Moving On

by Millie Gray

  Kitty slumped forward and her sobs were heart-rending. Laura’s face was buried in her mother’s neck. Nessie kept saying, ‘But what does this mean. Is he free or what?’

  Eventually Kitty stopped crying and she held Nessie’s hand in hers as she said, ‘The reducing of the charge from murder to manslaughter means no matter what the jury decide, that is whether they say, guilty, not guilty or not proven, your Eric will not be hanged. Do you hear me, Mrs Stewart, it doesn’t matter now what happens, your son will not be hanged.’

  Nessie turned to Laura. Laura, although choked with tears, managed to mumble, ‘See, Mum, your prayers have been answered. You made me so frightened when you kept on saying that if our Eric ended up losing his life . . . losing his life in such a brutal way that you would not have been able to go on. Now, Mum, I promise you, you will live long enough to see him a free man again.’

  By hanging his gavel, the judge eventually managed to impose his rule over the court again and once all the hubbub had died down he said, ‘The proceedings of the court are over for today. Tomorrow both counsels will give their closing statements and I will then address the jury and go over points of law.’ He then stood up, bowed to counsel, and exited the Chamber.

  The agog public then took their time to vacate the public gallery. This was because most of the spectators appeared to have become quite animated after hearing of the change of the charge.

  When Laura, Kitty and Nessie managed to fight their way through the dawdling throng they pressed on until they reached the front of St Giles’ Cathedral where they huddled together. ‘Oh, Laura,’ Nessie managed to stutter, ‘tell me again what it all means.’

  ‘Just Mum, as Kitty said, that being charged with manslaughter is not a hanging offence . . .’

  Before she could listen to what else Laura was saying to her Mother, Kitty looked up and there passing on the far side of the road was Felix Martin. Immediately she recalled that when the judge made his life-changing statement for Eric, she had thought that this must be a severe disappointment for the Procurator Fiscal’s office, and in particular Felix Martin, who, after all, had had their conclusions as to what Eric was charged with not only challenged, but set aside.

  Kitty thought about how she would have felt and she wondered if Felix Martin would react as she would. It was always painful to her when in the hospital she was told that she had not quite got things right.

  Without warning she sprinted over the cobbles and just as Felix was about to cross over the High Street and past the Sheriff Court she caught up with him and pulled on his coat sleeve. ‘Mister Martin,’ she managed to mumble when he turned to face her. ‘I know I have no right to speak to you.’

  ‘You haven’t?’

  ‘But I just wished to thank you for allowing the change of charge.’ She babbled on, offering her right hand to Felix which at first he seemed reluctant to shake, but then when he deigned to look at her he could not help but notice how the late afternoon sun lit up the highlights in her platinum blonde hair, which fell down onto her shoulders in deep natural waves. Although her hair was lovely and he was also captivated by her striking moistened green eyes, there was just something so enchanting about her. He then found it impossible to say to her that the change was completely outwith his control. And it was also quite out of order for her to speak to him about the case which had still to reach its conclusion.

  ‘So you are Eric Stewart’s sister?’ was all he uttered. This mistaken identity was due to the fact that when the public gallery furore had begun he had looked up and he had seen that Kitty was completely overcome by the decision.

  ‘No. I am no relation to Eric. I am his sister Laura’s best friend and indeed I am also a friend of all of the Stewarts.’

  Still holding her hand firmly in his grip he replied, ‘I see. Now I do not wish to appear rude or abrasive but it is quite out of order for you to speak to me as I am still officially involved in the case.’

  Kitty flinched back. She had made a mistake. Instinctively, as if she was trying to somehow rewind the last few minutes and not approach him, her left hand shot up to cover her mouth.

  He didn’t know why but his eyes riveted on the three-diamond engagement ring that, like her hair, caught the rays of the brilliant late afternoon sun and sparkled. Somehow it seemed to taunt him. This perplexed him, a feeling that was almost alien to him. But why was this slip of a girl, perhaps ten to fifteen years younger than he was, enchanting him? Letting go of her hand he regretted that he had spent his youth studying to get where he was today. He knew there were reasons for that but at thirty-five he found himself, for the first time in his life, lamenting that he had never known the excitement and ecstasy of young love.

  When the court reconvened the following day both advocates expertly summarised why there should be a full examination of the facts in this case. Felix Martin went on to give the reason why the Procurator Fiscal had felt that there was a case to answer and why therefore Eric Stewart had been charged with causing the death of his wife, Edna Stewart. His final observation was that there could be no other verdict than guilty as charged. Bill Gracie’s statement was naturally on why he was defending Eric Stewart against the charges laid on him. Kitty felt he was very persuasive when he pointed out that the case made against Eric was only tenuous, or to put it in another way, at best halfway plausible. His final remark was that there was no positive proof of Eric’s guilt.

  Before the fifteen-member jury, which was made up of eight men and seven women, retired to consider their verdict, the judge very ably summarised the main points in the case that required their attention and also the pertinent points of law.

  However, those in the public gallery, although pleased that the trial was reaching a conclusion, felt that after the dramatic changes of the day before, the morning proceedings were an anti-climax and they were now anxious to hear the jury’s decision.

  The dilemma facing Nessie, Laura and Kitty was how long the jury would be in giving its verdict.

  ‘What do you think we should do?’ Laura asked of Kitty when they got outside.

  ‘Well, they could reach their conclusion quite quickly and it will all be over this afternoon, which means we will be called back today. On the other hand they could take days.’

  ‘Don’t know what to do?’ Laura said, more to herself than Kitty

  ‘That right, Laura? Well, I do so let’s have a long, leisurely lunch because there is no way we are going to leave here until court closing time.’

  ‘I think you’re right, Kitty. I am just dying for a cup of tea,’ was Nessie’s response.

  It was three twenty when the jury sent out word to the judge that it had reached its verdict.

  Kitty bit on her hand. Not good news because to reach their conclusion so quickly they must have a unanimous verdict and that could only be arrived at if all were of the same opinion . . . but then she conceded it was too much to expect an eight to seven majority. She shook her head. What she thought to be true was, and she couldn’t say this to Laura, that it was a complex case and in the final minutes of Edna’s life there were only Judy and Eric left in the room.

  The judge asked the foreman of the jury if they had indeed reached their verdict. He replied, ‘Yes,’ and the paper stating the decision was then handed to the judge. Whilst reading the paper the judge remained impassive. He then turned his attention to Eric whom he asked to stand whilst he delivered the jury’s verdict. ‘Eric Stewart,’ he began, ‘you have been found guilty of the manslaughter of your wife, Edna Stewart.’

  Laura grabbed on to her mother and encircling her with her arms she murmured, ‘Mum, we must be strong, hold our heads up, if not for our own sake, then Eric’s.’

  It was at that time that Felix Martin glanced up at the public gallery and he was unnerved when he witnessed distraught Kitty being comforted by a rather handsome and very caring young man. What he didn’t know was that the young man was Mike Bailey, Laura’s fiancé.

  After his a
nnouncement of the guilty verdict the judge allowed a short interval for the court to settle down. Banging the gavel he indicated that he had more to say. ‘It is now nearly court finishing time so I will not announce the sentence that I propose to pass on Eric Stewart until Monday next, the 10th of September 1945.’

  As was to be expected the court room was full. The trial had caused a great deal of interest – not only public interest but with the press, who were having a field day.

  Nessie, Laura, Kitty and Mike were all seated in the front row and what was not evident to those in the main part of the chamber was that all four had linked hands.

  The suitably robed and wigged judge entered, as per usual followed by the macer. He made a few opening remarks, which included his thanks to the jury before asking Eric to stand.

  Nessie looked at her son and her heart fluttered. He looked so much older than his years and it was evident that he had not slept well. Rising to his feet she felt that all life and hope had been sucked from him. She knew he was facing a further curtailment of his liberty and that must be so hard for him to endure, especially as he wished to play a large and meaningful part in his son’s life.

  The judge began by saying, ‘On reaching my decision as to the punishment I should pass on you, I had to take into consideration the amount of provocation that you may have endured. It is my considered opinion that there was substantial provocation and I therefore sentence you to six years’ imprisonment.’

  Laura began to slowly clap her hands and the rest of the spectators joined in.

  Nessie turned to Kitty. ‘What does this all mean?’ Pulling Nessie into a tight embrace Kitty whispered, ‘It means, my dear, that in four years, or less, your Eric will be a free man . . . a free man, do you hear, and still young enough to start his life anew.’

  PART SIX

  MAY 1947

  ‘You’re half an hour late, Staff Nurse Anderson.’

  Kitty looked down at the new watch that was pinned on to her uniform. ‘Yes, you are quite right, Staff Nurse Keane,’ she snorted, ‘but you see the new intake of probationers do not, and never will, meet the exacting standards of nurses who have previously been trained in this superior hospital.’

  Both young women then collapsed down on Kitty’s bed as their uncontrolled laughter echoed around the room. ‘You know, Dotty,’ gasped Kitty when her hilarity began to peter out, ‘we have now been practising staff nurses for three weeks and I still can’t believe it.’

  ‘It was me actually passing my final exams that still has me wondering if I am dreaming,’ Dotty quipped with a shake of her head.

  Chuckling, Kitty mused, ‘Yeah. It was some three years but we made it, girl. And now Matron has accepted my notice, mark you in a voice that would have frozen the fires of hell.’

  ‘That bad was it?’

  ‘Bad? Let me put it this way, I think the word will be put out around the hospital that no one should dare speak to me . . . a woman who has disgraced her profession by putting her own happiness in front of fulfilling the binding contract that she made with this hospital three years ago.’

  ‘How much notice are you to serve?’

  ‘The obligatory one month. So that is just three weeks because the last week I am taking as my holiday entitlement.’

  Dotty ran her tongue around her mouth. ‘Have you written to Doctor Gorgeous and told him?’

  Kitty looked down at her watch again, the gold timepiece that her Aunt Kate had given her as a present when she told her that not only had she passed her final exams but she was also dux of the class. In a half dreamlike state she then simpered, ‘My darling man should be opening my letter right now. And know something, Dotty . . . every week since he left we have exchanged letters. His were always so upbeat. I know you won’t believe me but even although he is five years older than I am, he has never lost the recklessness of his madcap teenage years.’

  ‘Lucky you.’

  Both young women were now sitting on the edge of Kitty’s bed and Kitty leaned sideways so she could cover Dotty’s hand with hers. ‘You’re on holiday next week.’ She hesitated. ‘Is it not about time you went back to Ireland to see your folks . . . to tell them that you made it?’

  Dotty didn’t answer immediately as the ceiling seemed to be holding her full attention. ‘Oh Kitty, I would love to go back but I just don’t want to be reminded about how awful my life was there. You know it was a teacher, a nun, at the school I attended who told me that I had potential and if I did not leave . . . my family would pull me down.’

  Three years it had taken Dotty to fully open up to Kitty. Kitty was now very fond of Dotty so she decided not to comment on anything that Dotty was saying until she had finished. ‘You see, Kitty,’ Dotty went on, ‘my father is a drunkard and my mother took refuge in her religion. That meant she decided that none of her children would become a waster like my dad so to make sure we didn’t she beat the hell out of us. We lived in squalor and . . . well, I ran away. As I was leaving, that nun I told you about pressed my bus and ferry fare into my hand.’

  ‘So your family might not deserve to know how well you have done but how about that nun? Come on, does she not deserve to know that you made it? Believe me, telling her will make her day.’

  Dotty nodded. ‘Aye, maybe you’re right and as I will have our first month’s pay in my pocket I can treat Sister Angelic to afternoon tea in a café.’

  Kitty’s mind now seemed to be running on wheels and she stood up and looked directly at Dotty before saying, ‘Dotty, I have a favour to ask.’

  ‘Ask away.’

  ‘You know how I visit Laura’s brother Eric every week in Saughton prison, well I was wondering if you would go and see him when I go?’

  ‘Of course I’ll visit the laddie. Especially since he has now lost his mother. By the way, how is Laura coping with her mum’s passing? All too sudden and unexpected, so it was.’

  ‘She writes that she is fine. Says she understands that all that had gone on with Eric had knocked the stuffing out of her mother and shortened her life. Pity Mrs Stewart never saw Eric released but she did know that he intends to make a life for himself and Billy when he gets out. Oh, here, Dotty did I tell you he’s been doing carpentry?’

  Dotty shook her head. Kitty continued: ‘Loves working with his hands . . . creating things. Honestly, you should just see the beautiful wooden garden benches and stools he makes. They’re so good that the prison has put them on sale to the public.’ Kitty paused. ‘I just know, Dotty, I really do, that when he gets released he will keep his promise to his mum and not go after Judy Fox for revenge.’ Kitty then became pensive and Dotty didn’t interrupt. Eventually Kitty drawled, ‘It is just such a pity that Mrs Stewart’s only regret was that she never did pick up the courage to visit Judy and say that she was so very, very sorry about what happened to Edna.’

  ‘Talking of Judy Fox, what happened to the wee girl?’

  ‘Adopted she was by a couple who were emigrating to Australia . . . you know, on the ten-pound passage thing. I believe they are a lovely couple and they regretted that they couldn’t have any children themselves so they adopted Ella. And when they arrived down under . . . well nobody knew that the wee lassie wasn’t theirs.’ Kitty paused. ‘I think the wee girl will have a nicer life there than she would have had here . . . poor Judy was just not up to rearing her granddaughter.’

  Glancing down to check the time again Kitty said, ‘Look we’re wasting our afternoon off. How would you like to come with me to visit Connie and the girls?’

  It was true that Johnny wished to move house and he thought that he would like to buy in the Davidson’s Mains area of the constituency he served. Connie, however, had pointed out to him, in no uncertain manner, that as he was away five days of the week and she was at home seven, Davidson’s Mains was not an option that would suit her.

  She did, however, agree that there was a dearth of Edinburgh Corporation housing for rent and needy people with children were therefore un
able to be allocated suitable homes. This being the case, and as she and Johnny could afford a mortgage, they should be buying their own. Old Jock, Johnny’s lifetime mate, thought that was all very well just as long as Johnny didn’t begin to think, like some of his peers in the House of Commons, that he was a “cut above” those he was representing.

  It had been a difficult time deciding where they would look for a house. Both Connie and Johnny had to do what is usual in such a situation and compromise – more so in Johnny’s case – and they now resided in a three-bedroomed terraced villa opposite the playing fields at Goldenacre. The bonus for Johnny was that his home was now on the direct route to his constituency and Connie was delighted that there was a bus stop just outside her door where the buses very quickly ran her back to Leith.

  Ferry Road being a main road meant that unlike Restalrig Road, the front door was always kept locked. So when Kitty and Dotty arrived to visit, Kitty had to ring the doorbell. When Connie did eventually open the door the first thing she said was, ‘Now look here, I’m busy and I just don’t have time to be entertaining Jehovah’s Witnesses.’

  ‘Is that so?’ retorted Kitty. ‘Well I do hope that doesn’t mean that there is no hope of two newly qualified staff nurses getting their feet over the doorstep and a cup of tea.’

  Connie stood back and signalled by waving her hand that the two young women were welcome.

  ‘Nice house you’ve got here,’ remarked Dotty after Connie had ushered then into the spacious living room.

  Connie sighed.

  ‘You must like staying here,’ Dotty enthused.

  ‘It’s okay but I do miss my old neighbours who were always popping in.’ Connie huffed before adding, ‘Two things for sure . . . first is that you could die here and naebody would ken and second is that you could bet your bottom dollar that no one will ever rap on your door and ask for the loan of a cup of sugar.’

  ‘That simply isn’t true, Connie. Look at the help Miss Doig gives you.’