by Millie Gray
A voice asking, ‘Is this all you’ve got to do with your time?’ had Kitty sitting bolt upright.
‘Oh, it’s you, Dougal. And isn’t this a first for you . . . not one deluded young lassie hanging on your every lying word.’
‘Do you know, Kitty, if you would just say that you and I could start courting I would break all my other admirers’ hearts and tell them I am strictly a one-woman man now.’
Kitty giggled and clapped her hands. ‘Dougal,’ she exclaimed, ‘you and I both know that your promise to be faithful to me wouldn’t last any longer than . . .’ Just then a sassy young lassie skipped by them and as she tottered on her high-heeled shoes she winked at Dougal. He returned her compliment with a licentious smile and Kitty quipped, ‘See what I mean?’
‘Ah,’ he replied, sliding himself nearer to her on the bench, ‘but it would be if you would just utter the words I am begging to hear you say.’
Kitty was now as far along the bench as she could be and as she struggled to stand up he jumped up and got down on his bended knees and implored, ‘Kitty, pretty Kitty, put me out of my agony and just say that you will be mine.’
Kitty glanced up at the Leith Provident store clock and noted it was now five past five. ‘Sorry, Dougal, can’t stay. I need to get some beauty sleep. I am on night duty tonight.’
Dougal started to dance around Kitty. ‘So am I,’ he enthused, ‘so why don’t we cuddle up together for a couple of hours. I promise you that you will remember these wonderful hours for the rest of your life.’
‘Dougal,’ an exasperated Kitty hissed, ‘have you ever had a psychiatric assessment?’
‘No, because I don’t need one.’
‘That’s a matter of opinion because I personally think that the inmates in Bangour mental hospital are saner than you!’
The day after her mother’s funeral Kate decided that she was going to be completely in control and businesslike. She knew that her mother had consulted Mr Paterson, an elder in South Leith Parish Church who was also a partner in Sheils and McIntosh the solicitors in Charlotte Street, and that he had drawn up a will for her. So the first thing she had to do was find the will. That was fine until she entered her mother’s bedroom and she could still smell her mother.
This exclusive odour that had always wafted from Jenny was a mixture of Yardley’s lavender soap that Jenny only used to wash her face – this was because according to her it was too expensive to wash your feet with – and their talc. Birthday and Christmas presents from her dad to her mother were always the same – bar of lavender soap for her birthday and a tin of talcum powder at Christmas. After her father had died Kate had kept up the tradition and there on the dressing table sat two tins of talc and one unused bar of soap. Emotion was now rising within her and she was glad to be alone in the house because wanted to cry and shout and beg for her mother to still be with her. Ten minutes later she opened the middle drawer of the dresser and there, neatly tied with a blue cord, were all the papers that she would need today. Insurance policies, which she knew were there because Jenny was forever telling her that they were, and also the will.
The small banks for the grandchildren that had stood on the mantelpiece in the living room had been handed out to them yesterday. So all that was left today was the will. Kate already knew it was about the disposal of the house – this home, her home, her parents’ home that they loved and found such happiness in. She knew she should not open the will until Johnny was with her but she had helped her mum and dad to buy it. It was also true that her mum and dad were fair to both of their children so it was possible that – no – she must not think that. But she had to know. So going over to her parents’ bed she sat down. She wanted to take the will from its envelope and learn – just know for sure – what it said – and whatever it said she knew that it would be binding. Running the fingers of her left hand over the satin of the eiderdown that had always kept her mum and dad snug, she silently pleaded, ‘Mum, please forgive me but I just have to read your will and find out if Hans and I are going to be – Mum we had such plans.’
Another five agonising minutes passed before she could read what was to be.
Tears, sobs and sighs filled the room. She was not in the clear. By no means was she that. But her mother, fair to the end, had left her a way out. She was to receive one third of the value of the house, at the time of her mother’s death. This was because she had contributed to the buying of the house and had always lived there. The remainder, after all legal fees were paid, was to be divided equally between herself and Johnny. Kate had feared, as happened so often and was legal, that the eldest son would get everything. She gave a short tearful giggle but then her mother at heart was what they were now calling not suffragettes but feminists, and she thought it so wrong that one child should be favoured in a will because they were the eldest son.
Kate accepted that her mother’s will meant that Hans and herself would be required to buy Johnny out and as soon as possible at that. This was because Johnny lived in a rented house and he had four living children and another on the way. His wife did not work and therefore it would be so wrong of Kate and Hans to expect him to wait for too long for his inheritance. The problem here was Kate had given up her well-paid job in Leith Provident department store. It was true that Hans’ business was growing but it couldn’t provide a wage like she had had. Besides, she wanted to assist Hans in his desire to help some of the refugee children – she sighed – it was all too much to think about right now. She needed time. She wasn’t sure if she would ever be ready to think about it all. She looked up at the bedroom window that had to have the mandatory net curtain that kept anyone from looking in. She smiled because the sun was just ignoring her mother’s modesty and was shining brightly into the room. This lovely room that was always so happy, bright and fresh.
Getting up she decided she had to move on so what should she do first? Now what was more obvious than getting herself out for a walk? Whilst she was doing that she would take the old biscuit tin that her Mum had left her and deposit the contents in the bank.
Just as Kate was about to get herself into the bank didn’t she discover her darling niece Jackie sitting in her go-car and who should be left to look after her but Rosebud?
‘Well hello,’ a smiling Kate said to the children. ‘Is Mum in the bank?’
‘Yes,’ replied Rosebud. ‘We’re skint again so she took an old tin Granny left her in there and she says she is sure that there will be enough in it to get me some new shoes and something really nice for Daddy’s tea.’
Kate was a bit taken aback with what Rosebud had said. She had never given a thought as to how Johnny and Connie were managing since his accident. It was true he had a job with the union but it would not be paying much, and certainly with all the overtime Johnny did in the shipyards, not as much as Robbs would have paid him. Wincing, Kate thought again that she and Hans had just thought of ourselves.
Before she could really start beating into herself again Connie literally danced out of the bank doors.
‘Get a nice surprise, did you?’
‘Oh, Kate,’ Connie replied whilst rubbing her hands over her purse, ‘see your Mum, och, she was a star, was she not? And all mums should be like her. Always helping her bairns she was, even her adult ones, when the feet got kicked from us.’ Connie huffed, sighed and smiled before adding, ‘Oh, would you believe that just when things have got so bad that Johnny and I were about down on our knees your mum left us a lifeline . . . no really a lifeline, more a whaling rope.’
‘Things that bad?’
‘Aye, you see we were managing to just limp along, and your mother, well God bless her, never came in without a full shopping bag. But with Johnny having to spend a wee, no a big, lump of our earnings on this election thing and your mum sort of . . . well, Kate . . . no her fault but she just sort of forgot the shopping bag . . . life is and was awful.’ Connie stopped to hunch her shoulders and give a wee squeal before gleefully muttering, ‘B
ut right now I can get next door into Baird’s shoe shop and get Rosebud some new shoes. Look at what the wee soul is wearing.’
Kate looked down at Rosebud’s feet and where she would have expected to see her clad in Clarks brown summer sandals, the child was wearing last year’s scruffy white plimsolls. And if that was not bad enough, the toes had been cut out because they were obviously too small for her.
Before Kate and Connie could continue their conversation Rosebud squealed, ‘Mummy, Mummy, are you saying I’m getting new shoes today?’ The child then tugged at Kate’s skirt before she added, ‘Aunty Kate, I’ll be getting new shoes today because . . .’ Rosebud drew in a large breath before shouting, ‘I’ve stopped swearing on a Sunday because that’s a holy day.’
‘That right,’ exclaimed Kate looking to Connie for confirmation.
Connie nodded. However, before she could say anything, Rosebud quickly butted in with, ‘And on the other days, Aunty Kate, I only say bloody or damn.’ She now looked hopefully up at Connie. ‘And I haven’t said shite since . . . since . . . since . . . a . . . long . . . long . . . time ago.’
Both Kate and Connie had to purse their lips to keep their laughter in check. Eventually, Connie managed to splutter, ‘Look, Kate, you get into the bank and get your nice surprise. And I’ll get Rosebud some summer sandals then we can meet round the corner in the café and have a cup of tea . . . after all, thanks to your mum we can afford to treat ourselves.’
Kate nodded. There was just something so nice about her sister-in-law. And today Kate was even more aware of this when she had heard Rosebud, whose mother had died giving birth to her, now calling Connie ‘Mummy’. A true kind of mother was something that had been missing from Rosebud’s life. Adults had surrounded her but no one had given her the love, time and care that Connie had. Kitty, her sister, had just been fifteen when she had had to take on Rosebud and she had done so very well. However, Kate now realised, with the passing of her own mother which had left her devastated, no one in the family had accepted that Kitty had done her best with Rosebud. But how could she really have provided the emotional needs the child required when her heart had been so suddenly and cruelly broken?
Fifteen minutes later Rosebud was parading up and down the café showing off her new shoes to anyone who would look at them. Kate had just lifted the teapot to pour out a cup for Connie and herself when Connie said, ‘And how did you feel when they told you how much was in your biscuit tin?’
Kate shook her head and laughed. ‘You know I was so flabbergasted when they told me just how much mum had saved up for me, I nearly dropped. You know I think the old miser must have been blackmailing someone. I did realise that after we bought the house she was so used to putting so much by every week she continued to do that, but with my dad dying and his wages going with him, well, Connie . . . see when they told me that there was fifty-four pounds in the box, nearly fainted I did. Asked for a recount . . . but it came to the same total.’ Leaning over to quietly confide in Connie she said, ‘Here, do you think she really was blackmailing someone?’
Connie lowered her head and she seemed relieved when Rosebud asked when her ice-cream cone would be coming. Lifting her head Connie signalled to the shopkeeper to bring two ice-cream cones drenched in raspberry sauce.
Aware that something had upset Connie, and thinking she may have become upset because Kate had suggested that perhaps Jenny had been a blackmailer, Kate changed the subject by saying, ‘Mind you, Connie, if Johnny does get elected you will have a decent wage coming in again.’
Connie nodded. The change of subject seemed to brighten her and she bent over and patted Kate’s hand. ‘You’re right there. It’s nine hundred a year and one of the first things that the new parliament is going to do is put it up to a thousand, that’s a whole grand, Kate.’
To working-class people like Kate and Johnny’s family, this wage was a fortune. Kate, of course, being financially aware, replied, ‘That’s great. I am so pleased for you. You both deserve it. Mind you he will have train fares and other expenses.’
‘No. If he gets in, he gets a free rail pass and his stationery and postages paid. There will just be his lodgings from Monday night to Thursday night to come out of his pay.’
‘If all that you say is right, Connie, then from today on we all have to get out there and shout from the rooftops that he is the one people should vote for.’
‘Aye, things are looking up, Kate, and now with me managing to get Rosebud to stop swearing, she might be allowed to stay in Hermitage Park School in August instead of being evicted by Miss Cameron or Miss Roy.’
Friday the 22nd June 1945, saw Kitty’s evening shift begin as was normal now. The usual drunks who had managed to break some bones when they tripped over and argued with the pavements. Women whose husbands thought they were the weekly punchbags. Children who saw themselves as the Lone Ranger only to find out that the wall they were riding on wasn’t a prancing horse and when they fell off they hit the solid causey stones and split foreheads, grazed knees and fractured arms, all of which had to be attended to at the hospital.
By eleven o’clock things had started to calm down and Kitty was just about to go for her break when Sister Brown called her over. ‘Anderson,’ she began as she consulted her watch, ‘I would like you to get yourself into theatre then get scrubbed up and gowned.’
‘I was just . . .’ Kitty began to lightly protest.
‘Yes, I know, take your break, but that will have to wait. And you’re not the only one to be inconvenienced. Mr Lawson, who should have been home two hours ago, is also having to hang on.’
‘Why?’
‘We have a serious stabbing case coming in.’
‘Sister, that’s the ambulance just pulling up,’ the night duty porter called out as he bounded up the outpatient department steps.
‘Right, everyone to their stations,’ Sister commanded.
By the time Kitty had scrubbed and gowned up, the two ambulance men had stretchered in the victim and between them and the theatre staff the young woman was laid out on the operating table.
‘Sorry, Mr Lawson,’ the senior ambulance attendant began, ‘I knew she was dead, or dying, when we got to her . . . that the spurting and the great loss of blood meant her carotid artery has been severed. But you see she’s so young and well . . . I’m told you can do so much nowadays that I thought if we got her to you right away . . . well you just might . . . save her like you’ve saved others.’
Mr Lawson looked down at the young woman, who quite obviously had very quickly bled to death and he sighed. Nonetheless, before he announced there was nothing he could do that was going to bring back life into the woman, he examined her wound, felt her pulse and then just raised his hands to signal that life was extinct and that he could not reverse it.
Kitty by now was staring down at the horrific scene and as she backed away from the table she mumbled, ‘Who on earth did this?’
‘Her man,’ was the ambulance man’s answer.
‘No. No, please God no . . . not her husband?’ she then screamed.
‘Oh, but aye. And the police have arrested him,’ the ambulance attendant was pleased to inform them. He then looked reverently at the sister before adding, ‘And after they take him into Leith Police Station they’ll be coming here to see what he is to be charged with.’
Now completely out of control Kitty lunged towards Mr Lawson. ‘Look,’ she screamed beating his chest, ‘you must try again to bring her back. Please, please. You just have to.’
‘Anderson,’ Sister exclaimed, ‘pull yourself together. I accept that you have probably not attended such a horrific case before but losing your control contributes nothing. We must at all times keep our professionalism. If we don’t, further problems could be caused.’
Sobbing Kitty grabbed the sister’s arm. ‘Please. Try and understand,’ she incoherently babbled, ‘it’s not that I am not moved by Edna Stewart lying there lifeless it’s . . . Oh no, if it’s . . . and
please God don’t let it be true that it was her husband Eric, that . . . oh no Laura, her mum, wee Billy. You see Eric . . . he has just come home from being kept a prisoner and now . . .’
‘Anderson, who is this Laura that you have so much pity for?’
Kitty had now sunk down on to a stool. ‘My lifelong friend,’ she replied, tears still flowing. ‘Sister, I know her family as well as my own. Decent hard-working people they are. Surely you too have friends that you would not wish a tragedy like this to fall on?’
‘Right, get yourself out of your theatre gown. Have a shower and then take the rest of your shift as time off.’ Sister now turned to Mr Lawson. ‘Anderson’s grandmother died a few days ago and I think with what . . .’ She hesitated as she glanced towards the trolley and as she looked down on the lifeless face of the pretty young woman her demeanour softened. It was obvious that she too was moved to compassion for all who would be affected by this brutal death. Sister’s eyes now pleaded with Mr Lawson before she added, ‘A few hours’ respite to be with her relatives and friends is . . .’
She didn’t have to finish what she was about to say. Mr Lawson just nodded and Sister went to his back and before she untied his theatre gown she gave his shoulder a light pat.
By the time Kitty had got herself washed, calmed down and into her outdoor clothes a police car had arrived at the front door of the hospital. The detective who jumped out was none other than Mark Bolan, the son of a man who had been a buddy of Kitty’s late grandfather.