Crystal's Song (22 page)

Frieda went over and kissed Tom lightly on the cheek. “Thank you,
mein Lieb
. And now you make me feel guilty, you see … Johnny, you must tell him.”

“Dad, Frieda’s pregnant.” Everyone in the room clapped their hands and shouted congratulations. Johnny held up one hand. “Quiet. I haven’t finished. And we’ve managed to get a wee house, so we’ll be leaving you all to get on with it.”

Tom sank down on a chair. How on earth was he going to manage without Frieda? Frieda the Kraut that he never wanted his son to marry. Frieda whom he now needed so badly. She in turn sensed his fear and said, with a wink towards Johnny, “But Tom, we’re only moving further down Restalrig Road. In fact we’ll be in a flat on the right-hand side of the road and that little flat looks straight into Miss Cole’s house. So, my dear Tom, if ever she decides to go up the road instead of
down
– with friendly persuasion – I’ll have her change direction!”

Tom was determined that this Christmas would be a real family Christmas like the ones they’d had before they lost Dinah. But how, he wondered, would he achieve this – because, one year on, everyone’s grief was still so very raw. Frieda came up trumps, however, by giving birth to a seven-pound baby girl. The baby was officially to be called Patricia but already that was shortened, not to Patsy (after whom she was called) but to Tricia.

The new baby caught everybody’s attention, especially since she and her parents were living with Tom. This arrangement had come about because Frieda missed having a back door and a garden to hang her washing in. So when a lower-flatted wreck of a villa became vacant in Pirniefield, just off Restalrig, Johnny and Frieda had put in a ridiculously low offer and were overjoyed when it was accepted.

Luckily, their own small flat in Restalrig Road sold very quickly. The Pirniefield house, however, did require quite a bit of work done before it was habitable and so, to minimise the financial outlay, the task of repairing the solid house to the standard of all those around it fell to Johnny and Tom, both of whom were expert tradesmen.

Rupert had done his usual calculations and came to the conclusion that, even if the house had been a steal, Johnny and Frieda would require some financial help. He also reckoned that, as both Tom and Johnny worked full-time and would only be able to work on the house in their spare time, it would take at least three months before the family could move in.

Rather to Rupert’s surprise, Tom seemed delighted to agree with him. But Tess’s husband was really put out when Tom suggested that Johnny, Frieda and his grandchild, Tricia, should move back in with him.

Tess, who was becoming more and more like her husband and was now being eaten up by jealousy, made a point of seeking out Crystal to ask what she thought of the Pirniefield mystery. Crystal replied, “Look here, Tess, the only mystery I’m interested in right now is why I’ve been married for a whole year and yet I’m still not expecting!”

“Oh,” huffed Tess, “I thought you were just waiting till you’d saved up enough to get out of that pokey wee flat in Jameson Place.”

“Jameson Place is
not
pokey. It’s bright and cosy.”

“Anything you say, Mrs Nippy,” retorted Tess.

Crystal continued to speak – but more to herself. “And Bing and I want a family right
now
! And my brooding has got worse ever since Tricia arrived. I just love nursing her, walking her out in her pram. And … she’s so like Mum.”

“Oh, if that’s all it takes to make you happy, then I’ve good news for you.” Crystal looked expectantly over to Tess who now appeared to be seething with bitterness as she went on: “You see, I’m having another baby in June and we never meant to have another one for two years. I’m not Superwoman, so I’ll need all the help I can get to cope with two bawling infants!”

This news upset Crystal. “You mean you’re expecting
by accident
?”

Tess sighed. “Yes. Rupert did calculate the safe dates by the rhythm method but somehow or another …”

A gale of laughter from Crystal echoed round the house, bringing both Tom and Granny Patsy rushing in to discover what all the hilarity was about. Crystal pointed to Tess and exclaimed, “You lot won’t believe it, but our ever-cautious Rupert got so carried away with the rhythm that he added a few beats of his own and now our Tess’s jiggered!”

“Dad! Granny!” Tess protested. “She means I’m pregnant and that’s no laughing matter.”

Before Tom could speak, in dashed twelve-year-old Joe. “Dad! Dad, just wait till I tell you.” Everyone waited with bated breath before Joe went on, “I’ve just been picked to play for the school’s first team.”

This was what Tom had long been hoping for. Joe was indeed promising to become a gifted footballer. His dad had known, as soon as Joe became a pupil at Norton Park Secondary School, that it would only be a matter of time until his prowess on the football team was recognised.

Granny Patsy, who was also convinced that one day Joe would don a Scotland jersey, proudly asked, “And how many teams do they have, son?”

“Just the one in my year,” was Joe’s triumphant reply.

The family were busily digesting that piece of news when in flounced twenty-year-old Elsie who now regarded herself, in the beauty stakes at least, as a stand-in for Audrey Hepburn – and to prove it she now had her sleek, dark hair cut short,
very
short. “Dad,” she announced. “Now, I don’t want you to be angry. And I don’t want you to try and stop me, but I’ve decided that Leith and Nimmo’s are just not big enough for me.”

Tom was used to Elsie’s flights of fancy, so he prepared to settle himself in his favourite armchair and hear her out.

Elsie had now taken up her preferred position centre-floor (or centre-stage as she saw it) before she continued, “Russell and I have been talking and …”

“Who the devil is Russell?” enquired a bemused Crystal.

“He happens to be one of the youngest journeymen Nimmo’s has ever produced and he and I are leaving that print workshop and heading for where our talents will be properly recognised.” Flicking back her hair, she went on: “A place where we can expand and develop!”

“Oh my Gawd!” cried Patsy. “You’re no going on that ten-pound passage thing to Australia, are ye?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Granny. Australia is a developing country. They just wouldn’t be able to offer Russell and me the opportunity and the scope we need right now.”

“So where
are
you going?” asked Joe, taking a full kick and flip-back at an imaginary ball.

“Bathgate!” To Elsie’s dismay, this revelation dumbfounded everyone and she felt obliged to explain rapidly in clipped tones: “Bathgate is in West Lothian. And Russell assures me that it’s earmarked to be
the
place of the future. Believe me, Bathgate will become the new industrial capital while dusty old Edinburgh will be left to wallow in its history. So what do you think, Dad?”

“We-ell,” Tom began cautiously, “Myra telling me she was whisked out of bed last night by Peter Pan and then flown up to the moon to play with Snow White all sounds just so much more credible now!”

Patsy picked up the teapot and felt it before saying, “Still warm enough, Etta. Fancy a wee top-up?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” said Etta, before swinging round to look at the wall clock behind her. “Did you say Tom would be home by teatime?” Patsy nodded. “Well it’s nearly cocoa time and where is he?” Patsy shrugged. “No word from him? Now that he’s had a phone installed you’d think he could have rung you to say if they’d got away safely.”

Getting to her feet stiffly, Patsy picked up her cup. “Yon thing did ring, but I’ve never used one of them before so I never answered it.” Patsy sniffed disdainfully before going into the small scullery off the kitchen where she began to put water into the sink to wash the dishes. “Told our Myra when she came in,” she hollered back, “to see who it was that it wanted to speak to. But you know how awkward she is. Never wants to do anything. Her excuse this time was that once it stops ringing it doesn’t speak. Suppose it takes some kind of a huff.”

Etta wondered whether she should try to show Patsy how the telephone worked. However, remembering when she’d tried to explain to her about the ‘pill’, she thought better of it.

Much to Patsy’s chagrin, Etta was lighting up a cigarette when she came back into the room. Patsy tut-tutted, having agreed with Tom that after losing Dinah to ‘the weed’ – as he called tobacco – he didn’t wish to see anybody smoking in his house.

“Must have been a hard day for Tom yesterday,” remarked Etta, blowing her smoke upwards and hoping that would lessen its lethal effect. “Mind you, he’s done real well by the bairns ever since …” She drew on her cigarette again, remembering that Patsy didn’t mind speaking about what Dinah had done in her lifetime but not about the fact that she had died, so she quickly changed track by saying, “Aye, and it’s thanks to Tom that Johnny and Frieda are now happily housed in their spanking-new home in Pirniefield.”

Patsy chuckled, “And with not just one but
two
daughters. Thought it was real nice of Frieda to call the youngest Maria after Mary. Tom must have been pleased too that his mother was remembered again just as her funeral was over.”

“Wonder what my Dinah would have thought of Elsie getting married to that printer guy, Russell?”

“Aye, but I think Tom was mightily relieved that they got hitched afore they left – even if he had to stump up for it.”

“And d’you know, Etta, I don’t think the poor soul got a penny change out of the hundred.”

“Aye, but Patsy, why are they going to New Zealand?”

“You may well ask – and so did Tom. But Russell answered that Bathgate wasn’t ready for him. Evidently they hadn’t appreciated his genius. But he believes, and Elsie agrees, that a new country like New Zealand must be crying out for folk like him.”

Etta laughed. “You know, Patsy, when Tess, your dear gullible Tess, got in tow with that stuffed shirt, Rupert, I thought she’d be the only one of your granddaughters to blindly worship her man. But here we are again. Mind you, Tess hasn’t been so short-sighted that she’d get on a boat for New Zealand.”

“No. And she’s coped well with her two daughters.”

“Aye, and now that Rupert has somehow worked it out that not only has the rhythm to be right – but that Tess’s temperature also has to be spot-on – she hasn’t got into his bad books by getting herself pregnant again.”

Both women were beginning to laugh now. Each of them pictured poor, romantic Tess getting herself all dolled up in a black silk negligée and Rupert advancing towards her with a thermometer in his hand. They were wiping the tears from their eyes and were startled when Tom suddenly asked, “What’s so funny?”

Patsy and Etta looked at each other before Patsy blurted out, “Oh, just that you won’t be surprised, Tom, but …” She was now trying desperately to think of something seemly to tell him and then she remembered. “Oh, Tom, you know our Myra, who’s now eleven but going on thirty?”

Tom nodded, “Aye, and her head’s forever in the clouds.”

“Well, now she believes she’s clairvoyant and that the spirit of your Mammy came through to tell her that one day she would be a famous cook.”

Etta, who had now diplomatically stubbed out her cigarette, remarked, “Aye, but wasn’t it only last week that she managed to burn a hole in a pot – and she was only boiling water!”

Patsy was now through in the scullery making some tea for Tom. “How did you get on, son?”

It was quite a while before Tom gave an answer. “Fine. She just looked so young and vulnerable to be going to the other side of the world with a man …” He halted, trying to find words that wouldn’t alarm Patsy, “who claims to have an amazing talent that has yet to be recognised.” He paused again as he pondered. Then he amazed himself by saying, “And you know, I think they really
will
make it, not because of
his
shining light but because Elsie, like her mother, will dazzle.”

Tom now looked about the room. “This place has been neglected these last few years.”

“Aye, but Tom, you worked so hard getting Johnny’s place looking like a palace that you haven’t had …”

“I know, Patsy. But starting tomorrow I’m going to redecorate this room.”

Patsy laughed. “Don’t think so.”

“Oh but I will. This time, I don’t care what one of my bairns needs, but this place is getting a face-lift.”

“That right? But what if I told you that an English football scout’s coming to talk to you about Joe tomorrow night?”

“Ah, then the decorating will have to begin after tomorrow.”

Tom started the meal Patsy had set down in front of him but his thoughts were now all on Joe. Quick-witted, articulate Joe, with his easy charm and good looks, was so special. Tom pictured his ready smile and dark brown eyes. He excelled at school because he was perceptive and ever-alert. A born athlete, he’d been the youngest captain that the school football team had ever had. Tom now deliberated on his son’s bloodline. Joe was the biological son of a black man. But what kind of man had engendered this smart, born leader? He wondered if the father would ever come looking for his son – or if Joe would leave them all behind and go off on his own seeking the answer to this enigma. Tom knew Joe would meet a lot of colour prejudice in his life but he also knew the lad would be perfectly able to deal with it.

Tom pushed his seat back and stood up. Joe, he knew, was at present playing for the junior team of Edina Hearts and now an English scout was coming to speak to him about his future. “Wonder which English team is interested in Joe. Please God,” he prayed, “let them be from the north.”

The sound of the door opening interrupted his thoughts. Turning towards the visitor, he was pleased to see it was his brother Archie. Tom had promised his mother that he would always look after him if anything happened to her and he’d been pleased to have Archie live with them. For his part, Archie was delighted to be included in Tom’s family because there was always something going on and he was never made to feel unwanted.

It was obvious to them all that Archie’s favourite among Tom’s children was Crystal. Crystal would always have time to listen to what Archie had to say and she appeared genuinely interested in what he had to tell her about his work down at the British Ropes Despatch Depot, doing tasks most would find deadly boring. Everyone, however, could see how animated Archie could become when explaining to Crystal how he’d dispatched ropes to the Leith Whaling Station in South Georgia. “That’s in the Antarctic,” he would confide to her.