A Silver Lining

by Anne Douglas

  ‘I shouldn’t bank on it,’ said Vi shortly. ‘Dad shows no sign of coming round to things.’

  ‘We’ll just have to be patient. The good thing is that he does like Allan really and, remember, Allan is our landlord. Dad won’t want to fall out with him.’ May began to gather up the teacups. ‘Look, I must get to bed – I’ll just take these away. Goodnight, girls.’

  ‘Poor May,’ said Vi, standing up and yawning. ‘She’s putting a good face on it but she knows there’ll be trouble if she and Allan get serious. Thank the Lord I’ve nothing like that to worry about.’

  ‘Nor me,’ said Jinny promptly, at which Vi gave her another of her amused looks.

  ‘Aren’t you forgetting Herr Whats-his-name? Don’t look so embarrassed – I can tell you’re interested.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’ Jinny flared, jumping up and making for the door. ‘You just like to tease, eh? I don’t know why.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Vi. ‘Honestly, I don’t mean to upset you. I won’t say another word.’

  ‘Thank you!’

  ‘Friends again?’

  ‘Of course. As long as you forget about Mr Linden.’

  ‘Wiped clean from my mind! cried Vi, as they put the light out and left the living room.

  But not from mine, thought Jinny with a sigh as she made her way into the bathroom. Only Vi needn’t know that.

  Eleven

  Friday. Wages day. For Jinny it was a day to enjoy, when she could make her rounds of the Comrie shops and the Princes Street café, as well as the bakery at Broughton Street, bringing the staff what they wanted and being welcomed on all sides.

  ‘Here she is, then, good old Jinny! What have you got for us this week, then?’ the bakers would cry. ‘Our overtime gone up, has it? No’ taken too much off, have you?’

  ‘Everything’s just as it should be,’ she would always answer, smiling, and feel a wonderfully warm feeling inside at the sight of all the cheerful faces.

  Actually, not all the bakers would be there. Those on the first shift who started work at four a.m., would have already gone off duty after sending their new loaves and rolls for early delivery in the van driven by cheerful, ginger-haired Terry Brown. But there would still be plenty of activity going on in the delicious-smelling bakery, as Jinny always liked to see. Men kneading, slapping and rolling out dough, or preparing cakes in the electric mixing machine; women icing and decorating fancies and large fruit cakes.

  On that Friday morning in cold November, when Jinny arrived at the bakery, all her intentions of being cool with Viktor intact, she found Terry Brown back from his first deliveries, smoking a cigarette outside the door.

  ‘Hallo, Jinny!’ He gave her his usual grin. ‘Want your lift over town?’

  ‘Oh, yes, please! I’ll just find Mr Whyte and give him the wages and then I’ll be with you.’

  ‘No’ forgetting mine, eh?’

  ‘Have it right here.’

  Hurrying on into the bakery, Jinny returned the usual greetings with Alf, Ronnie and Bob loading up the big ovens set into the wall, and waved to Trixie and Norah, both attractive forty-year-olds who’d worked for Mr Comrie since leaving school, though Senga, the young trainee, didn’t seem to be in sight. And nor was Viktor Linden.

  ‘Mr Whyte around?’ Jinny called, wondering where Viktor might be. Wasn’t he supposed to be baking his own wonderful cakes?

  ‘Right here, Jinny!’ called Arthur Whyte, appearing from his small office. ‘Good to see you. All present and correct?’

  ‘Yes, except that I haven’t got anything for Mr Linden. He’s not been put on my list.’

  ‘Oh, no, he wouldn’t have been.’ Mr Whyte spoke in a stage whisper. ‘Mr Comrie’s making special arrangements for him.’

  ‘I see,’ said Jinny, her eyes still checking round the bakery. ‘I can’t see him, anyway. Is he in today?’

  ‘Why, of course. He’s over at the small oven with Senga – don’t you see him?’

  Oh, yes, there he was, standing next to young Senga, a snub-nosed girl with a mass of thick brown hair stuffed into a cap, who was animatedly talking to him. Rather pushy, Jinny always thought her, and with a very good opinion of herself, but Viktor, dressed in a chef’s white top and trousers with his hair also covered by a cap, appeared to be listening to her with great interest. Was she explaining how to work the oven? As though he wouldn’t know!

  Removing her gaze from Viktor – who hadn’t seen her – Jinny followed Mr Whyte into his office, where they checked off her list and sorted the wage envelopes ready for distribution.

  ‘Got time for some tea?’ asked Mr Whyte when Jinny rose to leave, but she shook her head.

  ‘Thanks, but Terry’s giving me a lift to the Morningside shop – I don’t want to keep him waiting.’

  ‘All he’d do is light another cigarette.’ Mr Whyte shrugged. ‘And how he and other fellows can afford to smoke these days is a mystery to me. I mean, elevenpence ha’penny for twenty, eh? It’s a lot. Take care not to get the habit, Jinny.’

  ‘I’m far too sensible for that,’ she said with a laugh.

  But when she’d left him to open his office door, her laughter died. Seemed she’d be leaving the bakery with no chance to speak to Viktor Linden when she’d hoped she might somehow make it clear that she wasn’t interested in him. If he hadn’t been so busy chatting to Senga, or, at least, listening to her, she might have spoken to him then, but now it was too late. Better to forget her plan – maybe it wouldn’t have worked, anyway – and just find Terry and head off for Morningside. So she was deciding when she saw Viktor making his way towards her, and then she stood very still.

  ‘Miss Hendrie, how good we meet again!’ he said as he snatched off his white cap and made one of his small bows. ‘I was not expecting to see you at the bakery.’

  ‘It’s Friday, wages day. I always come here on Fridays.’

  ‘You are responsible for the wages?’

  ‘Among other things.’

  Her little laugh was nervous. The one thing she’d wanted was to meet Viktor and convey to him that if he’d seen her watching him it was all a mistake, it didn’t mean a thing. Yet here he was and she had the feeling that her eyes on him were showing just the sort of interest she was so anxious to deny. How had she ever thought she could do otherwise? Her plan had been ridiculous, would never have worked, and all she could do now was be polite and hope he wouldn’t be able to read what her eyes were telling him.

  ‘I didn’t think you’d seen me,’ she said quietly. ‘You were busy at the small ovens.’

  ‘Yes, with the young lady called Senga. Now that is a strange name – she told me it was another name backwards.’

  ‘Agnes,’ said Jinny shortly. ‘It is used in Scotland.’

  ‘Well, she has been very helpful.’ Victor’s smile was radiant. ‘Today, I am to begin my baking and she was showing me the ovens which are a little different from those I know. But I still saw you, Miss Hendrie.’

  Senga was Senga, but Jinny was Miss Hendrie?

  ‘I wish you’d call me Jinny,’ she told him.

  ‘If you will call me Viktor.’

  ‘I’d like to. It’s a name we have too, but spelled differently.’

  ‘And “Jinny” – that is a name short for another?’

  ‘Virginia, maybe, but I don’t know any Virginias. My real name is Jean – which is shorter, in fact, than “Jinny”.’

  They both laughed at that and Jinny would have relaxed, for she felt suddenly at ease with the young man looking at her with such interest, except that she was aware of another kind of interest coming their way. Not only from the bakers, but also from Trixie, Norah and, most obviously, Senga, who was gazing so intently at Viktor! Clearly she was another of the girls Mabel had said would be ‘after’ him. Only to be expected, wasn’t it? But Jinny couldn’t avoid an inward little stab at the thought.

  ‘I must go,’ she told Viktor. ‘Terry’s giving me a lift to one of
the other shops – you’ve met Terry, our van driver?’

  ‘Sure he has,’ said Terry, suddenly joining them and speaking in a very loud voice, as though Viktor wouldn’t otherwise understand him. ‘Is that no’ right, Mr Linden? Everything OK with you? Finding your way around?’

  ‘Yes, indeed, thank you,’ Viktor replied politely. ‘Everyone is being very kind.’

  ‘That’s the ticket, folk are very friendly here. Jinny, you coming?’

  As though I wouldn’t be, she thought, but only smiled.

  ‘Goodbye, Viktor, it was nice to meet again. Good luck with your cake making.’

  ‘Thank you, Jinny.’ He inclined his head. ‘But I think you will soon be seeing what I have made. On Monday, I am bringing my cakes to the café.’

  ‘The café? On Monday? Oh, I’ll look forward to that – I really want to see your Austrian cakes!’

  ‘Jinny!’ Terry said warningly and as she hastily followed him out, looking back once, Viktor replaced his white cap and watched her go.

  ‘Bit stiff, our Jerry friend, eh?’ asked Terry, driving them easily and efficiently across town. ‘All those wee bows and suchlike.’

  ‘Viktor?’ Jinny frowned. ‘I don’t think he’s stiff – he’s always smiling. And you needn’t call him Jerry. He’s not German, he’s Austrian.’

  ‘Reckon they’re the same. Fought together in the war when my dad died.’

  ‘My dad fought in the war as well, and it was horrible, but Viktor had nothing to do with it any more than we had.’

  ‘All I’m saying is that Austrians and Germans have the same ideas. This chap Hitler even thinks the Austrians should be part of Germany, and I bet they do too.’

  ‘I don’t think you can say that. Anyway, Viktor’s not to blame for what other people might do.’

  ‘Viktor?’ Terry gave Jinny a quick glance and grinned. ‘Soon got to know him, eh?’

  ‘Ross says he wants everyone to call him by his first name.’

  ‘Never asked me,’ Terry supplied.

  ‘Look, let’s talk about something else. He’s not even really part of Comrie’s.’

  ‘Only the boss’s nephew! And makes fancy cakes, they say. I can understand fellows making bread, but fancy cakes – best left to women, I’d say.’

  Jinny, sighing, refused to be drawn into an argument, and no more was said until they arrived at Comrie’s in Morningside, where they unloaded trays of small buns and doughnuts and Jinny thanked Terry for her lift.

  ‘Always grateful, Terry.’

  ‘Nae bother, you ken that.’ He hesitated. ‘Look, sorry if I spoke out of turn about Mr Linden, if he’s a friend o’ yours, I mean.’

  ‘He’s not specially a friend of mine, Terry. We’ve only just met.’

  ‘Oh, well, I daresay he’s a nice enough guy – just no’ a Scot, eh?’

  ‘Can’t all be lucky!’ She smiled. ‘See you next week, then.’

  ‘Sorry I can’t take you on to Stockbridge, but I’ve to get Glasgow – need a part for the van.’

  ‘That’s all right. Plenty of trams.’

  Taking the wages into the shop, Jinny found Terry’s words echoing in her mind.

  ‘If he’s a friend o’ yours, I mean …’

  Were other people thinking that, too? Look how the bakery folk had stood, openly watching, as she and Viktor talked together! Her feelings must have been too obvious, then. To Viktor, as well? A little while ago she would not have wanted to think that, but since he had come to speak to her, since she had read something in his eyes, in his manner towards her, she no longer minded. Was it possible that they both felt the same?

  As she greeted Phyl and Sal in the shop and met their usual teasing – had she brought them a rise that week, if not, why not, et cetera – she only laughed and accepted a cup of tea and one of the new doughnuts. It was amazing how much better she felt than when she’d set out that morning, especially thinking that on Monday she would be seeing Viktor again.

  Twelve

  Even if Jinny had not been looking forward to seeing Viktor again, she would have wanted Monday to come, for the weekend had been depressing in the extreme. Josh had shown no signs of ‘coming round’, as the girls had hoped, and as he was at home on Sunday and had seen May go out, obviously to meet Allan, his misery was like a great cloud hanging over Vi and Jinny, who had to go out themselves to be free of it. Not that they felt much better when they returned, for their father was the same as when they’d left him and refused to listen to any arguments they wanted to make on why he should let May see Allan and be happy about it.

  ‘You’re only making things worse for yourself,’ Vi told him. ‘I mean, you might have to accept Allan one day, mightn’t you?’

  Josh raised his shadowed eyes. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Well …’ Vi glanced at Jinny. ‘May and Allan might want to get married, mightn’t they?’

  ‘Married?’ cried Josh. ‘She’d never want to marry Allan! I’m no’ denying that she might want to marry – don’t accuse me of standing in her way – but she’d never want to marry him!’

  ‘Why ever not? asked Jinny. ‘He’s got his own business, he’s got his own house, but the main thing is he’s nice, he’s kind – he’d be just right for May!’

  ‘He’s a milksop!’ cried Josh, rising. ‘He’s got no personality! He’s like a long drink o’ water! I’d never want to see my May married to him.’

  As his daughters stared, their hearts sinking at the way their father was inventing a character that didn’t exist to suit his own ends, it seemed clear that there was no point in saying any more. When he threw on his coat and cap and said he was going out for some fresh air, all the girls could feel was relief, which lasted until he returned some time later. May also returned, and the dark cloud stayed with them until they thankfully went to bed.

  Roll on Monday! was Jinny’s last thought before drifting into sleep, which only came after she’d spent some time wondering how things would be when she saw Viktor and his cakes the next morning – and, of course, had decided what to wear.

  Her new raspberry jumper she’d been saving to wear at Christmas was in the end her choice, though when Monday morning actually came and she arrived in Accounts wearing it, she felt a bit of a fool to be making such a fuss about how she should look to see Viktor Linden.

  It was true, she did feel attracted to him, and had felt a definite interest in herself flowing from him, but where was the point in trying to take it further? Viktor didn’t live in Scotland and would never live in Scotland. Within a few short months would be returning home to Vienna. To picture herself there – well, even her vivid imagination couldn’t take her as far as that! Why on earth hadn’t she just put on her old blue twinset?

  ‘You’re looking very smart,’ Ross observed when he joined her in the office. ‘Have I seen that jumper before?’

  ‘No, I haven’t had it long.’ Jinny played with the papers on her desk. ‘Thought I’d give it an airing.’

  ‘The colour suits you.’

  Exactly her own view. She flushed a little and gave her papers another shuffle.

  ‘Have you seen Mr Comrie yet? He’s coming in with Viktor this morning.’

  ‘Bit early for him.’

  ‘Yes, but Viktor’s bringing in some of his cakes – they’re going to try them out at the shop.’

  Ross raised his eyebrows. ‘You’re very well informed. No one’s told me about this.’

  ‘Viktor told me when I took the wages to the bakery on Friday. I think it had only just been decided. He’ll have been working over the weekend, I expect, to get the baking done.’

  ‘And they’re going to be sold at so much a slice, I suppose? What price has been set?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. I don’t suppose Viktor had even thought about it.’

  ‘Probably not,’ Ross said coldly. He reached for the telephone. ‘I’ll give Arthur a ring.’

  ‘You’re not cross, are you?’ Jinny asked
quickly. ‘It was always what Mr Comrie wanted, to try out the Viennese cakes here.’

  ‘I just like to know what’s going on, that’s all.’ Ross began speaking to someone on the line then put his phone down. ‘Seems Arthur’s on his way here. I’ll discuss this when I see him.’

  ‘I’m sure no one wanted to keep you in the dark, Ross. It’s all happened so quickly.’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry.’ Ross gave a quick smile. ‘Must be that Monday morning feeling, eh? Let’s go downstairs and see if anything’s happening.’

  But Mabel was already coming in the door, her cheeks rather red, her look excited.

  ‘Oh, Ross – Jinny – Mr Comrie’s just arrived at the shop with Mr Whyte and Mr Linden. They’ve got the cakes – just the six – the poor boy’s been working all weekend on them but they’re beautiful! Oh, you must see them.’

  ‘We’re on our way,’ Ross said shortly. ‘Jinny here can’t wait.’

  ‘Nor can you!’ she answered spiritedly, rather wondering at his manner. Usually so easy-going, he seemed to still be in a bad temper in spite of his apology. ‘Aren’t you the one who was praising up Viennese cakes to me?’

  ‘Looks like I’ll be praising up Viktor’s, too. Come on, let’s get to the shop and join the admirers.’

  And admirers there were, standing around in the shop that was not yet open, for not only was Mr Comrie looking down at the large trays containing Viktor’s cakes with the proud expression of a new father, but Mr Whyte had something of the same look and Mrs Arrow appeared astonished and her girls thrilled. As for Viktor himself, and Jinny’s eyes went to him at once, he was standing to one side, wearing his jacket and flannels instead of his baker’s whites, and looking suitably self-deprecatory at all the excitement his cakes were causing. At the sight of Jinny and Ross his smile changed, broadened, and he took a step towards them.

  ‘Miss Hendrie! Mr MacBain! Look, see my cakes – I have them ready!’

  ‘Wunderlich!’ Ross commented with a grin, bending to see the cakes, while Jinny, flushing, joined him, her eyes widening at the works of art, as she judged the cakes on the trays to be.