The River Flows On (2 page)

And while his days and years stretched out before him in a smooth, sunlit path winding up the hill and out of sight, you were coming down that same hill, your own days counted. Would he remember his Grandma Kate in the golden summers to come, the ones she herself would not see? Would he tell his children and grandchildren about her, as she had told him about those who had gone on before? She took a deep breath. She must enjoy him while he was here...while she was here.

‘Come on then,’ she said. ‘You’ll have to give me a hand. I’m getting old and stiff, Michael.’

The child extended his hand to her, his face grave, taking the responsibility of helping her back to the car very seriously. Kate felt her breath catch in her throat. There was an unexpected grace about the gesture. It was those blue eyes - and the way he had held out his hand. It recalled another time and another place...

Far too much emotion for one day, thought Kate. First the great ship, then Robbie, then that. She smiled down at the boy. ‘I think,’ she said, ‘that after we’ve had a good look at the
QE2
, we might ask the driver to take us on round the coast to Largs.’

Michael’s gravity vanished. It was like the sun coming out. ‘Nardini’s?’ he asked. The famous ice-cream parlour had become a recognised treat of his yearly visits with his father to the old country.

‘Nardini’s,’ confirmed Kate. ‘And I’m having a Knickerbocker glory!’

Safely ensconced in the car once more, Kate asked the driver to leave the window open a little.

‘Are you sure, hen?’ he asked. ‘It’ll get quite blowy once we start moving.’

‘I like to feel the wind in my hair,’ she said, smiling at him as he bent solicitously over her, laying a rug across her knees as her grandson had asked him to do.
Hen
, indeed! Some things never changed. Thank God.

She recalled the pride in Michael’s voice when he had talked about his ‘great-grandpa’ helping to build the Queen Mary. They can’t take that away from us, thought Kate - the pride of the Clyde. They can take away the shipyards and fill in the docks, but they can’t break our spirit and they can’t roll away our river.

And as long as the river flows to the sea, and as long as there are children like Michael to carry the stories on, they can’t take away that pride. As long as the river keeps flowing ...

Beside her, Michael strapped himself carefully in and smiled beatifically at her before lifting his Game Boy. She smiled back, then turned to look out again at the Clyde.

All her life, the river had drawn her gaze. It had always been the magnet, the focus around which her life had revolved. The driver was right. It was blowy with the window open, but she was tough - Clyde-built, like those great ships of the past.

Kate closed her eyes and allowed her head to fall back onto the cushioned headrest. The breeze was soft and warm. She could mind the times when the wind off the river hadn’t been soft, when it had been hard and biting, cutting right through her and her thin clothes, sharp as a blow...

PART I

1924

Chapter 1

Her mother’s work-roughened hand stung Kate’s cheek.

‘Lazy wee bisom! I told you to hang out the washing, no’ tae stand here daydreaming!’

‘Aye, Mammy,’ said Kate wearily, bending to the big basin still half-full of clothes.

‘And shift yourself a wee bit,’ was Lily’s parting shot. ‘Do you know how much we’ve still to do before the bells?’

Kate sighed as she heard her mother’s rapid footsteps tap out an angry tattoo on the path through the back court before the sound disappeared into the close. She knew fine how much work there was still to do before midnight. None better. It was Hogmanay, and everything in the house had to be cleaned - clothes, furniture, people. You couldn’t go dirty into the New Year. Everybody knew that.

Old Year’s Night - 31 December - was the busiest day of the year - for the women and girls at any rate, Kate thought. The men seemed to get off easy. As long as they submitted to female nagging about having a bath and washing their hair they were considered to have done their bit.

Since early that morning, long before it had got light, the tenement block had been full of activity. Bargains had been struck as to who could have the wash-house when, Mrs MacLean had been tactfully dissuaded from beating the dust out of her rugs too close to Mrs Baxter’s washing, and recalcitrant children had been unceremoniously dunked in countless tin baths set before cooking ranges in countless kitchens.

Those same children had been further threatened with a right doing if they got so much as a speck of dirt on themselves or their clean clothes. When Andrew Baxter had fallen in an icy puddle down by the Yoker ferry whilst chasing Towser the dog - who also had to submit to the indignity of a bath before he could be allowed to progress into 1925 - the said doing had been duly administered by Andrew’s father. Kate, pegging up her own father’s shirt, smiled to herself. The smacks hadn’t been very hard. Andrew’s father Jim was as soft as butter, though you would never have guessed that from the way his son had screamed and bawled. They’d probably been able to hear him right down the water in Dumbarton - or even Helensburgh.

A hand lifted aside the shirt she’d just pegged out and a tousled dark head ducked under the washing line.

‘Ho there, fair maiden. Why do you smile?’

‘Fair midden, more like,’ said Kate, all at once aware of how hot and sweaty she felt, despite the chill December air. ‘I haven’t even had time to comb my hair today. Do you think I’ll manage it before next year?’

Robbie smiled dutifully. The jokes were another time-honoured New Year custom, although they were more common after the bells than before. Once midnight had passed, it was only a matter of minutes before they started. ‘See me? I havenae had a bath since last year.’ ‘Give me something to eat Ma, I’m starving, I havenae eaten since last year.’

And so on,
ad nauseam
. Or until one of the younger children came out with a: ‘See me? I havenae been to the lavvy since last year,’ and was swiftly silenced by a clout on the ear from an embarrassed mother or elder sister trying to impress her new young man with how refined her family was.

Robbie’s clear grey eyes went to Kate’s chestnut curls. ‘Your hair looks fine to me, Kate. Anyway, why bother?’ He grinned at her. ‘I never do.’ Taking an apple out of his jacket pocket, he polished it on the lapel of his jacket and offered her first bite.

Kate shook her head. She poked him in the chest. ‘You’re a toerag, Robert Baxter, always have been.’

Robbie grinned again.

‘Did they close the whole yard early today?’ she asked.

‘Aye, but Ma asked me to get a few things in Clydebank. That’s why I’m later back than my Da.’

In the act of pegging out a threadbare towel, Kate stopped dead, her brow furrowing. ‘My father’s not back yet,’ she said flatly. Robbie correctly read the reason for her anxiety.

‘It’s all right, Kate. I met my Da on the way in - when I took the messages up to Ma. He’s away back along to Connolly’s. He’ll have one drink with him and then bring him home.’ He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. ‘Come on, it’ll be all right. My father’ll not let him stay much longer. He’ll be home soon. You’ll see.’

‘Aye,’ said Kate, meeting his sympathetic gaze, doubt written all over her face. ‘I suppose.’

Robbie gave her shoulder a little shake before releasing it. ‘Here,’ he said, finishing his apple and lobbing the core with pinpoint accuracy towards one of the bins which stood at the bottom of the back court. ‘Shall I give you a hand with the washing?’

His movement had stretched his jacket, showing the outline of a book in his pocket. Kate, pointing to it, asked what it was. He fished it out and showed her the cover -
Kidnapped
, by Robert Louis Stevenson - before putting it back in his pocket and bending to pick up the washing basin.

‘One of the managers gave me a loan of it. You’ll have heard us talking about Mr Crawford?’ Kate nodded and took another of her father’s shirts from the basin. It was a relief not to have to keep bending down. ‘He says it’s a rare story. A real adventure.’

Kate shook out the folds left in the shirt by the mangle. ‘Can I read it after you? Do you think Mr Crawford would mind?’

‘I’m sure he wouldn’t,’ said Robbie. ‘You can read it before me if you like.’

Kate smiled at him and shook her head. ‘Now, knowing you, that really is a generous offer. You’ll be itching to read it. What was it Miss Noble used to say? Oh yes, I remember. “Robert Baxter, you just devour books, laddie”.’

They laughed together, then Kate’s smile faded. ‘Oh Robbie, I wish you could have stayed on at school, maybe even gone to college.’

Robbie shrugged his thin shoulders. ‘Och well, Kate. There’s so many of us, you know? We needed another wage coming in - and that’s a fact. Maybe one of the lassies or Andrew’ll be able to stay on, if things are a wee bit easier by then.’

‘I thought maybe you might be able to go to sea once Andrew was out working. You always wanted to do that. One of the companies would easy take you on once you’ve done your apprenticeship, wouldn’t they?’

Robbie shrugged again, but gave her no answer. They worked together in silence for a minute or two, making their way along the washing line.

‘What about you, Kate?’ he asked tentatively, three nighties, two of Jessie’s pinafores and one of Granny’s highly embarrassing pairs of pink bloomers later.

‘You know what about me,’ Kate said, a harsh edge to her voice. ‘I’ll be leaving school at Easter. Ma thinks I should have left two years ago, when I was fourteen, and I’ll be sixteen in April. It’s time I was bringing a wage in too. High time. I’ll have to start looking for a job as soon as the year’s turned. Get something lined up for when I leave. I’ll maybe try the Singer’s factory. See if I can get a start there. Or Donaldson’s.’

It was a bone of contention between Kate’s parents. Her father wanted his clever girl to stay on at school. Her mother thought she should have been out working long since. The family couldn’t afford to keep Kate on at school for much longer - and they needed the wages she could bring in, meagre though those would be. Kate knew that, but she kept on hoping, crossing her fingers and wishing on bright stars ... but Lily had finally put her foot down.

Aware of Robbie’s silent sympathy, and perversely irritated by it, Kate snatched the next garment out of his hand. He changed the subject.

‘So what were you smiling at just now?’ he asked. Kate told him.

‘Poor Andrew. It’ll have been the humiliation that bothered him. After all, he’s nearly twelve. Thinks he’s grown-up. Mind you,’ he went on, smiling at Kate, ‘no doubt Ma gave him an empire biscuit or some gingerbread to make up for the indignity of the leathering.’

‘Aye,’ said Kate, trying to smile back. ‘She did. She spoils him rotten, you know.’

‘I know, I know, but every mother’s got her favourite-’ He broke off, looking suddenly embarrassed. He let out a long breath, like a puff of steam in the cold air. His eyes were soft as he looked at her. ‘Och, Kate, I’ve gone and opened my mouth and put my big foot in it again, haven’t I?’

‘I’m the eldest,’ Kate said flatly. ‘And with four children and Granny to look after, Mammy doesn’t have time to spoil any of us.’

‘She doesn’t appreciate you, Kate, and that’s the truth.’

The washing was pegged out at last. Kate pulled the basin out of Robbie’s grasp and hoisted it onto her hip. ‘Look, Robbie, just leave it, all right?’

She looked up at him, thin and narrow-shouldered in his ill-fitting jacket. He had a muffler tied round his neck in an attempt to add a bit of warmth to his inadequate clothes. He bit his lip and she was instantly contrite, but before she could attempt to smooth it over, he had taken a step or two back from her.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said stiffly. ‘I’ll see you the night. Your Da’s asked me to be your first foot.’