by Anne Douglas
‘I am, thank the Lord.’ Ross’s brown eyes were shining. ‘But it’s just so nice to see you, Jinny, I can’t believe my luck. I came in to see how everyone was and to have a word with Hugh Lennox, but I never imagined I’d see you!’
‘And I never thought I’d see you.’ Jinny’s eyes were as bright as his. ‘I’ve just finished my basic training and I’m on a week’s leave, so thought I’d call in here.’
Noting the interested eyes of Mrs Arrow, and all around her, Ross took Jinny’s arm. ‘We’re a bit in the way here, how about going for a coffee? If we’re lucky we can get one at Logie’s.’
‘I’d love to, Ross, but I was going up to see Mr Lennox and maybe Mr Comrie—’
‘Ah, you can see them later. Come on, we’ve some catching up to do, haven’t we?’
‘All right, then, let’s go! ’Bye, everybody.’
‘’Bye, Jinny, pet, and Ross!’ cried Mrs Arrow. ‘Or, should I say, Lieutenant MacBain?’
‘Lieutenant?’ repeated Jinny, remembering how Ross had liked to call Viktor that so long ago, or so it seemed.
‘It’s only second lieutenant, as a matter of fact,’ Ross was saying. ‘And I’m just Ross to you, Mrs Arrow.’
‘An officer, though?’ said Jinny. ‘Well done, you.’
‘Come on,’ he said hastily. ‘Let’s go to Logie’s.’
Forty-Nine
Logie’s being Logie’s, the best department store in the city, there was still a certain pre-war feel about the restaurant with its white-clothed tables and attentive service – even if the waitresses were either very young or rather old, the coffee weak and there were only biscuits, no scones. None of that mattered to Jinny and Ross as they sat at a window table, ready to exchange news and enjoying being together.
‘This reminds me of when we used to share the office,’ Jinny remarked after the waitress had brought their coffee and shortbread. ‘Sometimes we’d have a good old talk. Usually when you wanted to give me advice, I seem to remember.’
‘That’s all you remember? My giving you advice?’
‘No, of course not. I’m joking. I know we talked about lots of things.’
Ross was silent for a few moments while sampling the shortbread. Perhaps he was remembering that she had rarely taken his advice, except on work matters, thought Jinny. Perhaps he wanted to ask about Viktor, for his advice had often concerned him, but if that were the case he didn’t put his question into words.
‘I did hear you’d volunteered for the ATS,’ he said at last, ‘and now you say you’ve finished basic training. How did you like that?’
‘It wasn’t too bad at all. Och, you should have seen us marching! We thought we were so wonderful – much better than the men, we said!’
‘Bet you were, too.’ Ross passed the shortbread. ‘Like one of these? I don’t suppose they’ve much butter in ’em but can’t expect it these days. Did you hear all Mrs Arrow’s groans? If you see Mr Whyte he’ll bend your ear about shortages as well. But tell me, where’ve you been posted?’
‘Would you believe, the Pay Corps! Just because I used to do the wages! I’m pretty disappointed, really.’
‘Is it a command pay office, or a regimental one?’
‘A command one, near Manchester.’
‘Ah, well, that’ll be different work for you. You won’t be paying out soldiers’ wages, more likely dealing with public monies for military services. Might be more interesting.’
‘It certainly sounds it! Thanks for telling me that, Ross – it’s quite cheered me up. But now you must tell me what’s been happening with you. It’s not hush-hush, is it?’
He stirred his coffee, his face suddenly bleak. ‘No, I think everyone knows about the evacuation of Dunkirk.’
‘Dunkirk? You were involved in that, Ross?’ Jinny’s voice was hushed. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Like most people, she had heard about the chaotic scenes that had taken place after the Allies, who’d been trapped by German forces following the Battle of France, were rescued by all sorts of little ships. It hadn’t been possible to take the men off from the shore, and some had had to spend hours wading though the sea while waiting for an enemy attack which fortunately had not come. But though the evacuation had been something of a miracle, it could never be called a triumph, especially when it was remembered how many Allied soldiers had been killed earlier and how much equipment had been lost. It was no wonder that, as he recalled it, Ross’s face was dark.
‘No need to be sorry for me and the rest of us who were saved – we were lucky. All I can think of is the men who died before.’
‘But have you been all right, Ross? I mean, have you recovered?’
‘I’m fine, and I haven’t been anywhere dangerous since. At the moment, my battalion is stationed in the south but we steer clear of London. That is not the place to be in the Blitz – it’s taking a pasting, all right. But let’s talk of other things.’
With some effort, Ross smiled and caught the eye of their waitress. ‘How about another coffee? Then you must tell me about your family.’
‘They’re very well. Except that May is always worrying about Allan, of course. I’m not sure where he is at the moment. Dad’s working flat out at the theatre which is selling out every night, but Vi is pretty discontented. I think she might volunteer too.’ After a pause, Jinny asked casually: ‘And how about your cousin? Lorna, wasn’t it? Have you seen her lately?’
‘Lorna? No, no. She’s another volunteer – she joined the Wrens some time ago. She’s down in Portsmouth. I haven’t seen her for a while, though she writes now and again. Which reminds me, why haven’t you and I been writing? You must give me your new address.’
‘Oh, I will.’
Fresh coffee arrived and Jinny sat back in her chair, feeling strangely relaxed. In spite of their distressing talk of Dunkirk and the London Blitz, being with Ross again was so very pleasant she could almost say that she felt … not happy, she couldn’t go as far as that, but at least at ease. As though she could put her worries behind her.
‘What are you smiling at?’ Ross asked, smiling himself.
‘Was I smiling? I didn’t even know.’
‘I was hoping it meant you were feeling happier.’
At that, she sat up, knowing that his remark was more of a question – one she should answer. When she did, her voice was low. ‘I still think of him. Viktor, I mean.’
Ross’s brown eyes were steady on her face. ‘Of course. It’s natural that you would.’
‘I think of him because I want to know what’s happened to him, and because he meant so much. But … I don’t know how to put it … I don’t want to sound cold … and fickle …’
‘I know you’re not, Jinny.’
She shook her head. ‘But I have changed, Ross. I never thought it would happen, but I don’t feel the same. Viktor was everything to me, and now he seems … so far away. A sort of shadow.’
She looked away, to the people in the street below, all hurrying somewhere so purposefully, unaware of one another’s troubles – and everyone would have troubles. Oh, yes, today they would. ‘Sorry, Ross,’ she murmured, ‘if I don’t seem happier.’
‘I understand. I’ve been through something of the same myself.’ He raised his hand to the waitress. ‘But let’s not talk of that now. I’ll get the bill, shall I?’
Out in the street, amid all those hurrying people, they stood together, their eyes meeting, their faces serious.
‘Ross, it’s been lovely,’ Jinny told him. ‘It’s a wonderful treat to see you again.’
‘And for me to see you.’ Ross put her arm in his. ‘I’ll walk back with you to Comrie’s, if that’s where you’re going?’
‘Yes, I’ll look in on Mr Lennox – maybe see the bakery folk another day.’
But Comrie’s came into sight too quickly. Although there was no longer any queue to observe them, they had no wish to say goodbye within sight of the shop window, and drew to a halt before they reached it
.
‘Jinny, I was wondering …’ Ross began with an unusual awkwardness. ‘If you’re on leave and I’m on leave, could we perhaps meet again? It would be a shame not to.’
‘I’d like that very much, Ross, but are you sure it’d be all right?’
‘Why shouldn’t it be?’
‘We’ll, you’re an officer and I’m not. We’re not supposed to mix, are we? Bad for discipline, they say.’
‘Oh, come, we’re old friends, we’ve a right to mix on leave. And we’re not in the same unit – that’s when the discipline problem crops up.’ Ross grinned. ‘Same old conscientious Jinny! Look, apart from anything else, we’ll be in civvies – I don’t see any military policeman reporting us.’
‘All right, then, if you’re sure. When shall we meet?’
‘Tomorrow night? There’s a play I wouldn’t mind seeing at the Raeburn – not your dad’s theatre, I’m afraid, but I think you might find it interesting.’
‘What is it?’
‘Time and the Conways by J.B. Priestley. He’s pretty good, usually. What do you think?’
‘I think I’d like to go. Thank you, Ross.’
‘Great. I’ll book tickets. Starts at half past seven – shall I call for you a bit for that?’
‘Our flat’s right out of your way. I’ll meet you at the theatre.’
‘I’ll call for you, it’s no trouble,’ he declared so firmly she didn’t argue.
‘OK, I’ll be waiting, then, Ross. But now I’ll pop in to see Mr Lennox, and then go and queue at the butcher’s – Vi told me he’s got some sausages.’
‘Good luck!’ he called, laughing, and they parted, after a cloud or two, in sudden sunshine.
Fifty
Ross was early coming to collect Jinny, but she didn’t mind. She was ready, anyhow, and had given the living room a tidy up too, which was a bonus.
‘Come on up,’ she told him when she’d run down to answer his knock, and with alacrity he followed her up the stairs, looking well-turned out in a dark suit and carrying a bunch of mixed flowers.
‘Jinny, you’re looking lovely!’ he exclaimed when she’d shown him into the living room. ‘Such a pretty dress! Is it new?’
‘No, it’s ancient – hard to get new clothes these days.’ She glanced down at her rose-pink dress, one of her favourites, which suited her colouring so well, and laughed. ‘I often wear it – you must have seen it loads of times.’
‘Sorry, but that’s me – a hopeless case. Please accept this little bouquet as a peace offering.’
‘Ross, they’re beautiful!’ She took the flowers, putting her face close to smell their scent. ‘Wherever did you find them?’
‘There’s a wee florist’s still open on the south side, and as I couldn’t get you any chocolates, I thought these anemones and such would do instead.’
‘I’m thrilled,’ she answered, feeling at his mention of chocolates another little reminder of Viktor, a memory she quickly put from her mind. ‘Just let me put them in water and then I’ll get my coat, but we’ve plenty of time – you’re nice and early.’
‘That’s me again, always catch the train before the one I want,’ he answered jauntily, his gaze moving round the living room, taking in the well-filled bookcase, the heavy sideboard and chairs, the long window with pretty curtains, and the open fireplace that was so attractive compared with the usual kitchen range.
‘Nice room, Jinny,’ he called as she set a vase containing his flowers on the table. ‘But are you on your own? I thought I might meet Vi.’
‘Och, she’s out at a meeting – or is it her evening class? Vi’s rarely in, and May, of course, doesn’t live here now. She and Allan have a bungalow his parents left him.’
‘And your dad’s at the Duchess?’
‘Yes.’ Jinny had taken her coat from a peg, and smiled thanks as Ross helped her into it. ‘I wish he could have met you, Ross. I know you’d get on well.’
‘Maybe another time,’ said Ross, and as she waved him through the front door which she then locked, she noted his words.
Another time, did he say? Was this theatre outing not to be a one-off? Perhaps he wanted company? He was, of course, on his own.
They took a tram to the theatre in Morningside, as Ross had no petrol for his car, and taxis were mainly for emergencies, as he said with some apology, which made Jinny laugh.
‘Why, we never take taxis, anyway, Ross! What an idea!’
‘Only the best for you,’ he said, grinning.
‘Which is a dear old tram. Look, we’re at the theatre already!’
The Raeburn, where a crowd was already gathering, was a small, old-fashioned building, known in recent years for its adventurous programmes, although, as Ross remarked, the Priestley play might well have appeared at the Duchess, J.B.’s work being so popular.
‘Time and the Conways is one of his time plays,’ he explained when they were settled in their seats in the stalls. ‘He’s written several, all based on the theory that time is sort of simultaneous, the past, present and future being one. I’m not sure I go along with it.’
‘I think I’ve read about it,’ Jinny said, studying the programme. ‘But J.B. Priestley didn’t invent it, did he?’
‘No, that was a chap called J.W. Dunne. Cynic that I am, I can’t help wondering if Priestley just saw the theory as a new peg to hang his plays on. But let’s see what we make of it, anyway.’
When the curtain went up on the first act, set in 1919, with the Conway family feeling happy and optimistic, Jinny found herself thinking how agreeable it was to be beside Ross, different though it might be from the first time she’d gone to the theatre with Viktor.
How excited and strung up she’d been then, when they were watching Agatha Christie’s Black Coffee, whereas being with Ross, her one-time boss and her old friend, was, of course, very different. Everything was so easy and pleasant and in no way nerve-racking. Yet, in its way, it was exciting, too. For this evening out was so much a departure from everything they’d known when they’d worked together, it had rather made them seem different people. Just as nice, though, in the case of Ross, who no longer felt like her boss.
Better concentrate on what was happening in the play, she decided at last, so that she could talk intelligently about it when they had coffee in the interval. But, oh dear, by the time she got to it they’d reached the second act, set years after the first, and everything, it seemed, was going wrong for the characters. How was Time going to help there? Only, as someone explained, if people can see it as something that does not progress in a line but includes the past, present and future, and helps them to overcome their suffering.
‘Gives them a second chance?’ Jinny asked doubtfully when she and Ross were having their coffee in the interval. ‘I must say, I don’t really understand what Priestley’s getting at.’
‘Nor me,’ Ross admitted. ‘Though I’m all for second chances.’
‘That’s because you have a generous nature.’
‘Have I?’
‘Of course. You don’t go in for judging people, do you?’
‘I have my prejudices, all the same. Remember how I didn’t like Viktor at first? And I’d really no reason for that.’
‘I remember,’ said Jinny, smiling a little. ‘Well, maybe that shows you’re human, after all.’
‘Hey, was there any question of it?’ Ross laughed and stood up.
‘There goes the bell. Let’s see how the third act works things out – if it does.’
Fifty-One
The third act, like the first, was set in 1919, with the Conways and others appearing to be in their original optimistic mood. It soon became clear, however, that already there were signs of future disaster, with the play seeming to suggest that it could be avoided if only the lessons of Time could be learned. Somehow, one or two of the characters found hope and it was on that brighter note that the curtain fell, leaving the audience to make of it what they could.
‘Happy about t
hat?’ Ross asked cheerfully as they joined the crowd leaving the theatre. Seeing the look on Jinny’s face, he added, ‘No, can’t say I am, either. Yet it was interesting, wasn’t it? I mean, it gave us something to think about.’
‘Oh, yes, I enjoyed it,’ she said quickly, ‘it was different.’
‘But we still need convincing that Time’s going to make things easy for us?’ Ross put his hand on Jinny’s arm. ‘I see a tram on the horizon. We’d better get to the stop.’
‘You’re coming back to Fingal Street with me?’
‘Of course! No arguments, please.’
‘I’m not arguing. I’d like you to come.’
That was true. Even though Jinny knew the shadow of Viktor would be with her as they made their way to Fingal Street, she was happy to be with Ross.
Outside the flat, there was the usual halting by the streetlight, the gaze up at the windows, the hesitation before the goodbyes. With Viktor, of course, there had been much more – desperate kisses, fierce embraces – all the delight and sadness of a parting between lovers. With Ross, there would be … what? A handshake, a friendly peck on the cheek?
‘Why don’t you come in?’ Jinny cried suddenly. ‘Just for a minute? Vi should be back, and probably Dad, too. You could meet them.’
‘I’d like to very much – if you think it’s not too late?
‘No, no, come on – I’ll open the door.’
Josh was indeed back, sitting in his chair by the fireplace, being brought tea by Vi and just about to switch on the wireless when Jinny and Ross walked in.
‘Hello, Dad!’ cried Jinny. ‘I’ve brought someone to say hello to you and Vi.’
‘Nice,’ said Vi, setting down Josh’s cup and advancing to shake Ross’s hand. ‘So you’re Ross? We’ve heard so much about you.’
‘Groan,’ he said lightly, but his gaze was on Josh who had risen, pipe in hand, to fix him with a hard stare.
‘We got your note, Jinny – knew you were going out with your boss. A Priestley play, eh? We’ve had a couple of his things at the Duchess. Mr MacBain, how d’you do?’