A dutiful daughter, p.27
A Dutiful Daughter, page 27
Finally Bert managed to break free and swing a strong punch at Gregor, who gave a yelp of pain and retaliated with a furious flurry of blows that dropped Bert to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
‘Oh my God, you’ve killed him!’
‘It’d take more than that wee slap tae kill anyone.’ Gregor used his sleeve to wipe blood from his chin. ‘And even if I have, he deserved it. The bastard near punched my eye out!’
As Mirren dropped to her knees, Bert stirred and raised himself on one elbow, looking up at her groggily. He too was bleeding, from the nose. ‘Leave me alone!’ He pushed her hands away when she tried to help him and had got to his knees, dripping blood on the flagstones, when booted feet came down the pavement and into the close. The three of them froze instinctively, Gregor on his feet, Bert and Mirren kneeling. Fortunately they had moved into the back close during the struggle and were out of sight of anyone coming in from the street. But if the newcomer was to come to the nearby door, or to go through to the back court for some reason, they would be discovered. The thought was almost more than Mirren could bear. Why, she asked herself frantically, why hadn’t she just hurried home from the station? Then she might well have been safely indoors when Bert arrived, never to be discovered.
A wheezy, crackling cough from the depths of damaged lungs echoed through from the front section of the close, then the darkness about them suddenly lifted as the gas mantle near the stairs was lit. As the lamplighter moved on to the next close, Mirren scrambled to her feet. ‘Are you all right, Bert?’
He got up, leaning against the wall for support and mopping at his face with a handkerchief. When he took it from his face he stared, aghast, at the material in the faint glow from the gas lamp. ‘I’m bleeding!’
‘So am I… and I’m half blind and all,’ Gregor told him sourly, his hand still clapped over his left eye.
‘Come upstairs and I’ll put a cold cloth to the back of your neck.’
‘Upstairs? With you and him?’ Bert gave a short snuffly laugh. ‘I value my life higher than that. I’m getting out of this godforsaken town right now and you needn’t think I’ll be back!’ Over the handkerchief clasped to his nose his eyes glittered malevolently at Mirren. ‘I must have been mad, driving all this way to apologise to a common millworker who lives in a…’ he glared round the small shabby close ‘…a hovel like this!’
Gregor rumbled angrily and took a step forward, fists bunching. Mirren moved to hold him back as Bert stormed out of the close. The car’s engine noisily chugged into life, the hooter, so often sounded in Mirren’s presence as a triumphant flourish, gave a derisive sneer, and Bert drove out of her life forever.
‘Good riddance tae bad rubbish,’ Gregor snarled. ‘How ye ever wanted tae have anythin’ tae dae with… Where are ye goin’?’
‘Home,’ she told him crisply from halfway up the stairs. ‘And you should be, too.’
‘Am I not even tae get a wee cup of tea first?’
‘After what you’ve done?’
‘I was only lookin’ after ye.’
She marched back down the stairs. ‘I don’t need looking after, Gregor, and I don’t like to have men fighting over me.’
‘But…’
One of the two doors at the foot of the stairs opened and a bald head appeared. ‘Will ye for God’s sake stop yer natterin’ and get out of here! How’s a body tae get any sleep?’
‘I’m sorry, Mr McCrae.’
‘Oh, it’s you. I don’t know,’ the old man said peevishly. ‘First it’s weans fightin’ right outside my own door then it’s youse two!’
‘We were just sayin’ goodnight,’ Gregor mumbled.
‘Well say it an’ get off home!’
‘You’re quite right, Mr McCrae. Goodnight, Gregor,’ Mirren said, and escaped.
22
‘I don’t know what Gregor Lewis tried tae do tae ye on Saturday night,’ Ruby said slyly on Monday morning. ‘But he’s got a grand black eye.’
‘He never has!’ Ella said.
‘I’m tellin’ ye. When I asked what he’d been up tae he gave me a right squint… not that it’s easy tae squint with a black eye.’ Ruby howled with laughter at her own wit.
‘Ye hit him, Mirren?’ Ella’s own eyes were huge with curiosity. ‘What was he tryin’ tae do?’
‘He wasn’t trying to do anything and I didn’t hit him. He just walked me home then went off to his own bed,’ Mirren protested. ‘Mebbe he walked into a lamp post on his way home.’
Gregor avoided her all morning, but she managed to catch him on his own on her way to the privy. As Ruby had said, his eye and the area all around it were badly bruised.
‘Oh, Gregor, I’m sorry!’
‘It wasnae all your fault, I suppose,’ he said gruffly. ‘Though I still don’t know what was goin’ on.’
‘What did you tell folk about…’ She indicated the eye.
‘That I fell over a broken pavin’-stone and hit my face off a wall. I’ve been takin’ a terrible ribbin’ about it.’
‘You should never have tried to help me.’
‘I wasnae goin’ tae let that daft fool drag ye intae his car. God knows what might have happened tae ye then. I don’t really mind this keeker,’ Gregor said manfully. ‘Not if it helped ye tae get rid of him. Anyway—’ a sly grin crept over his face ‘—I doubt if he’s lookin’ too smart himself this mornin’, with his nose all over his face.’ He sniggered, then said, ‘I was wonderin’, Mirren – we never got tae say goodnight properly because of him, so I was wonderin’ if we could…’
‘No, Gregor,’ she told him firmly. ‘You’re a nice man, but I think you and me’d be best just to leave things as they are. I’ve got you into enough trouble as it is.’
Ella heard the whole story during the midday break when the two of them were on their own and apart from the others. ‘Bert must’ve really liked ye, if he came here specially tae apologise.’
‘Mebbe so, but I couldn’t bear to be with him again.’ Mirren shivered, remembering how swiftly he had changed from a friend into a frightening stranger, and the weight and strength of him pinning her down when she tried to push him away. Sometimes in the dead of night, jumping from sleep to wakefulness after a nightmare about the dunes, she wondered what would have happened if Ella hadn’t stopped him.
‘And it was him who blacked Gregor’s eye?’
‘Just before Gregor burst his nose for him.’
‘And I missed it all,’ Ella mourned.
‘I wish I had.’
‘At least Gregor stood up for ye.’
‘I didn’t want him to! You should have seen them, Ella, they were like a pair of dogs fighting over a bone. I’m done with Gregor, apart from dancing with him sometimes… if he ever asks me again. I don’t want him to think that he won me in some daft fight.’
‘Did Bert mention Martin at all?’
‘He didn’t have time to chat, and anyway we’ll not see either of them again now that Bert knows we’re mill girls.’ She shuddered at the memory. ‘He looked at me as if I was dirt!’
‘Cheeky bugger!’ Ella was outraged.
‘I wish you’d never said that we worked in a lawyer’s office, Ella. I hated having to pretend, and fibs are always found out.’
‘If they’d known the truth we’d never have got even one ride in their nice car. Ye should have told him that us women in the mills earn more money than office workers anyway. A lassie I went tae school with works in Gardner’s, the lawyers in County Place, and she doesnae make as much as me. And,’ Ella ended triumphantly, ‘ye should’ve told him about the pension too. That would’ve put his toffee nose out of joint.’
‘I could scarcely stand in the back close and tell him all that while Gregor was breaking his nose for him, could I?’ Mirren snapped, and flounced back to join the others as the great bell rang from its tower to signal the return to work.
After work on Friday she took the gifts she had bought in Callander – a book for Thomas, a knitted toy for the unborn baby, a brooch for Agnes and tobacco for Bob – to Lady Lane, intending to go straight from there to her evening stint at the shop. She looked forward to spending an hour with the family, for Bob and Agnes were always welcoming and Thomas would be sure to have some adventure, real or imagined, to relate.
Bob opened the door, his normally cheerful face creased with worry. ‘I’m awful glad ye came, Mirren. Agnes is poorly and I don’t know what tae do for the best.’
In the kitchen Agnes was crouched over her swollen belly, breathing quickly and noisily, while Thomas played happily at her feet with a brightly painted train Bob had made from thread bobbins. Her face, when she lifted it at Mirren’s entrance, was deeply flushed.
‘Mirren, it’s… yerself.’ She summoned up a sickly smile. ‘Sit down and… Bob’ll put on the… kettle.’
‘He will indeed, but I’m not sitting down.’ Mirren dropped her bag and the parcels she had brought onto the table and rounded on Bob. ‘For goodness’ sake, man, her bairn’s coming.’
‘Eh?’ His jaw dropped. ‘But it’s not due for another two weeks.’
‘Mebbe it doesn’t know that. Did you not tell him, Agnes?’
‘I didnae want tae say till nearer the time for my mother tae get home from her work,’ Agnes gasped apologetically. ‘Poor Bob’s not good with illness.’
‘Poor Bob’ had indeed gone grey. ‘I wouldnae know what labour looks like.’ He wet his lips nervously, peering at his wife. ‘I’ve never fathered a bairn before.’
‘Neither have I, or birthed one either, but I’ve a good idea of what we’re looking at here. Get that kettle on while I run to fetch a midwife!’
‘Never mind a midwife, just get my mother,’ Agnes begged. ‘She’ll surely be home by the time ye get there.’
‘I’ll go.’ Bob snatched up his jacket. ‘You stay with her, Mirren.’
‘It’s your baby, not mine. You put it in there,’ Mirren was heedless, in her panic, of what she was saying. ‘It’s your duty to see that it gets back out safely, not mine.’
‘Mirren!’ Even in her distress Agnes found time to be shocked. ‘There’s a bairn wi’ big ears in this house! Ye’ll have tae take him with ye, Bob. My mother’s neighbour’ll… look after him; she’s a kindly soul. Put the kettle on before ye go. And will ye rub my back, Mirren, for it’s awful sore.’
As Bob snatched up the kettle and hurried to the sink Mirren massaged her sister-in-law’s spine. ‘Should you not be lying down?’
‘I will in a… minute, but get wee Thomas out of here first, for I don’t want him frighted.’
As soon as the kettle was on the stove Bob gathered up the little boy, who was quite happy where he was and only went with his stepfather on the false promise of a visit to the park, and hurried him out of the flat.
‘Mebbe you should just get whoever you can instead of going all the way to Gauze Street,’ Mirren called after him as a whimper escaped Agnes’s bloodless lips. ‘You should have told Bob what ailed you!’ she scolded as she helped the other girl to her feet. ‘He’s the father – surely he should know when his own child’s arriving.’
‘I didnae like tae say, with him never havin’…’ Agnes gasped and clutched at Mirren, then faltered on after a moment, ‘never havin’ seen a woman in labour before. I kept hopin’ my mother might look in after work, the way she sometimes does. Anyway, I wasnae sure myself until just before you came, for the pain’s… all in my back and that’s not the way it was with Thomas. And my water’s not broke yet. That’s supposed to be the first… Oh!’ She looked in dismay at the pool that had suddenly appeared on the floor where Thomas had been playing only minutes earlier. ‘Oh, my good rug!’
‘Never mind your rug, let’s get you undressed and onto the bed.’
By the time Agnes was in a nightdress and on the bed, her back pain had turned into unmistakable contractions, arriving regularly and frequently. Mirren, who had never witnessed childbirth before, longed for Mrs McNair to arrive and take over before things went much further. While waiting for the woman she turned down the gas beneath the kettle, which was filling the room with steam, then began to mop up the mess on the floor. Before she was half done Agnes let out a hoarse scream.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘It’s comin’, that’s what’s wrong,’ her sister-in-law said through gritted teeth. ‘And it’s comin’ fast. Look in that top drawer of the cupboard. There’s some… oh!… some strips of cloth. Bring them—’ She broke off as the contraction deepened, gripping Mirren’s forearms and holding on tight, digging her fingers deep into the flesh. By the time she finally relaxed they were both breathless, Agnes with exhaustion and Mirren with the strain of holding back her own yelps of pain.
She used the lull to fetch the bundle of clean rags Agnes had carefully stored in the cupboard in readiness. Following the older woman’s panted instructions she tied the two longest to the head of the bed, knotted the free ends and placed them into Agnes’s hands, so that she could pull on them when the next contraction came, which it did almost as soon as the rags were in position. While Agnes dragged on them and roared out her suffering at the top of her voice, Mirren soaked another piece of cloth under the tap and hurried back to mop her sister-in-law’s sweating crimson face. Just then, to her great relief, she heard the door open.
‘It’s all right, Agnes, your mother’s here.’
‘Thank God…’ Agnes panted, exhausted. But it was Bob, on his own.
‘She’s not home yet,’ he gabbled. ‘The wee chap’s sittin’ on the stairs outside. I didnae know what else tae do with him.’ Then as his wife let out another scream he started past Mirren, his face ashen. ‘Agnes…’
‘Go away!’ Half raised on her pillows, her face swollen with blood and running with sweat, her hair loose and her eyes wild, she looked like a harridan. ‘Get out of here!’ she shouted at him, and he fled.
‘And find someone – anyone!’ Mirren ordered in a panic as he disappeared through the outer door. Then, to Agnes: ‘I don’t know what to do!’
‘You don’t have tae do… anythin’. It’s me that has to do all the… work…’ The last word rose into a banshee’s screaming as Agnes fell back, snatching at her nightdress in her pain and pulling it up to her waist.
‘Oh Mammy…!’ she gasped as the contraction washed over her then ebbed, leaving her shaking on the mattress. ‘Oh dear Jesus, help me!’
‘Oh God, oh God…!’ Mirren chattered in harmony, her eyes fixed on Agnes’s flabby blue-veined white legs and a stomach so bloated that she was convinced it must split wide open at any minute. Surely Bob must be able to find someone more capable than herself to help Agnes!
For a few moments they had a respite. Mirren mopped Agnes’s face and brushed her hair back while her sister-in-law lay still, eyes closed. ‘I wish my mammy was here,’ she said, her voice weak and childlike. ‘I want my mammy.’
‘She’s just coming. She’ll be here any minute.’ Please God, Mirren thought, dabbing Agnes’s forehead, then her own as she went to the sink for more cold water.
Behind her she heard a sudden surge of movement from the wall bed. ‘It’s comin’, Mirren, it’s…’ Agnes raised herself up on her elbows, her face almost purple and her lips dragging back from her teeth with the strain of a massive contraction. ‘Take—’ she said, then the words were lost in a long animal-like snarl of effort. It was then that Mirren saw the blood flooding over the sheet and something emerging from between Agnes’s spread thighs. She reeled back, while about her the room turned grey and hazy, as though suddenly filling with steam from the kettle that still simmered away on the stove.
‘Agnes…’ she quavered, just as the door opened and an elderly woman came bustling in, rolling her sleeves up.
‘It’s all right, Mrs McCulloch hen. I’m here. We’ll get that bairn o’ yours born in nae time at all.’ She advanced on the bed with relish, just as grey turned to black and Mirren’s knees gave way beneath her.
‘Ye’re late. Ye should have been here fifteen minutes ago,’ Maria snapped when Mirren walked into the shop on shaky legs.
‘I’m sorry. When I went to see my sister-in-law she’d gone into labour and I’d to stay and help her.’ Mirren still felt queasy and the smell of food frying didn’t help. When she went into the small back shop to hang up her coat and put on her apron she took a moment to drink some cold water and take a few deep breaths before plunging back into the warmth and the smell.
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ Vanni asked. Mindful of Maria’s sharp eyes, she smiled and nodded.
‘Has Agnes had her baby?’ Ella whispered as they worked side by side at the counter.
‘A wee boy.’
‘And you were there? Ye saw it happenin’?’
‘Most of—’
‘Ye’re welcome tae chatter all night if ye want,’ Maria said from behind them, ‘but I’d ask ye tae do it on the pavement. Ye’re here tae work, not gossip.’
The evening seemed to go on forever and Mirren, already worn out by all that had happened in such a brief space of time, was reminded of the bad old days when she used to come in to work exhausted after staying up with her mother all night, then putting in a full day at the mill.
‘I’ve never seen our Agnes look so bonny or so happy,’ she marvelled to Ella as they walked home. It was a miracle the way the woman had put all the horror of childbirth behind her, once she had been washed and changed and given her new son to hold.
