“Indeed,” said the man. “And which of our beautiful things took your eye?”
“I loved the china you have in the window, with the dark patterned bands and gold trim round the rims, but the gold could be gleaming if it was washed in soapy water. Then it would catch the light in the window and customers would stop to look. And there was a lovely brass plate that would just shine if it were rubbed up with brass polishing paste.”
The man looked at his sister and she smiled.
“Sounds like we have found our cleaner/housekeeper, my dear,” she said. “When can you start?”
Chrissie was overjoyed. She had a job, and moreover a room above the shop if she wanted it. She was not completely sure about that, though. Her father might insist she came home to look after him. Yet she was nearly seventeen. At least she would have somewhere to come to get a break from him.
Her father surprisingly made little fuss about the job. He was glad she was leaving school, having thought it a waste of time anyway for a girl of her station. She was meant to be out working. The wage would always be handy. He was even amenable to her staying over the shop during the week while she was working.
“But I’ll be in by to walk the dog and make the tea, Father.”
“That’ll be grand.”
Isa was not so pleased. She tried to persuade Chrissie to go back to the school and finish her Highers, reminding her of how well her teachers said she was doing.
To her great surprise, her young sister burst into tears.
“I know, Isa. But I’m sick of all the teasing about being a poor scholarship girl. I’ve had enough. And Father is grand when he’s sober but he’s at the drink more now and I’m fed up having to hide away in my room when he comes home from the beer shop and of having to listen to all the shouting. I want a live-in job where I have somewhere to sleep away from home.”
Isa saw that her young sister whom she had mothered since she was a toddler needed an immediate solution to her problems. Reluctantly she agreed Chrissie should try the job.
Very quickly Chrissie was given a free hand at the shop, and in the living quarters, since the brother and sister really had no idea of how to get on top of the chaos. In a few days all the objects on display in the window had been carefully washed, scrubbed or polished and artistically replaced in a tasteful display, which now caught the eye of passers-by. There was more tinkling of the shop bell than there had been and the joint owners were very pleased. Chrissie gradually and systematically worked her way around the shop, dusting, polishing and rearranging. She had mixed her pastes and rubs according to Isa’s instructions and had every kind of cloth and duster and brush that was available in the hardware store. Thus equipped, she was doing her best to get on top of the dirt and clutter.
Isa and Margaret were curious about the brother and sister she worked for and kept asking for stories about them. Chrissie was always happy to recount escapades she had seen or overheard.
“Well this week on Tuesday, the wuman was through in the parlour and the fella was at the books on the counter when the shop bell went and—”
“Don’t you know their names, Chrissie?” Isa interrupted.
Chrissie suddenly realised she didn’t. “I just call them the wuman and the fella. They only ever call themselves Brother and Sister, as far as I can see.”
“Did they not introduce themselves to you when you first met?”
“No. I don’t think so. I’ve never heard them address each other any other way.”
“How strange,” Margaret mused. “How do you address them when you’re speaking to them?”
“I just say ‘ma’am’ and ‘sir’. They seem quite happy with that. Anyway, on Tuesday the fella was at the books, the doorbell pinged and in came this gent all dressed up to the nines with a briefcase. The fella looked up and his face fell when he saw the man. Then the customer said, in an almost threatening tone, ‘You know why I’m here. Is it ready?’ Then the fella went through to the parlour and came out again all nervous with a small parcel wrapped in brown paper and string. ‘Here you are, sir,’ he said to the gent, handing over the parcel. There was such a look of fear in the fella’s eyes and a gloating in the gent’s that just made me shiver watching them. I mean if it was just a normal transaction why all the secrecy and menace? I think it was very strange. Goodness knows what was in the parcel to create such a fuss.”
“You fancy yourself as an amateur sleuth, Chrissie,” laughed Margaret. Isa joined in. But Peter interrupted the amusement of the sisters. “What was the parcel like, Chrissie?”
“Just small and squishy-looking, not hard.”
There was a pause as they waited for Peter’s verdict.
“You know, that could be extortion money he was handing over. I’ve heard it’s rife just now. Business owners being asked to pay money for being protected by a gang and if they don’t agree the gang smashes up the shop or steals goods until the owner realises he needs to pay them to stay in business. I don’t like the sound of that at all. I think we should go down and have a look at this shop and these people you’re working for.”
*
When they called in that weekend, the brother popped his head round the curtain.
“Ah, it’s yourself, Miss Dick. And who have you brought with you?”
Isa came forward.
“My name is Mrs Isabella Swan and this is my husband Mr Peter Swan. Miss Dick is my sister. And you are?”
“I am Mr Andrew Hebblethwaite, proprietor of this establishment.”
The green curtain twitched and the ginger head of his sister emerged.
“And this is my sister, Miss Evangelina Hebblethwaite.”
“Co-proprietor of this establishment,” she declared, with a frosty smile towards her brother.
Chrissie gave them a tour round the shop and then showed them her room above it. It was full of furniture that the owners were in the process of refurbishing. There were paintbrushes and cans of varnish and the air was full of chemical smells and dust. Her bed was just a camp bed squashed into the corner of the room. When Chrissie saw the room through the eyes of her family she realised she had been a fool to accept this as fit accommodation.
Isa looked around the room aghast. “Chrissie, pack your things. This room is no fit place to be sleeping, breathing in all these fumes.”
Back downstairs Isa demanded to speak to the brother and sister.
“My sister, Miss Christina Dick, is in your employ as cleaner and housekeeper and you have supposedly provided her with accommodation.”
“Indeed that is correct. She has the use of a bedroom above the shop.”
“It would appear that she does not have sole use of this room because it is being used to restore furniture. It is in fact being used as a workshop. Hardly suitable accommodation for an employee.”
“Miss Dick seems to find it satisfactory.”
“Not any more, she doesn’t. Unless you have it cleared out and fitted properly as a servant’s quarters I am afraid my sister will no longer be in your employ.”
The brother and sister stood stunned. “But we have no other space for the furniture.”
“Then in that case . . . My sister is no longer in your employ.”
Chrissie, still somewhat bemused, was taken out by the elbow and propelled along the street by Isa and Peter.
The search was on for a better position for Chrissie and it was not long before one was found with a family called the McKays who were looking for a general maid. They lived in a smart two-storey house in Falkirk near the canal. Mr McKay was a commercial traveller and often away from home on business. His wife did not like to be in the house herself, so she was glad to have a live-in maid with her, especially at night. The house was close to her father’s home in Sunnyside, so Chrissie could still walk Noble and attend to her father when her work at the house was completed. It was a perfect solution and Chrissie was soon happily instated.
*
Isa and Peter had settled into
a pragmatic relationship while Maggie and Chrissie had been living with them, but now that Netta was weaned and Isa’s strength was returning it was Maggie’s turn to think of leaving them. She was still determined that Canada was her goal as soon as she reached twenty-one and that was now only two and a half years away. She was taken on again at the professor’s house, where Jeannie Swan still worked.
Meanwhile young Margaret was a strong toddler, able to walk along beside the pram in which Netta was sleeping. She proudly told everyone, “Marget’s got a baby sister now.” Isa liked nothing better than to be out with her two girls in the fresh air, talking to Margaret about everything they passed, encouraging her to pick daisies, ask questions, look under stones, examine and delight in the world. In these situations she recovered a sense of her own innocence, which she had so quickly lost as a child herself but which was now returning to her as she saw the world through the eyes of her daughter, whose natural curiosity led her to new discoveries every day. She saw again how things grow, wither, die then grow again, and she reflected on how that was true in her own life. She wondered if it would be true in her marriage. Could it recover from this period of death and withering?
Peter was a good provider and a good father. He had got over his aversion to his second child’s gender and was now able to hold her and comfort her as he had done with Margaret. He was even starting to hold Isa and ask for more than kisses but she was terrified. She could not bear to become pregnant again, nor to have to go through a birth. As a result, her body closed off as soon as he came near her in that way. She asked him to be patient and he trusted all would be well soon, but the tension between them was often taut.
Isa focused on her and Peter becoming a strong team for their family, providing a good home and guidance for them. That would be their shared goal, she decided.
There was the chance of a promotion for Peter at the station at Inverkeithing. She would encourage him to go for that as he could earn more and work his way up to even more responsible posts. She would focus on using everything she had learned to give her girls the best start in life she could, drawing on all her experience in bringing up her sisters and all she had seen in the Tolquhouns’ household. Her girls would be independent and have the manners of the gentry. Peter’s extra earnings would be saved to pay for music lessons and elocution lessons. No one would know by looking at their behaviour or listening to their speech that they were the grandchildren of a Falkirk foundryman. They would be able to move in the best circles. She wanted them to have a career so that they would be independent of any man. That’s what she wanted for her girls and she would fight tooth and nail to get it for them.
19
One of the immediate advantages of the move to Inverkeithing was the house on Spitalfield Road that came with the job. It had three bedrooms, making it easier for Chrissie and Margaret to come and stay, a living room, scullery and bathroom and a front and back garden all to themselves. Isa was over the moon. Now that Netta was moving around independently, she and Margaret would have a safe place to play. Isa got Peter to fix a garden gate with a tight catch that the girls could not open. Then she could relax as she worked in the kitchen and the children played in the sunshine. Even on winter days they would spend some time outdoors, warmly wrapped up in coats, hats, scarves and gloves.
The two girls were becoming good playmates for each other but they were very different. Isa had only to raise her voice and Margaret would stop in her tracks. She sought peace and wanted to please her mother, and only needed to be told once not to do something, responding to the definite tones in her mother’s voice. As a result she was rarely smacked or punished. She seemed to enjoy her role as big sister, looking after Netta and including her in her imaginary play. She would nurse her doll and sing her songs, then pass her to Netta and encourage her to do the same. Netta, however, could not sit still for long and loved to be on the move, exploring every physical aspect of her environment. She especially loved the garden, but not in the way that Isa and Margaret did. These two would be busy weeding the flower beds, Margaret gathering the earthy weeds up in a basket and taking them across to the compost heap. Her mother would tell her the names of all the flowers and show her how to recognise the weeds. She demonstrated how to pull them up by the roots, using a trowel to ease them out if necessary, so that the plant would not re-grow in the same place later. Netta had no interest in flowers and weeds. She wanted to look under the stones for creepy-crawlies and watch their wriggling bodies twist and twirl across her hands or run through her fingers. She would hold up worms and admire their length while Margaret ran away screaming in loathing of their writhing.
As soon as she was able, Netta loved to climb and jump and explore the world physically, moving through it confidently, as would a pioneer. Her older sister was much more timid in her approach and was held back by her mother’s fears and commands. When Netta wanted to leave the garden and go into the fields and woods, Margaret said, “No we mustn’t. Mother will give us into trouble.” While Netta was very little she had to content herself with being pulled back into the garden by her stronger older sister.
On her seventh birthday, Margaret was brought into the kitchen and stood before her was a large, mysterious object shrouded in a sheet. Her parents sang “Happy Birthday” then pulled off the sheet to reveal a bright-red tricycle with a basket, ribbons on the handlebars and a shiny bell. She was thrilled. She could not wait to take it into the garden and try it out. She sat upon the seat, held on to the handlebars, got her feet on to the pedals and began to go round the garden path. What a lovely feeling to be on the move without her feet touching the ground. She cycled slowly and cautiously, looking straight ahead to ensure she kept to the path. Her father walked by her side, trotting a little when she went faster.
“You’re doing grand, hen,” he encouraged. “Isn’t this great?”
“Yes, Daddy. It’s wonderful.”
Netta eyed the trike jealously, craving the movement, longing for a turn and a chance to go fast on it. Margaret was moving at a walking pace. Netta thought, What is the point in that? A bike is for making you go faster. At five and a half she was already the little adventuress in the neighbourhood. Margaret was very proud of her new possession and, unlike most of her other toys, which she was made to share with Netta, the trike was to be hers alone, at least for now, while Netta was so young. When she finished playing with it she always put it away in the shed as her parents had asked and shut the door to keep it safe and away from her sister. Netta watched every move she made on the trike, waiting for the opportunity to have a turn herself. And then one day she got her chance.
They had been playing in the garden together, Margaret on her trike and Netta with the dolly’s pram, circling round the path that bordered the patch of grass, when their mother called Margaret in to the kitchen. Margaret got down off the trike and ran inside. Immediately Netta saw her opportunity. As soon as Margaret was indoors, she left the pram, jumped on the tricycle and made for the street. The gate latch was now just within her reach and she knew how it operated. She pushed the sneck back, lifted up the lever and pulled open the gate.
Spitalfield Road ran down the hillside towards the bay. Netta pedalled fast and soon she was sailing downhill, ribbons streaming out their bright hues, the wind in her hair and a smile on her face. It was wonderful. An open tourer car passed her by and came to a stop ahead of her at the bottom of the hill. A tall man got out, came on to the pavement and stood right in front of her, his legs apart and his arms open to catch her as she came at him full tilt, screaming in delight. It was the doctor.
“Hello, Doctor Gibson,” she piped.
“Hello to you, Netta Swan. What on earth are you up to? I’m sure your mother doesn’t know you’re doing this.” He was imagining what might have happened to this feisty child had he not been there to break her speed as she hurtled on into the road behind them.
“I know. I’m not supposed to. It’s Margaret’s trike. But I just had t
o. It’s so good. I want to go again. Will you catch me?”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. We need to get you back home to safekeeping. Come on. Hop in.” He opened the car and got her safely ensconced, loading the bike in the boot. Netta could not believe it: first the trike ride, then a car ride. What an amazing day she was having.
When he arrived outside the house, the doctor was greeted by Isa, who had been into the garden and had found Netta was missing. She was at the front door anxiously scanning the street.
When she heard what had happened, Isa was very grateful to the doctor for bringing her child home but she was mortified that he had had to do so.
The doctor headed off as he had patients to visit and Isa took Netta indoors. As soon as the door was shut the tirade began.
“What on earth did you think you were doing? How many times have I told you never to leave the garden?” Isa shook Netta by the shoulders until her teeth rattled. “Get in there.” And she pushed her into the living room. Margaret was standing aghast.
Isa brought Netta over near a chair, sat herself down, turned Netta face down on to her knee and began to smack her.
“You will not do that ever again. You naughty girl. Do you hear me? I said, do you hear me?”
In between the gasps Netta whimpered out, “Yes, Mummy.” But the smacks continued. Isa was so angry, so humiliated, so furious at Netta for showing her up as an incompetent mother that she laid into her until her hand was too sore to continue. By then Netta’s backside was red. Margaret was cowering behind the settee with her hands over her ears, crying for her sister, feeling every blow as though she were the one being punished. If she had only put the trike away or taken it in with her or taken Netta in with her to the house this horrible thing would never have happened. She hated it. She felt sick. She wanted it to stop. Then she heard her mother’s voice.
Her Sister's Gift Page 23