A dutiful daughter, p.33
A Dutiful Daughter, page 33
‘Please, miss, make it quite clear to your friend that it would not be wise for her or for you to think of attempting to see my nephew. It would only cause great upset, and a lot of trouble too.’ His teeth, the colour of the keys of the old piano in William Primrose’s dancing studio, were bared in another shallow smile. ‘You may rest assured that we, the Perrini family, will look after both of them.’
He gave her another little bow and turned away, replacing his hat as he did so. Mirren immediately shut the door and stood in the little lobby, too shaken to take the few steps back into the kitchen. When the snib rattled, she jumped and leaned her weight on the door to hold it shut.
‘Mirren?’ The snib banged up and down. ‘I can’t get the door open. Are ye there?’
‘Robbie?’
‘Of course it’s me, and Joe too. What’s amiss?’ he wanted to know as she opened the door to admit the two of them, each carrying a brown-paper parcel. She had forgotten that they had offered to collect Ella’s belongings from the grocer’s shop after work.
‘Come in, quick!’ When they were inside she closed the door and put the snib down to lock it before following them into the kitchen, where they had laid the two pathetically small bundles that held all Ella’s possessions on the table. ‘Did you meet anyone on the stairs?’
‘Only a wee, well-dressed chap. We passed him in the close. What about it?’ Robbie wanted to know. When she told them about her visitor he and Joe looked at each other, then Joe said, ‘I’ve heard that Italian families are very close. They look after their own.’
‘Ella once said that it was Vanni’s relatives who got them the shop.’
‘I think the two of ye’d be as well tae heed the wee man and let matters be,’ Joe advised.
‘She’ll want to go to the infirmary as soon as she’s able.’
‘Then we’ll have tae find ways of stoppin’ her. I’ll say that I’ve been back tae ask for him, and only family are allowed tae visit.’
‘They couldn’t do anything to Ella even if she did manage to get to Vanni. Could they?’
Again, the men looked at each other before Joe said grimly, ‘Best that she doesnae take that chance. And mebbe best that she stays on with yer aunt, if that’s all right, instead of comin’ back here.’
‘And what about Vanni?’
‘I doubt if ye’ll see him or his wife again. And mebbe,’ said Robbie, ‘that’s as well. Mirren, I wish ye’d go tae Donald. You’d be best out of this place.’
‘How can I go away until I know what’s to happen to Ella?’
‘Yer sister can make up her own mind in her own time,’ Joe said unexpectedly. ‘She has as much right tae do that as you have.’
By the time Ella was strong enough to walk across town to the infirmary Vanni had gone, and she had no way of finding out where. She returned to the twisting department where the other women had been well warned by the mistress concerning their behaviour towards her. Even without the warning none of them, Ruby included, would have said a word to their errant workmate, who had changed overnight from a cheerful young girl into a pale, withdrawn woman. Her thin, wan face and shadowed eyes, together with her swelling belly, gave the impression that the child was thriving at the expense of its mother.
‘Surely she shouldnae be workin’ in her condition,’ Robbie said anxiously to Mirren. ‘She doesnae look as if she’d the strength tae walk from one end of the town tae the other, let alone birth a child.’
‘She needs to work. Women like us don’t stop doing things just because they’re expecting bairns, and she needs to keep busy, let alone having to earn her keep for as long as she can.’
He began to worry at his hair, twisting a forelock around his finger just as he had done when studying for his apprenticeship. ‘But our Agnes had red cheeks and bright eyes all the while she was carryin’ wee Robert. Ella looks like a ghost.’
‘Agnes had her man by her side. Poor Ella doesn’t even know where Vanni is, and she never will.’
The fried-fish shop remained closed for some time before reopening under new management. And for the rest of her life Mirren was haunted by the thought of good-looking, gentle, caring Vanni Perrini, horrifically scarred, possibly blinded, living out the rest of his life in some unknown place, at the mercy of Maria and perhaps wondering – and never knowing – what had happened to Ella and their child.
Catherine Proctor proved, once again, to be a godsend. She persuaded Ella to remain in her home, using the excuse that Ella would help to fill the gap left by Grace and Anne, while Mrs Drysdale saw to it that when the girl had to leave work to give birth, her keep would be paid from a special mill fund set up for such emergencies.
Like Joe Hepburn, Ella took to spending most of her spare time in the Maxwellton Street flat, where, although there were no longer fried-fish suppers to be divided amongst the four of them, the talk was as lively as ever, with Mirren, Joe and Robbie locked in heated discussion almost always set off by some political comment. The debates became passionate, with each of them raising his or her voice in order to be heard above the others.
At first Ella simply listened, but gradually she began to put in a word here or there, until finally she was playing her full part and going back to the Proctors’ house most nights with her face flushed and her eyes bright.
‘It’s a shame we’ve tae get her angry tae see colour in her face,’ Robbie said one night on his return from walking her down the road.
‘It’s nice to have someone taking my side for once, when you and your precious friend start airing your views,’ Mirren responded tartly.
He sat down to pull his boots off. ‘Growin’ up in that house with those old aunties of hers… She must have had a lot of courage tae stay so bright and cheerful all the time.’
‘Ella’s always had courage – and she’ll need all of it. Mrs Drysdale’s been talking to her about giving the bairn away when it comes, but Ella’s determined to keep it.’
‘How could she, on her lone?’
‘That’s what Mrs Drysdale says, and Aunt Catherine too, but as far as Ella’s concerned, the child’s all she’ll have left of Vanni and she’s determined not to let it go. It’ll come hard on her when she has to face the truth.’
Robbie took the second boot off and stood it neatly beside its partner in the hearth. ‘There’s times,’ he said soberly, ‘that I’m glad I’m just a man.’
Grieving though Ella was, the natural resilience that had already brought her through her father’s abuse, then through years of living with her repressive aunts, slowly began to surface as the weeks passed. The colour returned to her face, though anyone catching her during a quiet moment could not miss the deep sorrow in her eyes and the way her mouth, in repose, now curved down at the corners.
‘I’ll hand a jar in to Mrs White across the landing tomorrow and you can take two back to Aunt Catherine tonight.’ Mirren studied the eight jars set on the draining board to cool. ‘We’ll give one to Joe and one to Agnes and Bob, and that leaves three.’
‘Best make it two jars for Joe,’ Ella advised, running the back of one hand over her hot forehead. ‘I’ve noticed he’s got a sweet tooth.’
They had spent Saturday afternoon on the braes with Robbie and Joe, who had taken them to a spot Joe knew where raspberry plants that had once been cultivated still flourished in an overgrown garden close by the tumbled ruins of a farmer’s cottage. They had brought back a good supply of the soft red berries with their delicate, almost perfumed flavour, and now the flat was filled with the rich aroma of boiling fruit.
‘You’re right. Two jars for Joe, then.’ Mirren ran the back of one finger round the warm curve of a jar. ‘They look like rubies, don’t they? There’s nothing like the sight of fresh-made jam.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘They’re late back from their meeting tonight. You sit down and I’ll mebbe get this place tidy before they arrive.’
‘Indeed I’ll not sit down! I’m not an invalid. Come on, two of us’ll get things done twice as fast.’ The afternoon out in the countryside had done Ella the world of good and now, tired and hot though she was after the jam-making, she set to with a will. Between them they had put the kitchen to rights by the time the outer door opened.
‘Here they are, and I’ve no doubt they’ll empty one of the jars tonight before it even has a chance to go cold. Put the kettle on, Ella, while I slice the bread. They’ll be starving.’
But only Robbie came into the kitchen, his jacket torn and his face swollen and bloody.
Ella’s horrified ‘What’s happened tae ye?’ clashed with Mirren’s ‘Where’s Joe?’ She had no need to ask what had happened, for she well knew; but usually when tempers ran high at a meeting she was presented with two sets of cuts and bruises to tend to.
‘He’s in the jail,’ Robbie said thickly through a swollen mouth. ‘I’m lucky not tae be there myself.’
‘You ran off and left him?’
‘Of course not! What d’ye take me for? Joe was on the platform, speakin’, when the police arrived. If they’d been ten minutes earlier it’s me they’d have arrested, not him.’
‘So it was an illegal meeting.’
‘In this country most of the workin’ folk’s meetings are illegal. You should know that by now.’
‘Oh, I do. So what cause were the two of you supporting this time?’
‘It was tae do with a grievance the shipyard workers have in Greenock. A justified grievance,’ Robbie added firmly, dabbing at his bloody, swollen nose with a gory handkerchief.
‘For any favour, are ye goin’ tae let the man bleed tae death while ye plague him with yer questions?’ Ella asked frantically, taking his arm and leading him to the sink. ‘Stand there while I bring a chair over.’
Mirren had already assured herself with a glance that the nosebleed that had caused most of the mess was over. ‘If there was any danger of him bleeding to death it would’ve happened last time or the time before, or the time before that. Lift the vinegar down from the shelf, will you? And you’ll find some clean rags in that drawer – put some hot water from the kettle into the basin and add a good helping of vinegar before you wring the cloths out in it. Use one to clean his face and the other on the cuts. I’ll fetch the iodine.’
‘It’s not that bad,’ Robbie said swiftly, screwing up his face in anticipation of the iodine’s sting, then wincing as the movement caused additional pain. ‘I don’t need iodine.’
‘You’re getting it anyway,’ Mirren told him mercilessly. Together she and Ella tended him, Mirren with the brisk efficiency of a hospital nurse and Ella, new to the business, with gentle care.
‘What’s goin’ tae happen tae Joe?’ she asked when the blood and grime had been washed away and Robbie was looking more like himself. ‘Did ye see him after he was put intae the jail?’
‘I could scarce go in and demand tae talk tae him when I looked like… ow!’ Robbie winced and looked reproachfully at Mirren, who was putting the iodine on with a lavish hand. ‘I don’t need the whole bottle! I hung about outside for a wee while and a policeman friendlier than most told me Joe’d be kept in and sent before the magistrate on Monday mornin’.’
‘He’s supposed to be at his work on Monday morning.’
‘I’ll tell the gaffer he’s got a bad stomach.’
‘And what if he’s sent tae prison?’ Ella asked.
‘That won’t happen… will it, Robbie?’
‘Not for a wee stramash like tonight’s,’ he assured them both. ‘He’ll mebbe have tae pay a fine but he’ll be out in time tae get back tae the shipyard by midday. Can I get up now? Are ye finished?’
‘We’re finished, but your face looks like a patchwork quilt. It’ll still be a mess when you go into work on Monday,’ Mirren fretted.
‘I’m employed for my expertise as an engineer, no’ for my looks.’ His eyes brightened as he spotted the jars. ‘Any chance of some bread and jam? I’m that hungry my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut. And I’d fair enjoy a cup of tea.’ He looked hopefully at Ella, who succumbed at once.
‘I’ll make it for you… and see tae the bread and jam too.’
‘If it was Joe the police wanted, what happened to you?’ Mirren wanted to know.
‘Aye, well, tempers were gettin’ a bit heated durin’ the meetin’ anyway. The bosses must’ve heard about it and sent some men of their own in. They do that sometimes, tae try tae set us against each other. So even before the police arrived there were fights breakin’ out all over the place. I just got caught up in one of them. Poor Joe was on the platform tryin’ tae calm folk down.’ He snuffled at the air then mourned, ‘I cannae smell a thing tonight – and I love the smell of the jam-makin’ too!’
‘It serves you right,’ Mirren snapped.
Battered though he was, Robbie insisted on walking to the Proctors’ building with Ella, as he always did. When he came back, he said, ‘I’d best go tae see Joe tomorrow.’
‘Looking like that? They’ll keep you in!’
‘They’ll not. I just want tae make sure he’s all right.’
‘Did he get hurt as well?’
‘A bit, but nothin’ too bad. He’s used tae it.’
‘D’you want me to go with you tomorrow?’
‘Best not,’ he advised, and she didn’t argue, for she had no real wish to see Joe locked up in prison. The very thought made her shiver and she found it hard to sleep that night for worrying. Maddening though he was, Joe Hepburn had become part of her family.
She got up early on Sunday morning and did a baking. When Robbie, his face still badly bruised and his nose swollen, was ready to leave for Greenock, she put a small bag into his coat pocket. ‘A few scones with some raspberry jam on them. Mind and keep your cap pulled down over your face when you go into the jail, for you’re still marked. You look like a man on the run. And tell Joe not to argue back in the court tomorrow. That’s not the place for him to start his lecturing.’
He returned home to report that Joe was managing fine, and grateful for the scones.
‘You’re not going to Greenock for his court appearance, are you?’ Mirren asked anxiously.
‘I can’t, for I’ll have tae go tae work tae try and persuade the gaffer that Joe’ll be in after dinnertime. And I hope tae God that he is. Someone’s goin’ tae get word tae me about what happens. We’ve arranged for the fine tae be paid, whatever it may be, so that Joe can get back tae Paisley as quickly as possible.’
27
On Monday Robbie came home from work in a state of shock and announced that Joe Hepburn had been sent to prison for seven days for the part he had played in the Greenock meeting.
‘But you said he’d never be sent to the jail!’ Mirren was as stunned as her brother.
‘I was certain of it, and so were the others I spoke tae. But we’re not the ones in control, are we?’ he said bitterly. ‘It means he’s lost his place in the shipyard, for the gaffer’d never believe that a pain in the gut could last for a whole week. Anyway, he’ll hear about it one way or another.’ He pushed his dinner away, half eaten. ‘I’ve lost my appetite entirely. I’ll have tae fetch some things from his house and take them down tae him tonight.’
‘Be sure to take him some books and mebbe paper to write on. He’ll not be able to manage without them.’
‘What books should I take?’ he asked, at a loss.
‘I’ll go with you to his house and find something suitable.’
Joe lived in a single room in Orchard Street, which bore no resemblance whatsoever to its pretty name but had been built on ground where, some six hundred or seven hundred years before, the monks of Paisley’s great Abbey had grown fruit. Robbie unlocked the door and Mirren followed him in, feeling as she did so that they were invading Joe’s privacy. She stood for a moment, staring, then said, shocked, ‘This is no place for the man to live!’
‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘It’s… it’s so…’ she fumbled for the right word but could only come up with: ‘so bare.’
‘It suits Joe’s needs well enough,’ Robbie said, clearly surprised by her comment. ‘He’s not here much anyway.’ He got down on his knees and peered beneath the narrow cot, then pulled out a small suitcase.
Apart from linoleum, clean but so faded that the pattern could no longer be seen, the only covering on the floor was a small, thin cloth rug before the fireplace. Posters – all announcing political meetings – and newspaper photographs had been pinned on the walls and the few furnishings consisted of a sink below the window, a small gas cooker, a table almost buried beneath its burden of books and papers, with an ordinary wooden kitchen chair at each side, one shabby fireside chair, a small set of drawers and the cot. The way in which its bedding was neatly folded and stacked at the foot of the mattress reminded Mirren of Donald explaining to her how he was taught to set out his army cot each morning for inspection.
‘Most houses have something lying around – a newspaper, mebbe, or slippers in the hearth. There’s nothing here.’
‘That’s tae do with his upbringin’.’ Robbie was rummaging in the little chest of drawers. ‘Joe told me once that because he was raised in a wee house that had tae hold the family, as well as his old grandpa, his mother was very strict about possessions. Everythin’ that wasnae needed was put out. Even the books he got for Sunday school prizes were thrown away as soon as he’d read them.’
‘That’s terrible!’ Mirren started to search through the neat piles on the table for suitable books to send to Joe.
‘I’d not care for it myself,’ Robbie admitted. ‘It meant that he’d tae learn tae do with very little. He said his upbringin’ was helpful when it came tae bein’ in the army, because the soldiers had tae do with very few possessions.’
All the books were political, and she felt that it would not be wise to send them, given the charges of sedition that had been made against Joe. ‘But where are the books he loaned me?’
