Roses of Winter (43 page)

Mary was in the kitchen when she crept in. She threw an appraising glance at Pearl. “Sit ye down,” Mary told her. “The tea’ll be ready in nae time. I want ye tae treat this hoose as if it was yer ain.”

“That’s awfy nice o’ ye Mrs. Burns,” Pearl said. Tears welled in her eyes.
 

“Ah don’t want tae interfere in yer business, Pearl, but if ye want tae talk aboot it ah’ll listen.”

“Ah’m jist so ashamed for mah father,” Pearl said. “And angry too,” she added. “Whit he has pit mah poor mother through. Ye’ve nae idea.”

Mary nodded but said nothing.

“Whit ah canny get oot o’ mah heid, is the fact that he was really going tae hurt me. If it hadnae been for the McGurks ah don’t know what would have happened.” She explained to Mary how Rose McGurk had fended off her father with her mop.

Mary laughed.
 
“Ah can just picture that.”

“Aye,” Pearl agreed. “And it was a dirty auld rag of a thing tae. He was quite a sight.” She laughed, until the thought of her father sprawled in a crumpled bloody heap at Tam McGurk’s hands silenced her.
 

Mary brought her tea. “All ah ever wanted was a normal family,” Pearl continued. “Like yours. Is that too much tae ask? Ah always hoped there was some way tae get it intae mah father’s heid whit he’s done tae us.”

Mary thought of the years of unhappiness in her mother’s life. “Ah know,” Mary said. “Some people don’t see that. The hard thing about it is that they usually don’t ever see it.”

“If you’re telling me it’s a lost cause, ah know that,” Pearl said. “Ah doubt if I will ever see mah father again. The thing is, ah don’t think ah want tae see him again.”

“Aye well,” Mary said sadly, “there are some things our families dae tae hurt us that cannae ever be mended. Believe me ah know aw aboot that.”

Pearl looked surprised.

“Ye don’t think you’re the only wan something like this ever happened tae, dae ye?” Mary said. She told Pearl about the grandparents that had been lost to her.

❅❅❅❅❅

Ellen walked down Buchanan Street, enjoying the effect she was having on the males she passed. The street was bathed in the soft light of one of those rare perfect days when the air caresses the skin with a comforting warmth. As the pain of Jimmie’s capture had receded, Ellen’s former self had reemerged. Today she had dressed up as though for an occasion. She had recovered her white dress with the dark blue polka dots from the back of the wardrobe where it had languished for many months. The outfit was topped off with a broad brimmed hat that Ellen hoped made her look like a movie star.
 

She was about to turn into the Argyll Arcade when a male voice called her name. Ellen turned and looked around until she spotted a face that she thought was familiar but could not immediately place.

“Don’t you remember me?” the young man asked. She saw the disappointment her blank look had called forth from his earnest face.

“Ah’m no’ sure,” she said. Maybe he was trying it on, she thought. “Could ye give me a clue?” she asked playfully, to blunt his annoyance.

“Ach, ye really have forgotten me,” he told her. “It’s Robbie, Robbie Gilmour from Campbelltown.”

She saw now the boy’s face behind the man’s. “Oh Robbie, it is you. Ye cannae blame me for no’ recognizing you. You’ve changed a lot since ah saw ye last.”

“Aye,” Robbie agreed, “ah suppose ye’re right. I was hardly shaving yet when ah knew you.”

She hugged him, poking his eye with the brim of her hat. Robbie recoiled. “Oh,” Ellen gasped. “Ah’m awfy sorry.”

“Wid ye watch whit yer daeing wi’ that thing,” he said, pretending to be annoyed. “It’s bigger than the Finnieston crane.”

She saw his grin and they both laughed.
 

They wandered through the Arcade into Argyll Street, not heading anywhere in particular, talking about the old days and what had happened since. Ellen avoided the topic of Jim.

“Are ye daeing anything the night?” Robbie asked.

Ellen had planned to go to the Star with Pearl. “Nothing in particular,” she lied.

“Maybe we could dae something thegither then?” Robbie asked.

“Whit did ye have in mind?” she replied.

“Whit wid you like tae dae?” he asked.

Ellen thought quickly. "There’s a picture on in the toon ah’d like to see.” There was less chance of anyone she knew seeing her there, she thought. “Why don’t ah meet ye there at seven?” she said, before he could suggest picking her up at home.

After they parted it did not take Ellen long to wonder what she would say to Pearl. Now that Pearl was living with them it was no longer so easy to deceive her friend. She could tell Pearl the truth, of course, but quickly dismissed the notion. Pearl was not likely to approve of her going out with someone else while Jimmie languished in a German camp. And then there was the risk of Pearl letting something slip to Ellen’s mother.
Why am I feeling guilty?
 
Ellen thought.
It was just a night out with an old friend after all.
But then she remembered how her heart had skipped a beat when she had seen Robbie. And it had been more than mere impulse that had prompted her to go out with him.
 

How close they had been back then. Too close, her grandmother had thought. The old woman had hinted to Mary that maybe Ellen’s long summer in Campbelltown should be cut short. Ellen had pleaded with her mother to let her stay but felt relieved when forced away from the persistent Robbie. She had gone further with him than with anyone else. Ellen thought of their sweaty embraces in dark corners of Kilkerran cemetery, his hand reaching up under her sweater to stroke her breast; her letting it stay there for a moment before protesting. His intensity had frightened her but not as much as her own inner desire to yield.
Give the auld yin credit
, Ellen thought.
She knew.
 

On the tramcar back to Maryhill, Ellen considered a number of ploys.
 
None seemed plausible. The problem was coming up with a story that would not require including Pearl.
Ach, ah’ll just have tae brazen it oot
, Ellen thought. She walked into the kitchen to find her mother peeling potatoes at the sink.

“Ah started the dinner early so you an’ Pearl can get off tae the pictures,” Mary told her.

“Where is she?” Ellen asked.

“Ach, she’s having a wee lie doon in the other room,” her Mother replied. “She’s awfy cut up aboot her fight wi’ her father. Ah telt her tae try tae get a wee rest. She was up half the night worrying aboot it.”
 

Pearl came in then. Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed. “Ah thought I heard your voice,” she told Ellen. “Ah was wondering if ye wid mind if ah didnae go tae the pictures with you the night.”

Ellen hid her relief behind feigned sympathy. “Are ye sure, Pearl? It might dae ye some good,” Ellen asked.
Damn, ah shouldnae have said that
, she thought.
What if she changes her mind?
But Pearl shook her head.

“Naw, ah think ah’ll just sit here by the fire for a while and make an early night of it. Ah hope ye don’t mind.”

“Naw, ah don’t mind.” Ellen told her, and meant it.

The easy beginning to Ellen’s secret romance belied the complications that inevitably lay in her future. For one thing, it did not take Mary long to notice the change in her daughter’s habits and behavior. One evening, several weeks later, she waited until they were alone and confronted Ellen.

“What have you been up to?” Mary asked, getting right to the point.

Ellen was shocked and unable to hide her guilt.

“What dae ye mean?”

“Don’t you try tae brazen it oot wi me,” her mother told her. “Ah can see by the look on your face that ah’m right. Ye are up tae something. Ah thought ah was done wi’ this kind of behavior from you.”
 

“And exactly what kind of behavior is that?” Ellen asked.

Mary threw her a disgusted look. “Tae start with, all the excuses ye’ve been gaeing Pearl. The poor lassie thinks ye’re avoiding her. And the other night ye said ye were gaun ower tae see auld Mrs. Lindsay. Ah saw her at the post office and she telt me she hadnae seen ye in ages.”

Ellen tried to think of some lie to divert her mother but Mary gave her no opportunity.

“You’re seeing another man, that’s it isn’t it?”

Ellen looked at the floor and nodded her head.
 

“Ah was afraid something like this wid happen,” Mary said. She fell silent, needing time to think. Mary found it hard to blame her daughter completely for her betrayal of Jim. She had half expected that something like this might happen, was likely even.

Ellen looked at her mother. She interpreted her distracted gaze as disapproval. “Ah didnae exactly want this tae happen you know,” she told her mother. “Ah just fell intae it.”

Mary, noting her daughter’s contrite tone, suddenly saw it from her daughter’s point of view. “Aye,” she said sadly, “ah believe ye didnae at that. It’s no been easy for you, ah can see that.” She got up and went through the motions of making tea.
 

“Is it someone ah know?” Mary asked.

Ellen’s silence made Mary turn to look at her. Ellen nodded.

“Ye might as well tell me, ah’ll find out anyway,” Mary said.

Ellen realized the truth of that. Nothing remained secret in the tenements for long. And although no one knew Robbie in Maryhill, his description might be enough for Mary to figure it out. “Do you remember Robbie Gilmour?”

“The lad from Campbelltown?” Mary asked. “How on earth did ye get back wi’ him?”
 

“It was just a pure accident Ma. Ah was walking down Buchanan Street and ah heard this voice. Ah didnae recognize him at first. But then he asked me oot. Ah thought, whit’s the harm? It would just be a bit o’ fun. And anyway, ah always liked Robbie. So ah went tae the pictures wi’ him. And ah thought, well it’s just this once. But then he asked me out again.”

“So, how long has this been going on?” Mary asked.

“No long, Ma, just a few weeks.”

“I expect ye haven’t told him about Jim, then,” Mary said.

Ellen shook her head. “Well, at least ye have the good grace tae look ashamed,” Mary told her. “But ye cannae keep on like this. It’s no’ fair tae Jim and it’s no’ fair tae Robbie either.”

“Ah know, Ma, ah know,” Ellen said. The tears that had been brimming in her eyes streamed down her cheeks.

Mary came over and put her arm around Ellen. “You’re no’ the only one this has happened to,” she said. “Ah’m afraid it’s a very common story.”
 

Mary pulled a handkerchief from her apron pocket and gently placed it into Ellen’s hand. “Dry yer eyes now and we’ll have some tea. We’ll just have tae see what we can figure out.” She bent and kissed the top of her daughter’s head.

Ellen rose and threw her arms around her mother. She buried her face in Mary’s apron. Startled by this uncommon moment of intimacy between them, Mary could think only to pat her on the back and wait until her daughter’s bawling subsided.
 

Mary sat up late that night, thinking about the events of the day and how the experience of the war had changed her. Not too long ago, she would have gone off the deep end with Ellen. But the hardships and daily hurts she saw around her had given her a different outlook, one that made her more understanding. Her new attitude not only encompassed Ellen’s situation but also went out to embrace the uncertain future they all faced. She had finally distilled her life down to the important essentials. When she had stopped trying to mould events to her will, she had realized that life was really all about love and forgiveness.
Why had it taken her over fifty years to arrive at the simple but profound truth?
Mary wondered.
 

Yet, an older, more narrowly moralistic voice, still harped at her in muted tones somewhere deep in her mind.
All choices are moral
, it said. Ellen should not long persist in her deceit, even if it had been entered into without malice.
Aye
, she thought,
but it’s never that simple, is it? There’s always the damage you do to others, even when you are not trying to hurt anyone.

❅❅❅❅❅

The following morning brought a wire from Charlie. Mary’s spirits lifted. He would be a great help in sorting out Ellen’s problems. Mary passed on the good news to Betty when she came into the kitchen to get ready for her shift at the bakery.

“Yer father’s gaun tae be home in a few days.” She saw the questioning look in her daughter’s eyes. “And of course, he’s bringing Harry with him.”

Mary laughed at her daughter’s reaction.
 
“Ye neednae be coy wi’ me, young lady,” Mary said in mock seriousness. “It’s obvious tae a blind man what’s gaun on.”

Betty turned a deeper red.

“Ah’m that pleased for ye both,” Mary said, her tone quiet and serious now. “Your father is tae. Ye couldnae have found a better lad.”

Mary prepared for Charlie’s arrival with more than her usual care. Her customary apron was left aside, She pinned on her best dress a silver brooch that had been her mother’s. Betty too had taken pains to look good for Harry. They sat stiffly at the kitchen table, preserving their crisp appearances and carefully sipping tea. Their formal postures yielded no hint of the excitement and expectation that sent thrilling tingles through their bodies. Ellen had chosen to sit by the fire. The others had given up on any further attempts to engage her in conversation. The room lapsed into a silence broken only by the slow ticking of the clock on the mantel. A familiar knock broke the spell.