The House on Rosebank Lane

by Millie Gray

  Before she knew what was happening he encircled her in his arms. Passionately, he kissed her inviting lips. She willingly yielded to the moment, but as luck would have it the harsh sounding of the doorbell brought her back to reality. Like a naughty child being discovered doing wrong, she roughly pushed him from her. He caught the look of guilt in her eyes, but something else too – fear. But what exactly was Kirsten afraid of?

  Patting down her hair, she rushed to open the door. There stood Molly. ‘Saw the police officer at your door,’ she stated. ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘Yes, come in. The chief inspector was just delivering some flowers . . . a thank you from the football team.’

  ‘Mmm,’ was all Molly said as she followed Kirsten into the living room.

  The minute Molly entered the room Eddie knew that Kirsten was going to use her as a chaperone. Looking directly at Kirsten, he nodded his indication to her that he knew she was asking him to leave – that already she was regretting allowing him to overstep the mark.

  *

  It was nearly lunchtime when Kirsten arrived at the hotel. Jessie was already in the dining room giving one of the waitresses her order. Kirsten smiled because this was something Jessie so enjoyed doing – being the lady owner and having the staff run hand and foot on her. She, of course, maintained that it was a good advertisement for the business if the guests saw that the owners liked to dine on the premises.

  ‘Join me,’ Jessie said, as she patted a side seat at the table.

  ‘Think I will. I just seem to be chasing my tail today. A breather before I get started in here is just what I need.’

  While they were waiting for their lunch, Kirsten took the opportunity to look at Jessie. She had for some weeks now thought that Jessie’s health was failing. She was no longer the dynamic physical worker she used to be. So hard working she had been in the past that when she rolled up her sleeves she could make mere mortals like Kirsten seem inadequate and pathetic. Those rolled up sleeves made Kirsten’s thoughts stray to when they first started to get the hotel shipshape. It had been a revelation to her to witness the strength of Jessie. Kirsten accepted that her mother-in-law was mentally still as sharp as a needle; physically, however, she was becoming weaker than a baby. The deterioration had started about six months ago but now it was accelerating at such a pace that week by week you could see the further decline. And today, to add to her frail appearance, there was something in her facial expression that caused Kirsten concern. She just couldn’t put her finger on it. It could have been fear, apprehension or deep regret. No matter what it was, Kirsten could see that it was troubling Jessie deeply.

  Before she could contemplate further the waitress placed a plate of soup in front of Jessie and herself. Jessie, as if in a dream, began to lazily stir her soup. Perplexed, Kirsten asked, ‘Something amiss?’

  ‘No. No, not really.’

  ‘Now, come on. I know you so well, what’s up?’

  ‘Nothing other than the girls were saying they got a Valentine’s card from their dad.’ Jessie paused as she now covered Kirsten’s hand with hers. ‘I also got . . .’

  Kirsten spluttered and withdrew her hand from Jessie’s grasp. To stifle her giggles, she then placed her hand over her mouth. After a moment she said, ‘Now, don’t tell me he is so far gone that he sent you a Valentine too?’

  ‘No. Not a Valentine, but a letter . . . a heartbreaking letter.’

  ‘Heartbreaking?’

  ‘Aye, you see . . . Oh, Kirsten, our poor Duncan. My poor laddie.’

  ‘Is he seriously ill?’

  ‘Worse than that, it’s his wife.’

  ‘Is it terminal?’

  ‘No. But she does seem to have changed.’

  ‘Changed? In what way?’

  ‘Well, according to Duncan’s letter, from Morning Star to Shooting Star.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Shot off, she has, and left our poor Duncan in the lurch.’

  Kirsten couldn’t help but burst into uncontrollable laughter.

  ‘Here, Kirsten, what’s been done to my Duncan is no’ a laughing matter.’

  ‘It’s not?’

  ‘No. I mean, have you any idea what he is suffering? His letter says he just got up one morning expecting his breakfast and all he found on the table was a Dear Duncan letter.’ Jessie hesitated. ‘No’ fair to do that to someone, so it is no’.’

  Kirsten did not respond, but as her laughter abated she thought, I wonder if he feels as bad as I did when he deserted my bairns and me? A minute passed and then she again burst into laughter. So hearty it was, that she ended up crying.

  Jessie was so concerned about her son’s dire straits she seemed completely unaware of Kirsten’s true reaction, but she did note her tears. Placing her hand over Kirsten’s again, she forlornly said, ‘Oh, Kirsten hen, like me you are so sorry that my poor son is now penniless and homeless.’

  Kirsten swallowed hard. Trying most earnestly, she was, to control her merriment. Not for Duncan’s sake, but she could see that Jessie was cut up about what had happened and she really didn’t wish to hurt Jessie, who was now brushing away her tears. Kirsten thought she could control herself until Jessie ruefully confided, ‘No’ even got a place to lay his head now, so my laddie hasnae. Kirsten, he hasn’t even got a paillasse to sleep on!’ These revelations about Duncan were all too much for Kirsten. All she could now do to stifle her hilarity was to stuff her serviette into her mouth. ‘And who says,’ she thought, ‘that life doesn’t eventually come around and bite you on the bum.’

  Minutes then ticked by. Neither of the two women spoke. Both were deep in their own thoughts. Jessie, naturally, was concerned about the plight of her son. Yes, he had made mistakes, but he was broken now and Jessie was wondering what she could do to help him get back on his feet. Kirsten was concerned as to what Jessie would do to assist Duncan. It was true that the hotel was more successful and more profitable than anyone thought it would be. This meant that Jessie had been paid back half of what she had put in to finance the start-up of the business. Kirsten too had profited to the extent that, when she was offered the chance to purchase her Balfour Street home, subject to tenant’s rights, she had jumped at the chance. She didn’t even have to ask the bank for a loan.

  She smiled and shivered with delight when she thought how good it had felt that she had squirrelled away enough of her earnings and profits to buy her little Leith haven right out.

  That was then when Jessie and she were on the crest of a wave. Now, though, the worry was what exactly Jessie was going to do to help Duncan. Kirsten grimaced when she acknowledged that her mother-in-law, although a hard-headed businesswoman, could be a pushover when her precious son was in need.

  ‘Thinking of sending him a bob or two to let him get by until he decides what to do,’ Jessie said.

  Kirsten could only nod in agreement, and say a silent prayer that this wouldn’t be the start of her ex-husband’s return into her life.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Four months had passed since St Valentine’s Day. Now that June was bursting out all over and the warmth of the sun beat down, it seemed to cheer everyone. Kirsten felt the light airy warmth had even heartened Jessie. She did seem to be so much brighter now, her wintertime deterioration abated. Really, it was as if somehow she had come to terms with Duncan’s difficulties.

  Dixie too loved the sun and long bright days. Kirsten smiled when Dixie said, ‘Mum, are you remembering that this is my last year at Lorne Street School? Be going to the secondary after the school holidays.’ Kirsten nodded. ‘And you are remembering that today is also our last sports and picnic?’

  ‘Yes, I am. That’s why I have made sure your plimsolls are in your bag along with your packed lunch.’

  ‘Good. Mark and I are going to run the three-legged race together,’ Dixie boasted. ‘Bet we will win.’

  Kirsten smiled. Unlike Bea, who would need the crown jewels presented to her every day to make her smile, Dixi
e’s essential requirements were simple. Porridge with the top of the milk for breakfast, getting to school to play with his pals, and stealing an occasional wee kiss from Rosie – Rosie, whose birthday it was today. Dixie had already told her how lucky she was to be getting the present of a new bicycle from her parents.

  Naturally, Rosie had promised Dixie that he would be the first one to get a shot on her brand new Raleigh. Thinking of this, Kirsten smiled before saying, ‘Now, after you have seen Rosie’s new bike, Jane is going to bring you up to the hotel for your evening meal.’

  Dixie threw his arms around Kirsten. ‘Tell you all about my day when I see you.’ He then stood back to back with Kirsten. ‘See, Mum,’ he laughed. ‘I am nearly as tall as you.’

  ‘So you are. Now, off you go and you can tell me all about your exciting day when I see you.’

  *

  When Kirsten arrived at the hotel, it was busy. But then it was June, and the tourists were very much in evidence. She had just checked up with the reception staff when Jessie appeared. She seemed bright enough, but Kirsten sensed that she was a bit preoccupied, so she was not surprised when Jessie asked, ‘Time for a coffee and a wee natter, Kirsten?’

  ‘A quick one. You are remembering the accountant will be here in twenty minutes for our monthly meeting?’

  Jessie nodded.

  As soon as they were seated in their own office, the coffee arrived. Kirsten had just started to pour out a cup when Jessie said, ‘I am not going to beat about the bush, Kirsten. I’ve had another letter from Duncan. This time it’s good news.’

  ‘So, his runaway wife has reappeared?’

  ‘No. He knows that that chapter in his life is closed.’ Jessie started to rub her hands as she gave a shrug of delight. ‘Kirsten, wait until I tell you. He says he could come back home and help us here in the hotel.’

  ‘He what?’

  ‘Aye, you see, I wrote to him and told him how well we have been doing. Truthful I was with him, and I also said that I am not as able as I used to be. By return of post, Kirsten, I kid you not, by return of post he writes back to say that he could come back and take some of the burden off us. What a boy! What a hero!’

  Kirsten was aghast. She was tempted to shout out, ‘Let me tell you, your boy will only put a foot into our hotel over my dead body.’ But she decided that falling out with Jessie would just aggravate the situation. Better to box clever. Quietly, she said, ‘Are you saying, Jessie, that you would like to stand back a bit and be a sort of silent partner?’

  ‘Something like that. But I do want to stay on living here in the hotel.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I am somebody here, Kirsten,’ Jessie said, almost in a dream-like state. ‘I am the co-owner. I get respect. Never had respect before I came here. See, lassie, try and understand that folks in Leith and Granton just saw me as the miserable old money lender.’

  ‘Hmm. But could you not do like me and buy yourself a wee house? You can more than afford it and that way you could split your time between the hotel and your new home.’

  Jessie shook her head. ‘Naw, I want to stay here until I go out in a wooden overcoat. But I’m no daft, I ken fine that I’m no’ pulling my weight like I used to . . . So I think we accept Duncan’s offer and let him come back as an assistant to you, Kirsten.’ She paused to suck in her bottom lip. ‘Now, I dinnae wish to build your hopes up, honestly I don’t, but he was asking very kindly for you and the girls. Think he still fancies a second chance with you.’

  Kirsten’s mouth was now agape and she could feel her eyes begin to bulge. Anger and panic mingled. Was she hearing right? The man who had left her and her children to fend for themselves was thinking that now she was a good meal ticket he could come back into her life, get his feet under her table! Well, no he couldn’t. No matter what happened she knew she could provide for herself and no way would she allow Duncan to come back into her life, not even as a paid employee of Armstrong’s hotel. It was true that Jessie had worked hard too, and if she wished to give her profits to Duncan that was one thing, but it was Jessie and she who had the partnership. Their signed agreement was that if one wished to leave then the other, after a financial package had been agreed, became overall owner.

  A long silence followed. Jessie was imagining Duncan coming home and how wonderful that would be. She really never had come to terms with him emigrating, but now she was feeling a bit weary wasn’t it just great that he would be back in her life? In her naivety, she saw him reconnecting with Kirsten and the family being reunited.

  Kirsten, on the other hand, was boiling over with anger and trepidation. She believed that she had come to terms with Duncan’s desertion, but the injustice and hardship of it still rankled. As to Jessie thinking that she would welcome him back as a loving husband – never ever would that happen. She owed Jessie, so what she did not wish right now was a blazing row with her – she required time – time to think of a strategy.

  Whatever else, the biggest stumbling block was Jessie. She still had to be repaid the second half of the money she had ploughed into the business – money that Kirsten did not have. She could borrow to buy Jessie out, but by doing that she wouldn’t be able to finance her children’s further education. Her mind was in turmoil.

  Thankfully, she was saved from further deliberation when the accountant knocked on the door. His appointment meant Kirsten could delay saying anything to Jessie until she had time to think things through thoroughly.

  *

  The grandfather clock in the hallway was chiming four o’clock when Kirsten had her next break. She reflected on how, again, the accountant had shown them that the business was doing exceptionally well. Some of the profits would be advancing to both Jessie and Kirsten. Unfortunately, good as that was, the funds being transferred were still a long way short of what Kirsten would require if she wished to buy Jessie out.

  Thinking that Jane and Dixie would soon be coming in, Kirsten made her way into the dining room. She had just asked the waitress to set up a table for three when a white-faced Jane rushed into the room. ‘Mum, Mum,’ she cried hysterically.

  ‘Jane, whatever is the matter?’

  ‘Oh, Mum,’ she gasped, distraught, ‘they wouldn’t let me or Rosie stay with Dixie . . . Mum, they have taken him away.’

  ‘Who took him away? And where did they take him?’

  ‘Ambulance men! I tried to get in beside him, but they said the best help was that I should go and get you.’

  Kirsten flustered. ‘Look, calm down,’ she said, trying to contain the surge of panic rising in her heart. ‘Start again by telling me what happened and where they have taken Dixie.’

  ‘All I know is what Rosie said.’

  ‘Okay. What did Rosie say?’

  ‘Just that she, Dixie and Mark were each having shots of her new bike. Then when it was Dixie’s turn he was racing as fast as he could. Oh Mum, she said he lost control and just seemed to catapult over the handlebars. He couldn’t save himself and his head bounced off the kerb. Lost consciousness, he did, and there was blood. People tried to help him and someone phoned for an ambulance.’ Jane was now weeping tears of distress and horror. ‘Oh Mum, one woman said she thought he was . . . dead. Please God, don’t let him be . . .’

  Kirsten was now hyperventilating. ‘Oh no,’ she whispered, ‘I cannot lose you, my darling Dixie.’ She then sought for Jane’s hands. ‘Quick, Jane, think now, did you hear anyone say which hospital they were taking him to?’

  ‘I think Leith Hospital. The police came. You know, that man who was the chief inspector, but is now the superintendent in Leith, well, he was there and I am sure I heard the ambulance driver tell him that he was taking Dixie to Leith Hospital.’

  ‘You are sure?’ Kirsten called, as she started to race out of the door.

  ‘Yes, I am sure. I saw the policeman take Dixie’s hand in his and he said, “Hang on in there, son.”’ Jane was shaking with sobs, her tears profuse. ‘I wanted to go with him, be with hi
m, but they wouldn’t let me. Why? Oh why? Oh why?’

  The commotion had alerted Jessie and she arrived in the entranceway just as Jane and Kirsten were about to leap out into York Place.

  ‘What’s amiss?’ Jessie called out to the fleeing figures.

  ‘Something has happened to Dixie. Hit his head off the pavement. We are away to the hospital,’ Kirsten called back.

  ‘Maybe so, but you will need your purse to pay a taxi driver.’

  Kirsten drew up sharp, wheeled round and went back into the hotel. She grabbed her handbag before catching Jane by the hand and making off again into York Place. Thankfully Jessie had had the sense to go out and call for a taxi. She yanked open the door so all Kirsten and Jane had to do was jump in.

  Jessie couldn’t help but remember how her husband had died in a similar unexpected, awful accident, and so when she spoke to the taxi driver she alerted him to Kirsten’s urgent need to get to the Leith Hospital on Mill Lane as soon as possible.

  The man then drove off, expertly twisting and weaving his way through the traffic. On approaching the traffic lights at the Pilrig Junction he willed the lights to remain green, but as they ignored his plea and started to turn to red he pressed his foot hard on the accelerator. Kirsten was so immersed in her thoughts, her desperate need to see her son, that she didn’t even hear the horns of the protesting drivers who had to swerve out of the pathway of the speeding taxi.

  On arrival at Leith Hospital Kirsten opened her handbag to fish for her purse. ‘No need, missus, the old lady gave me the fare and more when she hailed me,’ the taxi driver assured her.

  Dashing through the swing doors, Kirsten then bounded up the steps to the Accident and Emergency department.

  ‘I am Dixie Armstrong’s mother, where is my boy?’ she cried.

  A rather over-starched uniformed Sister laid her hand on Kirsten’s arm. Rhythmically patting it she said, ‘There, there, calm down. Getting hysterical is not going to do anything for . . . It is your son you are looking for?’