Fortunes of the Heart (23 page)

Relative peace, if not harmony, returned to the Kinnon
household. Jenny bitterly resented having to leave school, but when Pearce
suggested to her it was Daniel’s fault for having run away, she vigorously
defended Daniel, saying he wouldn’t have needed to leave home if he’d been
better treated there.

Chapter 13

Almost two years after Daniel left home, sixteen-year-old
Jenny still detested her job at the mill and at home was barely polite to her
father, avoiding him whenever she could. A works outing was announced and Jenny
was reluctant to go, saying she saw enough of the girls at the mill on a daily
basis and had no desire to spend her free time with them. However, Kate
persuaded her to go, pointing out there would be all sorts of other employees
there from different parts of the mill and other shifts.

About a month or so later, when the Works Day Outing was but
a memory, young Jenny seemed happier than she’d ever been in her life before.
She went around the house singing, even offered to do the odd household chore
like cleaning the brasses on a Friday night without even once being asked to do
so, and strangest thing of all, she went off to the mill each morning not just
with stars in her eyes, but even earlier than she needed do. In fact, there was
such a dramatic change in her that one morning over breakfast Kate felt
compelled to remark on it.

“Jenny, lass, I’ve been meaning to say, it’s so good to see
you happy these days. Does that mean you’ve finally accepted your lot in life?
Or is there some other reason? Are you in love or something? Is that it?”

Jenny coloured then, bending her head over her plate, she
became intent on breaking pieces of bread into tiny pellets which she pushed to
the rim. Obviously, Jenny was loathe to pursue the subject, but Kate persisted.

“You don’t need to tell me, Jenny. I can see it from your
face, lass. You’ve got a lad, haven’t you?”

When there was still no reply and the only sound in the room
was the ticking of the clock and Pearce’s intermittent snores from the haven of
the wall bed, Kate took a deep breath and, determined to get to the bottom of
the mystery, decided on one more try.

“Well now, Jenny, it’s really nothing to be embarrassed
about. After all, let’s face it; you’re growing into a real bonnie young lass.
It would more surprise me if the fellows hereabouts were not flocking round
you. So, tell me, dear, did you meet somebody special at the Day Outing, is
that it, eh?”

Jenny, having now transferred her attention from the bread
pellets to her bowl of porridge, pushed the already congealing mess around with
the edge of her spoon and, keeping her eyes down, still made no reply. Kate sat
down to join her with a welcome cup of tea and after idly stirring in a
spoonful of
Nestle’s
milk which did double duty both
as sweetener and milk, she cleared her throat.

“Come on, Jenny, lass. You can tell your Mammy. To tell you
the truth, there’s nothing I’d like better than to see you fixed up with some
decent young chap, married and settled into a cosy wee single-end of your own.
That’s my great ambition for you, darling. If nothing else, it would get you
safely out of this existence we have here; what with the problems we have with
Hannah, not to mention your Dadda, and his black moods and terrible rages.”

This last comment was made in a whisper, accompanied by an
anxious glance over at the huddled figure beneath the patchwork quilt.

“Mind you, dear, I’m not meaning any disrespect in talking
about your Dadda like that ... we all know it’s just his illness ... and poor
Hannah can’t help being the way she is. But the point is, that’s my cross to
bear. That’s not to say that you have to suffer it along with me, dear. You’re
young, you’re a lovely looking fresh faced young lady. So I suppose what I’m
really trying to say is ...”

Jenny opened her mouth and pushed back a stray lock of hair.

“It’s all right, Mammy, I think I get the message. I know
what you’re trying to say. And believe me, I’m grateful to you for confiding in
me like this. I know you’d like fine to see me married and settled in a wee
place before I’m too old and maybe left on the shelf. Is that it, you don’t
want to be lumbered with an old maid, eh?”

Kate reached across and laid a hand gently on her daughter’s
arm.

“You an old maid? I don’t really think there’s much danger
of that. And mind you, you’re young enough yet in all conscience. But the thing
is; if you’re starting to be interested in boys, going about with them and all
that, well, I thought we’d better just have a wee chat about it. You see, dear,
there’s two kinds of men, those that are willing to enter the married state and
those ...
er
... those that are dead keen to enter
the marriage bed but without going through the formalities ... if you get my
meaning.

Jenny blushed to the roots of her hair and made as if to get
up from the table, but her mother’s hand detained her.

“No, listen to me, darling, for I know what I’m talking
about. And let’s face it, how often do we get a chance of a real heart to heart
talk? But for once, with Hannah and your Dadda both sleeping and ...

“Yes, indeed, Jenny. Marriage to a good man. It would be the
making of you, girl. But I’ve been going all round the house this past ten
minutes in trying to spell it out for you. you must remember to keep yourself
and your body pure. Till your wedding night, give nothing away, nothing, until
you’ve got that gold wedding ring on your finger. Do you understand, darling?”

Jenny finally raised her head, with a face the colour of
boiled beetroot.

“Ach, for goodness sake, Mammy. I’ve only just met the lad.
The way you’re going on anybody would think that I was engaged or something.”

Delighted to have her suspicions confirmed that there was
indeed someone on the romantic horizon, Kate, determined to ignore the rebuff,
pressed on with her
speiring
for news.

Smiling happily, she leant back in her chair.

“Oho, so I was right. There is a young man. Yes, I knew it.
But what did you say his name was?”

Jenny smiled.

“Mammy, you’re the absolute limit, do you know that? Talk
about fishing for titbits of news. You’re even better at it than old Nosey
Parker Gordon in the next close. Anyway, as you very well know, I did NOT
mention what his name was.”

Kate took a leisurely sip of her tea.

“No, but you are going to tell me, aren’t you, dear? And
before you go out that door to the mill. Right?”

“Mammy, you wouldn’t keep me late for my work? That new
gaffer is the limit. Two minutes late and he docks your pay.”

Kate sat silently until at last Jenny blurted out: “Well, if
you must know, his name is Ross. There now, will that satisfy you?”

Jenny at once got to her feet and taking her heavy cardigan
and her outdoor coat from the peg, behind the door, she made as if to leave.
She was already halfway out of the door when her mother, with a worried frown
on her face, stretched a detaining hand out to Jenny.

“Here, Jenny, just wait one minute, my girl. There’s only
one man I know round about here who’s called Ross. It’s not all that common a
name, you must admit. Round here, it’s nearly all Patrick, Terry, Jimmy, or
Jock. Like I say, the only Ross I have even heard of in this district is that
layabout Ross Cuthbert. Lives in that stinking slum just round the corner. Not
that I’d hold that against him, you understand, but local gossip has it that
he’s not just lazy, bone idle in fact, but he’s a drunkard, a womaniser ... and
God alone knows where he gets the money for that style of living, and even
worse, he’s ...”

Jenny, her face puce now, which in itself was reply and
confirmation enough for her mother, pushed away Kate’s hand.

Then, with the light of battle in her eyes, she yelled:
“Yes, Mammy, it is Ross Cuthbert I’ve been seeing. But he’s nothing like what
you say. He’s a lovely fellow, not a drunkard, not a womaniser and as to the
thing you were about to mention ... something even worse, I just cannot imagine
what you mean.

Kate, furious, with an admonitory finger, spelled out for
Jenny exactly what she meant.

“Womaniser I said, and womaniser I damn well meant, my girl.
Even worse, he’s not even a decent church or chapel going man. And he’s years
older than you.”

Jenny opened her mouth to speak but her mother had not yet
finished.

“I doubt that it would be marriage of any kind which that
scum would want. No, he’d be after just taking what he could get, what was on
offer, like. Then, true to form of his kind, he’d run off like a yellow coward,
leaving you with a full belly and a lifetime of disgrace before you. Take it
from me, marriage is not for the likes of him. That’s the very last thing he’d
want. Oh, yes, happy enough to accept and enjoy to the full the pleasures of
marriage, all the home comforts of wedded bliss. But without the formality of a
wedding.”

There was a wild look in Jenny’s eyes.

“Well, Mammy, I don’t know where you get your information
from, but I’m happy to tell you that you’re dead right on at least two counts:
he doesn’t attend any church or chapel, because he doesn’t believe in any god,
and yes, the women flock round him. If that makes him a womaniser, then you’re
right there as well.”

Kate took a step back from the fury which she could not only
hear but also see in her daughter’s face. Then she held her splayed hands out
towards Jenny as if in this way she could somehow stem the flow of bitter,
angry words. But it was not to be, for without even pausing for breath, Jenny
continued.

“What you may not yet realise, not only is he a very
handsome lad, a real dark-haired charmer, but ... yes ... I will say it, I love
him.”

Kate drew back in shock then rallied.

“Oh no, Jenny, you don’t mean it. You can’t mean it. You
could never be happy with a wastrel like that. Apart from anything else, there
is just no way that I could stand aside and see you, a good, well brought up
Christian girl, throw yourself away on a heathen the likes of him. Don’t do it,
I beg you, please don’t do it.”

Jenny looked her mother up and down.

“You’re a fine one to talk, Mammy. He’s years older than me,
you say? Dadda’s twenty-two years older than you – and he was when you were
wed. You don’t go to mass at Dadda’s High Anglican church or attend any other
church I know of. Anyway, who said anything about marriage? Nobody but yourself
even mentioned the word marriage. Your gossips should keep up to date with the
news. Ross is married already. He had to get married – a shotgun wedding, isn’t
that what they call it? Big Aggie’s father would have killed my poor dear Ross
if he hadn’t married Aggie to give her bairn a name. But he doesn’t love Aggie,
he loves me.”

“And Aggie’s bairn was an example of immaculate conception?”

Kate wept as she watched her daughter secure the Tam
O’Shanter
on her head, give a last
tweek
to her long knitted scarf, and make for the hallway. In the background, Kate
was dimly aware that over in the wall-bed, Pearce was stirring and cursing as
he slowly opened his eyes to the rude awakening. Hannah too was making the odd
grunting noises which usually presaged a temper tantrum.

Ignoring both her mother’s bitter weeping and the extraneous
noises from the two beds, Jenny turned on her heel to give her parting shot.

“Right, then, that’s me. I’m off for another fun day of
bloody hard work at the mill. But there’s just one thing I’ve decided; there
must be more to life than this constant misery. Danny made it away and good
luck to him. So if ever Ross Cuthbert asks me to run away with him, I’ll not
need to be asked twice. I’ll be off like a bloody shot and as fast as I can and
as far away as I can get, to put as many miles as possible between me and this
... this fucking ménage, with daft Hannah and her fits, screams, and tantrums.
And I’ll tell you this, Mammy, I would elope with the very Devil himself if I
thought he could get me far away from that old bugger ... that bad-tempered old
bugger of a father.”

As the door crashed behind her fleeing daughter with a force
that seemed to shake the very foundations, Kate looked round, as one in the
grip of a nightmare from which there could be no possible awakening.

Chapter 14

In the weeks which followed the row between Jenny and her
mother on the subject of Ross Cuthbert, to Kate’s vast relief, his name had not
been mentioned again. True, Anne-Marie
Caughlan
, one
of the Kate’s acquaintances, had whispered to Kate that she had seen Jenny and
the young man walking along the street together on several occasions. However,
closer examination of the scrap of gossip revealed only that the two had
occasionally walked together to and from work.

When Kate discovered this, her feeling was one of relief as
she thought: Well, as long as that’s all they’re doing, I’ve no call for worry.
After all, nothing much can happen in those circumstances, especially right in
the middle of busy city streets and in full view of such nosey parkers as
Anne-Marie
Caughlan
and her meddling cronies.’

What further reassured Kate was that apart from never once
mentioning Ross’s name, at least in her mother’s hearing, Jenny had taken to
going out with a girl friend from the mill every Saturday night. For the past
month, every Saturday night, Lizzie Fergus turned up faithfully at Kate’s door
to meet Jenny. Then together, the pair of them would set off happily for the
weekly soiree run by one of the churches. True, Lizzie herself was a bit more
loud-mouthed and common than Kate would have chosen as a bosom friend for her
daughter to go around with.