by Anne Forsyth
‘Bet says they’re hoping to come to Kirkton to visit a cousin and maybe we could meet up,’ said Nancy, reading the letter.
‘That would be fun.’ Rona had liked the two lively girls when they’d shared a table in the huge dining hall, and laughed at their stories of life in the linen factory where they both worked.
It would be good, thought Rona, to have something to laugh about. She was still anxious about the future—what would happen when Aunt Lizzie left?
By now the family had met Malcolm. He was a solid, good-natured man in his sixties, who’d taken Rona’s hand in a huge grasp and said, ‘So you’re the niece. My, your auntie’s told me all about you—nothing but good,’ he’d added hurriedly. ‘A fine wee housekeeper, and a real ray of sunshine about the house.’
Rona was quite sure this wasn’t true. She could hardly credit Aunt Lizzie with such a flowery phrase, but it was kind and well-meaning of the good-natured Mr Watt (or Uncle Malcolm, as he’d asked them to call him).
So it was pleasant to have a half-day meeting up with Bet and Isla off the Kirkcaldy bus, and spending the afternoon touring the shops.
‘Not that I’ve a lot to spend after the holiday,’ said Isla, ‘but it’s great to see different shops from home.’ They spent an hour at least, trying on clothes, deciding on a new shade of lipstick, choosing a wooden toy for a small nephew.
Although it was a half-day, they insisted on going to see Maclaren’s. ‘My word,’ said Bet in admiration, ‘did you do the window yourself?’
They gazed at Rona’s display of the shrimping nets and buckets and spades. ‘Are you not the clever one? I couldn’t have thought of that not if you’d paid me a fortune,’ said Isla.
Finally, they sat over ice-creams and coffee in the Cosy Café. Rona remembered with a slight pang how Callum had brought her here and they’d watched the flickering pictures on the television set and how he’d chosen her favourite tunes from the jukebox. A boy and girl affair, she thought. That was over anyway.
‘That was a real good holiday,’ said Isla, sipping her coffee.
‘A lot of laughs,’ Nancy agreed.
‘And quite a few holiday romances,’ added Bet. ‘Even though they don’t last,’ she said realistically.
‘Remember that one, what was his name? Jake. The airline pilot?’ said Bet.
Rona felt suddenly apprehensive. ‘Jake?’
‘You know, medium height, dark curly hair, very smooth talker.’ Bet laughed.
‘I thought you and he maybe,’ her voice tailed off as she saw Rona’s face.
‘Ooops, have I put my foot in it?’
‘No, not at all,’ said Rona hastily. ‘Yes, I did meet him but,’ she hesitated, ‘I didn’t know he was an airline pilot. I thought he was in entertainment.’
‘Is that what he told you?’ Bet shook her head. ‘What a fibber. He told me I’d have a great future as an air hostess. Me? Imagine! I’ve never been in a plane and nothing on earth would get me up in the air.’ She roared with laughter.
Rona was silent for a few moments and the others looked at her. ‘Has he, I mean, has he written to you?’ she asked Bet.
Bet shook her head. ‘No, he hasn’t and I wouldn’t expect him to. Ships that pass in the night and all that. Never mind, it was fun while it lasted and he was a really nifty dancer. What about you? Has he written?’
‘No, he hasn’t. And I wouldn’t really have expected him to.’ Nancy was about to say something and then thought better of it.
As they waved the two girls off on the bus, she turned to Rona, ‘You’d best forget him and his promises.’
‘I’ve been a bit of a fool,’ said Rona bitterly.
Nancy laid a hand on her friend’s arm. ‘Don’t worry, he’s not worth another thought. There’s as good fish in the sea,’ she said, and as she spoke, she thought this was not much comfort to poor Rona.
Well, that’s that, thought Rona as she made her way home. An end to my dreams of being a model. Let’s face it, she told herself firmly, I’m not cut out to be a model. You need poise and personality and I’m just an ordinary girl, maybe with a decent figure, but that’s all. I’d never make a real model.
She thought, sadly about how foolish she’d been believing his stories and promises. She realised now that Jake had never really talked about himself.
And what if he had exaggerated, made all kinds of promises he wasn’t able to keep? It was her own fault, Rona decided, aware that the moonlight and the romantic atmosphere often made things more exciting than they really were.
A pity, she thought briefly, that she had to fall for someone like Jake, when she’d met so many ordinary, but very pleasant young men during the week—young men who’d been eager to get to know her. Romance, she thought, wasn’t always what it seemed.
She pushed open the garden gate. ‘I’d better settle for being a ray of sunshine around the house.’ And she went indoors to peel the potatoes and shell the peas and set the table for tea.
A SURPRISE FROM DOUG
It was astonishing how quickly things happened. One moment Aunt Lizzie was housekeeper to the Maclaren family, cashier in the shop and a familiar figure round the streets of Kirkton.
The next, it seemed, she had gone and was settled in Glenmuir, the wife of a retired businessman. And she appeared to be very contented in her new role. There were letters weekly, detailing her busy life—she and Malcolm had joined the indoor bowling club, she had been welcomed at the Guild, and there were frequent outings.
Malcolm had taken her in his new Austin Cambridge up to Pitlochry for a sight of the autumn colours: they had driven up north and had spent a few days in Banchory.
She was kept busy in her new home, cooking, looking after Malcolm, and taking a pride in cleaning and polishing. She would ask how they were getting on—was Rona remembering that Angus liked porridge done a certain way, and the best kind of starch to use on the tablecloths?
Rona ignored this advice—her father never complained about the porridge. By now she had mastered the skill of making it without lumps. And as for starching tablecloths . . .’ Does she think I have nothing else to do?’ muttered Rona to herself. She had never starched a tablecloth in her life and wasn’t going to begin now.
And be sure, added Aunt Lizzie, you dust the tops of your doors.
Rona gritted her teeth and was glad that Aunt Lizzie was 50 odd miles away. Still, she managed the housekeeping—it was a busy time in the shop and between home and work, Rona had little time for regrets about Jake and longing for someone of her own.
Doug seemed preoccupied these days and, to Rona’s surprise, he began to take much more interest in his appearance.
‘You’d not believe it,’ she told Nancy, ‘he’s really fussy about shining his shoes, and he’s started using brilliantine on his hair!’
‘It’s a girl,’ said Nancy knowingly. ‘These are all the signs.’
She had two elder brothers of her own, so was wise about these things. ‘You wait—he’s met someone.’
‘He hasn’t said anything,’ said Rona, remembering the disastrous relationship with Neela.
‘He’ll be bringing her home one of these days,’ Nancy prophesied.
Rona looked doubtful. ‘Well, we’ll have to wait and see.’ They didn’t have to wait long.
One evening, Doug, looking embarrassed and said, ‘Can you make your steak and kidney pie for the tea on Sunday.’
Rona looked surprised. ‘Yes, if you like.’
‘With plenty of gravy,’ Doug added.
‘Hey, what’s all this?’ Rona stopped wiping the sink in a rather perfunctory way. ‘I often make a steak pie on a Sunday.’
‘Yes, well . . .’ Doug paused then said all in a rush, ‘and maybe a trifle.’
‘If you like.’ Rona was puzzled. ‘Why? It’s not a birthday.’
‘Well, it’s a bit special.’
‘All right.’ Rona had planned to go with Nancy to the pictures to see Roman Holiday. She’d
heard that Audrey Hepburn was wonderful and as for Gregory Peck . . . but Doug didn’t often ask her for a favour—he ate up everything that was before him and often had second helpings.
‘Is there,’ she hesitated, ‘is there a special reason?’
‘I’m wanting to bring someone for her tea!’
‘A girl?’
‘That’s not what I said.’
‘You said “for her tea”. This kind of argument was common between the brother and sister.
‘Well, it is a girl,’ said Doug. ‘And I want her to get a good impression.’
Rona didn’t know what to say. He had only once brought a girl home, and that was a painfully shy, tongue-tied creature, who said only, ‘Thanks,’ or I don’t mind’ and gazed at Doug throughout the meal with an expression of adoration that annoyed Rona intensely. She hadn’t lasted long, that one.
But what about the girls he met at the dancing? Large, energetic girls who didn’t mind Doug birling them round and round, rosy-faced outdoor girls who laughed a great deal. It would be one of these girls, Rona decided.
‘So,’ she asked hesitantly, ‘what’s her name? And what’s she like?’
‘She’s Austrian,’ said Doug, as if the information was dragged out of him. ‘Her name’s Erika.’
‘And where did you meet her? What’s she doing here?’
‘You ask a lot of questions.’ Doug refused to satisfy Rona’s curiosity. ‘You’ll meet her on Saturday.’
* * *
‘How interesting,’ said Nancy. ‘Where do you think he met her?’
‘He’s not saying. I wonder if it’s serious, him bringing her to tea?’
Rona was determined to make a special effort for Doug and his new girlfriend, so she starched the tablecloth and cleaned the silver.
She hummed to herself as she made the pastry for the steak pie. What would the Austrian girl be like, she wondered. Tall, slim and blonde, probably.
As she put the finishing touches to the table that Sunday, and decorated the trifle with cherries and small silver balls, she looked approvingly at what she had done.
‘My, this is a grand spread,’ said Angus. ‘You’ve fair done us proud.’
Rona had hardly had time to think of her own appearance, but she tidied her hair, and changed into her tweed skirt and a new pale pink sweater that Aunt Lizzie had knitted for her.
‘They’re here!’ She hurried to open the door with a wide welcoming smile.
The girl shook hands formally, and Rona had to stop herself looking astonished.
For this wasn’t the young girl she’d imagined but a much older woman—she must be at least thirty, thought Rona.
Doug was clearly very proud of Erika. He helped her off with her coat in a way that made Rona smile to herself—Doug being gallant, this was something new.
Erika’s speech was hesitant and Rona quickly realised that her guest spoke very little English.
‘Thank you,’ said Erika. ‘It is kind of you. To ask me.’
‘Not at all,’ Rona tried to recover herself. ‘We are glad to meet you.’
Where she wondered, had Doug met Erika? They seemed such a strange pairing and yet Doug was clearly besotted and could hardly keep his eyes off Erika.
She was pleasant and wholesome, Rona thought—a clear, fresh complexion and her fair hair done in braids that were looped around her head. She wore a simple dark blue suit and a spotless white blouse edged with lace, and no make-up at all. Quite different from all Doug’s previous girlfriends.
This, thought Rona was going to be a little difficult. She had not expected that Doug’s new girlfriend would speak so little English. So she tried to make up for the long silences by smiling and talking about Kirkton and Fife—she knew very little about Austria, though she remembered school geography lessons about the mountains and the river Danube, was it? But she could hardly keep the conversation going all afternoon by talking about the rivers of Austria.
Father was a kindly and good-natured host, though he, too, was fairly silent. And as for Doug, he simply gazed at Erika with admiration.
‘Please sit down at the table.’ Rona gestured.
‘Can I help?’ Doug leapt up. Rona stared at him. This was the first time he had ever offered.
‘No, thanks,’ she said brusquely and carried in the steak and kidney pie, piping hot and with a wonderful and promising aroma.
‘My, this is a grand change,’ said Angus. ‘It’s usually pies or bridies for a Sunday tea.’
‘You’re doing us proud today, Rona,’ said Doug.
‘As if you usually starved,’ she said more sharply than she meant, as she handed round the potatoes and carrots.
Erika had a good appetite and praised everything. ‘It’s good,’ she said, smiling broadly and Rona warmed to her.
She wondered, though, as she dished up the trifle, how they would get through the evening. There was very little to talk about and yet she was longing to ask questions—where did Doug meet her? How had she come to Kirkton? Where did she work? How old was she?
After tea, Doug said, ‘We’ll do the dishes.’
Rona was so taken aback that she didn’t protest, but allowed Doug to roll up his sleeves and begin washing up, while Erika picked up a dish towel. As she cleared the table she could hear a low murmur of conversation—or at least she could hear Doug’s voice and an occasional word from Erika.
Afterwards as Angus settled into his armchair with the Sunday Post, Doug put a few records on the radiogram.
But even so, it was a long evening as Rona tried to be polite to this smiling, silent girl.
Finally she produced tea and shortbread. Angus yawned, got up and said, ‘I’m away to my bed.’ He shook hands with Erika, said, ‘Good to meet you,’ and made his way upstairs.
‘I’ll see you home, Erika,’ said Doug at last and helped her with her coat.
‘I have enjoyed it,’ she said very slowly and carefully.
‘You must come again soon,’ Rona returned politely.
‘I do not speak much English,’ she said, ‘but Doug, he teaches me.’
Doug smiled fondly at her. ‘You’ll soon learn,’ he said.
After they’d gone, Rona tidied the kitchen finding that the cups and plates were all in the wrong place—that was the trouble, she thought, when you let someone else into your kitchen, but her mind was buzzing with questions. Where had Doug met her? Where had she come from? She was determined to ask him when he returned.
‘I’ll lock up, will I?’ She heard Doug come in, and he put his head round the kitchen door. ‘Grand meal that—thanks.’
‘She doesn’t say much, does she?’ said Rona.
‘Well,’ Doug was defensive, ‘she doesn’t speak much English—yet. But she likes you.’
‘Thanks for that.’ Rona was tired and inclined to be snappy. ‘She’s a bit of a surprise, I must say, after your other girls. Where did you meet her? Where’s she from? What happened to her relatives? Where is she working?’
‘Don’t want to know much, do you? I met her on the ferry—she’s working in the laundry, she’s from Vienna and her parents are dead. That answer your questions?’
‘Well, I suppose so.’
‘And one more thing,’ said Doug. ‘I know she’s older than me, but I’m serious about her, and she feels the same about me. So you’d better get used to the idea. This is the real thing, this time. See you in the morning.’
A MEETING WITH CALLUM
‘I just feel as if the world had been turned upside down,’ said Rona. Usually, she didn’t mind February and was happy to put on Wellingtons and splash through the slush to work, but this year everything seemed to have happened so quickly, first with Aunt Lizzie’s departure and now Doug.
‘What’s she like?’ Nancy was curious.
‘Pleasant, quiet—hard to get to know, I’d say.’
‘Doug seems to have got to know her fast enough,’ Nancy smiled.
‘They met on the ferry from
Dundee to Tayport,’ said Rona. ‘Doug had been over to look at a car. He helped her with her luggage, I gather. And that was that.’
‘How romantic,’ sighed Nancy.
‘I wish something like that would happen to me,’ said Rona. She added, ‘I haven’t been able to find out any more. You know Doug—he’d make a clam seem almost chatty. But I understand she’d been helping a relative in Dundee and now she’s working in the laundry and looking after an old lady. I must say,’ Rona went on, ‘she seems a hard worker. But what her background is, don’t ask me, I’ve no idea. And I don’t think Doug has either. But it doesn’t seem to matter to him.’
‘She won’t be a gold digger then,’ said Nancy.
‘Not if she’s after our Doug,’ Rona laughed. ‘He never seems to have two pennies to scrape together.’
Rona sighed. There was romance everywhere—except in her own life. Even Nancy shyly mentioned the young man she’d met at the badminton club who’d asked her to the firm’s dance at Christmas.
‘I’d like to get to know Erika,’ Rona told Nancy. ‘But somehow I don’t think I will. She speaks so little English, we can never have a conversation.’
But she spoke too soon.
That February was cold and miserable and Rona was a little worried about her father. He worked so hard, up it seemed in the middle of the night to light the ovens, baking the bread—a short pause for breakfast then out on the road with the deliveries. It was a long day and he looked rather tired.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked one evening.
‘Me? Aye, I’m fine. Don’t fuss, girl,’ he said abruptly. Rona didn’t ask any more, but she decided to keep an eye on him.
One day he came home, and though she had prepared a tasty stew with carrots and onions, just as he liked it, he seemed to have little appetite and pushed his plate away.
‘It’s a grand stew, lass,’ he said, ‘but I’m not very hungry.’ A little later, he said, ‘I’m away to my bed.’
When Rona went up an hour or so afterwards, she found him tossing and turning. She brought him a hot drink of honey and lemon and laid a hand on his forehead. ‘You’re all hot, Father,’ she said. ‘I hope it’s not this flu that’s doing the rounds.’ She looked anxious. ‘You’ll stay where you are. I’ll bring you a hot water bottle. And never mind about the shop. I can manage.’