Roses of Winter (25 page)

When they parted, she ran up the stair to her door. On the final flight she slowed realizing the need to prevent her elation from awakening attention. Quietly she placed her key in the door and went into the kitchen. She drew up at the sight of her mother by the fire.
 
“Ye’re still up then, Ma,” she said, attempting but failing to appear casual.

“Aye, Ellen, ah’m still up. Sit ye doon and tell me aboot yer night oot.”

Ellen walked over slowly and sat down. “Ach, there’s no’ much tae tell, Ma, ah wis jist oot wi Pearl at the dancing.”

“Ah thought ye went wi Jimmie Gow.”

“Ma, ah telt ye, we’re no’ really gaun oot thegither.”
 

Ellen decided to brazen it out. Her mother would worm it out of her anyway so she might as well just face it. “Anyway, ah met somebody nice at the dance and ah’m gaun oot wi’ him again the more.”

A dark and dangerous look crossed her mother’s face. “Are you telling me you went tae a dance wi’ Jimmie Gow and just left him there tae take up wi’ a complete stranger?”

“Ma, it’s no’ like that.”

“Then tell me whit it
is
like,” Mary said pointedly, feeling the temper rising up in her but unable to control it.
 

If either one had known about the romance that was blossoming between Jimmie and Pearl then the serious rift that happened that night between the two women might have been avoided. It occurred to Mary, not for the first time, that there were things about Ellen that she just didn’t like. Until then Mary had simply experienced exasperation with her daughter and her difficult temperament that had caused her so much annoyance. Fully formed at last in her mind was the notion that there were much deeper flaws in Ellen’s personality, a self-centeredness and disregard for others that Mary found to be intolerable. But like many battles between people with close emotional ties, they were unable to properly articulate the real nature of their trouble.
 

“Ah’m fed up wi’ you an’ your nonsense. Ye’ve nae sense in yer heid at aw,” Mary told her. Mary was working herself up into a dangerous emotional storm.

While more sensible sailors on life’s waters might have headed for a safe harbor, this was not Ellen’s way. “Ah’ve had enough o’ ye talkin’ tae me that way, Ma. It’s no’ mah fault that ah don’t want tae go oot with Jimmie Gow. It’s nane o’ your business anyway.”

“Oh it’s no’ is it?” exploded Mary, her mood now a full raging hurricane. “Ye don’t give a damn aboot anybody except yersel’." Any good memories of Ellen’s helpful moments were swept away in Mary’s conviction of the rightness of her opinions. The awareness of her loss of control over her daughter, coupled with guilt over the obvious gaps in their relationship, overcame Mary’s good sense. They were heading quickly into places where words spoken could not be withdrawn and hurts never healed. For they both burned with a pride and an inability to forget a slight, real or imagined. The lessons of Mary’s long dead grandparents were as forgotten as a long ago summer breeze.
 

“You go tae the dance with a nice boy and go aff wi’ some Tom, Dick or Harry like a cheap trollop.”

Ellen burst into tears. “Ah telt ye before, it wisnae like that,” she managed to gasp out between sobs.
 
“Jim wis a perfect gentleman tae me aw night. Ye’ll see that yersel when ye meet him.”

“Jim is it? Well ah don’t want ye bringing yer fancy men aroon here. Ah’ll have nane of that.” She raised her hand to point at Ellen but dropped it again and sagged like a luffing sail losing a strong wind. “Ach, ah’m no’ gaun tae waste any mer breath on ye. Ah’m away tae mah bed.” Mary sat down heavily on the edge of the box bed and kicked off her slippers. She swung her legs up on to the bed and snapped the curtains closed.

Ellen sat down at the kitchen table, her face buried in her handkerchief. After a few moments, she got up and, with a defiant look at the curtains, went through to her own bed.

❅❅❅❅❅

As they were leaving the church hall, Jimmie turned to Pearl. “Would ye…would ye like tae go doon tae Jaconelli’s for some ice cream?”

“Did somebody die and leave you money, Jimmie Gow? Ah don’t have any money tae spend on ice cream.”

“Naw, naw, Pearl, ah’ll treat ye.”

“An’ you don’t have money tae throw away either,” Pearl insisted, but not too strongly. She could just go for some ice cream but didn’t want to appear too eager.

“Ah’ve got money,” Jimmie said indignantly. “It’s no problem, ah do work ye know. And anyway, ah’d like tae take you.”

“Aw right, keep yer hair on,” Pearl joked, happy to give in. Then, her manner serious, she looked up at him, “It sounds really nice Jimmie. Thanks.”

“That’s all right then,” he said. Taking her arm, he led her off down Maryhill Road.
 

Pearl looked up at Jimmie’s determined face and smiled. He’s not backward at all, she thought. In fact, he’s not bad looking either.

He caught her looking at him and raised an eyebrow. “Whit is it?”

“Nothing, ah wis jist looking at ye.” She tightened her grip on his arm and relished the warm glow that was spreading through her body.
Well, ah’ll be damned
, she thought.
This is the last thing ah wis expecting when ah came out the night.

When Mary awoke the next morning, the memory of her fight with Ellen inspired a dull ache behind her eyes and a weariness that seemed centuries in the making. She got up and went through the usual motions of her morning, trying to ignore the prickling anxiety she could feel deep in her stomach. Yet again she felt the anger and frustration that appeared to be the major emotions called forth in her by her daughter. Interspersed lay complex layers of guilt and self-righteousness that alternated with regret. Well hidden, impossible to fully acknowledge, was the feeling most deeply buried of all, that she really didn’t like her daughter.

Mary had inherited from her mother an innate sense of order and correctness that was the very foundation of her life. In Mary’s perception, Ellen attacked that foundation like a sledgehammer. In doing so, she threatened the very essence of Mary’s existence. For Ellen her mother’s sensibilities were old fashioned and pointless, and conflicted with what she wanted. The nature of those wants was immaterial to Ellen. Her moods changed in so mercurial a fashion, that often they were just as much a surprise to her. It was the frustration of not getting whatever she wanted that inflamed her anger. Many of her mother’s views, whatever their merits, were measured by whether they supported or thwarted her whims.
 

So stubbornly did both hold to their positions that, when Ellen appeared in the kitchen, they avoided contact with each other, unwilling to break the fragile bubbles of hurt within which each nursed their stubborn pride. Mary, who hated every one of these disruptions of the family peace, could not bring herself to yield to what she saw as Ellen’s intransigence. She sat down by the fire and watched Ellen’s silent and hurried departure with the rent in her heart unmended.

Ida came in at ten. Sensing Mary’s misery she asked, “Whit’s the matter?”

“Ah don’t think ah can look ye in the face, Ida, after the way Ellen has treated your Jimmie.”

“Whit are ye talking aboot, whit has she done tae Jimmie?”

“Ye mean ye don’t know?”

 
“Ach dae ye mean that silly crush he had on her? That wis nothing. Jist a flash in the pan. Don’t bother yersel’ about that.”

Mary looked puzzled. “But he asked her oot tae the dance an’ she went aff wi’ another man.”

Ida waived her hand to dismiss the notion. “Ye know whit they’re like at that age. Jimmie came home raving aboot this grand girl he met.

Mary stared at her. “Grand girl? Whit girl?”

Ida laughed. “Aye,
 
Jimmie’s gaun oot now wi’ Ellen’s pal Pearl. He canny stop talkin’ aboot her. Ah don’t think he even knows who Ellen is any more.”

“Why the hell didn’t she tell me that,” Mary fumed?

“Ah don’t think she knows. Jimmie telt me they didnae see her at the end o’ the night.”

“Well that’s still nae excuse fer leaving him at the dance.”

“Jimmie disnae care, he’s singing like a linty over Pearl,” Ida said. “And anyway, he wis the wan daeing the chasing. It’s aw turned oot fer the best. If I were you ah wid jist leave things well alone.”

Mary thought about this a moment then sighed heavily.
 
“Aye, ah suppose ye’re right, Ida, but that lassie gets on mah goat.” Mary told her about Ellen’s new click.

“Well don’t ye think maybe you should ask him up tae the hoose tae she whit she’s taking up wi?” Ida said pointedly. “If ye don’t she’ll jist keep seeing him behind your back. If ye want mah opinion, ye wid be a lot better aff if ye don’t fight wi’ her aboot it.”
 

Sitting alone later by the fire Mary had to admit the rightness of Ida’s point. She wished Charlie were home. Galling as the thought was, she realized that Ellen was much more likely to listen to him than her.
 
But Charlie wasn’t home and she would just have to make the best of it by herself.
 

Throughout the afternoon she glanced anxiously at the clock on the mantle until Ellen entered the kitchen. She looked at her mother, then quickly away when she saw Mary’s eyes fixed upon her. “Ellen, wid ye come sit doon a minute, ah want tae talk tae ye.”

Ellen’s face took on a defensive, sullen look. “Ah’m tired, Ma, ah dinnae want tae start it up wi’ you again. Ah’m no’ in the mood.”

“No, it’s no’ that Ellen. Ah had a talk wi’ Ida the day.”

“Ah thought we werenae goin’ tae talk aboot that,” Ellen persisted.

“Wid ye gie me a chance tae speak,” Mary said, trying to keep her temper under control. Ellen looked away at the fire but said nothing. “As ah wis trying tae say, ah wis talking tae Ida, and she says Jimmie’s no’ bothered aboot you at aw. He’s gaun oot wi’ yer pal Pearl.”
 

Ellen forgot their recent trouble. “Aye, so she wis telling me the day. Ye could have knocked me over wi’ a feather. It looks like she’s fair fallen aff her perch ower him.”

“Aye well,” Mary struggled on, “Since things are no’ whit ah thought they were, ah wis thinking maybe you could bring yer new lad up tae the hoose and let us meet him.”

“Dae ye mean that Ma?” Ellen asked, not believing her ears.

“Aye, ah dae.” For a moment Ellen’s face was transformed. “That’s grand, Ma.” But suddenly she cast her eyes down at the floor.

“Whit is it now?” Mary demanded to know. “Ah thought ye wid be pleased.”

“Ah ah’m, Ma. It’s jist…he sounds that posh he probably lives in a big fancy hoose. When he sees this place he’ll no’ want anything to dae wi’ me.”
 

Mary was incensed. “Whit’s wrang wi’ this place? It might no’ be a palace but we’re decent hard working people. If that’s no’ good enough for Lord Muck then he can go take a flying jump.”

“Ah’m no’ saying there’s anything wrang wi’ this place, an’ he’s no’ like that at aw, Ma. Ah jist cannae believe someone like him is interested in me. It’s too good tae be true.”

But Mary, their quarrel forgotten, was up in arms in her daughter’s defense. “And whit’s wrang wi’ you? He’s a lucky man so he is. Don’t you worry, we’ll put on a good show for him.”

Talking with Ida, the next morning, Mary was less confident. “Ah don’t know, Ida, wi’ aw this rationing, how ah’m gaun tae keep ma heid up when Ellen’s lad comes over.”

But Ida, as always, was full of ideas. “We’ll all help ye is whit we’ll dae. For one thing, ye can have the loan o’ ma mother’s good china. Ah’m sure the rest o’ the women in the close will no’ stand by and see ye in the lurch. And Betty’s at the bakery. Ah wid be very surprised if she cannae swing something wi’ her boss.”

Mary’s eyes brightened. “That’s grand. Ye’re a marvel so ye are. But no’ your maw’s good china; mah hert wid be in ma mooth worrying ah wid drop it.”

But Ida would have none of it. “Don’t you be daft, ye’ll no’ drap it. Anyway, it will be nice tae see it getting used for a change.”

Although there was most of the week left to prepare Mary insisted on getting started right away. She ordered Elspeth and Alastair outside, handing them each a piece and jam before herding them to the door. “Away ye go the baith o’ ye and play ootside.
 
Ah want tae get stuck intae this hoose,” she told Ellen, wrapping a headscarf around her hair.

Ellen, a mirror image of her mother, in one of her old aprons and scarves, surveyed the room. “Ah’ll dae the range, Ma?”

Mary looked doubtful. “Are ye sure pet? That’s an awfy dirty job.”

But Ellen was determined. “It’s nae bother, Ma. Ah know how tae dae it.” She set to work with black lead and emery paper until the fireplace shone.

Mary stopped washing the window to look at her work. “It looks like new. Ah couldnae have done better masel’.”

Ellen looked pleased. “Well who dae ye think showed me how, Ma.”

Mary nodded her assent at the truth of that. “Still, ye’ve done a grand job so ye have."

Exhausted, they flopped down at the kitchen table. Mary placed her head in her hands. “God, ah’m done in.”

“Aye, Ma, but look at the place.” Mary glanced around the kitchen with a look of satisfaction.