When she had first appeared at the boarding-house, Diana – though she was never to know this – had almost been turned away by Mrs Brownlee, who had seen from one glance at the expensive leather suitcase and another at the similarly up-market face that Miss Sempill was quite unlike Mrs Brownlee’s usual boarders, the impecunious daughters of teachers and shopkeepers, and therefore might not fit in. On the other hand she would show an example to those of the girls who got up to lower-class tricks like smuggling young men into their rooms or wandering about with next to nothing on. So Mrs Brownlee, crushing her qualms, had said all right, expecting her new boarder to ask for a room of her own, which she could certainly afford; but no, Miss Sempill had wanted to share, and when she had heard about Peggy Gilchrist, whom none of the other girls were keen to have as a room-mate, not because she smelled or anything like that but because she was always studying and needed silence, she had at once said she would be pleased to share a room with her. Whatever her motives were Mrs Brownlee had no idea, but it made no difference, for one thing was certain, Miss Sempill would never be able to patronise Peggy.
It had not been necessary to consult Peggy, who after all was not paying the rate for a room of her own.
At first the two girls had been polite but cautious, Diana because this rather uncouth but very clever girl was the first member of the industrial poor that she had ever been close to, and Peggy because it would have been foolish and unfair to blame this beautiful, well-off, fortunate girl for all the injustices heaped on the poor throughout the centuries.
They soon came to respect each other. Peggy had no difficulty in establishing herself as Diana’s equal, in spite of the manifest inferiority of all her possessions, from underclothes to rings, while Diana admired her room-mate’s determination not to be looked down upon simply because she had had the misfortune to have been born into a class lacking culture, education, and money.
Sometimes, though, in public they disagreed, to the amusement of the other girls.
What sparked off the latest encounter was an item on the Scottish television news. It showed a princess opening the wing of a hospital in Glasgow. A number of girls were watching it, among them Peggy and Diana. Peggy’s anti-royalist views were known. It was inevitable that she would be baited.
‘Isn’t she beautiful, Peggy?’
‘Her clothes are anyway.’
‘We’re lucky to have such a hard-working royal family.’
‘I doubt if she would change places with a miner, who works a lot harder for a lot less money.’
‘My father says they’re worth every penny. A president would cost a great deal more.’
‘We wouldn’t have to pay his aunties and uncles too.’
Nun-like in her dark-blue dress Diana winced at these heresies, but she kept quiet.
‘The royal family unites the country, Peggy. You can’t deny that.’
‘They symbolise class. What’s more divisive than class?’
‘It’s just communists and people like that who want to fight the class war.’
‘The upper classes occupy all the citadels of power and wealth. The walls are centuries thick. A few revolutionaries beat their fists against them. That’s the class war.’
‘You’re a little commie yourself, Peggy.’
‘I’m a republican, like William Hazlitt.’
They had never heard of William Hazlitt, but, since after all they were University students, they did not want to betray their ignorance. They looked to Diana to rescue them. ‘What do you think, Diana?’
She smiled. ‘Society is unjust in many ways. We all know that.’
‘We do little about it,’ said Peggy.
‘Be fair, Peggy. Surely as a student of history you must agree that there has been a great improvement in the way that society treats its less fortunate members.’
‘I was reading in the Guardian the other day that the gap between rich and poor in Britain is growing greater, not less.’
‘Oh, the Guardian.’ That was a general groan. Peggy was too fond of quoting that newspaper, which most of them found boring, with its long paragraphs.
Diana then expounded her creed. They had heard it before but were still fascinated.
In spite of their shortcomings it had been the nobility of Scotland who had given the country whatever distinction it had. What were the most famous names in Scottish history? Robert the Bruce. The Marquis of Montrose. Mary Queen of Scots. Prince Charles Edward Stuart. All aristocrats. People from overseas came to visit the castles and palaces. They thought of Scotland as a land of romantic and splendid causes. It was the nobility of the past who deserved most of the credit.
Some of the girls, though on Diana’s side, were vaguely aware that hers was a somewhat naive view, which anyone with a knowledge of Scottish history could easily make fun of. They waited anxiously for Peggy to do it.
Just then a girl looked in and said that Diana was wanted on the telephone. ‘Your sister Effie. Said it was urgent.’
‘Excuse me, please.’ Diana rose, gave them all but particularly Peggy a regal smile, and left. Even when she hurried she had elegance.
‘She’s like a princess herself,’ said one of the girls.
‘One day we’ll all be proud to have known her,’ said another. ‘You too, Peggy.’
Peggy said nothing. By saying nothing she often said a great deal.
‘Effie’s one of the twins, isn’t she?’
Peggy nodded.
‘I hope it’s not bad news. I don’t think her mother keeps well. Isn’t that so, Peggy?’
That was a curious and provoking thing. Peggy knew more than any of them about the Sempills. It was true that she was Diana’s room-mate, but it was strange that Diana should have confided in someone who opposed most of what she and her family represented.
As they stared at scruffy wee Peggy and compared her with tall genteel Diana they felt sure that even if she got the better of the historical argument most people, including the working class themselves, would side with Diana.
Two
AS SHE ran downstairs to the telephone in the hall Diana recalled the twins urging her to invite Peggy Gilchrist to Poverty Castle. They had been intrigued by what she had told them of her proletarian room-mate. Diana herself was doubtful, not because she did not want Peggy to come but because it might look like an attempt to win her over, corrupt her, Peggy might say, with one of her ironical smiles.
She picked up the telephone. ‘Hello. Diana here.’
It was Effie. ‘Oh, thank goodness, Di.’
Diana smiled. Trust Effie to be dramatic. Rowena wasn’t the only actress in the family.
‘The world’s fallen in on top of us, Di. The luck of the Sempills has ended. Isn’t that so, Jeanie?’
Jeanie’s voice was calmer, but did it tremble a little? ‘It’s not as bad as that. Not yet anyway.’
‘What’s the matter?’
It was Effie again. ‘You’ve got to come home this weekend, Di. You must.’
‘But the exams are next week.’
‘Bugger the exams. We need you here. Don’t we, Jeanie?’
‘Yes, Di, we do,’ said Jeanie. ‘Please come if you can possibly manage it.’
‘You haven’t told me yet what’s wrong.’
‘Mama’s pregnant.’
Diana’s own breathing stopped. ‘She can’t be,’ she said at last.
‘She oughtn’t to be, you mean, but she is. Nearly three months.’
But, thought Diana, hadn’t Papa taken her advice and had that operation, three years ago? He had slept with Mama ever since. Mama had been happy and hopeful again.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ said Effie. ‘That operation should have prevented it. But, according to Dr Grant, there’s a million to one chance that the bits that were cut can come together again of their own accord. Nature striking back, you might say. Mama’s kept it a secret until now. I don’t think she could believe it herself.’
‘How i
s she?’
‘Overjoyed. Transfigured. Exalted. The happiest woman in the world. It would make you weep to see her. It would also make you laugh, because she is so outrageously happy.’
‘But how is she physically?’
‘That’s the big question, Di. Dr Grant was blunt with Papa. He said that having the child could kill her.’
‘Was he as definite as that?’
‘Yes, but he’s bringing a specialist from Glasgow to see her next Wednesday. She says herself she feels great, and Di, she looks it. Colour in her cheeks again. Sparkle in her eye. When we got home from school today do you know where she was? Running on the sands.’
Yes, but Mama, if there was any danger of the child being taken from her, would dissemble to prevent it. Even if she was in severe pain she would say she felt fine.
‘How’s Papa taking it?’
‘Absolutely stricken. Blames himself. It would make you weep, Di, Mama thinks he’s the most wonderful husband in the world, he sees himself as her murderer. He’s actually used the word.’
‘Papa’s too pessimistic. I suppose Rowena and Rebecca know?’
‘Di, the moles under the ground know, the birds in the air. Mama’s been shouting it to the skies. Literally. She even went out and kissed the rowan tree.’
‘What are Rowena and Rebecca saying?’
‘Rowena? Nothing, as you’d expect. Rebecca’s delighted because Mama’s delighted. But she’s just a kid.’
Rebecca was thirteen.
‘All right,’ said Diana. ‘I’ll take the bus on Saturday morning. You can meet me in Tarbeg.’
‘No, Di. Come on Friday. A ferry leaves Gourock for Dunoon at five past five. We’ll be waiting on the pier.’
‘But that would mean a long drive for you.’
‘Just ninety beautiful miles.’
The road ran past mountains and alongside three lochs.
‘Will Papa agree to that?’
‘Like the rest of us he sees you as our rescuing angel. The sooner you get here the better.’
‘That’s nonsense, Effie. What can I do?’
‘Stiffen our sinews. Help us persuade Mama to abide by the specialist’s verdict. We hate the word, Di, but she may have to have an abortion.’
Diana hated it too. ‘All right. I’ll see you on Friday evening on Dunoon pier. Look, I’ll have to go now. This is a busy telephone. There’s someone waiting to use it. Look after Mama. Goodbye for now.’
‘Hasta la vista,’ said Effie.
‘Ciao,’ said Jeanie.
Diana smiled at the girl who was waiting. ‘Sorry, Cathie.’
‘That’s all right, Diana. He won’t be there anyway. They’re all the same, aren’t they?’
Diana returned her smile but not conspiratorially. Her Edwin was not like other young men. He could be relied on. Cleverness wasn’t everything. In any case, as his father had said, she was clever enough for the two of them. He had not achieved the necessary scholastic standard to enter Oxford or Cambridge, and of course no other University would have done. A position had been found for him with a firm of stockbrokers in London. Effie made silly jokes about a financial collapse being imminent. The joke would be on her and all his detractors when Edwin came into his inheritance. When he and Diana were married they would live in Kilcalmonell House. A great deal of renovation would have to be done.
She did not go back into the lounge but went straight up to her room.
Peggy was there, at her desk, reading and taking notes. The book was a history of the Crusades. Peggy was a very unusual kind of student in that she read widely beyond the prescribed books.
She could read for hours at a time in silent concentration, with no annoying habits like shuffling her feet or picking her nose. The other girls said, spitefully, it was because success was so much more important to her than to the rest of them. Unless she got a brilliant degree it would be the check-out counter for her, beside her mother. Diana knew differently. Peggy’s absorption was that of a scholar.
She asked, quietly: ‘Everything all right at home?’
To any other girl in the house Diana would have replied briefly: ‘Yes, thank you,’ but she always felt that Peggy, truthful herself, deserved to be told the truth.
‘Not really,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid I have to go home this weekend.’
‘You didn’t intend to.’
‘No. It’s my mother.’
‘I’m sorry. Is she ill?’
Diana hesitated. The secret was not only hers, it was her family’s. She would not have told it to Lady Campton. Surely then not to this small nobody with holes in her slippers?
‘Not really ill. She’s going to have a baby.’
She restrained herself from asking Peggy to keep it to herself. There was no need. No one was less likely to treat it as a piece of gossip.
Peggy smiled. It was exactly the right kind of smile: intelligent, sympathetic, concerned, and sincere. Diana loved her for it.
‘Naturally we’re worried. Mama’s forty-eight, which is rather old to be having a baby.’
‘She’ll be all right. It’s not as if it was her first.’
‘Rebecca’s thirteen. It’s rather a big gap.’
‘Is your mother pleased?’
‘Very pleased.’
‘That’s good.’
Peggy then, seeing that Diana didn’t want to speak any more about it, in the meantime anyway, went back to the events in the Holy Land ten centuries ago.
Diana herself could not settle to study or even to read Edwin’s last letter. Was Effie right? Had the luck of the Sempills come to an end? It had, if anything happened to Mama.
‘Do you mind if I talk, Peggy?’ she asked.
Peggy put down her pen and pushed the hair back from her eyes. ‘Not a bit.’
‘Your own mother must be very proud of you.’
An ironical smile. ‘I suppose she is, in her own way. But she thinks I’m wasting my time at the University. She didn’t want me to come. My dad’s the one that values education.’
‘But you’ve done so well, won prizes. Surely everyone’s proud of that?’
‘Dad is.’
There was a pause.
Peggy glanced at the photograph by Diana’s bed. It was of all the Sempills, plus a peacock. In the background was the big white house they called Poverty Castle. Mrs Sempill was a tall fair-haired woman with, Peggy thought, a thin medieval face. She had wondered if Mrs Sempill might have some wasting disease. Perhaps she would not be strong enough to have a safe and successful delivery.
‘You once asked me to visit your parents, Peggy.’
Peggy grinned. ‘Yes, I think I wanted to let you see how the other half live. Very childish of me. I didn’t know you so well then. To be honest I thought too it would be a treat for my mother. She’s a great fan of royalty and aristocracy. Reads Mills and Boon romances. Never misses an episode of Dallas. A visit from someone like you would have been the highlight of her life.’
That was said ironically but affectionately.
‘I would like to visit them, Peggy.’
‘Why?’
Yes, why? Diana had to think. It had to do with her own mother’s present predicament. It had also to do with a desire for Peggy’s approval. She who was so proud that she did not care if she had Lady Campton’s somehow seemed to need this working-class girl’s.
‘Sorry,’ said Peggy. ‘I come from a tribe that sometimes confuses frankness with rudeness. Some Sunday afternoon then, after the exams?’
‘Yes, thank you. In return you must come and visit my family. They’re eager to meet you.’
‘Me?’ Peggy’s incredulity was genuine.
‘I often tell them about you. Some weekend in June, perhaps. Or longer if you liked. There’s plenty of room and it’s a beautiful place.’
Peggy again looked at the photograph. She had never seen a happier or more fortunate family. Would the baby, before its birth and after, add to their happiness or threat
en it?
‘Edwin will be in Kilcalmonell then. I’d like you to meet him.’
Peggy thought: how naive Diana is, for all her apparent self-assurance. But then she’s not yet twenty-one. Neither am I, but twenty in her tribe is like forty in mine. As Dad says, there’s nothing like a struggle with poverty for putting years on people.
‘I’d like to meet him,’ she said, and meant it. She wanted to meet all kinds of people. Otherwise her opinions about society would be merely theoretical. The heir to a baronetcy would be for her like a penny black for a philatelist. ‘But I’ll probably be working in June. Mum’s trying to fix up a job for me in the supermarket.’
‘Before you start work, perhaps?’
‘Sure. Thanks. I’d like very much to meet your family. I feel I already know them.’
She had looked at their photograph often enough and had imagined herself as one of them. Was that her, to the right of the peacock?
Three
A SEAGULL was standing on top of Highland Mary’s head, but it wasn’t this that was causing the crick in her neck. She was said to be gazing sideways across the firth towards Ayrshire, home of her lover Robert Burns. Behind her rose the grassy rock on which Dunoon Castle had stood centuries ago. Robert the Bruce had stayed there once, and Mary Queen of Scots. Now only a few stones were left. This sunny May evening a flag was flying: the blue and white St Andrew’s Cross of Scotland. The twins would be pleased. Like Papa they were staunch nationalists, foolishly, in Diana’s opinion. But what, she thought, as the car ferry Juno approached the pier, would it matter who governed Scotland, what would anything matter, if Mama died?
She was instantly cheered by the sight of her sisters among the people on the pier. As always they were attracting looks of admiration. As tall as Diana herself they were alert, healthy, full of vigour, and interested in everything. They had their hair arranged in ponytail fashion, tied with red ribbons. Their jeans were blue, their jackets red, and their sports shoes red and white. They were not only splendid, they were also very clever. In October Effie was to become a medical student at Edinburgh University and Jeanie in the same city was to attend the Veterinary College.
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