by Anne Douglas
Table of Contents
Cover
A Selection of Recent Titles by Anne Douglas
Title Page
Copyright
Part One
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Part Two
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-One
Chapter Seventy-Two
Chapter Seventy-Three
Chapter Seventy-Four
A Selection of Recent Titles by Anne Douglas
CATHERINE’S LAND
AS THE YEARS GO BY
BRIDGE OF HOPE
THE BUTTERFLY GIRLS
GINGER STREET
A HIGHLAND ENGAGEMENT
THE ROAD TO THE SANDS
THE EDINBURGH BRIDE
THE GIRL FROM WISH LANE *
A SONG IN THE AIR *
THE KILT MAKER *
STARLIGHT *
THE MELODY GIRLS *
THE WARDEN’S DAUGHTERS *
PRIMROSE SQUARE *
THE HANDKERCHIEF TREE *
TENEMENT GIRL *
DREAMS TO SELL *
A SILVER LINING *
* available from Severn House
A SILVER LINING
Anne Douglas
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
This first world edition published 2014
in Great Britain and the USA by
SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of
19 Cedar Road, Sutton, Surrey, England, SM2 5DA.
eBook edition first published in 2014 by Severn House Digital
an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited
Copyright © 2014 by Anne Douglas.
The right of Anne Douglas to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
Douglas, Anne, 1930- author.
A Silver Lining.
1. World War, 1939-1945–Social aspects–Scotland–
Edinburgh–Fiction. 2. Love stories.
I. Title
823.9’2-dc23
ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-8403-9 (cased)
ISBN-13: 978-1-78010-554-3 (ePub)
Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.
This ebook produced by
Palimpsest Book Production Limited, Falkirk,
Stirlingshire, Scotland.
Part One
One
There it went, dead on time, the One o’clock Gun from the castle sounding over Edinburgh, sending people’s eyes to clocks and watches, making tourists jump and locals smile. Not that there were many tourists around on that November day in 1937, only city shoppers diving into Princes Street stores to escape from the ‘haar’ – the cold, wet mist that had been hanging about since morning.
Glad I’m not out in it, thought twenty-one-year-old Jinny Hendrie, sitting at her desk in the warmth of the accounts office of Comrie’s Bakeries where she was working on staff wages. Maybe it would clear by going home time, which wouldn’t be till half past five, ages away. Why, even tea break at three o’clock was far enough off.
Not that Jinny minded. She enjoyed her work, which was mainly with figures, assisting Mr MacBain who was the accountant in charge, though it had all been much more complicated than she’d ever imagined. Who’d have thought there’d be so much to worry about behind all the lovely bread and cakes sold by Comrie’s, and the superior morning coffees and afternoon teas served in their cafés?
Not caring to make herself hungry thinking of delicious cakes, Jinny bent her dark eyes over the spread of wage packets she was preparing for delivery to the workforce the next day. All would receive cash, herself included, the only exceptions being Mr Whyte, the bakery manager, and Mr MacBain – Ross, as she was allowed to call him – who were paid by cheque. Her job was to make sure that everyone received the correct amount and that their wage slips tallied; the last thing she wanted was for one of the bakers to come round claiming she hadn’t included his overtime.
Oh, my, better check everything again! But she was confident she’d made no mistakes and knew that the bakers and café staff trusted her – even if they did think she was too pretty to know how to count!
There was no doubt that she was pretty, with her dark eyes, her pointed chin and high cheekbones. She wore her dark hair rather longer than was fashionable – but what had looks to do with arithmetic?
She’d always been good at maths at school, and had gone on to more detailed study at a technical college, just like her attractive sister, Vi, two years her senior, who now ran the office of a clothing factory and grew touchy if anyone commented on her looks. But May, at twenty-four the eldest of the three Hendrie girls and a good-looking blonde, liked to say with a laugh that folk thought her just right to work in a West End hat shop. Maybe her sisters should change jobs? What an idea! They were happy where they were and in 1937, unemployment being what it was, if you had a job
you hung on to it.
Accounts, where Jinny worked, was a large, airy room on the first floor of the double-fronted Comrie building at the east end of Princes Street. Next to it was the office of John Comrie, the owner of the business, while below on the ground floor was the largest of the cafés, with an attached kitchen and staffroom, and a bread and cake shop.
The bakery that provided Comrie’s bread, cakes and scones was some way away in the Broughton area, but Arthur Whyte and Ross MacBain liaised regularly to discuss expenditure and the progress of various lines. Heavens, how they worked to keep tabs on everything! And Mrs Arrow, manageress of the Princes Street shop and café had to be careful, too, to keep an eye on sales.
Only Ross, however, was in charge of the complicated costing system that made sure customers got value for money and the bakery made a profit, though he said one day he would see that Jinny had knowledge of it too, which she was pleased about. In the meantime, of course, she had to work on the wages and be sure she got them right.
She rose and stretched, looked out of the window and saw that the haar was still masking the street, then turned her head as the door to Mr Comrie’s office door clicked and Mabel Hyslop came through. In her late thirties, she was thin and narrow-faced, her brown hair rather sparse, and always keen to hear bakery gossip. She was efficient enough, though, working partly as Mr Comrie’s secretary and partly as the office typist.
‘Ross not back yet, Jinny?’ she asked now. ‘Mr Comrie’s going to lunch with someone at two today but he says he’d like a word with you and Ross before that.’
‘Me as well as Ross?’ asked Jinny with interest.
‘Yes. It’s nothing to worry about, just to do with his nephew. Oh, here’s Ross now! I’d better tell Mr Comrie.’
With a quick smile at Ross MacBain as he walked into Accounts, Mabel hurried away while Ross shook drops of moisture from his hat and overcoat and looked across at Jinny.
‘Haar’s no better – I feel I’ve been wrapped in a great damp blanket. What was Mabel after?’
‘Just came to tell us that Mr Comrie wants a word.’
‘A word? Sounds ominous.’ Ross ran his hands through his damp, copper-coloured hair and sat down at his desk. ‘Wonder what that’s about, then?’
‘Just his nephew, Mabel says.’
‘His nephew? He’s not even here. Ah, well, all will be revealed.’
Such a cheerful face, thought Jinny, as she always did when looking at Ross – just the sort of face of a man who would never be taken aback by anything life had to throw at him. Or so you might think. In fact, it wasn’t true. As she’d been told by others when she’d first arrived to work with him two years before, Ross had been taken aback – and deeply grieved – by the death of his fiancée from appendicitis shortly before their wedding. And though he never showed it, keeping his cheerful manner at all times, some people believed he was grieving still. Usually Jinny tried not to think about his sorrow, for that was his business entirely, but just occasionally found herself sensing something about him that made her think she was one of the few people who could see beyond his mask. Or maybe she just imagined it.
‘I’ve done the wages,’ she was beginning when Mr Comrie’s door clicked again and the owner of the bakery – short, portly and in his fifties – came through and accepted the chair Ross leaped up to set for him.
‘Ah, there you are, Ross, Jinny. I’m just off to lunch with my bank manager. Send up the usual prayers, eh?’ Mr Comrie laughed, his narrow blue eyes crinkling in his heavy face. ‘Just want to tell you that we’ll be having a new man here from Monday next – my nephew, Viktor Linden, my sister’s boy from Vienna.’
Vienna? Jinny’s dark eyes widened. She vaguely remembered hearing that Mr Comrie’s sister had married an Austrian and moved from Edinburgh years before, and that there was a nephew. But why should he be coming as a new man here? Did Mr Comrie mean he was coming to work?
It was Ross who put the question. ‘Mr Comrie, that’s very interesting news. Will Mr Linden actually be working here, then?’
‘Of course, of course. He’s only twenty-five but he’s a very experienced confectioner. His father owns a splendid Viennese cake shop – what they call a Konditorei – and my sister tells me that Viktor’s quite the star.’
‘And he’s coming here?’
‘To visit Edinburgh again – he hasn’t been here since he was a boy – and to see how we operate and get some experience of other systems. I also want him to make us some of his wonderful cakes. Torten, as they call them.’ Again, Mr Comrie laughed. ‘But of course he won’t be staying long – a few months at most.’
‘We’ll make him very welcome,’ Ross declared. ‘I’m sure all the staff will be very interested to meet him. We’ve all heard about Austrian cakes.’
‘Indeed. Well, I’ll leave it to you to inform the staff, and I’ll introduce him on Monday morning. No need to worry about his English – he’s bilingual. My sister, Clara, has seen to that. Now, I must hurry. Can’t keep the bank manager waiting!’
When their boss had rushed out, Ross and Jinny exchanged looks.
‘Well, that’s something new,’ Ross commented, sitting down again at his desk. ‘It will be good to see some of those amazing Austrian cakes being produced here.’
‘Why are they so wonderful? We make lovely cakes ourselves – aren’t we famous for them?’
‘Of course, but these are different.’ Ross was laughing. ‘I must sound like a greedy schoolboy, but I went for a walking tour once in Austria and I’ve never forgotten trying their pastries and cakes when we finished up in Vienna. Chocolate, marzipan, nuts, layers of cream, raspberries—’
‘Oh, stop, you’re making me hungry!’ cried Jinny, joining in his laughter. ‘Think I’ll put the kettle on.’
What an interesting bit of news, she thought as she set out cups and gave Mabel a call. Just fancy, a chap from Vienna working at Comrie’s! All she knew about the Viennese was that they danced Strauss waltzes and made delicious things to eat, but now she would find out much more. Depending on what the new fellow was like, of course, and whether he was friendly or not. Anyway, he’d be something to tell her sisters at home about. They always liked to talk over their news at teatime.
Two
The Hendrie girls and their father, Joshua, lived over a watchmaker’s shop in Fingal Street, off the Lothian Road. Josh, as he was usually called, worked as a scene-shifter at the nearby Duchess Theatre – a job he loved, having always had an interest in the theatre but ‘not cut out’, as he would say with a grin, to be an actor. Working with the sets, breathing in the atmosphere of the stage and mixing with the cast was the next best thing, and in the years following his dear Etty’s death his work had helped him to get over the bad times.
Not as much as his girls had helped, of course. Sometimes he almost came out in a cold sweat when thinking what his life would be without them, for now that Etty’d gone they were everything to him. Such lovely girls, all of them, whose only thought was to make him happy, to make up as best they could for their mother’s death. If they were ever to leave him, what would he do? But there was no sign of that at present, thank God.
There was only one thing he wished might be different about them: that they would feel as he did about the stage. They had the looks and the intelligence – they could have been stars, he was sure of it – but no, they wouldn’t even give it a try. What a shame, eh?
‘Honestly, Dad, can you see us dressing up and spouting all those lines!’ Vi had cried, and May had shaken her lovely fair head while Jinny had laughed. When he’d said their mother would have liked it for them, their faces had changed and sadness appeared. Ma would have wanted them to be happy doing what they thought best for themselves, they told him, and with that he could say no more. Seemingly they were as happy as they could be, in the circumstances.
Coming home that evening through the last remnants of the haar, Jinny was herself thinking her family was a happy one. Even
though Ma was no longer with them and they missed her still, the girls had all tried to keep their home as she had made it, and felt, especially when they came back after work, that they’d succeeded. All right, nobody claimed there weren’t arguments, especially with Vi around, but they never lasted long. The girls soon made up and were content.
‘Evening, Jinny,’ called Allan Forth, the watchmaker, who was also the Hendries’ landlord, as Jinny approached the side door that led up to the flat. ‘Not been too bright today, has it?’
He was just locking up for the night, having closed the shutters on his windows full of clocks, watches, tankards, toast racks, lockets and necklaces, for in addition to his watch-making and mending business, he sold a variety of merchandise suitable for presents. Though Jinny often wondered how much of it he sold in these difficult times.
Still, he seemed to keep the shop going and to look after the bungalow in the suburbs that had been his parents’ after they’d left the flat the Hendries now occupied. And Allan had never put up the rent of that flat, which was very reasonable – maybe because originally it was his father who’d been the landlord and he’d been a pal of Josh’s at the bowling club. Now he was dead, his wife too, and it was tall, grey-eyed Allan who was their landlord. No changes had been made, though, even if he was not a particular friend of Josh’s as his father had been. More likely he was a friend of May’s, thought Jinny with a smile – or wished he were.