My snare was empty, although there was a little dried blood on it. I moved it further into the gorse bushes just in case someone had discovered it and was helping themselves. It was peaceful on the hill. I could just make out the Forth Bridge although it was always blacked out of the photos in Jeff’s paper, and I wondered what the exiled King of Norway thought of the view of its red legs from his new home in South Queensferry. I supposed a Viking chief like him would like a fiord, even a Scottish one.
The smell of the grass warming in the sun made me feel sleepy, and the bees were humming in the yellow gorse, living their little bee lives, never knowing that the Germans were coming. I lay back on a flat patch of grass, just off the path, beside my silver snare, which arched against the Forth. I could have picked the ships out of my net like minnows. It might have been an hour later when I woke up. My cheek was hot from the sun, and for a moment I couldn’t tell if it was morning or afternoon, or even who I was, or where. Then I remembered Mr Ford, and Jeff most likely facing prison because the dunderheid agreed with Douglas. I wished that we had never met the bear and that there was no war and that we were still happy.
From the height of the sun, I guessed it was almost midday and I hurried home past the duck pond, which was covered in scum. Some trees had tipped over in the gale but there was no one to clear them away. All the good, green places were going to sleep as if they were enchanted, and the hard streets and barracks and docks were sucking all the men away, so that soon there would be nothing left but old people and women and bairns. By the time I reached Falkland Terrace, I had decided to tell Jeff that I would volunteer to become a Land Girl. There were farms in the Pentlands I could cycle to, and then, if Jeff was taken to prison, I could bury my hands in the good earth and not be lonely.
I heard the noise of the saws at the top of the street before I saw the sparks flying from the railings as they were cut down. Mrs MacDougall was out shouting at the workmen that they had better agree to pay for new ones after the war, and one of them paused with three on his shoulder, spiky like spears, and said, ‘Aye, Mrs, if you’d like to pay for the ships during it.’
‘A war is no excuse to ration your manners,’ she said, but he laughed and clattered the railings into the back of his truck. She sat down on the wall at the end of a row of metal dots as she spotted me. ‘Agnes,’ she said, ‘get Jeff down here to have a word with these vandals.’
‘Jeff is a wee bit busy at the moment,’ I said.
‘What on earth could he be busy with at a time like this?’
I didn’t want to tell her in front of all these men that he might be going to prison. One of them winked at me. ‘Look boys, it’s Rita Hayworth,’ he said.
Mrs MacDougall sighed and stood up. ‘I want your husband out here to deal with this. My Struan would have protected his property and not let these ruffians take good railings to make bad boats. These hooligans are just stacking them at Leith docks. Mr McColl saw them rusting down there when he went for fruit.’ She dabbed her eyes with a corner of her pinny while peeping at the men. ‘Struan would never have left me to deal with all this and only a slip of a girl for support.’
I don’t know why she thought I supported her. I didn’t like her or the railings.
‘I’m going in now, Mrs MacDougall,’ I said, but I had to pull the bell as I had forgotten to take my key. There was no answer from Jeff so I tried again. Mrs MacDougall said, ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, I’ll get it,’ but as she stepped forward, she clutched her chest. She shrugged off my arm when I asked her if she was all right.
‘Don’t make a fuss. It’s all this commotion. If you could just get out my way so I can get in, I’ll be fine. This carry-on is more than I can bear, what with the police running up and down the stair yesterday as well.’ She looked at me as if I was to blame for the whole stramash.
I was happy to let her past, then. I followed the nippy sweetie up the stairs, but she took them one at a time, clutching onto the banister and always putting the same foot up first.
Jeff was towelling his hair dry at the door. ‘Where have you been?’
‘I’ll be in in a minute,’ I said, and he walked back into the hall. I could hear the wireless playing.
Mrs MacDougall had dropped her key. I opened the door for her and took her arm. ‘The blind leading the blind,’ she said, and tried to smile. Her flat was the mirror image of ours. I steered her into the front room and sat her down in a wing-back chair.
‘I don’t really use the drawing room,’ she said, ‘it’s for visitors.’
She remained seated, although she didn’t lean her head back against the starched antimacassar. I made a pot of tea and put mats out to stop the cups marking her wooden coffee table. She mouthed a thank you and her cup rattled as she put it back on her saucer. ‘Not enough milk,’ she whispered.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked, kneeling beside her.
She squeezed my hand. ‘Not really. The police gave me a bit of a fright the other day.’
‘Me, too,’ I said.
‘That sort of thing doesn’t generally happen in Morningside.’
‘I suppose it doesn’t,’ I replied.
‘I am not saying you are a bad influence, dear.’
I let go of her hand and sat back in my own seat as she continued. ‘But all those officious men walking round the garden as if they owned it, and piling out the door with boxes of I don’t know what. Jeff’s mother would have taken a turn, but, of course, she would never have let them get away with it. She was a great guide to Jeff after his father died.’ She mopped her brow with her handkerchief. ‘You are very young. One must make allowances. Not an established woman.’
I stood up to leave, but she reached out for my arm.
‘Don’t leave yet,’ she whispered.
‘I need to sort things out at home,’ I said. ‘Chap on the door if you don’t feel any better. Jeff could telephone the doctor for you.’
‘I don’t want to be alone,’ she mumbled. ‘I’m scared.’
‘But your colour is better now. Let’s get you tucked up in bed and I am sure you will be as right as rain.’
‘It’s not that. The police might come back.’
‘Well, they won’t bother you. They said they would return Jeff’s things in a few days. He hasn’t done anything wrong.’
‘If he is one of those objector chaps like Grant, he’ll bring them back at the drop of a hat, running all over the place, willy-nilly, scaring decent folk.’
‘You’ve nothing to worry about, Mrs MacDougall.’
‘But you see, dear, I do.’
‘Don’t tell me you are a Party member, too?’ I was trying to cheer her up, bring back her fighting spirit.
‘Most certainly not. My Struan fought for the British Empire in the last war. I still have his medals. He was proud of the Union. Look what it was like before: Highlanders jumping about the heather, bashing men in red coats. Uncouth and unshaven, the lot of them, and the women left to feed hungry bairns on thin air.’
She looked a bit stronger and waved at Mr MacDougall’s framed medals on the mantelpiece. The clock beside them chimed and to my surprise a cuckoo popped out. ‘A gift from Schramml, that old fool. That is exactly the problem. The very nub of the matter.’
‘What is the problem?’ I asked.
‘Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies. You would be the first to admit that we haven’t exactly seen eye-to-eye, although one has a duty to maintain friendly relations with one’s neighbours, while being careful not to live out of each other’s pockets. Especially,’ she added, ‘in times like these.’
‘With the Germans coming?’ I asked.
She paused and looked towards the door. ‘What if they’re already here?’
‘I don’t think you need to worry about that. The Home Guard would be firing real bullets from their pill boxes, not crawling round the streets making eyes at housewives.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, I need your help, Agnes. I
have most unexpectedly got myself into a spot of bother, and it’s a cross I can’t bear alone.’ She blew her nose. ‘I want you to promise me that you won’t betray my trust, even if you don’t agree with what I am about to show you.’
I was so curious that I promised. ‘Cross my heart and hope to die,’ I said.
‘It’s not a game,’ she said. ‘Swear on the Bible,’ and she made me take it down from her mantelpiece and place my hand on it. Small pieces of paper were sticking out from various pages. ‘Swear,’ she said. ‘May you be struck dumb if you ever betray the trust I am about to place in you.’
‘I swear.’
I thought perhaps Mrs MacDougall was losing her marbles, but her eyes were very earnest. She looked afraid, like the sheep at market. ‘Don’t keep me in suspense any longer, Mrs MacDougall. I’m on tenterhooks.’
She took my arm and we went upstairs to Professor Schramml’s flat, pausing to listen for anyone approaching before opening the door. ‘Can’t be too careful,’ she said.
There was a sweet, sickly smell in the hall, which was in darkness. All the doors were closed. A little light from the stained glass above the front door fell in fragments of colour on the polished lino. She put her fingers to her lips and picked up a broom, which was propped against the wall. ‘Take your shoes off,’ she whispered. ‘Jeff might hear us.’
‘Why would that matter?’ I asked, but she pressed her fingers to her lips. ‘Don’t talk.’
She opened the door slowly, holding the broom like a weapon and keeked in. Then she opened the door fully and beckoned me to follow her. The smell was stronger here, a smell of unwashed bodies and illness. There was a man with a bandaged head lying in the large double bed. The curtains were drawn. A vase of dried hydrangeas stood on the dressing table. ‘I’m having problems keeping him clean,’ said Mrs MacDougall. Dirty sheets were piled in a corner.
I walked forward. ‘Don’t go too close, dear. He might be a bit unpredictable.’
The man’s eyes were glazed and his face was flushed with a fever. He was young, helpless in a nightshirt two sizes too small for him. He tried to sit up as I approached, but slumped forward at an angle and I guided him back onto the pillow. ‘Wer sind Sie?’ he whispered. His eyes rolled towards the window where the sound of the men cutting down the railings had grown fainter as they moved down the street.
‘You see the difficulty,’ said Mrs MacDougall, beckoning me. ‘Come through to the kitchen.’
I followed her through the hall past photos of Professor Schramml’s family on the beach or posed for weddings and christenings, all smiling, never knowing they were now in limbo in Edinburgh in a war, with no loving eyes to look at them. A few frames were missing, just lighter patches on the wallpaper to show where they had been.
‘He’s German, isn’t he?’ I said.
‘Evidently. But remember you promised to keep my secret.’
‘Mrs MacDougall, it’s not about secrets now. He looks like he needs a hospital. He might be dangerous when he gets better.’
‘Nonsense, he couldn’t hurt a fly, the state he is in. He has had a wee bump to the head. Anyway, I have my broom. I’ll just give him a good whack if I have to.’
‘You’re not making any sense. He needs help. He could be that airman who came down, or a POW.’
‘This isn’t about him now. It is about me. If the police are prepared to lock up your Jeff for holding daft views, what might they do to me when they find I have a pet German? I was only doing my Christian duty. I thought he was ill, or maybe drunk, when I found him outside. He was on his knees in the rain. He held the cross round his neck out to me and I saw an opportunity to be a Good Samaritan. A call to serve. I thought he was one of ours.’
‘He speaks German.’
‘Well, he knew enough to keep schtum when I found him. I thought he might be from the hospital, wandered off. I used to be a nurse, you know. I haven’t always been the old body on the stair. I was going to take him back in the morning when the rain stopped, and then I thought maybe I could do a good job for him here, save the hospital some money, put a little back in the war purse. But then the police came thundering up the stairs.’
‘It’s not too late. I could walk round to the hospital. See what they say. It might not be so bad.’
‘The authorities might not be very sympathetic towards me. Question my motives like they are doing with Jeff. And what would Mr and Mrs Black say if it gets out, and their poor laddie with his leg blown off.’
‘Well, I don’t think Mr Black would take his cleaver to you. You’re one of his best customers.’
She frowned. ‘I’ll attribute your insouciance to youth. I could never show my face on Morningside Road again. I would be cast out into the wilderness. Our Lord has left me in the storm without guidance. I am like Job in torment.’
‘Don’t upset yourself. You have lived here a long time. No one will blame you.’
‘But they will, don’t you see? They will doubt me and I will lose my good name forever.’
She looked at me. ‘You are young. Perhaps you could look after him? He is bound to run off the minute he is well. Isn’t that what they all do? Pledge themselves to escape. Then he’ll simply vanish and we can get on with our lives. He’ll never make it to the coast.’
I sat down at the table, which was covered with a white crochet cloth. The pattern of flower motifs was perfect, regular. I wondered if Professor Schramml’s wife had made it. The thought of her death made me feel sad. I was tired of people dying, of fighting, of being alone.
‘I’ll do it,’ I said. ‘No one need know, and then we won’t have the police back. When the German is well, he can tell us what he wants to do. Maybe he doesn’t want to fight any more? And if he gets out of hand, I can take the broom to him, like you say.’
‘What about Jeff?’
‘I won’t tell him.’
‘There should be no secrets between a man and his wife. A woman has a duty to her husband.’
‘Believe me, Mrs MacDougall, I’ve come to realise that Jeff has more than a few secrets of his own. Perhaps I should be allowed one, too?’
‘You’re as big a fool as I thought,’ she said, ‘but I am grateful to you. I always had a soft spot for Schramml. A very good man for a German.’ She passed me the key to the flat. ‘I don’t know what you’ll do when he gets hungry,’ she said. ‘My ration would never have stretched to feeding two.’
She left me alone. It was odd knowing Jeff was moving around beneath my feet. I tiptoed to the airing cupboard and switched on the water heater, but there was no electricity. The sheets would have to wait. I got the heebie-jeebies without Mrs MacDougall around, but I filled a basin with cold water and went into the room. He was sleeping, or unconscious. I could feel a faint pulse in his neck, but he didn’t stir.
12
Downstairs, Jeff came out of the bathroom dressed in his best suit. ‘You were a long time with Mrs MacDougall. Don’t tell me you have sued for peace?’
‘Where are you going?’ I asked, as he kissed my cheek.
‘Douglas’ appeal at the High Court. I told you.’
‘No, you didn’t.’
‘Well, don’t make a fuss now. I have enough on my plate. We’ll talk later. Perhaps you could give the place a good clean after last week’s unpleasantness?’ He put on his hat and walked out the door, banging it shut.
He was gone all day and came back in the evening. I was glad he was late. I had got the sheets done and had given the German a couple of aspirin and a little gravy from a fresh rabbit stew. The vegetables from the garden had made a nourishing stock.
Jeff looked scunnered when he came in. Douglas had been sentenced to twelve months in Saughton prison on the spot.
‘It could be me next, Pip. Thank God, Mother isn’t here to see this. He had a thirty-page defence and they took five minutes to sentence him. Douglas never had a chance. The judges all served in the last war. They weren’t going to humour a CO with nationalist te
ndencies; said this was no time for a loose cannon as he was led down to the cells.’
‘I suppose not,’ I said.
‘You suppose not? What do you even know? What do you do all day, anyway?’
‘I look after you,’ I said. It wasn’t a lie.
‘You look after me? All you do is wander round the flat twirling a feather duster.’
‘Perhaps you’d like to try it, then, if it’s so easy? You try getting food from a butcher that doesn’t like you, and keep the peace with Mrs MacDougall. See how long you last before you’d be begging me to take you away from this flat. It is like a museum, Jeff. A museum to your mother.’
‘Leave my mother out of this.’
‘Her clothes are still hanging in the wardrobe in our bedroom. It’s still her room. It is even her bed.’
‘Well, you don’t need to sleep in it.’
‘And where would I go? I am your wife.’
‘Try the Anderson shelter. What kind of country woman can’t even keep a decent fire going in the hearth? You’re making things difficult for me with the police.’
‘How am I making things difficult for you? You’re the one who had letters to burn, not me.’
‘Yes, to save Douglas. There were jokes in German in there that the authorities might have misconstrued.’
Capital Union, A Page 6