A dutiful daughter, p.16
A Dutiful Daughter, page 16
‘I’d forgotten I had that, but I still mind the day it was taken as if it was just yesterday. It was my mother who came up with the idea of us going to a photographer’s studio, and your gran was all for it herself. She was the one who took us and between us we near drove her wild with exasperation, for we were in one of those silly, giggly moods that day. I mind that the photographer had a terrible time getting us to stay still.’ Catherine’s finger rested briefly on Helen’s long fair locks. ‘You’ve got your mother’s hair, lassie, but I do believe…’ she turned Mirren round so that she could study her face closely ‘…that you’ve got my mouth and my eyes. And you’ve certainly got my love of dancing. Helen gave it a try when I became so fond of it, but she didn’t have the same sense of rhythm. Poor Helen, it vexed her that I could dance better than her, though of course there were other things she did better than me. Would you like me to have a copy made of this?’
‘Oh yes, please.’ Mirren could scarcely take her eyes off the portrait of her mother as a girl. This was a Helen she had never known and never could know, for her mother was not one to talk of her childhood, claiming that what was gone was gone and of no interest to her.
‘Then I’ll see to it tomorrow. I just wish that Helen and I could be close again.’ The ball of Catherine’s thumb caressed the likeness of her cousin’s small, pointed face. ‘We were so sure in those days that we’d always be together, no matter what,’ she said. Then, putting the picture down and straightening her shoulders: ‘At least I can help by seeing that she gets any wee thing she needs, and she needn’t know that it came from me.’
‘We can manage fine,’ Mirren said at once. Grateful though she was for her aunt’s strength and support, she was not yet ready to accept financial charity. Not as long as she could manage on her own.
‘I’ve no doubt that you can, lass, but I want to do my share and you’ll surely not deny me that wee pleasure. For a start,’ Catherine said briskly, ‘I’ve got in more of that calves’ foot jelly for her, and a bottle of tonic wine. It did our John the world of good when he had the pneumonia.’
At the beginning of November Robbie came home and announced that he had found a job.
‘In your own trade?’
He grinned broadly. ‘Aye.’
‘Oh, Robbie, that’s wonderful!’ She hugged him, laughing as he danced her about the kitchen. ‘Where is it?’ she asked when he finally let her go.
‘Promise ye’ll not put on that disapprovin’ face.’
‘Why should I disapprove of you getting another job? Goodness knows you deserve it, and you’ve looked hard enough for it.’
‘It wasnae me that found it, though. It was Joe.’ He eyed her narrowly. ‘It’s in Fleming and Ferguson’s engineering shop.’
‘Oh. He works for them, doesn’t he?’
‘In their shipyard. It was good of him tae get them tae take me on.’ There was a faint warning note in his voice.
‘You must have got the job on your own merit.’
‘Of course I did. But Joe arranged for them tae give me the interview.’
Mirren bit her lip then said, ‘In that case I’m grateful to him.’
‘So am I. Now,’ Robbie said to show that the matter was over and done with and he would not be interested in further discussion, ‘what’s for the dinner? Ye’ll need tae feed me up now that I’m a workin’ man again.’
‘Feed you up? A horse couldn’t eat more than you already do!’
Seeing him go off to work each morning, walking with his old jaunty swing, his self-respect regained, Mirren could do nothing other than accept the situation and be grateful to see him bring home a decent pay packet again at the end of each week.
In the fried-fish shop Maria Perrini had become even more waspish than usual; sometimes, as the evenings dragged by, Mirren was reminded of the tightrope walkers in a circus she had once visited with Donald. Shovelling chips and taking money and counting out change, she recalled holding her breath, one hand clutching at her throat and the other gripping Donald’s sleeve, as she watched three small figures – a man and two women, all dressed in tight-fitting spangled clothing – make their way slowly across a swaying rope high in the air, with injury or even death just one slip of the foot away.
At times when Maria’s temper was at its worst she felt just like those circus people. One word, one mistake on her part, and Maria’s sharp tongue would slice ruthlessly through the rope and send her spinning into space, out of control and out of the extra work she so badly needed, particularly now that her mother was so frail and required little extras to tempt her failing appetite.
‘If Maria was older I’d say she’d reached that time when women get all dried up and past their prime,’ Ella said one night as the two of them plodded home. Even she was finding it hard to stay cheerful in the shop these days.
‘Mebbe she’s expecting.’
‘Not her. She makes sure that there won’t be any bairns.’
‘How d’you know a thing like that?’
‘Vanni told me.’
‘Ella!’ Mirren was horrified. ‘You talked to the man about things like that?’
‘No, he talked tae me one Saturday afternoon when we happened tae meet in Barshaw Park. The poor soul gets right down at times, and he has tae talk tae someone,’ Ella said defensively. ‘Being Italian and a Roman Catholic, he’s always wanted bairns. He says he loves bein’ with his wee nephews and nieces. But Maria’s determined not to have any, ever.’
‘She might change her mind.’
‘That’s what Vanni’s hoping but I think he’s just foolin’ himself. That selfish bitch’ll not change her mind once it’s made up.’
‘If she doesn’t want children and he does, why did he marry her in the first place?’
‘If you ask me, she let him think that she was as fond of bairns as he was just tae get her hands on the shop. It belongs tae his family. He told me that they’re all over Scotland, with at least one shop in nearly every town. As the young ones grow up, the older ones put the money together tae buy them a wee business. They know how tae look after their own, the Perrinis. But there’s a bad apple in every barrel and as far as you and me are concerned, that’s Maria,’ Ella finished in disgust. ‘Times I can’t stand tae be near her, knowin’ what she’s doing tae poor Vanni, and him such a civil soul, too.’
‘You could stop working there.’
‘And leave you and Vanni on yer own? Ye both need someone sensible like me tae keep an eye on ye,’ Ella said, squeezing Mirren’s arm. ‘Besides, who would I carp about if I didnae have Maria?’
Robbie was waiting at the closemouth, pacing the pavement impatiently. ‘There you are!’ He took her arm and hurried her into the close and up the stairs. ‘I’ve been waiting for you tae come home so’s I could get out tae a meetin’.’
‘At this time of night?’
‘I’ll have missed most of it now, but I can find out what went before.’ They had reached the landing and, without waiting for her to lift the latch, he swung round and began heading off down the stairs again, taking them two at a time.
‘Robbie!’
‘Put some of that fish in the oven for me,’ he called back over his shoulder as he went. ‘And don’t wait up. I’ll come in quietly so’s not tae disturb ye.’
‘What’s all the noise about?’ Helen asked peevishly when Mirren went in to see her.
‘Just Robbie going out to some meeting.’
‘As late as this?’ Helen shook her head then said indulgently, ‘It’s probably a lassie. I mind the way his brothers were at his age. Is there any more of that tonic wine left, Mirren?’
‘Aye, there is. Could you take some fried fish with it?’
Going to fetch the wine and the small piece of fish that Helen thought she could manage, Mirren wished that it was a girl that held Robbie’s interest rather than Joe Hepburn and politics. She had to admit that Joe had a right to be bitter about the grand vision of a new Britain presented by Parliament during the Great War – a vision of a land fit for the heroes who had left home, hearth and loved ones to fight and be injured like George Armitage, or die like Crawford, for their country. The land for heroes had never materialised, but even so she did not care for the idea of ordinary men such as Joe Hepburn and her Robbie taking what had been promised, if it wasn’t given to them freely. Such attitudes could lead to trouble and if there was any trouble around she had a feeling that Joe was sure to be in the thick of it. Recalling the evening when Robbie had proudly shown her his bruised knuckles, she worried.
‘That’s good,’ Helen said appreciatively after her first sip of wine. She had become quite fond of it and had no idea that it was Catherine Proctor who supplied it. She only picked at the fish before pushing the plate away.
‘You need to eat more, Mother.’
‘What for? Eating’s for keeping your strength up, and I’m not using any lying here. I’m never out in the fresh air to get an appetite.’
‘Mebbe when the weather’s better we could get you down to the back court.’
‘Aye, mebbe,’ Helen said listlessly. For once she was not in the mood to talk, and when the wine was finished and she had been settled for the night she dropped into a doze, leaving Mirren free to return to the kitchen, where she got out her notepad, pen and ink, and started a letter to Donald. She loved those letters, for while she wrote them she stopped being a daughter and a sister and a friend, and became a woman in love, longing to be with her man again and frustrated by the circumstances that kept them apart.
‘I know that Aunt Catherine would help, but Mother refuses to have anything to do with her, or with Agnes now that she has remarried. And Logan and Belle already have their hands full. But the day will come if we’re just patient, though I know that that is not easy for either of us,’ she wrote, wishing that she could put herself into the envelope and post herself across the water to him.
Robbie came in soon after she had gone to bed, slipping like a shadow into the kitchen to fetch the food she had kept warm for him. She pretended to be asleep, but when he gave a sudden exclamation, followed by a soft curse, she asked from the shadows of the bed recess, ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I’ve burned my fingers on this damned plate!’
She could see his figure outlined against the small window. ‘There’s a towel on the back of the chair nearest you. Use that to hold the plate. And light the gas if you want.’
‘No,’ he said abruptly, then: ‘go tae sleep, Mirren, I’ll take the food intae my own room.’
She listened for a while to his soft movements on the other side of the wall before sleep took hold of her.
When Mirren saw the envelope with its unfamiliar stamps lying on the doormat she pounced on it, her tired heart soaring. Donald’s letter must have crossed hers, she thought, then a second glance showed that the stamps weren’t American and that Grace’s name had been printed clearly in one corner.
Although she had very little time in which to see to her mother before running back to the mill for the afternoon shift, she managed to start on the close-packed pages as she heated the soup that was all Helen wanted. Grace wrote in the neat copperplate handwriting that had been dinned into them both at school, sometimes with the aid of the teacher’s heavy wooden ruler across their knuckles.
I’m sorry to have taken so long to sit down to this letter, but there has been so much to do and so much to learn, and I know that Mother will have shared Anne’s letters with you, so you will have heard of our excitements and adventures. Anne is so good at writing, no matter how tired and harassed she might be. I do not know how she finds the energy, since she works every bit as hard as I do. We all have to work hard, but at the same time we are treated kindly and fed well, so we cannot complain.
Anne had written only of the pleasant aspects of their lives, but Grace clearly felt more free with Mirren, who learned for the first time about the dreadful seasickness both her friends had experienced during the crossing between Scotland and Canada, particularly early on as they sailed across the North Atlantic.
It was very cold and so stormy that I was certain that we would sink at any moment. The cabin was extremely small with no windows, not even those little round portholes. It put me most unpleasantly in mind of a coffin. We were all four of us dreadfully sick and I have to admit to crying bitterly for my mother, just like a little child. I wept so hard and for so long that I believe I was as much in danger of drowning in my own tears as in the terrible sea. But even though she was sick too, and longed to be home just as much as I did, Anne was so brave and so determined that we would arrive in Canada safe and sound that she kept the rest of us going, when we were more than ready to advance on the captain and demand that he turn about and take us back to Scotland.
Once the sickness passed and the weather eased, life became much easier for Grace and Anne and their companions. There were walks on deck, the pleasure of meeting some of their fellow travellers, and as much food as anyone could want.
Though what I still wished for more than anything was to be back home with Mother and Father and all the others, and watching from the parlour window to see you come down the street with your pretty, anxious face set in its usual worried frown.
Mirren set the letter down and raced to the mirror, pushing her fair hair back from her forehead so that she could examine it closely. Grace was right – there were lines across it, and more tucked between her eyebrows. When she smoothed them with her fingers they reappeared as soon as she let go. They deepened when she heard the Ferguslie bell ringing for the second time and realised that she would have to run like a hare in order to get back to work.
It was late at night before she was able to return to Grace’s letter and read about the sisters’ arrival on dry land. Grace wrote:
The uniformed customs men looked at us very sternly, and they seemed quite reluctant to let us into their country. Although I was still homesick I was also determined that, having come so far, we were going to remain there. Eventually, after searching through every corner of our bags and our big trunk, they allowed us to go through. Then followed an anxious time until we found the Board of Trade gentleman and the nurses who were to take us under their wing. Anne and I were fortunate because we were put in the charge of an English lady, who made sure that we shared a room in the hospital, being sisters, and also explained our duties clearly and told us to go to her if we were in doubt about anything.
We are kept busy from morning to night changing beds and mopping floors and carrying trays and bedpans. I confess that I much prefer the trays! And we must always be ready to help the nurses with whatever they might require of us. As Anne says, it is fortunate that we two were raised to be obedient and hard-working, and therefore the daily routine is easier on us than on some of the girls who have been accustomed to an easier life. The Canadians, patients and nurses alike, are very nice people, and they take such a delight in our Scottish accents, so we all get on very well together and have a fairly cheerful time. I believe that Anne may well end up training as a nurse but, for myself, I am not certain that I would wish to do that.
Although I am settling in happily I do miss Paisley and my family and you, my dear cousin. Promise that you will not forget me and that you will write often. And one day you too will be crossing the sea, and we will meet…
Helen’s voice was heard from the front room and Mirren, hauled back in an instant from Canada to Paisley, put the letter down, looked regretfully at her waiting bed, and went to her mother.
‘You’re looking awful drawn, pet.’ Catherine Proctor peered at her niece. ‘Are you sickening for something?’
‘I’m fine. Just a bit tired.’
‘Is Helen sleeping badly?’
‘She’s scarcely sleeping at all,’ Mirren confessed. It was such a relief to have someone to confide in. ‘She dozes during the day, just.’
‘When you’re having to work.’
‘Mother can’t help that.’
‘I know.’ Catherine opened a drawer and took out three wrapped parcels. ‘Before you go. This is for your Ne’erday, and Helen’s and Robbie’s. I know Helen won’t accept her present if she knows it’s from me, so if it comes to it you can say it’s from you. And we’ll have no thought of you buying anything for us,’ she said firmly as she tucked the parcels into Mirren’s bag, along with a jar of calves’ foot jelly and a bottle of wine, ‘for there are too many of us and you’ve got more than enough to do with your silver.’
Robbie pounced on the parcels when Mirren unpacked them, shaking the one that bore his name, then hefting it in his hands to calculate its weight. ‘Can I open it now?’
‘You cannot… not until Ne’erday.’ Like most Scots, the Jarvis family always celebrated New Year rather than Christmas, and any gifts exchanged were opened on Ne’erday morning. ‘Give it to me,’ Mirren ordered as Robbie rubbed a fingernail gently over the paper, clearly hoping that it might tear and give some indication of its contents. She took it from him and put it under her bed together with the other two, ignoring his grumbling. He might be a man now, but he still had the eagerness of a child.
Ella and Ruby did their best to persuade Mirren to go to the Hogmanay dance in the drill hall. ‘It’ll be wonderful… They have streamers, and a punchbowl, and every kind of dance from the Dashing White Sergeant to the foxtrot. And at midnight when the bells start ringin’ in the New Year, everyone goes round kissin’ everyone.’ Ella winked. ‘If ye’re lucky ye can manage tae get more than one kiss from the lad ye might fancy. Ye’d enjoy it. And it’s time ye’d a treat.’
