Anne Douglas (29 page)

It was a child. Matty Andrews, Aggie’s wee daughter, wearing a grubby little dress, was standing crying in the hall, her small fists to her eyes.

‘What is it, Matty?’ cried Lindy, stooping down to put her arms round her. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Mammie’s no’ well,’ wailed Matty. ‘And there’s porridge all aroond.’

‘Porridge?’ Lindy, mystified, suddenly turned pale. There was blood on Matty’s dress. Probably not hers . . .

‘Come on!’ she cried, snatching up the child. ‘Let’s go and see Mammie, eh?’

The door of Aggie’s flat stood open and, terrified of what she might see, Lindy hurried in, Matty still in her arms, to stop and stare. Porridge all around? It was a good description, for lumps of porridge were lining the floor, stuck on the backs of chairs and on the cluttered table, while a large pan was upside down beside the stove. There was also a terrible smell of something burnt hanging in the air – but no sign of Aggie.

‘Where’s Mammie?’ Lindy asked, setting Matty down. ‘Aggie, Aggie, where are you?’

‘Here,’ came a faint voice, and Aggie herself appeared at a door. ‘Oh, Lindy, is that you?’

‘My God, what’s happened?’ Lindy asked, taking in Aggie’s bloodstained face and half-closed eye, rapidly turning black. ‘Aggie, Aggie, come and sit down. Tell me what happened. Was it Tam?’

‘Aye, he lost his temper,’ sighed Aggie, speaking painfully through swollen lips. ‘It was because I’d . . . burnt the porridge, you ken . . . and there was no more oats . . . so he threw the pan around and the stuff . . . went everywhere . . . and then he . . . but it’s no’ as bad as it looks.’

‘Isn’t it?’ said Lindy, almost trembling with rage. ‘It’s bad enough. Come and sit down – this chair’s OK – while I look at you.’

‘Mammie, Mammie,’ wailed Matty. ‘I want Mammie!’

‘In a minute, pet,’ said Lindy. ‘I’ll just see to her. Where’s Alex, then?’

‘Gone to school, and the baby’s still asleep next door.’ Aggie seemed as though she might try to laugh, but decided against it. ‘Imagine – sleeping though it, eh?’

‘Aggie, are there any cloths I can use? Just to mop you up? There’s a cut over your eye –’

‘On the pulley.’ Aggie pointed. ‘A couple o’ wee towels. They’re clean. I did the washing yesterday.’

Working fast, Lindy soaked the towels from the kitchen pulley in cold water and sponged Aggie’s poor face until it looked better, but when she asked for a sticking plaster for the cut, Lindy found she’d have to go and get her own.

‘Just hold that cloth over your eye while I nip down the stair for my bag – I always carry plasters. Now just sit tight, Aggie.’

‘I’m no’ going anywhere,’ said Aggie.

As soon as she’d put on the plaster, Lindy made Aggie a cup of tea, then made her lie down on her bed, with Matty close and the still-sleeping baby in his cot. Next she filled a bucket with water and scrubbed away the porridge, put the burnt pan in to soak, washed up the breakfast dishes and told Aggie she was going to get her a few things from the shop and wouldn’t be a minute.

‘Oh, Lindy – I’ve no tick—’

‘Don’t worry. These are on me.’

‘Och, that Tam!’ cried Myra, helping Lindy to put together a box of groceries. ‘Wait till I see him! But what’s wrong with your eye, Lindy?’

‘Help, my eye shadow! Och, I must look a clown, but I’d no time to take it off. If you could’ve seen poor Aggie!’

‘Oh, I don’t need to. I know what Tam’s like, but what can you do?’

‘I’d like to report him to the police!’

‘You’d get nowhere. They don’t like interfering with married folk.’

All the same, when Lindy ran back in to number nineteen with her groceries and saw Tam Andrews about to climb the stairs, she didn’t hesitate to tackle him.

‘What are you doing here?’ she cried fiercely. ‘Come back to see what else you can throw around? Frighten Aggie and your bairns?’

He gave her a hangdog look and shook his head. ‘You’ve no idea how bad I feel,’ he muttered. ‘It just comes over me, you ken, and I canna help lashing oot!’

‘Maybe a visit from the police might help you, then? I’ve a good mind to report you!’

‘No’ the polis? Lindy, you wouldn’t do that! I’ve just got this job at the tyre factory – if you set the polis on me, I’ll be finished.’

‘Well, will you promise to try to control yourself? In the meantime, let’s go up and see how Aggie is now, eh? Then you can make the dinner.’

‘Did she come and tell you about me?’ he asked as they slowly climbed the stairs. ‘That’s no’ like her.’

‘No, she didn’t tell me. I found wee Matty crying in the hall.’

‘Oh, God, Matty!’ Tam put his hand to his eyes. ‘Lindy, I promise I’ll never let this happen again.’

‘Keep to it, then.’

Later, when she’d left the penitent Tam preparing a meal for the family while Aggie rested, Lindy sat down again with her eye shadow and her mirror. For some time she stared at her face in the mirror, before suddenly pushing the mirror aside and shaking her head. All she could seem to see was Aggie’s face, battered and swollen. All she could seem to think was that there should be something she should do about it, and that gazing at her own beauty was not enough.

I always liked the clothes, she thought. That was what I wanted. But the clothes came with modelling and modelling was not what she’d imagined it would be. True, Mrs Driver had always stressed the importance of looks for a model and she’d gone along with that. It was only after she’d come up against the obsession with looks day after day and realized she must have it too that she’d begun to think – oh, dare she whisper it? That there was something hollow at the centre of her new career and that modelling was not for her?

There was nothing wrong, in her view, in modelling clothes for people to buy, as Rod appeared to think, and for most models the life might seem satisfying. But, she had to admit it was no longer true for her. For her, it was no longer enough.

When to announce her decision to her family, though? Only after she’d told Rod, of course. As she and Myra finished preparing the evening meal she found herself trying to find the right words to explain her views. She knew that Rod, at least, would be delighted, though Myra would have a grand time saying ‘I told you so’, no doubt about that.

But then her dad and Struan came in from work and everything changed.

‘What’s wrong?’ cried Myra, instantly alert to the looks on their faces. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Can you no’ tell?’ asked George, sinking into his chair, feeling for his pipe. ‘I’ve been let go.’

‘Oh, no, Dad!’ Lindy cried, as Myra for once seemed unable to speak. ‘No, they wouldn’t – they wouldn’t do that to you!’

‘Done it to plenty,’ said Struan flatly. ‘To me and all. They’ve put me on half time.’

‘I’m on no’ time at all.’ George was lighting his pipe with trembling fingers. ‘Worked for Bayne’s all my life, and then they let me go with nothing at all. Just till things improve, they say. Come back when the depression’s over. Well, I know who’s depressed!’

‘George, mebbe they mean it?’ Myra said at last. ‘They’ll no’ want to lose you – soon as things get better, you’ll be back –’

He shook his head. ‘It’s me for the dole, Myra. Don’t ask me how we’ll manage, with Struan only on half time and all.’

‘I can help,’ Lindy said clearly. ‘I’m earning, and I might earn more. I’ll see you’re all right, Dad, Aunt Myra – you needn’t worry.’

Modelling, she was thinking, I still have it. Maybe it’s true what I said: more work might come my way. Thank the Lord I didn’t tell ’em I was giving it up!

‘We’d never take your money—’ George was beginning, when Myra cut in.

‘Lindy, that’d be grand if you could – help us, I mean. Just till your dad finds something else, eh?’

‘Like what?’ asked George, and Struan sighed as he lit a cigarette.

‘I’m going to have to tell Jemima. What’s she going to say?’

‘Why, what everybody says when money gets tight!’ cried Myra. ‘She’s going to have to pay for you for a change, and why not, eh? We’re all going to be feeling the pinch.’ She glanced at Lindy. ‘Don’t know what’ll happen about your wedding, Lindy. There’ll be nothing to spare for that.’

‘Don’t worry, Aunt Myra. I never expected you to pay, anyway, and it’ll only be very quiet. Leave it to Rod and me.’

‘What a relief you’ve got someone like Rod, eh? Thank goodness one of us had a bit o’ luck! Now, you two men can stop your smoking and come to the table. I’m going to start dishing up.’

Rod, of course, was deeply concerned to hear of George’s losing his job, his good-natured face darkening, his brown eyes losing their gentle look so beloved by Lindy.

‘It’s disgraceful!’ he cried as he and Lindy took a Sunday walk in Cramond, a village at the mouth of the River Almond, part of Edinburgh but with a beauty and history of its own.

‘And so typical!’ Rod went on. ‘A firm makes a fortune out of a product made by loyal workers, and when the going gets tough, who’s first to go? Those who’ve given the best years of their lives!’

‘I know, I know,’ sighed Lindy. ‘And with Bayne’s there’s no cushion, no money when folk get the push. Myra used to say Dad should try for work elsewhere with better conditions, but he said it was too late and he never did.’

‘Struan could. He’s young.’

‘Yes, but the other breweries are no’ recruiting anybody now. He’ll have to stay where he is till things improve. Poor Jemima – she’s really upset for him.’

‘We’re all upset,’ said Rod. ‘But tell your parents not to worry – we’ll see they’re all right.’

‘Oh, I’ve said I’ll help all I can.’

‘Things looking up for you, then?’

‘Sort of.’ Lindy lowered her eyes, feeling guilty that she hadn’t told Rod of her change of heart over modelling, her view being that he’d want her to give it up straight away, which she couldn’t afford to do. If the situation changed maybe she’d tell him then. But she couldn’t see the situation changing.

‘Dad’s so depressed,’ she continued. ‘He’s like someone who’s lost his prop and can’t manage without it. He doesn’t know what to do with himself.’

‘I can imagine.’

‘Sometimes he goes to the library and reads all the job adverts, but he hasn’t seen anything so far. Trouble is, even if he does find something, there’ll be half of Edinburgh in for it too.’

‘We’ll have to help him, that’s all.’

But how? After walking on a while they paused, then quickly checked that no one was looking and exchanged kisses.

‘About our wedding,’ said Lindy after a pause.

‘Not got second thoughts?’

‘Of course I haven’t! No, I was just thinking that I feel bad because I can’t save up much towards it now, the way things are.’

‘Don’t worry about that. I can pay.’

’Rod, I don’t want you to. And my folks wouldn’t want that either.’

‘Look, they can’t pay for anything at present, and neither can you. So leave it to me. Nearer the time we’ll decide what we want. Something quiet, I guess?’

‘Oh, yes. And it needn’t be in the kirk. A registry office will be all right for us, eh?’

‘Fine for me. I’m not much of a kirkgoer.’

‘Nor me.’ Lindy put her hand in his. ‘Are we really talking about our wedding, Rod? Seems like a dream.’

‘If you wake up it’ll still be there, on the horizon.’ They clung together lovingly, then made their way to the little café facing the estuary where the gulls were gathering.

‘I’m going to do all I can to find your dad another job,’ Rod promised when they’d found a table and were waiting for tea. ‘That’s what he needs more than money. He has to have something to do – something he wants to do as well. That’s important.’

Don’t we all want that? Lindy sighed to herself. And I thought I’d found it. Now, though, she must make the best of what she had and be grateful she had anything at all.

It was one evening a day or so later that Rod called at number nineteen and told Lindy, who’d answered his knock, that he’d like to speak to her father.

‘Why, Rod, I wasn’t expecting to see you!’ Lindy’s face was suddenly hopeful. ‘Have you got some news for Dad?’

‘No, I’m afraid not – just an idea I want to discuss with him. Is he in?’

‘Oh, yes, he’s always in. He’ll be so pleased to see you.’

Both George and Myra managed smiles when Rod walked in, though the marks of strain on their faces were plain to see. George, who had been sitting near the window, for the room in the warmth of the summer evening seemed airless, shook Rod’s hand and Myra said he must have tea, which he declined.

‘Grand to see you, Rod,’ George remarked. ‘Don’t see many folk at the moment.’

‘You could go out more,’ Lindy told him. ‘Struan’s going out, aren’t you, Struan?’

‘Just with the lads tonight.’

‘And what you’re using for money I don’t know,’ snapped Myra. ‘Still, I’m glad you’re no’ moping.’

‘Like me, you mean?’ asked George. ‘Struan’s still got work, remember, even if it’s short time.’ He rested weary eyes on Rod. ‘Did you want to speak to me, Rod?’

‘Well, this is just an idea, Mr Gillan.’ Rod took a chair near him. ‘I’ve been thinking that as your skills lie in brewing, your best bet is to try to get back to it.’

‘And how do I do that? Bayne’s have laid me off.’

‘Doesn’t mean you won’t be wanted elsewhere.’

‘Och, there’s no point in trying – the other breweries would advertise if they wanted men.’

‘Maybe they’re planning to – you won’t know unless you ask. Consider how many breweries there are in the city – twenty-three! Think of all the famous names! Bayne’s might be facing reduced sales, but you don’t know about the others.’

‘What are you saying George should do?’ Myra asked. ‘Just ask for a job?’

‘I’m suggesting he should write to some of them and ask if there are any vacancies, or likely to be. Include a reference if possible. I suppose you got a good one from Bayne’s – Mr Dillon?’

‘Aye, it was good, all right.’ George laughed shortly. ‘“To whom it may concern” it said, and talked about me as if I was a marvel. If I was that good why the hell did they let me go?’

‘Still, it’s good you have something to show.’ Rod gave a persuasive smile. ‘What do you think, then, of what I’ve suggested?’