Silver Linings (17 page)

* * *

Going to work as an apprentice, especially for a mature woman, was a daunting experience. Connie knew all the pitfalls that she mustn’t fall into – like being sent for a long stand or a tin of tartan paint. That was all fine but what she had not taken into consideration was that if she had been male she would have had to share the men’s lavatories and even although they had doors and locks on them now she decided to stay constipated – even wait until dinner time, when she would be able to use the women’s facilities in the main administrative block.

Everybody had told her she would be nauseated at the start of her plumbing apprenticeship, because the trainees got all the foul-smelling jobs to practise on, but she wasn’t. In fact she was the best of the new starts that day and more than able to cope with not only the foul odours and the clearing out of the unsightly gunge but also with the relentless teasing from the men.

The New Year did not come in with a bang … more of a damp squib. Well, it would after the amazing events of December 1943.

On the night of Christmas Eve, Kate had congratulated herself on the fact that she had managed to wriggle out of fire duty. Whilst looking into the fire burning brightly in the grate she gave out an impromptu burst of laughter.
Poor Santa
, she thought,
no way will you get down our chimney without getting your whiskers singed.

An alarming noise – not so much as a knock but more of a thump and a kick on the outside door – put an end to her musing.

Making sure to draw the living-room blackout curtain securely over the door she then warily unlocked and opened up the entrance to the house. Peering into the black forbidding gloom she was startled when a heavy object fell against her.

‘What in the name of heaven is going on?’ she gasped before beginning to dance with the load.

‘Nothing to worry about, Miss … No, we are not at work so it is … Kate,’ Hans said in muffled reply. Lifting his face clear of the package he went on, ‘I have just brought your clock back.’

‘In bits?’ Kate tittered as she continued to waltz with Hans and the stack.

Once they had got the load into the living room Kate shut the door and Hans balanced the clock against the wall.

Immediately Kate pounced forward to drag the covering off the timepiece, but Hans restrained her. ‘No. No. No. No,’ he chastised. ‘We must not waste. Let me unpack the clock and I will keep the corrugated cardboard and paper for future use.’

Standing with her hands tightly covering her mouth, Kate started to pant.
Has he,
she wondered,
managed to salvage it for me?

When all of the considerable packing was stripped away, she uttered a short cry. There standing in front of her was a sight to behold: it was her father’s granddaughter clock. The antique timepiece had not only been repaired but it was now more beautiful than she remembered it had ever been. Being a craftsman, Hans had not only restored the mechanical workings of the clock but he had also repaired the casing – the casing that had then been finished off with a long overdue French polish.

Kate at first was so overcome that she stood mute and motionless. Then, as if in a dream, she gently reached out to stroke the shining coffer. Lifting her eyes to the clock’s face she then lovingly ran her hands over it. She still had her hands on the glass when it seemed to her that her father joined her. His presence was even more evident when the clock began to sweetly chime out the evening hour of eight.

Minutes passed with nothing being heard but the rhythmic ticking of the clock. Hans would have liked to say something to Kate but he knew it was only right that he allow her time to enjoy the clock that was so dear to her.

Eventually, she held out a hand to him and he raised it to his lips and passionately kissed it. Through scalding tears she mumbled, ‘Thank you so much, Hans. You are a master. This clock means so much to me and I feel that you have not only skilfully restored it but you did it with love and devotion. Love that is now living within this clock, and all who look at it will see and feel it.’

She wished now that she had bought him a Christmas present, but she knew from the frequent outings they had recently been on that the one thing he wished for could not be purchased.

Tenderly taking his hand in hers, she slowly began to guide him to the stairs and as they mounted the step Hans whispered, ‘Are you sure?’

She hesitated. It was a big step. Nonetheless, she knew from their several intimate conversations that he was an honourable man. It was more than evident that he wished to bed her, but only if she would agree to become his wife. Her hesitation to grant his wish had been because he was a penniless Polish refugee. She was afraid that people would think that because she was now perceived to be over the hill, he was all that she could attract. Truth was there was not one man in Leith, or indeed Edinburgh, that she would favour in front of him, so all she said was, ‘My darling Hans, believe me, I am more than sure.’

‘Your mother?’

‘No need to worry about my mother right now. Tonight she’s babysitting Rosebud up at my brother’s house and tomorrow I will …’ She didn’t finish what she was about to say because her bedroom door was open and the bed was beckoning.

Always when Jenny arrived up at Johnny’s house she would have ‘goodies’ in her message bag. Being Christmas Eve things were no different except that she came in over-laden.

‘Oh, Granny,’ screamed Rosebud, dragging the cover from the shopping bag so she could rummage through it, ‘please say that you’ve brought me sweeties to keep me going until Santa comes.’

Jenny ignored Rosebud. Her attention was on Kitty, who was all togged up for a night on the town. She beamed a broad smile and nodded when Kitty did a little twirl so she could see the full effect of the renovated dress.

Kitty slowly stopped pirouetting. ‘You know, Granny,’ she said, looking directly at Jenny, ‘I am just so grateful to you for offering to look after Rosebud so that I can go out dancing with Laura and Jack.’

Wrestling a poke of sweeties from Rosebud’s hand, Jenny replied, ‘I’m not so sure that I’ve done the right thing in offering. I mean how did she get as high as she is?’

‘Oh, everyone going on and on about Santa Claus and what he is going to bring her. And if you try threatening her that if she does not behave herself then she can forget about getting a doll and pram, that only seems to make her worse.’

‘What time is your dad due home?’

‘Any time now. He has finished his work but he went for a pint or …’

‘Three or four?’

‘No, Granny, when he says a pint or two now it is never more than two.’

The dancing trio were just about to run to catch the bus to the Eldorado Ballroom in Leith when Connie stumbled into their pathway.

‘Are you ill, Connie?’ a concerned Kitty asked.

‘Just feel a bit light-headed. Honestly I was doing so well with my plumbing training. Then today when I was confronted with some dead rats in a water cistern in a ship that’s in for repair I just felt like vomiting. Have felt green ever since and see when I got off the bus …’ She stopped to put her hand over her mouth as she retched. ‘The smell from the chip shop just made me want to oh … puke …’

‘Look,’ Kitty replied warily, ‘do you want me to come back and look after you?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. You’re young and it’s Christmas Eve so off you go and enjoy yourself. Is your granny looking after Rosebud?’

‘Yes,’ chorused the three. ‘But,’ Kitty went on, ‘don’t expect any help from her. Honestly, our Rosebud, who I’m positive is one of Hitler’s secret undercover agents, is enough for her to contend with. So come on now, Connie, best thing we can do is to tap on Dora’s door.’

‘No. No. You just go.’

‘And do you think I could jitterbug if I didn’t know someone was caring for you?’

Kitty had just left and Dora was now boiling the kettle to make Connie some tea. Suddenly Connie clamped her hand over her mouth and started to heave. She then attempted to stand up, and as she did so she seemed to sway from side to side. Luckily the quick-witted Dora managed to grab her before she hit the floor. Lowering her down on to the chair again Dora began to wipe the clammy sweat from Connie’s brow.

‘I know that with the rationing it’s easy not to have enough to eat. So what I’m wondering is, have you had a good meal today?’

Connie shook her head. ‘To be truthful I just can’t face food right now. The minute I look at it or even smell it I just want to be sick, sick, sick. Oh, Dora, I am just thinking that if I can’t cope with the plumbing I might have to eat humble pie and go back to the parts depot.’

‘But would that be such a bad thing? The work there’s not as heavy as I imagine plumbing is.’

‘You don’t understand, Dora. I just have to stick it out because I made such a fuss about being able to do my time as an apprenticed plumber when they took on Peggy Duncan. And what’s galling is that she was the one who was vomiting at the start but now she takes it all in her stride.’

‘Aye, but she’s not married so she’s …’

‘What’s being married got to do with her not being sick any more?’

‘Nothing, but it has everything to do with you being so scunnered.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh, come on, Connie, you can’t fool me. I’ve been pregnant three times and every time the first three months was a nightmare.’ Dora sighed and grimaced. ‘Honestly these endless bouts of sickness, especially in the morning, and falling down all over the place could put you past having any more bairns.’

‘Are you trying to say that I’m … ?’

‘Well, I know your husband is in Glasgow but you must have been … well, you know … with him lately.’

‘I haven’t seen him for years.’

‘Oh well, Connie,’ Dora exclaimed with a series of puffs, ‘you’d better see who you have been seeing … and pronto at that.’

‘But I just can’t be,’ Connie insisted.

‘That right?’ Dora retorted. ‘Well all I’ve got to say is that I know it’s Christmas Eve and weird and wonderful things happen at this time of year. But please, dear, don’t insult my intelligence by claiming another immaculate conception!’

A while later, Dora had just seen Connie safely into her house and she was about to turn and navigate herself down the dark steps with the aid of her torch when Jenny opened the Andersons’ door.

‘Is there a problem?’ Jenny asked, flashing her torch light into Dora’s eyes.

‘There will be if you don’t stop blinding me with that light.’

‘Sorry,’ said Jenny, lowering the torch. ‘But what are you doing up here? Should you not be downstairs with your bairns? There might be a raid.’

‘Just chummed Connie up to her house – she’s a wee bit under the weather.’

‘Under the weather?’ exclaimed Jenny. ‘I hope that’s not a nice way of saying she’s the worse for drink?’

‘Oh, if it was just drink I’d be happy because she’d be sober in the morning.’

Dora’s answer alerted Jenny, who sensed there could be a good bit of gossip coming her way. ‘And what do you think is amiss? And you do know that anything you tell me won’t go any further. No. No. I’m the soul of discretion.’

‘Jenny, would you believe,’ Dora confided in a loud whisper, ‘that she’s trying to tell me that she’s not got a bun in the oven.’

‘What?’ Jenny exclaimed.

‘And that’s not all – she’s adamant that she’s not been with her own man nor anybody else’s!’

A loud hiss escaped from Jenny but before she could reply, the bottom door opened and Johnny shouted up, ‘Is everything all right up there? And it beats me how you still have dirt to dig at this time of night. Besides it’s freezing cold and time you were all inside your own homes.’

Naturally Jenny couldn’t divulge to Johnny exactly what Dora had imparted to her, but she did wish to warn him that Connie was probably a fast piece – a very fast piece. So, as she dished up his supper, she tentatively said, ‘You know, son, I don’t think Connie is all that she pretends to be.’

Johnny didn’t reply. But he did give the sausage that he had just stabbed with his fork a great deal of attention – so much attention that anyone observing him would have thought that he’d never ever seen a sausage before.

‘What I am trying to say is that I don’t think she’s a good influence on our Kitty.’

‘That right? Well, Mum, I just don’t know how Kitty would have coped when you were having your breakdown if Connie hadn’t been here to shore her up.’

The atmosphere between mother and son was now so thick that you could have cut it with a knife. It was therefore no surprise to Johnny that Jenny lifted her coat and bag and left without wishing him a Merry Christmas.

When she first started out on her steep trek down Restalrig Road Jenny did not feel cold because her wrath was keeping her warm. Her hot indignation did not solely come from her resentment about the way Johnny had spoken to her, though. Her main concern was about the way that standards were changing – and in her view, dropping.

Turning at the foot of the road and into Summerside that would take her up to Industrial Road and then on to her colony house at Parkvale Place, she gave an involuntary shudder. The cold was beginning to seep into her bones now and all she wanted to do was to get home – to firmly close her door on a world that was becoming alien to her.

Once she had locked the outside door behind her she was surprised by the silence that greeted her. She expected to be deafened by the blaring noise from the Bakelite radio that Kate was forever listening to. Surely, she argued with herself, Tommy Handley on
ITMA
(
It’s That Man Again
) or Mrs Mopp asking, ‘Can I do you now, sir?’ should have been entertaining Kate as she got on with the ironing.

Switching on the light, Jenny was concerned to see the pile of ironing just lying as she had left it. Then her eyes spied the granddaughter clock. Her mouth gaped. It was restored – better then new! She wanted to cry – to tell someone that Donald’s clock was working again. Instinctively she dashed up the stairs and immediately switched on the light in Kate’s bedroom.