A dutiful daughter, p.20
A Dutiful Daughter, page 20
Glancing at the clock she realised with dull surprise that it was almost time to start work in the fried-fish shop. For a moment she considered staying at home, but the thought of being alone in the house with nothing to do but read Donald’s letter over and over again was unbearable. Instead she got ready, moving stiffly about the house like an old woman.
Outside, the snow was thickening underfoot and great soft flakes tumbled down from the dark sky, blinding her and drifting between her parted lips. In little less than two hours the everyday appearance of the streets and houses had changed dramatically, just as Mirren’s life had changed. But eventually the snow would melt and disappear down the drains, and the town would become its familiar self again, while nothing would ever be the same for her. She felt as though she had been wrenched out of her world, spun around like a child in a game of Blind Man’s Buff, then discarded to reel about on her own, sick and giddy and without any sense of direction.
‘The bairns’ll have a grand time tomorrow mornin’ if this goes on,’ Ella said cheerfully as they met outside the shop door, pausing to stamp snow from their feet and brush it from their coats before going in. A blast of warm air met them, together with Maria’s: ‘Make certain ye’ve got rid of all that nasty wet stuff before ye come in here! We’ll be moppin’ at the floors all night as it is, with other folk trampin’ it in heedlessly!’
‘Are you all right?’ Ella asked as they took their coats off in the small back shop and put on their aprons.
Mirren nodded, too ashamed to tell the other girl what had happened. Every nerve end in her body had been stripped of its protective covering and left exposed to the open air, and even the sympathy of a good friend would have hurt beyond bearing. At least she hadn’t cried one single tear over the letter, so there was no problem with red or swollen eyelids. The tears would no doubt come later, when she was alone in bed at night, but at the moment she felt too numb to weep.
The evening ground on, second after second, minute after minute. Fish was battered, potatoes were peeled and sliced into strips. The food was cooked, laid out on waxed paper, ritually blessed with a shake of the big salt cellar and a generous sprinkle of vinegar, wrapped in sheets of newspaper, paid for and borne out of the shop. Outside, the snow continued to fall and Maria insisted on having the floor mopped every five minutes. They were kept busy with never a break, for there was nothing more comforting than a piping-hot fish supper on a cold winter’s night. Mirren was glad of the constant procession of hungry customers; they kept her from remembering, and she began to believe that she was going to get through the evening safely, but the Fates that had just dealt her such a cruel blow hadn’t finished with her yet. With barely half an hour to go before closing time the tears arrived, quite without warning.
They began when Mirren was helping Maria to scoop chips from one of the vats and they arrived in a sudden rush that filled her eyes, brimmed over, and splashed into the bubbling liquid fat before she could put up a hand to wipe them away.
‘For pity’s sake,’ Maria squawked as the fat hissed and spat its resentment. ‘D’ye want tae burn yersel’?’ She snatched at Mirren’s arm and swung her round. ‘Ye should know better than tae cry intae one of the vats!’
‘I’m s-sorry…’ The words came out as a rush of saliva and there was nothing Mirren could do about it but stand there, tears pouring down her face and even from her nose and mouth. It was as though she had turned into a fountain.
‘Pull yersel’ together!’ Maria was outraged.
‘Maria, there’s somethin’ wrong with the lassie…’ Vanni began.
‘And there’s customers tae be seen tae! You stay where ye are,’ Maria added swiftly as Ella turned from the counter. ‘It’s bad enough havin’ one of ye makin’ an exhibition of herself, without the other encouragin’ her! You…’ she pushed Mirren towards the back shop. ‘Get in there and wash yer face!’
‘She needs more than that. Here.’ Vanni pushed a dishcloth into Mirren’s hands then put an arm about her. ‘Come with me. Come and sit down.’
‘Vanni!’
For once he ignored his wife, apart from saying over his shoulder as he led Mirren into the back shop, away from the gaping faces of the customers waiting to be served, ‘See tae the vats for me, Maria.’
In the peace and quiet of the shop he sat Mirren down, then knelt before her, taking the cloth and mopping gently at the tears that kept flowing.
‘Let them come,’ he said when she tried to apologise. ‘Ye need tae cry, so cry. There’s nothin’ wrong in that.’
As she had feared, sympathy only made things worse, but at last the tears began to ease. Vanni got up and began unhurriedly to make tea, leaving Mirren to calm herself. ‘Now…’ He came back to her and put a cup into her hands, tucking her fingers carefully round it. ‘D’ye want tae tell me what’s wrong?’
‘I’d best get back to work.’ She started to rise but Vanni pushed her gently back into the chair.
‘Maria…’
‘Maria and Ella can see tae things for a wee while. Drink yer tea. It might help the hurtin’.’
‘You’re very k-kind, Vanni.’
‘I care about ye,’ he said simply. ‘Me and Maria employ you, and we want ye tae be happy. If we… if I can do anythin’ tae help, ye must tell me.’
‘Nob’dy can help.’ The tears threatened to return, but this time she was able to blink them back as she fished in her pocket then held the letter out to him. He looked at it doubtfully.
‘Ye’re sure ye want me tae read this?’ he asked, then when she nodded he took his time about it, his brown eyes moving slowly from word to word. When he looked up at her again his mouth was tight and there was a frown between his brows. ‘This man has done ye a great wrong!’ His voice was cold and hard; she had never heard Vanni speak like that before.
‘He can’t help falling in l-love with someone else.’
‘The two of you are engaged tae be married, aren’t ye?’
‘Y-yes, but…’
‘There is no but,’ Vanni declared, his expressive eyes flashing. ‘You’ve kept your side of the bargain, workin’ all day, then comin’ here tae earn more money for yer future with him. Ella’s told me about it,’ he added as she blinked at him. ‘She wasnae gossipin’, just frettin’ about you havin’ tae work such long hours and care for yer mother as well. I was worried about ye myself,’ he added. ‘Ye’re too young tae have such responsibilities.’ He took the scarcely touched teacup from her and set it down, then clasped her hands. ‘Ye’ve good friends who care about ye, Mirren,’ he said, the anger gone and his voice soft again. ‘Always remember that.’
His hands on hers were so strong and reassuring, his dark eyes so filled with compassion, that she longed to put her head on his shoulder like a child and demand that he look after her and make the hurt go away. Instead she asked in despair, ‘What am I going to do, Vanni?’
He set the sodden dishcloth aside and took a spotlessly clean white handkerchief from his pocket. ‘First ye’re goin’ home tae rest. The shop’s about tae close anyway,’ he added as she opened her mouth to protest. ‘And tomorrow,’ he mopped at her eyes, then put the handkerchief into her fingers, ‘ye’ll feel stronger and more able tae decide what ye want tae do about this man, who doesn’t have the sense tae appreciate ye. Come on now…’ He drew her to her feet then helped her on with her coat, settling it around her shoulders. ‘Are ye ready tae go home?’
She nodded. ‘My face must be all red and swollen.’
He studied her, then wiped a stray tear gently from below one eye with the ball of his thumb. ‘It is gettin’ dark. Nob’dy’ll notice.’ His palm cupped her cheek for a moment. ‘Ye’ve the gift of courage, Mirren. Everything’ll come right for ye. Ready?’ he asked, and when she nodded he led her into the shop.
‘Ella, fetch yer coat, and see Mirren home.’
‘Vanni!’ Maria protested, her eyes flashing dangerously.
‘We can manage between us for another half-hour. Mirren’s had some bad news. She needs tae go home and rest.’
While Ella fetched her coat he made up two packets of fish and chips, ignoring Maria, who looked on, her face white with anger and her mouth drawn into the shape of a small button. The shop was empty for once and Mirren huddled into her coat, praying that nobody would come in and see her in her misery.
When Ella came back Vanni walked with both girls to the pavement, his arm about Mirren’s shoulders. ‘Mind what I said, get a good night’s rest.’ The snow was still falling and, under the light of a nearby gas street lamp, flakes glittered on his thick curly hair. ‘Ella, take her right tae her door… and don’t pester her for information on the way.’
Ella nodded, subdued. ‘No, Vanni,’ she said meekly. Then, as soon as the two of them started walking: ‘What’s happened?’ she wanted to know.
There was no sense, now, in hiding anything. ‘Donald’s found someone else.’
Ella gasped. ‘Your Donald? The rotten… how could he do this tae ye?’
‘He just got tired of waiting. It’s my fault for not going when he asked me.’
‘Of course it isn’t! He’s promised tae ye, isn’t he?’
‘That’s got nothing to do with it!’ Mirren snapped. ‘I don’t want a man who l-loves someone else!’
Her voice wobbled dangerously over the final words and Ella put an arm about her, holding her close as they walked on under the falling snow. ‘No, of course ye don’t. He’s not worth frettin’ over, Mirren.’
‘I know, but that doesn’t make it any easier!’ She began to weep again and Ella drew her into a shop doorway, rocking her soothingly until the tears slowed. ‘I didn’t know that a body could hold so many tears,’ Mirren sniffled as they set off again. She dabbed at her eyes with Vanni’s handkerchief. ‘Vanni was awful kind, Ella.’
‘He’s a decent man and he likes ye.’
‘He’ll get into terrible trouble with Maria for being so nice to me.’
‘Och, he’s used tae that. Mebbe this time he’ll give her as good as he gets. One of those days he’s goin’ tae have tae stand up tae her,’ Ella said.
She insisted on going all the way home with Mirren. Within a few minutes of their arrival Robbie came in, calling from the tiny lobby, ‘I brought Joe home for some supper, Mirren. What a night! It’s beginning tae ease off, tho…’ The words died away as he came into the kitchen and saw his sister’s wan face. ‘Mirren? What’s happened?’
‘That miserable creature that promised tae marry yer sister’s changed his mind,’ Ella told him crisply. ‘Ye’ll have a cup of tea?’
‘Donald’s jilted ye? But…’
‘Mebbe I’d better just go,’ Joe said uncomfortably.
‘No, ye’ll not. Take yer coat off and sit yourself down,’ Ella ordered. ‘I’ve just mashed the tea and there’s two fish suppers tae share between us…’
‘…and plenty of bread and some cake.’ Mirren pulled herself together and began to think like a hostess. It was unforgivable, in the West of Scotland, to treat a visitor shabbily, even one who was not invited or expected. ‘Sit down, Joe, we’ll have it ready in a minute.’
It helped to be busy. While both girls worked Robbie draped his own and his friend’s caps and coats over the clothes horse to dry near the fire, then sat down to read the letter Mirren handed to him. When he had done he tossed it down on the table. ‘If I could get my hands on Donald Nesbitt!’
‘Don’t fret yourself, Robbie, what’s done’s done.’
‘And the fish is getting cold,’ Ella added, clattering cutlery onto the table. ‘Sit down, everyone.’
‘I couldn’t eat anything, not tonight.’
‘Now, Mirren, ye must eat somethin’,’ Ella fussed, as much in control of the kitchen as if she had lived there all her life. ‘Ye’ll feel better with somethin’ in yer belly.’
It was easier said than done. While the others enjoyed their supper, talking animatedly about anything that came into their heads, Mirren listlessly turned a piece of fish over on her plate, just as she was turning the wreckage of her future over in her mind.
‘I must go,’ Ella said as soon as the meal was over. ‘I’ll wait for ye at the top of the street tomorrow, Mirren, so’s we can go into the mill together.’
‘Tomorrow! Ella, what am I going to tell them all at work?’
‘Tell them the truth: that the man jilted ye because he hadnae the sense of a sparrow.’
‘But what’ll they think of me?’
‘Why should they think any the less of ye?’ Joe Hepburn wanted to know. ‘Ye’ve done nothin’ wrong.’
‘Joe’s quite right.’ Robbie gathered up the plates and took them to the sink. ‘Ye’ve nothin’ tae be ashamed of.’
‘Best tae just face everyone with the truth and be done with it,’ Ella advised, fastening the buttons of her jacket. ‘They’ll all understand. I’d stay and wash the dishes but my aunts’ll be getting worried by now.’
‘I’ll see tae the dishes,’ Robbie told her. ‘I usually do.’
‘Oh, here – a man who knows his way around a sink? You’re a pearl beyond price,’ she teased, and he grinned, flushing.
‘First I’ll walk ye home.’
‘I’ll do that.’ Joe reached for his coat and cap.
‘That’s a nice cheery lassie,’ Robbie approved when he returned from seeing them out. ‘What’re ye doin’?’
‘Washing the dishes.’
‘I said I’d see tae them.’ His hip gently bumped her away from the sink. ‘You sit down.’
‘Robbie, what’ll Logan say?’
‘Who cares what he says? And what business is it of his anyway?’ Robbie wanted to know as he splashed water into the sink. ‘Speakin’ for myself, I’m glad ye’re staying on, because it means I’ll not have tae look for lodgings now. We’ll be all right together, you and me. You’ll see.’
In a way it was Grace who helped Mirren to survive the crushing blow Donald had dealt. Remembering her cousin’s distress over the shame of being jilted she decided, in the long dark misery of that first sleepless night, that the only answer was to meet the situation head-on and vanquish it.
It took all her courage to walk into the twisting mill in the morning and baldly announce to the other women that her sweetheart had found someone else and she would not now be going to America, but to her surprise they all – even those known for their gossiping and their sharp tongues – retaliated by surrounding her with sympathy. Even the mistress, a chilly, aloof woman, showed a spark of understanding. It was as though a wall had been built round Mirren, holding her safe until she found a new sense of direction. Her mother had been right when she said that it was best to tell the truth and shame the Devil.
Grateful though Mirren was for their rough kindness, they could do nothing to ease the bleeding wound deep within. Catherine Proctor, concerned for her, suggested that she should consider joining Grace and Anne in Canada. ‘It might do you good to get right out of Paisley, the way our Grace did.’
Mirren shook her head. ‘Grace wanted to get as far away from George Armitage as possible. If I go to Canada I’ll be nearer Donald, not further from him.’
‘A wee holiday then, somewhere down by the Clyde.’
‘At this time of year? Anyway, I can’t take time off from my work. The truth is,’ Mirren said helplessly, ‘I don’t know what I want to do with myself.’
‘There must be something special that you’ve always wanted to do,’ Catherine said, then clapped her hands. ‘Of course – you must dance! It’s what you like best, isn’t it? And it would do you the world of good.’
‘I can’t go dancing so soon after my mother’s death. What would folk say?’
‘Mirren, you did your duty – and more than your duty – towards Helen while she was still alive. You’ve given up enough of yourself for other people, including Donald, and perhaps now’s the time to make up to yourself for all those years, while there’s still so much living ahead of you.’
‘I don’t know…’ Mirren said, but deep inside her, Aunt Catherine’s words kindled a spark that had been lying dormant, waiting. As she went about her usual daily duties that spark became a flame; she hummed dance tunes to herself at her frames in the mill and practised steps in the confines of the kitchen at home, and even in the mill privies, where the girls often tried out new dances. She wanted to start dancing again, longed for it, but couldn’t as yet quite bring herself to break with tradition and do it.
17
Now that there were no demands on her free time, Mirren took to strolling along Paisley’s High Street with Ella and Ruby on Saturday afternoons. Her favourite shops were the haberdashery and drapers’ emporium. To most folk they were merely shops, but to Mirren they were a treasure trove. Here lay card upon card of buttons – small and large, plain and fancy, white and coloured, flat and rounded, made of jet, glass, cut-steel, brass, wood, mother-of-pearl – as well as bobbins of sewing thread and ‘dollies’ of embroidery thread in all the colours of the rainbow. There were thimbles, scissors, tape measures, seamstress’s pins, darning needles, packets of sharp-pointed little sewing needles for making tiny delicate stitches, and reels of lace, ribbon and tape.
Mirren, who’d had no use for years for anything other than darning wool and large darning needles, drank in the colour and beauty of it all and would have stayed longer, but the other two were ever impatient, always pulling her back to the pavement and into the next shop before she had a chance to look her fill.
On this particular Saturday, Ella was impatient to take another look at a silk blouse she coveted.
‘What d’ye think?’
‘It’s very nice,’ Mirren agreed.
‘I could mebbe afford it next week if it’s still here.’ Ella stroked the sleeve and Ruby suggested, ‘Try it on, just tae make sure it fits.’
The two of them disappeared into the curtained fitting cubicle with the blouse while Mirren wandered to the back of the shop. When they came looking for her she was standing before a dummy wearing a black short-sleeved georgette dress, cut straight across at the neck. There was scarlet piping across the neckline and at the wrists, and a silk scarlet flower caught the broad hip-level belt at one side.
