After You've Gone

by Joan Lingard

  ‘London?’

  ‘She thinks it would broaden my sights,’ he said awkwardly.

  ‘But that would cost more.’

  ‘An aunt of Mother’s down in Devonshire has died and left her some money.’

  ‘Oh I see.’

  ‘But I don’t want to leave Edinburgh, Willa. And you!’

  ‘It would be a big opportunity for you, though.’

  ‘Well, I suppose.’

  ‘Could you get into university, just like that?’

  ‘A cousin of Mother’s is a history don in London.’

  Of course, thought Willa, if you have the right connections then doors will open for you and there is always the chance, if you’re hard up, that an ancient, unmarried relative whom you may seldom have seen and care little about will die and leave you her fortune and you won’t even have to grieve as you scarcely knew her. They seemed to be women, these relatives, more often than men. Willa had gleaned her knowledge about such things from her reading of books. Books, especially novels, had taught her a great deal. They had taken her into many different worlds and into different levels of society.

  ‘I haven’t decided yet,’ Richard stressed. ‘I’d miss you! Terribly. But if I do go it would only be for a few weeks at a time. The terms are short. And I’d write to you every single night, I promise you I would.’

  But what would she do in the meantime? Stay with Tommy’s mother and collect Richard’s letters at the post office, secretly, shoving them into her bag, glancing over her shoulder like a thief, hoping not to be seen by Mrs Cant or Elma, who might well be standing at the counter?

  ‘You could come with me!’

  ‘How?’ She shook her head. ‘Richard, you know it would all be too difficult.’

  ‘No, I do not, Willa!’ He stopped and turned her round to face him. ‘I’m deadly serious about this. If we want to be together enough we can find a way. We will find a way. Believe me!’

  ~ 24 ~

  Buenos Aires, Argentina

  24th August, 1924

  Dear Willa,

  We have just docked after a very difficult 12-day voyage, the worst trip of the cruise. On Tuesday 12th at noon we were abreast of Huaflo Island and at 10.30 p.m. ran into a ferocious gale. The sea swamped the quarterdeck and our waist was awash no matter how we maintained our speed. On Thursday we were due at the Magellan Strait but we could not see the entrance so the admiral decided that we should sound the horn. Unfortunately we were unable to get into Puula Arenas for our two-day scheduled visit. We heard the people were extremely disappointed.

  ‘What a shame,’ said Elma. ‘I suppose it’ll be a while till they’re back there again?’

  ‘If ever,’ said Willa. ‘The fleet couldn’t go on a junket like that very often.’

  ‘It must be costing a pretty penny,’ said Elma.

  ‘Just as well Ina’s not here,’ said Bunty. ‘She’d be imagining them all at the bottom of the ocean.’

  They were sitting in Bunty’s back room, the three of them, and Malcolm. It was not often that Elma called in at the shop. They thought she suspected that Gerry was still involved with Mrs Mooney. She’d come in asking in an offhand way if they’d seen him recently and if they’d thought he was looking well. She was worried about him, was wondering if she should get the doctor to take a look at him. She’d hung around for an hour, which was not like her, and then Sandy had brought the post. Every time the shop door pinged open they were on edge in case Maureen would walk in.

  When Willa finished reading the letter she was going to go round and talk to Ina. Things had come to a head at Maureen’s. After Malcolm had broken a blue and white ashet and a prized Chinese vase that her brother had brought back from the Far East, she had said, very nicely, to Willa, ‘I’m terribly sorry, dear, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Daffy’s not too happy with the wee boy always after him. I hate doing this—’

  Willa had interrupted her. ‘No, I’m sorry, Maureen. We shouldn’t have stayed so long, I know that. I’m really grateful to you. And I’m terribly sorry about the vase. And Daffy.’

  She had made another attempt at finding a room but they were either in a deplorable state or landladies didn’t want small children. She’d gone to one earlier that morning where a family had offered to take them in but it would have meant sharing a room with two of their children. They had eight in all and were obviously trying to rent out the space because they were so hard up.

  Buenos Aires is a delightful city with fine avenues and boulevards. In the park are to be found a zoo, an aquarium, a motor track, flying grounds and boating lakes, in one of which black swans are to be seen swimming, and the other white. It’s quite a sight. On weekends the park is thronged with fashionable people, of Spanish, Italian, British and American stock, with the original Indian element so small as to be scarcely noticeable.

  ‘I don’t suppose they walk in the park,’ said Willa. ‘The Indian element.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t they?’ asked Elma.

  ‘I think they might be living in the slums.’

  ‘Tommy hasn’t said anything about slums.’

  He’d said nothing about slums in any of his letters but then they wouldn’t have been taken on motor trips round those. Only the best for the boys in blue!

  ‘Where is that place, Willa?’ asked Elma. ‘I’m a bit lost.’

  ‘South America. The east coast. They’ve been down the west coast already and now they’re coming up the other side.’

  ‘They can’t have many places left to go to,’ said Elma.

  ‘Not many,’ agreed Willa.

  It was nearing the middle of September.

  ‘Look what he’s doing!’ cried Elma.

  Willa jumped up to rescue Bunty’s handbag from Malcolm, who was staggering around on two feet now, unaided. He was about to be one year old. ‘Give that to Mummy! Oh heavens, Bunty, he’s had your powder compact! What a mess.’

  ‘My fault,’ said Bunty, retrieving the bag. ‘I should have known better. You have to stay a step ahead of this lad.’

  Willa wiped the orange-coloured powder off Malcolm’s face and gave him an old magazine as a diversion.

  ‘Your daddy will be coming home soon,’ Elma told him. ‘He won’t be wanting to see you covered in ladies’ powder, no, he will not! He’d say you were a naughty boy.’

  Malcolm was more interested in ripping apart the magazine than in listening to what his Great-aunt Elma had to say. Willa longed for the time when he might start to be creative, build things, draw pictures instead of scribbling on walls whenever he managed to pick up a pencil. She had to be extra careful about leaving books lying around. He had torn up one library book and been astounded when his mother had screamed at him. ‘You’re not allowed to destroy books!’ His bottom lip had trembled and then a flood of tears had followed. She had comforted him, realising he was too young to understand and knowing that she had overreacted. She’d then had to go up to the library and pay for the replacement of the book.

  Cafés are numerous and comfortable, tastefully decorated, many with excellent bands. We have frequented a fair number, passing delightful evenings in pleasant company. Life in Brazil is a lot more relaxed than in Scotland.

  ‘Isn’t that where they’re tango mad?’ said Bunty, swaying her hips. ‘And the men like to dance with a rose between their teeth.’

  ‘That could be dangerous,’ said Elma.

  ‘Life’s dangerous, Elma,’ said Bunty, making her sister sniff. ‘Safer being dead. I like South American dances myself. They’re more fun than slow waltzes. More sexy.’

  One night Willa, desperate to go dancing to the sound of a big band again, had asked Richard to take her. ‘Let’s risk it!’ she’d said. They’d gone to the Marine Gardens Ballroom in Portobello where they’d seen no one they knew and danced the night away while Bunty had looked after Malcolm.

  We had an interesting visit to one of the largest beef factories in the world. Nothing is wast
ed. From the time the bullock is killed to its being canned only an hour has passed.

  ‘Gerry would be interested in that,’ said Elma. ‘Did you say you had seen him yesterday?’

  ‘He was in for a paper,’ said Bunty.

  ‘He didn’t happen to mention where he was going, did he?’

  ‘There was a queue in. I’d no time to talk.’

  ‘The Crown Prince of Italy was visiting at the same time as Tommy,’ said Willa, scanning the rest of the letter. ‘They held a ball in his honour. The Crown Prince, that is.’

  ‘Imagine our Tommy rubbing shoulders with royalty,’ said Elma.

  ‘I doubt he’d have been invited to the balls,’ said Willa. ‘The admirals maybe, but not a Yeoman of Signals. I expect he’s been to plenty of other dances though, with raven-haired, black-eyed señoritas.’ She no longer cared. She wished he would jump ship with one of them and run off into the jungle.

  ‘I can see him with a rose between his teeth,’ said Bunty. ‘He’d look the part.’

  ‘That’s one thing about Gerald,’ said Elma, ‘he wouldn’t go for that. He’s got more common sense.’

  The shop door pinged and they heard Richard’s voice. ‘Anybody in?’

  Willa felt her face heating up. Bunty left the room at once, closing the door behind her. A murmur of voices ensued and then she came back, alone. She and Willa exchanged glances.

  ‘A customer?’ asked Elma.

  ‘Aye,’ said Bunty. ‘He was wanting The Scotsman. Tommy got anything else to say, Willa?’

  ‘They’re off to Rio de Janeiro next,’ said Willa, folding up the letter. ‘Brazil.’

  ‘It wasn’t Gerald, was it?’ asked Elma.

  ‘Who?’ said Bunty.

  ‘The customer?’

  ‘Of course not. If it was I’d have asked him in, wouldn’t I, to join the party?’

  Elma said she’d better be getting home to make his tea. ‘He’s going to some sort of event for master butchers this evening. It’s not a do for wives.’ She left.

  ‘I daresay it’s not,’ said Bunty. ‘Poor thing. Still, what she doesn’t know doesne hurt her.’ She took a piece of a paper out of her pocket and gave it to Willa.

  Can I see you this evening? I’ll come round to Mrs Mooney’s about 8 o’clock. Love Richard xxx

  Willa put it in her bag alongside Tommy’s letter.

  ‘Will you be all right with Malcolm for an hour, Bunty?’

  ‘No bother. Good luck!’

  Willa pulled the bell and immediately wondered if she should turn and run. Then the door opened and there stood Ina in her slippers, her body slack, which meant the stays would be up on the pulley.

  ‘Hello,’ said Willa.

  ‘It’s you.’

  ‘Can I come in?’

  Ina stood back and allowed her to enter. They went into the kitchen.

  ‘Want a cup of tea?’

  ‘All right. Thanks.’ At least it was an offering.

  The tea made, they sat down opposite each other

  ‘How’s the wee one?’ asked Ina, a catch in her throat.

  ‘He’s fine.’

  ‘He’ll be walking?’

  ‘He is. He’s a menace on two legs!’

  ‘I thought he’d walk early. Tommy did.’ Another catch. ‘How’s Tommy?’

  ‘He’s well. Sends his love.’

  ‘He never forgets his mother.’

  They drank their tea and then Ina said, ‘I’ve missed you and the bairn.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Willa, I’d like you to come back!’

  Willa looked up from her cup.

  ‘I’ll not interfere any more, I promise I won’t. I’m sorry if I butted in too much. It was only, well, it was only that I loved the wee boy so much, from the minute I set eyes on him.’

  Willa had never imagined she would see Ina shed a tear. She got up and put an arm round her shoulder.

  ‘I know you did.’

  ‘But it was wrong of me to come between a bairn and his mother. By the way, the children have been taken away next door, into care. Poor wee souls.’

  ‘Poor Mrs MacNab,’ said Willa.

  ‘Aye.’ Ina sighed. ‘She’s no had much of a life. He was knocking her about again and she just fell apart. She’s in the hospital and he’s in the jail.’

  What a mess, thought Willa.

  After another pot of tea it was agreed that she and Malcolm should return the next day. Going down the stairs on her way out she was not so foolish as to think that Ina would keep totally to her promise, but if she were to go too far on any occasion she might pull herself up and remember that she had made one.

  Maureen was going out for the evening. The flat smelt of gardenia bath salts and perfume.

  ‘Can you do me up the back of my dress, love?’

  Willa obliged. The dress was a sheath of orange silk as far as the hips after which it flared out to allow the wearer’s knees to move. Maureen was going dancing at the Palace Ballroom at the foot of Leith Walk. Willa was envious.

  ‘Pity you can’t come with us,’ said Maureen.

  Gerry called for her at a quarter to eight. He smelt of aftershave lotion and he had on his best suit and was carrying his trilby in his hand. In the daytime, for work, he wore a flat cap, which Elma hated. She considered it ‘common’.

  ‘Have a good time,’ said Willa.

  They departed, Maureen on Gerry’s arm, as they went down the stairs.

  Maureen had been talking about selling up and going to live in Dublin. Would Gerry go with her? Would she want him to?

  At eight, Richard came.

  ‘Baby sleeping?’

  ‘Sound.’ One good thing that resulted from Malcolm’s hectic daytime activity was that he slept well and long at night, which gave Willa time to herself, to read, or to be with Richard.

  They sat close together on the settee, Richard’s arm round her shoulders.

  ‘Does your mother know you come to see me?’ asked Willa.

  ‘I expect so. Well, yes, she does. I don’t lie to her. I don’t see why I should.’

  ‘She won’t like that, you spending time with me?’

  ‘It’s my life. And she’s got to get used to you being a part of it.’

  ‘She won’t.’

  ‘We’ll see about that!’

  ‘And London?’

  ‘I’m going down tomorrow. Just for a few days,’ he added quickly. ‘To meet my tutor, check out the lie of the land. And, Willa, I still mean it, about you coming with me. No, don’t say anything, wait till I come back.’

  ‘You going on your own?’

  ‘No, Mother’s coming with me.’

  ~ 25 ~

  Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

  South America

  5th September, 1924

  Dear Willa,

  We are glad to be in port for seven days after another difficult voyage. As before we had to reduce speed to avoid damage from heavy seas. It was also bucketing rain with almost continuous electric storms. We should have called at Santos but there was a revolution taking place there. We saw pictures of it at the cinema and judging from those it was very violent, with many women and children killed in street skirmishes. Thank God we are not prone to revolutions in Scotland.

  ‘Thank goodness they didn’t go to yon place,’ said Ina.

  ‘The British Special Service Squadron aren’t stupid,’ said Bunty.

  ‘They know what they’re about. They’re having too good a time to want to get caught up in something nasty like a revolution.’

  ‘Anyway, Brazil doesn’t belong to us,’ said Willa. ‘So they wouldn’t have had any right to interfere.’

  A Canon Brady, who has helped to arrange entertainments for us in both BA and Rio, travelled with the Danae from BA and was very popular on the trip. Even during rough seas he helped scrub the decks and cooked in the galley along with the cooks, performing both duties very well indeed.

  ‘That was nice of him,’ said Ina.

  ‘A t
rue man of God,’ said Elma.

  ‘Can’t see your minister doing that,’ said Bunty. ‘I can’t see him dirtying his hands.’

  ‘Maybe not. But he speaks well and he’s got a great singing voice. People serve the Lord in different ways.’

  ‘Like knitting bootees for African babies?’ said Bunty.

  ‘What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘Nothing. Did I say there was anything wrong with it?’

  We were escorted into the harbour by two Brazilian destroyers and about ten aeroplanes (we wondered if that might be all they had in their Air Force). The scenery was very picturesque, with islands at the entrance of the harbour and Sugar Loaf Mountain, 3000 feet, standing high above it.

  ‘I wonder if it’s anything like Arthur’s Seat,’ said Elma.

  ‘It couldn’t be,’ said Willa. ‘It must be shaped like a Sugar Loaf. Arthur’s Seat looks like a lion. And it’s nowhere near three thousand feet.’

  She had gone up Arthur’s Seat a few days ago with Richard and they had stood on the top in the sunshine looking down on the city spread out before them and over to the blue waters of the Firth of Forth and beyond that the ancient Kingdom of Fife. Willa liked thinking of Fife as a kingdom. It seemed to suggest magical possibilities. Standing up there, hand in hand, they had felt as free as birds who could take off and fly to wherever they wished.

  ‘How could a mountain be shaped like a loaf of sugar?’ demanded Elma, holding her hands parallel to each other to indicate the shape. ‘It’d have dead-straight sides. Nobody’d ever get up it.’

  ‘That wouldn’t stop a mountain being that shape,’ said Bunty. ‘It’s not obliged to let folk climb it.’

  ‘No need to be sarcastic,’ said Elma.

  ‘It must be shaped like a sugar loaf,’ said Willa ‘or it wouldn’t be called that. Here we are! Tommy says that access up the mountain is by a cage suspended from a wire so that the passengers are suspended in mid-air and have a splendid view of the city.’