Dragon Land (11 page)

I didn’t reply, but went to get a wet cloth to wipe away the stain. Rolling her eyes in annoyance, Mum moved away from the table, saying she was going to bed as she was tired. Granny was silent, but I could see she was upset by this outburst, and after Mum went to the bedroom, Granny took out her knitting bag and began to pull out a skein of wool.

‘You can help me roll this into a ball, Lizzie,’ she said.

I obediently held the skein between my two outstretched hands and we sat in silence while she quickly unwound the wool into a large ball.

When she began to cast on her stitches for some new garment, I sat by the fire with my latest library book. It was a true story about a lady missionary who had travelled to Africa to spread Christianity to the natives of a small community in the wilds of the Dark Continent. By the time I was ready for bed I was filled with wonder at this adventurous pioneer and I wished I could be in Africa with her.

I also asked Laura if I could go to her house after school. I loved the hustle and vitality of her parents, even though Laura complained about her father always spouting on about social injustice. ‘He’s like a parrot,’ she said one day, but she laughed as she said it and I knew she didn’t mean it.

The time was drawing near when we would be leaving school and going into the adult world. I envied Laura because she knew what she wanted to do, but I had this restless urge and didn’t know how to deal with it.

‘Are you still planning to go to the teachers’ college?’ I asked her one afternoon as we made our way up the Hawkhill.

She was eating an apple, but she nodded. ‘Yes, I am. Have you made up your mind what you’re going to do?’

I shook my head. ‘Not really.’

I must have sounded miserable because she looked straight at me and asked, ‘Are you still planning a life of adventure, Lizzie?’

‘I think so, but it all depends on how things are at home. Granny and I are really worried about Mum, but we don’t know how to help her. I’ve told you how she’s lived her life in her own little denial bubble, but the trouble is she doesn’t make friends very easily. My dad was the outgoing, sociable person who was good at sport and had loads of pals while Mum was quiet and liked staying in the background. At least that’s what Granny said.’

Laura was sympathetic. ‘Well, everyone is different, aren’t they?’

‘Do you know what she did a few years ago? She went with Milly to a few spiritualist meetings hoping to get a message from Dad. When she didn’t, she was convinced he was still alive and languishing in some foreign hospital.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about that. Our neighbour along the lobby regularly holds little seances for women who’ve lost sons, husbands and fathers in the war. She always has a full house. My father says it’s all a load of supernatural tommyrot, but Mum tells him she’s heard it brings comfort to some people.’

The fact that other people were also seeking some contact with their dead loved ones consoled me, and I was pleased that Mum and Milly hadn’t been paranoid and strange. It now seemed as if there were lots of women, for they were mostly women, all pursuing some sort of closure. Personally I thought it was distasteful, but that was just my opinion.

Then things came to a head one night. It had been a horrible day, with rain and a blustery wind that swept down the narrow streets, sending people scurrying from the wet pavements towards their homes or in my case onto a tramcar from the West Port to Victoria Road. I had to change out of my school clothes and dry my hair, but Granny made a pot of tea and we ate pancakes with honey. Then at six o’clock Mum appeared and she was in a foul mood due to the fact she had also been drenched in the rain.

‘I’ve had a horrendous day, with three very difficult customers,’ she said while pulling off her wet shoes and raincoat. ‘Then I got caught in this awful weather and it’s supposed to be summertime. I mean, for goodness’ sake, it’s May month and we should be having warm, sunny weather.’

One thing I had noticed lately was that Granny, when faced by Mum’s wrath over difficult customers or rotten weather, would sit quietly until the storm passed; however, on this particular night it didn’t pass and Mum raged all through our meal and afterwards. Even when Maisie appeared, she was still moaning.

Finally Granny had had enough and she said pleasantly, ‘Maybe you should go to the doctor, Beth, and get something for your nerves.’

Mum exploded. ‘My nerves … What’s wrong with my nerves, Mary?’

Granny remained placid. ‘Well, you always seem to be overwrought these days. Perhaps the doctor can prescribe something to help you.’

‘I don’t need anything to help me. All I’m looking for is some decent weather so I can wear my new summer frock, which hasn’t been off its hanger since I bought it, and some cheerful customers who want to buy a hat instead of trying on all the stock then walking away without buying a thing.’

‘Well, we can’t pick the weather or make cheerful customers go into the millinery department, Beth, so we just have to put up with it.’

I didn’t look up from my book when Granny said this and she didn’t raise her eyes from her knitting. Then poor Maisie put in her pennyworth, as she tried to be helpful. ‘I remember when I suffered from nerves a few years ago. I got a lovely bottle of tonic from the chemist and it only cost me sixpence.’

‘Right then,’ said Mum. ‘Tomorrow Lizzie can go and get me some of this magic tonic from the chemist and we’ll see if it helps my nerves.’

Later, when I went to bed, Mum was still awake and gazing at the ceiling. ‘Do you think I need a tonic, Lizzie?’ she asked me.

Unsure how to answer, I decided that truthfulness was best. ‘Yes I do, Mum. You always seem so unhappy and pale, and you never eat enough but leave most of your food on the plate.’

She sighed listlessly, all of her former aggression now spent. ‘Yes, I know. I’m beginning to be a pain to live with.’

‘No, you’re not. It’s just that we’re worried about you and want you to be happy again.’

She gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Happy? I haven’t been happy in years. But tomorrow you can get me this bottle of tonic and I promise to take it all and be a changed woman.’

The next afternoon I picked up the tonic from the chemist and carried it home like it was the Holy Grail. It was a huge bottle filled with a noxious-looking black mixture and I wondered how Mum would view it. After her tea – and I noticed with satisfaction she cleared her plate and even ate a slice of bread and butter with the cheese omelette – she took a tablespoon of her medicine, screwing up her face at the taste.

‘This tastes awful,’ she said, rinsing the spoon under the water tap.

Granny was pleased. ‘The worse it is, the better it does you. That’s a known fact.’

Over the week, the contents of the bottle grew less, and Granny congratulated Mum on taking the tonic every day. However, I knew better because I caught her on day two pouring the large tablespoon of the mixture down the sink and rinsing it away. She didn’t know that I had seen her and I never let on.

Our exams were over and Laura announced one day as we strolled towards the school gate, ‘I hope I pass my exam and I can apply to the teacher-training college for a place in the autumn.’ She turned to me, her face glowing in the warm morning sunshine and her hair held back from her face with a ribbon. ‘Have you made up your mind what you want to do, Lizzie?’

I hesitated, as quite honestly I hadn’t. ‘I’ll wait till I get the results of my exams, Laura. After all I might have failed them.’

Laura shook her head. ‘Rubbish, you’re cleverer than me and I’m sure I’ve passed.’

I played for time. ‘Do you honestly think that I’m clever?’

She laughed and ran towards the gate. ‘Stop fishing for compliments.’

One night just before the school broke up for the summer holidays, Mum announced she was going to Glasgow on the Saturday night after work to see Milly. ‘I’ll stay the night and come back on the Sunday.’

Granny and I were both surprised because she hadn’t mentioned this trip, although we knew she was still in contact with her friend. Granny said what a good idea it was. ‘It’ll be good to get a change of scene, Beth, and you can catch up with all Milly’s news.’ Then she added as an afterthought, ‘Why don’t you take Lizzie with you, as she’ll enjoy the trip?’

Mum looked dismayed by this suggestion and I was suddenly annoyed with her for not asking me along in the first place.

‘I don’t think Milly can put us both up for the night, Mary, as it’s not her house. Lizzie can go to Laura’s house if you’ve got a meeting at the church.’

Granny shook her head and she also looked annoyed. ‘No, I’ve nothing planned. It was just a suggestion.’

Before leaving on the Saturday, Mum had packed her small suitcase and said she would leave straight after work and be back on the Sunday night. For one terrible moment I thought she was planning to abandon me and go off, never to return. My mouth was dry and I knew I wouldn’t be able to say goodbye without making my fears known. For the first time in my life, I suddenly felt afraid.

Then I came to my senses and almost laughed out loud at the ludicrous thought of being left behind. For one thing, Mum’s suitcase was too small to hold all her belongings and she hadn’t packed Dad’s trophies. I knew she would never leave without them. Then I was struck by another disturbing thought. What if she was on a scouting mission to look for a job and a house in Glasgow? That would leave Granny all on her own.

When it was time for her to leave for the store, she smiled at us both. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow night and I’ll give you all Milly’s news then.’

I felt so foolish, especially when Granny picked up her shopping basket and announced, ‘Let’s go and get something nice for our tea, then we’ll go into town and have a cup of tea in a café.’

Mum had been excited when she left and I thought she would be the same on her return, but when she appeared on the Sunday evening she looked tired and annoyed.

Granny gave her an enquiring look. ‘Did you enjoy your visit, Beth?’

Mum sat down and gave a huge sigh. ‘I thought Milly would be feeling unhappy in her new home, but she loves it. Her cousin Jeannie has a nice flat and Milly gets on well with her. She has also found a job in a ladies’ fashion shop in Argyll Street and has become friendly with the owner’s son, Albert. Milly says they go to the pictures together and she hopes it will lead to romance.’

Granny said that was good news, but Mum disagreed. ‘Surely she can’t have forgotten her dead fiancé, Mary.’

‘But he died years ago. Surely Milly deserves some happiness and life has to go on.’

‘Well, all I know is I could never replace Peter. Not then and not ever.’

Granny looked as if she was about to cry. ‘No, Beth, I know you couldn’t.’

As we lay in bed that night I suddenly realised that Mum was disappointed in Milly. Perhaps she had wanted her friend to be still mourning and weeping; instead she had found a new life and a possible new love.

Mum said, ‘I thought Milly wanted to come back and that’s why she asked me to visit her. Instead she wanted to show off how well everything has gone for her.’

‘But surely you must be pleased for her,’ I said.

Mum turned her back to me as she pulled the covers over her and I had to strain to hear her reply. ‘Yes, I suppose I am. As your granny says, life has to go on.’

Her voice sounded so flat and dejected that I was afraid. Mum hadn’t moved on with her life. She was still stuck in 1917, and nobody would ever be able to talk her into making a new life for herself or trying to make new friends and having a life outside of work and coming home every night to Victoria Road.

Laura and I spent our last week at school in the knowledge that we had both passed our exams with excellent marks, in my case much to my surprise. We spent that week discussing our futures, and for Laura the way ahead was as clear as it had always been.

‘I’m putting my name down for a place at Dundee College of Education, Lizzie. What about you? Have you made up your mind what you want to do?’

I had to admit I hadn’t, not that I hadn’t thought a great deal about it, but the restlessness I felt was keeping me from making up my mind.

‘I’m not sure about going into teaching, Laura, but I honestly don’t know what I’ll do,’ I said truthfully.

Both Mum and Granny had tried hard to make me realise I needed to make a decision and make it soon.

‘The places at university and the training college will fill up quickly,’ Mum said one night when she was exasperated at my lack of commitment. ‘It won’t be easy to get a job either, as loads of people are unemployed and jobs are scarce.’

I knew that and I was annoyed at myself for my lack of forward planning. I wished I had Laura’s clear-minded dedication, but I didn’t.

Mum said, ‘Why don’t you write to Aunt Margaret and ask her for advice about the training college.’

So I did, but while I was waiting for a reply, Mum and Granny were worried I would be too late to be admitted along with Laura.

The long summer holiday lay ahead, and Laura and I had planned what we were going to do with these last few weeks of freedom before setting out on our chosen paths.

Perhaps I was looking back with rose-coloured spectacles when I recalled every day was sunny and warm because I know that wasn’t true, but years later I was to remember those few weeks as a haven of sunshine and fun, with the shackles of school firmly cast off and the future still misty and unknown.

Every day we would set out on some adventure, sometimes going by the train to Broughty Ferry and swimming in the sea before lying on our damp towels on the sand eating ice cream, or spending days in the Barrack Park with our books. Once we borrowed two bicycles from a small bike-repair shop in the Hawkhill and pedalled into the countryside along with a picnic of sandwiches and bottles of lemonade. Another favourite outing was to the swimming baths, where after our dip in the icy-cold water we emerged shivering with goose-pimpled skin but laughing as we made our way home. However the best bit was the enjoyment and the freedom.