by Anne Douglas
Eighteen
Absorbed as they were in following the plot, time passed quickly until suddenly it was the interval, the lights were coming on and people were stampeding for coffee, while Jinny and Viktor were blinking at each other and smiling.
‘Enjoying it?’ asked Jinny.
‘I am; it’s just the thing to relax with. But would you care to go for coffee?’
‘Oh, it’s such a scrum – let’s just stay here and have another chocolate.’
They made their choices – caramel for Jinny and marzipan for Viktor. ‘Of course, I am Viennese – we love marzipan,’ he said, laughing.
‘You are half Scottish, too,’ Jinny remarked. ‘Because of your mother.’
‘That’s true. Poor Mother.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Well, she will be missing me. I am an only child. “All she has”, she sometimes says, though of course she has my father and they are very happy.’
‘You’re all alone? I’ve got two older sisters, May and Violet – we call her Vi. But my mother is dead.’
‘Ah, I’m so sorry. That must have been a terrible loss for your family and your father.’ Viktor’s eyes had moved to the curtains drawn across the stage. ‘Is he working here tonight? Behind the scenes somewhere? That must be strange for you, to think of him so close, yet not seen.’
Jinny was silent, bending her head away from Viktor, who, quick to sense a change in her, waited for a moment, hoping she would look at him.
When she did not, he took her hand. ‘Is everything all right, Jinny?’
She wanted to say ‘Oh, yes, of course’ but, raising her dark eyes, said nothing.
‘I don’t want to pry,’ he murmured, ‘but I feel you are suddenly not happy. Please tell me if there is something troubling you – but only if you want to, that is understood.’
‘I suppose I should tell you,’ she said slowly. ‘If – if we want to see each other again.’
‘We do,’ he said at once, and she felt his hand around hers – dry, firm and reassuring.
‘Well, it’s just that after Ma died, my dad came to depend on us – my sisters and me. We made him happy again, he said. But as we got older and, you know, wanted to go out with people, he got upset. He thought we shouldn’t think of it, that home, that the four of us, must be enough. You can guess that there has been … trouble.’
‘I can,’ Viktor said strongly. ‘I understand completely.
‘I don’t see how,’ she said hopelessly. ‘Men are always so free.’
‘Jinny, I understand what you are telling me, because – because my mother is the same.’
Jinny’s eyes on him had widened. ‘Your mother is … like my father? I never would have imagined it.’
‘Of course you wouldn’t have, if you think all men are free. I’ve never been free since I grew up and wanted a life of my own. It’s just because she loves me so much, of course, but whenever I wanted to go out with a girl – and there haven’t been so many – my mother could not stand it. My father used to take my side, but she could never accept that there might be others in my life.’
‘Yet she let you leave her to come here? That must have been very difficult.’
‘It was my father’s idea that I should come, and yes, it was difficult, but in the end, Mother gave in.’ Viktor smiled. ‘So, here I am. With you.’
‘Seemingly, we’re in the same boat,’ Jinny said, trying to speak lightly. ‘I can’t get over it – that you should have my sort of problem.’
‘Not when I’m here, Jinny. Here, I am free to ask you to go out with me.’
‘You won’t mind if you don’t meet my dad? He doesn’t want me to see you but I’m not going to give in to him.’
Jinny looked around at people returning to their seats – it was time for the second act of the play.
‘But quick, before the bell goes, tell me: these girls you used to see back home … were any of them … are any of them … special to you?’
He laughed, delighted at her little show of jealousy. ‘Not one, liebchen, not one!’
And then the bell did go; people hurried to take their seats, the lights went down, the curtains opened, and Jinny and Viktor held each other’s hands tightly and sat as close as they could while still in two seats. Interested in the stage, of course, but so much more fascinated by each other.
After the play they stood in the frosty night air outside the theatre, buffeted by going home crowds, staying close.
‘May I take you home?’ Viktor asked. ‘Do we catch a tram?’
‘No, we can walk down from here to Lothian Road, then turn off for our flat in Fingal Street. You don’t mind walking? It’s a fine night.’
‘I like walking.’ Viktor took her arm. ‘This cold air will do us good – reminds me a little of home, though it’s much colder there, of course.’
‘I expect you’ll go skiing?’
‘For holidays, yes. Many people enjoy skiing and skating.’
‘Sometimes, in a hard winter, folk here like to skate, but I don’t know anyone who’s been skiing. No one can afford to go abroad.’
‘I wish you could come with me some time.’
Jinny laughed. Another impossible wish, that was, on a par with visiting Viktor’s father’s cake shop in Vienna. Best just to think of what was wonderful here and now, which was walking arm in arm with Viktor, feeling him close and knowing he wanted to be with her.
They continued to walk, step for step, down the busy city road lined with people going home from cinemas, the theatre, pubs and late-night cafés, some looking highly respectable, others scuffling and shouting in hoarse voices Viktor couldn’t understand.
‘Neither can I,’ Jinny told him. ‘When they get to drinking the laddies aren’t too clear – maybe just as well! But here’s our turning. It’s quiet here.’
Walking slowly, for their time together was running out, they walked past the shuttered shops and lighted upstairs windows of the quiet street, pausing at last outside Allan’s shop to look up at the Hendries’ flat.
‘That’s us,’ said Jinny. ‘As you can see, we’re over a watchmaker’s. The man who owns it is Allan Forth, our landlord and my sister May’s admirer. In fact, I think they are in love.’
‘And there has been trouble?’ asked Viktor, turning to look down at her.
‘Yes, with my dad. Allan’s father was a very good friend of Dad’s – you’d have thought Allan would be ideal, but no. Dad can’t find a good word to say about him. He won’t even let May mention his name. It makes us so angry.’
‘It is, in fact, very sad. Your father is making himself very unhappy – he’s really the one to suffer.’
‘Yes, but he brings it on himself. Nothing we say can change him.’
‘Just like my mother,’ Viktor said heavily. ‘This is all so familiar.’
By the light of the street lamp, Jinny studied his face, which had taken on a seriousness that contrasted with his earlier look of happy contentment. And there was, too, something in his eyes which seemed to show that in his thoughts he was far away from Fingal Street. Probably he was thinking of his mother, who had made him so unhappy when he’d wanted to see girls. So what would she make of him now, out with Jinny? Well, thank God she didn’t know. As he’d said earlier, in Edinburgh, he was free, even if Jinny wasn’t.
With a sudden movement he seemed to bring himself back to his surroundings and, gently taking Jinny’s arm, moved her a little way down the street.
‘Away from the lamp,’ he whispered and kissed her swiftly and sweetly, releasing her so she could look into his face as he smoothed back her hair and then kissed her again. This time the kiss was long and passionate, but afterwards he stepped away, shaking his head.
‘Jinny, what will you think of me? Kissing you like that the first time we’ve been out together? I really do apologise – please forgive me!’
‘Viktor, there’s nothing to forgive. I wanted you to kiss me. It was lovely.’
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‘But does your father come this way? How terrible it would be if he were to see us!’
‘He won’t be along yet, and what’s so terrible about one kiss? Don’t worry about it.’ She drew him back into the lamp light. ‘Viktor, I’ve had a grand evening. Thank you.’
‘I should be thanking you – it was your treat.’
‘You brought the chocolates!’
‘Which reminds me—’ He put the box into her hands. ‘You must finish them. And now, I must say goodnight.’
‘I wish you could have come in to meet my sisters. Maybe another time … when my father isn’t due back.
‘Another time … all I can think of is when we can meet again. Jinny, when will it be?’
‘Sunday? Sunday afternoon?’
‘When? Where?’
‘The Scott Monument, two o’clock?’
‘Jinny, you are an angel. I’ll see you then, if not before. I may be bringing my cakes in on Saturday. But now, I’d better let you go.’
‘You know the way to your uncle’s? From Princes Street, go to the Queensferry Road, cross over the Dean Bridge and Belgrave Crescent is on your left.’
They hesitated, longing to kiss again, but only waved as they separated, Jinny to go inside the flat, Viktor to walk away fast.
Pray God he doesn’t meet my dad, thought Jinny, for Josh would be sure to guess who a tall stranger would be, leaving Fingal Street at this hour. Oh, well, if he saw him, he saw him. They wouldn’t speak, that was for sure.
‘Had a good time?’ asked her sisters.
‘Oh, I can’t tell you!’ Jinny cried. But she told them, all the same. Or, at least, as much as she wanted them to hear.
Nineteen
While Jinny was getting ready to meet Viktor on Sunday afternoon, and Vi was pulling on heavy shoes to go walking with friends, May was hovering around looking strangely anxious. As she had already told her sisters, today was the day, the time of the decision, when Allan ‘had it out’ with their father, telling him outright that they couldn’t go on the way they were. No, Allan must be accepted, or … what? Well, that was the question.
‘Supposing Dad just says no?’ asked Vi, her head emerging from a heavy sweater. ‘What’s your bargaining counter?’
May sat down on Jinny’s bed, her lovely face so troubled that Jinny gave her a sudden hug, at which May sniffed and looked as if she might cry.
‘Allan says I must leave.’
‘Leave?’ Vi and Jinny cried in unison.
‘Leave and go where?’ asked Vi.
‘Find somewhere to stay – a bedsitter, maybe – and then … get married.’
‘Married?’
Her sisters stared at May, then at each other, and Vi gave a short laugh.
‘Why are we so surprised? I’m sure getting wed is what Allan wants anyway.’
‘But I don’t,’ May answered quickly. ‘I mean, not yet. I need time to save up for the wedding – I want that to be paid for by me, not Allan.’
‘Well, just keep the idea of leaving home as a threat,’ Vi advised. ‘You might find it works. Now, I’ve got to go.’
‘Me, too,’ said Jinny, putting on her outdoor coat. ‘Oh, May, I’ll be thinking of you.’
‘Even when you’re with your Viktor?’ May managed a smile. ‘Maybe, if Dad listens to Allan, he might be easier on you, Jinny.’
‘I’m not counting on it. He’s not been speaking much to me lately.’
Vi, who had left them, came back to put her head round the door. ‘If you want Dad to listen to anybody you’ll have to wake him up first. He’s fallen asleep by the fire. Just thought I’d warn you.’
As soon as Jinny had left, hurrying with breathless anticipation to meet Viktor, and Vi was on her way to walk up Calton Hill, Allan, very pale and stern, arrived at the flat’s outer door.
‘Is he in?’ he asked May, who had flown down to let him in.
‘He’s asleep over the Sunday paper.’
‘I’ll have to wake him up, then.’
‘No, let me.’
Like two conspirators, they were breathing hard as they faced each other, their eyes fearful.
‘Come on,’ May whispered. ‘Let’s get it over with.’
A great Sunday silence seemed to hover over the living room as they approached Josh, asleep in his chair, his paper on the floor beside him and no sound coming from him except a slight whistle as he breathed in and out.
‘So damned peaceful,’ Allan muttered. ‘You wouldn’t think he could cause so much trouble.’
‘Ssh!’ said May as she bent to shake her father gently by the arm. ‘Dad, wake up! Wake up, there’s someone to see you.’
A strangled noise came from his throat and he stirred in his chair. Then his eyes opened. Dark, unknowing eyes stared into May’s face, then recognition came.
‘May? What’s – what’s wrong?’
‘Dad, it’s Allan. He’s come to see you.’
With a cry, Josh sat up straight, his colour deepening to an angry red, his gaze going to Allan standing before him as May moved away.
‘Allan Forth? What the hell is he doing here? I thought I said he wasn’t to enter this house, my home!’
‘Don’t speak about him like that!’ May cried. ‘This is my home, too, and I invited him. We want to talk to you and you must listen.’
‘I’ll be damned if I’ll listen to him!’
Rising to his feet, Josh looked down on Allan, who did not have his height but who was standing his ground, not looking away. As Josh stared at him with flashing eyes, Allan reached across and took May’s hand.
‘Mr Hendrie, do you want to lose your daughter?’ he asked quietly.
‘What do you mean, lose her? May will never leave me.’
‘She will, if you don’t accept me. We want to marry – not now, in the future – but if you won’t give us your blessing, and continue to stop May even mentioning my name and forbid me in this house, which I actually own, May will leave you and we’ll be wed. Do you want that to happen?’
Josh’s flush had died away, leaving him looking white and suddenly much older. For a long moment he held Allan’s gaze, then turned to May.
‘May, this isn’t true, is it? You’d never leave me like that? Leave the family? I can’t believe it. I won’t believe it!’
‘Dad, have you ever thought what would have happened if Ma’s father had refused to let her marry you? Wouldn’t you have wanted her to come to you?’ May’s usually calm face was showing a passionate feeling that Josh did not recognize, that was surprising even to Allan.
‘Wouldn’t you?’ she cried, moving closer to her father. ‘But you were lucky – Granddad liked you, they were happy for you to marry Ma. All we’re asking is that you’ll do the same for us.’
‘Mr Hendrie, you liked my father,’ Allan said urgently. ‘And I know you liked me – until I fell in love with May. You thought I’d take her away from you, but that’s not true. If you’ll accept me she’ll still be a part of the family, and I’ll be a part, too. Isn’t that the way the world works? For God’s sake, Mr Hendrie, let us be happy. Let yourself be happy. Please, give us a chance!’
A silence fell and deepened. Josh was standing like stone, his eyes on the floor, his hand sweeping his brow as the two young people watched, their hands clasped and hearts beating fast, and waited.
Finally, Josh sank back into his chair. ‘I don’t know,’ he began. ‘I don’t know … if I can.’
‘Can be happy?’ asked May.
‘Can … do what you want. It’s too much – to lose you, May. I lost your mother, but I thought I had my girls.’
‘You have, you have!’ May said, her voice trembling. ‘It’s like Allan says, it’s the way of the world. People grow up and marry, but they don’t have to go away. The family grows bigger, that’s all.’
‘I’d have another father,’ Allan murmured. ‘You’d have a son. I promise I’d be a good one.’
‘Oh, God, I don’t know
…’ Josh shook his head. ‘It’s true, I did like your dad, Allan, and I did like you, but to be happy about you and my May … I haven’t been able to face it. I still don’t know if I can.’
‘We won’t be getting married for at least a year, Dad,’ May told him. ‘Everything will just go on as usual, till you get used to it.’
‘Aye, well, all I can say is we’ll have to see how things go. I’m no’ promising I’ll be happy. Don’t ask that.’
‘But you’ll let Allan come here? You’ll let me mention his name?’
Josh, struggling, got the words out. ‘If it’s what you want.’
May and Allan exchanged looks. There was no doubt that Josh wasn’t happy – his tone could only be called grudging – yet it was more than they’d hoped for; it was truly a breakthrough. As Josh sank into his chair and asked if they’d have a cup of tea, it was all they could do not to embrace in front of him, but they were sensible, and knew that what they had was fragile and must be carefully handled. There would be time, later, to celebrate.
It was only when May was handing tea and cutting the sponge cake she often made on Sundays that she ventured, very cautiously, to mention Jinny.
‘Dad, do you mind if I say … about Jinny—’
‘What about her?’
‘Well, she says you haven’t been talking to her lately. I know you’re not happy about the Austrian chap she’s seeing, but couldn’t you, you know, discuss it with her and try to understand?’
Josh set down his cup and fixed May with a dark, brooding stare. ‘Try to understand? I understand, all right. She’s just storing up trouble for herself, getting involved with a foreigner who’s already said he’s no’ staying here. Where’s the future in that?’
‘Maybe she’s not thinking of the future,’ Allan suggested. ‘Maybe she’s just enjoying being with someone different. It’s not often a girl here meets a guy from Vienna.’
‘And when he goes home, she’s quite happy then? When he says goodbye, it’s been nice knowing you?’ Josh gave a hard laugh. ‘You’ve only to look at her, sitting around, all starry-eyed, to know she’ll never be able to do that. She’s going to be very unhappy, I promise you.’