Roses of Winter (59 page)

“There’s nothing wrong wi’ the place,” Charlie told her. “We’ll do it up wi’ some decorations and it’ll be fine. Ah want tae hear no more about it.”
 

Ellen was thwarted again in the selection of a place to live. Murdo brought word of a place that had opened up a few closes from them in Scotstoun. He had taken the liberty of asking the factor to hold it.
 
It was impossible for Ellen to turn down what chance had brought so easily.

“You’re lucky to find a place just like that,” Mary had told Ellen. And it’s so close to Donald’s work too.
 
He’ll be able to come home for his dinner during the day.”
 

There was less thrift when it came to the presents. Both families combined their resources to make sure that Donald and Ellen would have the material necessities to start their life together. Friends and neighbors gave what their means would allow. Mary enlisted Ida’s help to arrange a show of the presents at her house.
 
They laid them out in the bedroom, taking up most of the space.

“This should get you off tae a good start,” Mary told Ellen.
 
“You’re better off than a lot o’ folk.”
 

Ellen had to concede the truth of that. Many items remained in short supply; rationing continued. For once, Ellen was grateful for the help she had received.

❅❅❅❅❅

In the days leading up to the wedding, Ellen fussed and fretted to the point of driving her mother to distraction. Charlie found it impossible to avoid the disturbance in the household.

“Ah’ll be glad tae see her married off and let her be somebody else’s problem,” he told Mary. It was the night before the wedding and he and Mary had found a small island of quiet time by the fire.

Mary frowned. “That’s not a very nice thing tae say, Charlie.”

“Maybe, but it’s the truth,” he replied. “It’s ridiculous the song and dance that lassie’s put us through.”

Mary sighed. “You have a point there,” she conceded. “Ah wonder what sort of life Donald will have with her,” she continued.

“Ah’ve wondered the same thing,” Charlie said. “Ah know she’s our daughter, but ah have no illusions about her nature.”

“Ah thought for a while that she had changed for the better,” Mary said. “The tantrums she’s thrown over this wedding have put that in doubt.”
 

It was an evening wedding with the ceremony and reception at the Masonic Hall. Charlie had arranged for a hire car to arrive late in the afternoon. The day had been warm for the time of year. A pleasant, balmy atmosphere lingered. The appearance of a fancy car decked with white ribbons had brought out the neighbors.
 
A throng of children waited expectantly. When Charlie and Mary emerged with Ellen they were met with a buzz of acclamation from the womenfolk. The children pressed closer.
 

Charlie had filled both pockets of his jacket with pennies. He leaned out of the car window and threw the first handful towards the older children who had elbowed aside the tots. Having drawn their attention away he aimed the second handful at the feet of a knot of the littler ones who set side their early disappointment and pounced on them.

“That was a kind thought,” Mary said.

 
“Aye well, ah’m tired o’ seeing the little ones girning at scrambles,” he said. “Ah thought ah would give them a fighting chance for once.”

At the hall Charlie went ahead to ensure that all was ready for the ceremony to proceed. Many of the chairs were filled with people he had never seen in his life, including quite a few on the bride’s side of the aisle. He had a quick word with the minister to let him know the bride had arrived. The Rev. David McKenzie, displeased at their decision to hold the ceremony at the Masonic Hall, had declined to officiate. The McIntyres’ minister, the Rev. Malcolm McCallum, had readily agreed to take his place. Charlie had liked his easygoing manner at their first meeting and was happy to lose the stuffy, self-important McKenzie.
 
McCallum alerted the ushers who spread the word to the guests.
 

“They’re ready for us,” Charlie told Mary and Ellen.

Mary cast a quick glance over her daughter. She had to admit that she was a lovely sight. Mary adjusted the lace veil that draped from the headpiece crowning Ellen’s hair. “You look wonderful,” she whispered.

Charlie offered his arm to Ellen. At the entrance to the hall they stopped. McCallum nodded to Charlie and they set off down the aisle to where Donald waited. He turned to look at them. Donald had been fighting the impulse to flee. The sight of Ellen drove away all thought of the anxiety that had gnawed at his vitals throughout the preceding night and day. Ellen appeared transformed, a vision from a world beyond the ordinary one he inhabited. She stopped beside him. Donald glimpsed a smile through the gauzy transparency of the lace veil.

And then it seemed to him that time speeded up like an old movie shown on a modern projector. He found himself dancing with Ellen, the ceremony itself as evanescent as a dream that fades into the morning light.

❅❅❅❅❅

The wedding had continued so late into the night that the sky was starting to show the early signals of day when they arrived home. The hall caretaker had started to make trouble until Charlie quieted him with a generous tip and an equally generous application of whiskey. Both found sleep hard to contemplate in the manner of those whose routines have been seriously disrupted. The wedding had made them sentimental, and they talked about the old days and relatives long deceased. It seemed natural to think of one’s own wedding at such times, to weigh the hopes and dreams against the subsequent reality.
 

“You have to hope for the best for them,” Mary said. “There they are, standing at the very beginning of a life together. You can’t help but wonder what the future will bring tae their door.”

Charlie nodded but said nothing. “Ah remember wondering the same about us on our wedding day,” Mary said.

“Well, it turned out fine for us, didn’t it?” Charlie said.

“Aye,” Mary agreed. “Although ah could have done without the Depression and the war.”

“Ah’ll agree tae both those points,” Charlie replied. “But it was always good between us even through the hard times,” he said. “That’s what makes the difference.”
 

Mary fell silent.

“Ah hope you see things the same way,” Charlie said.

“Ah do, Charlie,” she said. “Ah was thinking of Ellen and the way she is. Ah hope she realizes what she has and doesn’t spoil it for hersel’.”

“Ah wish ah felt more confident on that score,” Charlie said. “For years ah’ve tried tae help her see reason. There were times when ah could coax her out of one of her moods. But ah haven’t managed tae change her nature. Nobody can do that. Ah’ve thought about it a lot. There are times when ah’ve felt sick with the worry of it.”

His candor surprised Mary. She held similar doubts about her daughter but had never heard Charlie talk like this.

“Ah’m sure you think ah’ve spoilt her,” Charlie said. “Ah was just trying tae steer her on tae a better path.”

“And many a time you did,” Mary said. “You shouldn’t blame yourself. It’s up tae her tae make her own way in life.”
 

“Not long ago ah said that I’d be glad tae see her married off and let her be somebody else’s problem,” Charlie said.

“Is that what’s bothering you?” Mary asked.

“Ah regret saying it,” Charlie said, “but not the way you might think. Ah think she’s going make that poor lad’s life a complete misery and there’s nothing we can do tae stop it.”

Mary stared at him. There was not a single thing she could think of to say in reply.

Author’s note

The story behind the story

This is a work of fiction that places fictional characters in actual locations and events. The addresses where the Burns and McIntyre families live existed in the time period in which the story is set and were selected because of my personal connections with both locations and to add a feeling of reality to the book.
 

My mother’s family lived at 783 Maryhill Road during the early years of the war. I lived at 2005 Dumbarton Road in Scotstoun during the early 1950s when it would have much resembled its 1940s appearance. Therefore, the descriptions of the neighborhoods, tenement interiors and closes are from people who actually lived there.
 

Both apartments were of the type called a room and kitchen. The kitchen had a coal-fired range, which combined a fireplace with adjacent oven and cooking surfaces. This was the only heat source in the apartment. A boxed bed set in an alcove on a wall of the kitchen (usually with a curtain) would have provided additional sleeping accommodation. As a child I spent several years sleeping in such a bed. A passage way or lobby would have led between the kitchen and the other room, which would have functioned as a bedroom. There was no toilet or bath in the apartment. A shared toilet would have been located on the landing between floors. One of my early memories is leaving our apartment with my father during the night so that I could use the outside toilet. The Maryhill location was demolished many years ago. The Scotstoun location survives but has undergone modernization.

The Burns family would indeed have used gas lighting in the early years of the war. The radio (or wireless) would have involved the use of heavy accumulator type batteries, similar to car batteries, which would have required frequent recharging at perhaps a local garage. Conditions in these tenements would have seemed extremely cramped by modern standards. Some families might have six or more people living in a room and kitchen.
 
Everyday life must have required planning, tact and mutual consideration.
 

While most of the lifestyle information was obtained from people who lived through the time period, a very useful resource was “
She Was Aye Workin': Memories of Tenement Women in Edinburgh and Glasgow
”, by Helen Clark and Elizabeth Carnegie, White Cockade Publishing. For life in wartime Britain, the book “
Wartime: Britain, 1939-1945
”, by Juliet Gardiner, Headline Book Publishing, provided some interesting insights, including the increased rate of suicide during the war.
 

To see a tenement apartment interior typical of the first half of the twentieth century, the reader is referred to an amazing survival in Glasgow, the Tenement House at 145 Buccleuch St, near Sauchiehall Street. This would have been more spacious and somewhat grander than those occupied by the Burns and McIntyre families but gives a sense of the accommodations of the time period of the story. A reconstruction of a single end apartment can also be seen at the People’s Palace on Glasgow Green.
 

Locations such as Jaconelli’s and the Star picture house were actual places and would have been well known to Maryhill residents of the time period. Jaconelli’s exists today and was used as a location in the movie Trainspotting.
 

While every attempt has been made to ensure accuracy in recreating the locales and time period, none of the characters are intended to be representations of real people.
 
Like all such attempts to add a sense of reality to fiction there will likely be errors or inaccuracies.
 
For those who appear to delight in exploring such minutiae and finding errors, please remember that this is first and foremost a fictional story and not an academic work. Some liberties have been taken.
 

The ships in the story, the
Izmir
and the
Jasper
are based on similarly equipped ships of the period. The fictional story of the
Jasper
was inspired by the real life events surrounding the
Spinel
, which was disabled at Dunkirk on May 24
^th
1940. The ship was salvaged by the Germans and passed back into British control at the end of the war. It survived until 1970 when it was scrapped at Renfrew on the River Clyde.
 

The real life model for the
Izmir
is the rescue ship
Zamalek
, which served with distinction and is credited with picking up more survivors than any other allied rescue ship in World War Two. The
Zamalek
(known previously as
Halcyon
) was built by the Ailsa Shipbuilding Co. in 1921 in Troon, Scotland. In the years before World War II she served in the eastern Mediterranean and Black Sea, carrying cargo, mail and passengers.

Requisitioned in March, 1940, the
Zamalek
underwent conversion for service as a rescue ship at Barclay Curle shipyard in Govan, Glasgow. She was allocated to the rescue service in October, 1940. At 1566 tons, with a low freeboard and single screw, the
Zamalek
was typical of many small merchant ships that underwent conversion. As part of the Fleet Auxiliary she sailed under the blue ensign. Well armed for her size, a rescue ship such as the
Zamalek
did not have the status of a hospital ship. She would have played an important role in the defense of convoys in addition to picking up survivors.