Anne Douglas (8 page)

‘Mr Montague was the family friend?’

‘Some friend!’ Jemima laughed harshly and stubbed out her cigarette. ‘It’s all just come out, you ken, the embezzling, or whatever they call it, but he had all that cash to do what he liked with and nobody knew.’

‘What a shame!’ Lindy cried hotly. ‘And what a rotter, eh?’

‘Aye, but that’s temptation for you. When they work with money, so many folk just can’t resist putting their fingers in the pie.’

‘To begin with everything seemed fine,’ Jemima went on after a moment. ‘But all the time, Mr Keith said Mr Montague was playing the market and doing badly – maybe because of the slump, but losing anyway – and at the same time was siphoning off money for himself. That’s gone, too, so what it boils down to is that there’s hardly anything left for Mrs Dalrymple.’

‘And how was this man found out?’ asked Lindy.

‘Mr Keith isn’t sure, but he thinks maybe Mrs Dalrymple’s cheques bounced, or something, and the bank had to begin an investigation. Next thing, the police were informed and Mr Montague was arrested. Now the creditors have moved in and they’ll be taking what they can get – the house, the furniture, everything. Mrs Dalrymple’s already sent her jewellery to be sold.’

‘Poor woman,’ Lindy murmured. ‘I suppose, if there’s one thing as bad as never having any money, it’s having it and losing it. Though I can’t imagine having any money in the first place.’

‘Well, we in the household never had any, that’s for sure,’ Jemima replied. ‘But we did have jobs and now they’re gone. Miss Rosemary’s having to write us all references because her ma’s no’ up to it.’

‘And what’s going to happen to Miss Rosemary, then? Has she any money of her own?’

‘Some, no’ much. There’s a trust fund her dad left, but that can’t be touched till she’s twenty-five.’

‘But she’ll have friends to help out, like her ma?’

Jemima shook her head. ‘A few friends have stuck by her but most, she says, just melted away when they heard what had happened. Anyway, she’s very independent and doesn’t want help from friends. Wants to manage by herself if she can.’ Jemima’s eyes had suddenly begun to brighten. ‘She has asked me, though, if I can advise.’

‘You? What can you do?’

‘Tell her how to find a cheap place to live, she said, where she can just take refuge – that’s what she called it, refuge – until she can get a job and make a new life.’ Jemima laid her hand on Lindy’s. ‘And you know what I’m going to do? Get her into that wee flat that’s empty next to ours. Couldn’t be better, could it? Just where we can be handy to show her the ropes. And it’s dirt cheap into the bargain – just what she’s looking for!’

Lindy’s eyes on Jemima’s were enormous. ‘Are you crazy, Jemima? There’s no way you can bring someone like her to number nineteen! It would be impossible.’

‘Why? It’s what she wants – she’s said so. Somewhere cheap, where she can just lie low till she’s got a job.’ Jemima’s eyes were narrowing as she stood up and brushed down her skirt. ‘Anyway, where we live, it’s no’ so bad. Ma and me, we’ve done our best, and we can make that other flat nice as well. I think you’re being a bit unfair, Lindy.’

‘Oh, I didn’t mean that your flat wasn’t nice!’ Lindy said hurriedly. ‘It is, it’s lovely, much better than anywhere else in the house. All I’m saying is that number nineteen is no’ the sort of place this Miss Rosemary is used to, and it might be too much of a shock.’

‘You’re thinking of the neighbours and the noise, eh?’

‘And Saturday nights and the drink. Fights and black eyes. No’ to mention whose turn it is to clean the stair. Can you see your Miss Rosemary cleaning the stair?’

‘Och, no one will expect her to do that! Anyway, Ma and me, we’re going do what we can. Cooking and that sort o’ thing.’

‘Cooking?’ Lindy shook her head in disbelief. ‘Look, I’m sorry for the lassie, but if she says she wants to be independent why no’ let her try it? Why try to look after her all the time?’

‘Why not? I’ve nothing else to do,’ Jemima answered bitterly.

Concerned though she was about losing her job, Jemima’s spirits rose as soon as it was confirmed that Miss Rosemary had secured the empty flat at number nineteen and the way lay clear for the spring-cleaning work to begin. First would come the washing and scrubbing of the walls and floors, she told Lindy, with painting and wallpapering to follow, and then some curtain-making and maybe a cushion or two before the furniture came over. Miss Rosemary, it appeared, had been able to salvage a few pieces of furniture from the creditors – at a cost, of course – which was a piece of nonsense. Her ma’s own furniture, eh?

‘Still, I think she’ll find it comfortable enough here,’ Jemima finished with pride. ‘There’s no bathroom, but she’s got a hip bath coming with the furniture, so she’ll manage, eh?’

‘Oh, yes, she’ll be fine,’ agreed Lindy, wondering if it was true. ‘How long is all this going to take, though?’

‘Couple of weeks. When Ma and me get going we don’t waste time, and we want to be quick. I know Miss Rosemary’s dying to get into her own place.’

‘Where is she now?’ asked Lindy.

‘With one o’ the friends who’s stayed true, but the thing is, she’s so sympathetic Miss Rosemary says it’s driving her crazy. It’s her poor ma that’s the invalid, no’ her.’

‘And how is Mrs Dalrymple, then?’

‘A bit better, but staying where she is for the time being. Miss Rosemary visits regularly.’

‘Tell me this,’ said Lindy, after a pause, ‘are you going to keep on calling this lassie “Miss Rosemary” when she’s living here?’

Jemima’s look was shocked. ‘Why, what else should I call her?’

‘Well, things are different now. You aren’t working for her mother any more. You’re equals, eh?’

‘Equals? She’s still Mrs Dalrymple’s daughter, Lindy. Losing money hasn’t changed the way things are.’

‘So what are the rest of us going to call her, then?’

‘I couldn’t say. Miss Dalrymple, maybe?’

‘And I’ll be Miss Gillan?’ Lindy laughed. ‘Come on, Jemima, this girl’s in a different world now, whatever you say. But I’ll have to admit, I’m longing to see her. When will she be coming?’

‘As soon as we’ve finished the flat,’ Jemima answered eagerly. ‘And we’re starting tomorrow!’

Naturally, as she was Jemima’s ex-employer’s daughter, all in number nineteen were taking great interest in the pending arrival of the new tenant. Fallen on hard times, so Jemima said, but my, wasn’t Jemima knocking doors out o’ windows, then, getting a place ready for her? And how much was it all going to cost? Who was paying? If it was Jemima, would the young lady be able to pay her back?

‘If she’s short she can always sell some o’ that furniture she’s had sent over,’ remarked Myra with a sniff. ‘I saw it coming in. Everything mahogany, with such a polish you could see your face in it, and the prettiest wee dressing table decked out in frilled material and all! Anybody would think that girl was still in Heriot Row, eh?’

‘I believe she had to pay something to get that furniture from the creditors,’ Lindy told her. ‘So Jemima said. Must’ve felt fed up about that. Her ma’s own furniture!’

‘H’m, well, I’d be sympathetic if it wasn’t for Jemima making such a fuss. I mean, you’d think it was royalty coming here, no less.’

‘And that’s true,’ Lindy commented afterwards to Neil. ‘Anyone would think it was some princess coming the way Jemima’s been going on. I do feel sorry for her Rosemary, but she’s no’ as badly off as some, eh?’

‘You can say that again,’ said Neil earnestly. ‘I’ve no sympathy with that sort at all. I mean, how’d they get their money in the first place? Investments? Stocks and shares? All completely immoral. There’s no work involved, no production, no creation. Why should we shed tears if they lose money? Let ’em see how the rest of us have to live.’

‘To be fair, Neil, the lassie can’t be blamed for the way her folks live, eh? I mean, you’ve no choice where you’re born. And then Jemima says her dad wasn’t one o’ the idle rich – he did have a job.’

‘Oh, yes? Worked his fingers to the bone, did he? Doing what?’

‘I’m no’ sure. Merchant banker, I think.’

‘Merchant banker?’ Neil exploded into laughter. ‘Oh, what a struggle he’d have to live, doing that! Look, let’s waste no more time talking about this Rosemary. Just remember, she’s no better than anybody else, so don’t go thinking she is.’

‘As if I would!’ cried Lindy, adding to herself, but she’s sure to have better clothes.

On an August evening – too nice to go to the pictures, really – Lindy and Neil were about to saunter out from number nineteen to see
Top Hat
when Jemima caught them at the door.

‘Lindy, Neil – wait! Don’t go yet, she’s here! Miss Rosemary. I’ve seen the taxi!’

‘Taxi?’ Neil repeated, putting his head out of the door. ‘Oh, sure, it’s there. I can see a lassie getting out.’

‘We never knew she was coming tonight,’ Lindy exclaimed. ‘Aunt Myra will be furious – she’s out to her whist drive!’

‘Let me through, Miss Rosemary will be looking for me!’ cried Jemima, her face flushing, her eyes bright. ‘But don’t go yet, I want to introduce you.’

‘Prepare to curtsy,’ Neil whispered, grinning, but Lindy, highly excited, shushed him with her finger to her mouth as Jemima came hurrying back, followed by the taxi driver, who was carrying two leather suitcases and a hatbox. Behind him, looking everywhere with interest, was a tall, willowy young blonde woman, dressed in a pale blue dress and jacket. Miss Rosemary had arrived.

‘Jemima, where shall the driver put the luggage?’ she asked, her clear, clipped voice sounding English rather than Scottish, and adding with a smile to Lindy and Neil, ‘I’m sorry, am I in your way?’

‘No, no,’ Lindy hastily replied, while Neil, standing to one side, was silent until Jemima, hovering, made polite introductions and then asked the driver just to leave the cases in the hallway.

‘There’s still two to come,’ he told her, making a great show of breathing hard with effort. ‘I’ll have to go back for ’em.’

‘I’ll get them,’ Neil offered suddenly. ‘I can take ’em up the stair.’

‘Fine by me,’ said the driver. ‘That’ll be one and six, miss, if you don’t mind.’

‘Oh, certainly,’ replied Miss Rosemary, opening her narrow leather bag and taking a half crown from her purse. ‘Thank you so much for your trouble, driver. You’ve been most helpful.’

‘That’s quite all right, miss,’ he replied, giving her a puzzled look she probably didn’t notice but which the others in the hallway understood very well. He would almost certainly be thinking what the hell was someone like this particular fare doing in somewhere like number nineteen? And with luggage and all? Well, not his job to stand wondering. Touching his cap he departed, followed by Neil, who swiftly returned with a suitcase in either hand.

For a long moment he gazed at the new tenant, joined by Lindy, whose eyes had scarcely left Rosemary since she’d stepped through the door, and who had already been wishing she could sell her soul for a pair of her beautiful soft leather shoes. But how amazing was it that Jemima’s Miss Rosemary should be exactly as she’d expected her to be? So distinctive, so elegant, so absolutely self-assured, she couldn’t be mistaken for anything but ‘a lady’, from the sort of background that was as far from the tenants of number nineteen as the moon. And then, of course, she was so pretty.

Maybe not beautiful was Lindy’s rather relieved opinion – her high-bridged nose being too long for that – but her hair was golden, her eyes a clear blue, and she was so tall and slender and held herself so well it had to be admitted that she was a ‘stunner’. Heaven knew what the folk of number nineteen would make of her – even Neil seemed to have been struck dumb – but it was very likely that she wouldn’t stay long. Not once she’d seen the way life really was in the tenement.

‘Want these up the stair?’ Neil asked, finding his voice at last and turning to Jemima.

‘Yes, at the flat, please – and I’ll bring the other two.’

‘Oh, let me!’ cried Miss Rosemary. ‘You’re all being too kind.’

‘You take the hatbox,’ Lindy told her. ‘I’ll help Jemima. But then we have to be away.’

Up the stairs went the luggage, meeting only Aggie Andrews coming down with a bag of washing, her shadowed eyes like saucers.

‘Miss Rosemary, this is Mrs Andrews,’ Jemima murmured. ‘Just on her way down to the basement where we do our washing. Your turn for the copper tonight, eh, Aggie? This is Miss Dalrymple – she’s a new tenant, moving in next to Ma and me.’

‘Aye, I know, you’ve done her place up, eh?’ murmured Aggie, sidling away. ‘Pleased to meet you, miss. Hope you’ll be happy.’

‘Why, thank you!’ Miss Rosemary called after her as she took off down the stairs. ‘Jemima, how nice everyone is! I’m sure I’ll settle in well.’

‘Here you are then,’ said Lindy, setting down her load at the door of the flat next to Jemima’s. ‘Neil and me have to go now, but we hope you’ll be happy, too, Miss Dalrymple.’

‘Oh, please, call me Rosemary! But thank you both so much. I do hope I haven’t kept you.’

Rosemary? Not Miss Rosemary? Lindy glanced quickly at Jemima, whose mouth was slightly open, but then she took Neil’s arm and, calling, ‘Nae bother, only too glad to help,’ made him hurry away with her.

‘Shouldn’t we carry the luggage into the flat?’ he asked, turning to look back. ‘It’s heavy stuff, eh?’

‘For heaven’s sake, Neil, they can manage! Didn’t I bring one of the cases up myself?’

‘Yes. All right, then.’ Neil said no more, remaining silent all the way to the tram stop, though Lindy had plenty to say.

‘So that’s the famous Miss Rosemary, eh? Well, she’s certainly a lovely girl and beautifully dressed. Did you notice her dress and jacket? And her shoes? What wouldn’t I give for them, eh? But I suppose you’ll be saying the money she’s spent could have gone to feed a family, and that’s quite true. Can still admire really good quality things, though – I mean, there’s a place for them too, do you no’ think?’

‘Here’s our tram,’ said Neil.

‘“Heaven, I’m in heaven!”’ cried Lindy, dancing along the pavement on the way home from the cinema while Neil slowly followed. ‘Oh, isn’t “Cheek to Cheek” a wonderful song, Neil? Weren’t they marvellous, dancing to it – Fred and Ginger? I honestly think
Top Hat
is one of the best pictures ever, don’t you agree?’