Primrose Square (7 page)

‘But why? You won't say why!'

‘Can we no' sit down somewhere?' He looked around, at the fine houses, the gardens with their trees still in full leaf, the railings with their gates, and he smiled briefly. ‘This your famous square, then? And everything's locked?'

‘Dad, I'm just going out. I'm going to an evening class, it's the first time, and I mustn't be late. I'd no idea you were coming.'

‘Spur of the moment, is why. I never even told your ma.' His smile broadened. ‘She thinks I'm at the pub.'

‘Will you walk with me to Lothian Road?' she asked desperately. ‘I've to get the tram there. We could talk on the way.'

Her heart was still pounding, but now with apprehension that her evening was about to crash around her ears. It was the strangest thing in the world that her father had come seeking her, and might be good but then might not, and she felt so confused, she was like some rudderless boat at the mercy of the waves.

‘Will you come?' she asked, praying that he would not take offence that she was still going to her class when he had come to see her, that he would not suddenly blow up right there in the middle of the city.

Amazingly, he took her arm. ‘Aye, I'll come, Elinor. If we can talk, I want to talk.'

‘You'll tell me why you came?'

‘I should've thought you could guess. Or d'you want me to eat humble pie?'

‘Dad, what are you saying?'

She wished now that they weren't joining the crowds waiting to cross the road at Maule's Corner, where Princes Street ended and the two famous churches – St John's and St Cuthbert's – marked the entry to Lothian Road. If only her father hadn't picked tonight of all nights! For there was the tram stop ahead and she must be ready to board when her tram came, or she would be late, and yet she didn't want to board, she wanted to hear what her dad had to say. And try to make herself believe that this was happening.

‘I've been thinking I was a wee bit hard on you,' he was muttering, ‘that time I told you to go. It's been on my mind – since you went – that I was, well, I was wrong.' He laughed uneasily. ‘Got carried away, you see. Well, you know how it is.'

‘Aye, I do,' she said eagerly. ‘I was maybe too quick, too. Ma said I shouldn't have been so quick, but  . . .'

‘No, I told you to go – what else could you do?'

They had reached the tram stop and were standing together, almost fearfully exchanging looks from eyes so alike, trying to make sense of this so strange meeting, the strangest meeting either of them had ever had.

‘Do you want me to come back?' Elinor asked at last, in a husky whisper.

‘Aye, I do. When you can.'

‘Thing is, I've signed up for this course. I've no evenings free in term times.' (Oh, Lord, what would he say?) ‘But then there'll be the holidays – and some Saturdays. In fact, I might be able to come this weekend.'

‘Come when you can,' he repeated. ‘I'll tell your mother you'll come when you can.'

‘Dad, she'll be so pleased.'

‘I know.' He cleared his throat. ‘I sometimes get things right. But what's this course, then?'

‘It's learning about office work. I thought I might – you know – try for a different job.'

‘Lassies doing office work these days?'

‘Seemingly.'

Her tram was looming. She put her hand on his arm. ‘Dad, this is me. I'll have to go.'

‘I'll see you on, then.'

She kissed his cheek – when had she last done that? – and murmured, self-consciously, ‘Dad – thanks.'

He looked away. ‘Better join the queue, lassie.'

When the tram halted, she followed people on to the platform, looking back at her father, watching. Neither smiled, but both waved.

‘Fares, please,' said the conductor, and she was borne away, her father still watching until the tram was out of sight.

Oblivious to the noise and rattles around her, Elinor was gradually coming to terms with what had happened. Her dad, in one of his good moods, had made the huge effort to seek her out and – yes, incredible though it seemed – had apologized to her. He'd actually got the words out. Admitted he'd made a mistake. Asked her to come back home when she could. Was it possible?

She supposed that, with him, anything was possible. As her mother had said, he could be all blow and thunder one minute, all sunshine the next, and this apologizing to her must be in one of his sunny times, then. On the other hand, she'd never known him cave in to anyone in the family before, and it might just be that when she'd left, she'd given him a shock. She'd stood up to him like no one else had done, and being unused to it, he'd not known how to deal with it. When he'd finally realized that she was not coming back, he'd bitten the bullet and apologized. Because it was true, then, that he'd missed her?

A warm glow consumed her as it came to her that her dad must care for her. Cared for all his family, though he had no idea how to make them happy. Would always want his own way, always be ready to fly off the handle, but deep down, they meant something to him. And understanding that meant something to Elinor.

For a little while, she had quite forgotten where she was going and what for, but when she only recognized her stop at the last minute and scrambled out just in time, it dawned on her with terrible realization that she was going to be late for her first class. She must have missed the tram she'd intended to get, and now she could see from a church clock across the road that it was after seven. The class would already have begun.

Late! When she had wanted to appear so calm and well organized; had wanted to create a good impression on Mr Muirhead and the other students. Late already, when she didn't even know where Carlyle High School was!

Of course, she found it. Found the notice board inside the entrance giving the room number for her class. Arrived at the door, flushed and breathless and, at her light knock, met Mr Muirhead himself. Smiling, thank God.

‘Oh, I'm so sorry I'm late!' she burst out, but he only drew her into the classroom.

‘That's quite all right. We haven't started yet – I've just been taking a roll call. Come in and find a seat.'

Thirteen

Everyone was looking at her. Or so it felt to Elinor, though with her eyes cast down as she found a seat next to another young woman, she couldn't of course be sure. Aware that Mr Muirhead was waiting for her, she tried to be as quick as possible in slipping off her hat and jacket, which he immediately came forward to hang up, and then, after taking out her exercise book and pencil, managed to snatch a look around her.

The classroom was typical of all the rooms she remembered from her schooldays: long dusty windows, bare boarded floor, maps and posters on the distempered walls, and rows of desks to seat two pupils facing the teacher's table. Squashed into the desks, regardless of height or weight, were twenty or so men and a few women, all young, and none looking at Elinor, as it happened, except the girl next to her who gave her a brief smile. She was rather plain, with freckles and pale blonde hair scraped into a tight bun, and Elinor guessed she'd be very efficient. The sort that could run an office anyway, even without Mr Muirhead's help, but everyone's eyes were on him now, waiting for him to begin.

First, he told them, he'd like to stress the importance now attached to the office in modern times. ‘We've moved away from the Scrooge type of office of the past, you see, when you had one clerk scratching away with a quill pen in some old ledger. Now, we have typewriters, telephones, punched card systems, all kinds of modern equipment, and staff trained to use them. Which is where you people will come in.

‘It's not just big companies that will need you, because everywhere is recognizing the importance of an efficient office these days. You might find yourself working in some small shop, or maybe a hotel, a college, a school, a department store – all requiring staff who know what to do. To begin with, you may start with junior tasks, such as filing – which is not as easy as ABC, as everyone thinks, but actually quite complex and vital to finding information – but then you'll progress to carrying out other procedures, which we'll cover in this course. Any questions so far?'

Hands shot up all over the room. Could Mr Muirhead outline some of the procedures?

Certainly he could. Keeping checks on stock and supplies, keeping records, particularly of expenditure, paying and checking bills, carrying out simple accounting, liaising with staff and customers, writing reports for senior management – and that was just the start.

At the looks on their faces, Mr Muirhead laughed.

‘Obviously, newcomers will not be running offices from the beginning and will receive training anyway, but this course will make sure you know what will be expected of you. If you can show that, you'll be better placed for getting a job.'

‘That's all we want,' someone muttered, and there were murmurs of agreement.

Another hand went up from a young man with a shock of red hair at the front of the room.

‘You talk about simple accounting – how good have we got to be at arithmetic?'

‘To do well in this field, I'd say it's essential to be quite good,' Mr Muirhead told him. ‘The job really calls for a logical mind as well as practical skills.'

‘Lets out the lassies, eh?' the red-headed man said with a laugh, at which the girls cried, ‘Shame!' and the young woman next to Elinor flushed scarlet.

‘Please apologize for that remark!' she shouted across the classroom. ‘My best subject at school was arithmetic, I'll have you know.'

With a glance at his list of names, Mr Muirhead said curtly, ‘Mr MacLean, please do as Miss Cordiner says and apologize for a quite uncalled-for remark.'

‘Only bit of fun, Mr Muirhead.'

‘I'm waiting, Mr MacLean.'

The red-haired young man stood up, gravely bowed towards Miss Cordiner and said, ‘So sorry, no offence meant.'

‘I won't say “None taken” as I am offended,' she snapped back. ‘But I accept your apology on behalf of the women in this class.'

‘May I make it quite clear from the start that no kind of joking offences will be tolerated here,' Mr Muirhead declared. ‘Anyone guilty of them will be shown the door. Understood?'

‘Understood!' the girls cried, while the men nodded and made a few muttering noises that could be taken as assent.

‘Get this all the time at work, eh?' Miss Cordiner whispered to Elinor, her colour gradually fading. ‘Men thinking women can't do as well as they can?'

Is that really what I have to look forward to? Elinor wondered. Working only with women, she'd no experience of the sort of prejudice Miss Cordiner was talking about, except, of course, where votes for women were concerned. Yes, there was prejudice for you. She would have liked to ask her desk companion where she worked, except that Mr Muirhead was looking impatient and clearing his throat.

‘Could we all settle down now, please, and forget this diversion? For the rest of the time this evening, I'd like to tell you about some of the methods used to keep records and to bring up information when required. It might be helpful if you take down what I put on the board here and we'll go into the detail at the next class.'

Silence fell, except for the squeak of the tutor's chalk on the blackboard and the laboured breathing of some of the men poring over their notebooks. There seemed a good deal to write, a good deal to learn, but as she worked on, Elinor felt she was getting somewhere. Maybe not in the academic field she'd first planned, but on the path to a more rewarding job than being in service. For these were concrete things she was learning, facts that should stand her in good stead, and if it was perhaps too early to be sure of an end – this was, after all, early days – when the bell rang for the end of the evening class, she still put down her pen with a contented sigh.

Fourteen

‘Thank you, everyone,' Mr Muirhead called, shaking chalk from his hands after cleaning the board. ‘We've made a good start and I look forward to seeing you all next week.'

Miss Cordiner and Elinor, exchanging further smiles, stood up and stretched with the rest of the class.

‘Pretty tight fit, these desks,' Miss Cordiner murmured. ‘By the way, my name's Brenda.'

‘I'm Elinor Rae. Mind if I ask, do you work in an office at the moment?'

Brenda made a face. ‘Oh, yes, for my sins, I work in the office of a boys' school. No picnic, I can tell you. The whole place needs sorting out, but my boss is a man who won't let me do anything. I'm desperate to get into some big firm where I can really organize things. How about you?'

‘I'm in service at the Primrose Club,' Elinor told her. ‘Like you, I'm keen to move on.'

‘Don't blame you!'

As they moved to collect their hats and jackets, other girls came up to congratulate Brenda for standing up to ‘that' Mr MacLean. ‘Cheeky devil,' one was remarking, when the cheeky devil himself joined them, pulling on his coat and grinning.

‘No hard feelings?' he asked.

‘As long as you behave yourself,' Brenda replied coldly.

‘Oh, he will,' called Mr Muirhead, standing in the doorway, rattling his keys. ‘That right, Mr MacLean?'

‘Scout's honour, Mr Muirhead.'

‘On your way, then.'

As the students moved into the corridor and began to depart, Brenda glanced at a little watch she took from her bag. ‘Listen,' she said to Elinor, ‘there's a café stays open late round here, we could go and have a cup of tea.'

‘Oh, I'm sorry, I'd have liked to, but I think I should get back.'

‘Maybe next week, eh?'

‘Yes, I'll try.'

They were at the outer door to the school when Mr Muirhead caught up with them.