to be abused or ill-treated.
Kirsten realised that Marigold, like Stella herself, accepted that their trade was, or could be, fraught with danger, but insisted there were standards they would always maintain.
Naturally, Kirsten wondered why Marigold, who appeared to have so much going for her, had chosen prostitution. Marigold herself was tight-lipped as to why she earned her living the way she did. There were reasons, but these were only known to Marigold.
*
Marigold’s Story
Marigold’s mother, Trudy, to her parents’ disgust, had fallen in love when she was just nineteen with Ahmad, a stately Nigerian student. Ahmad, who was studying medicine at Edinburgh University, appeared to be brilliant. First in his class, he was, at all his studies. Unfortunately, his memory did not match his intellectual ability. Thus it was that somehow he forgot to mention to Trudy that, on completion of his studies, he would be returning home to Lagos, Nigeria, where he would be resuming marital bliss with his wife.
Admitting to her parents that she was pregnant by Ahmad was something for which Trudy would require courage. Unfortunately, this mettle evaded her. But then how many people would be brave enough to tell Bible-punching Alexander Thomas that he was about to become the grandfather of a mixed-race child? After all, Alexander, who would swear he was not racist, knew that his blue-eyed saviour was born in Bethlehem, with skin as white as the driven snow.
Knowing well how her father would react to her news, Trudy, who worked in Edinburgh as an auxiliary nurse, decided not to return to her home in Bathgate to await the birth of her child. The only alternative she could see was to go to Leith and find lodgings. Why Leith? Well, she had been led to believe that Leith residents were more accommodating and tolerant. Once in Leith, Trudy had been immediately befriended by Maggie Sibbald. Maggie, a forty-year-old matriarch, at once guessed that Trudy was pregnant. Like she would have done for one of her daughters, she suggested that Trudy could either go to an unmarried mother’s home or stick it out in Leith, where she would take care of her.
Naturally Trudy opted for Maggie’s assistance, and so the months passed before Marigold made her spectacular entrance into the world. There was no doubt that everyone who looked at her could see that she was a very beautiful child. However, everyone could also see that, with the child being mixed race, she would, even in Leith, have a difficult time.
Marigold did indeed have a difficult childhood. And these difficulties were because her mother yearned to be married and was always looking for a suitable mate. Trouble was, she was not a good judge of character and always seemed to be exchanging one unpleasant or abusive partner for another.