The River Flows On (5 page)

‘Come on, Kate,’ said Robbie. “Where’s your coat? And mind and put your muffler on. It’ll be real cold by the river.’

It was real cold by the river. They had walked the short distance from the house to the ferry in silence, an unaccustomed awkwardness between them. She wouldn’t have thought twice about being alone with Robbie before, but something was shifting and changing between them - and Kate didn’t like that at all.

There was no need to discuss where they were walking. They always headed for the river, first the ferry and then along the path which skirted the grounds of the whisky distillery.

Kate paused by the railings which guarded the unwary from falling onto the ferry slipway. The river was like black silk, flowing silently through the night towards the sea, its smooth surface dotted with shimmering reflections of the lights of the houses across the river in Renfrew, everybody up late tonight to see in the New Year. At her side, Robbie was quiet, waiting for her to speak.

‘Tm sorry,’ she said at last. ‘I bit your head off this afternoon, didn’t I?’

‘Aye, you did,’ he said, his voice slow and considering. Its tone was beginning to deepen as he grew older. ‘Och, but Kate, I understand full well why. You’ve got a lot on your plate. And it’s not fair.’

She turned to him. His face looked different in the dim light. And when had he got that much taller than her? He outstripped her now by several inches.

‘Oh, Robbie, why do we have to grow up?’

He smiled, his teeth a gleam of white. ‘Do you not think that growing up might have some advantages, hen?’

Kate looked at him warily, her eyes growing used to the darkness. There was something mischievous about that smile.

‘What are you looking at me like that for?’

His smile grew broader. He took a step towards her. Kate, in response, took a step back, coming up hard against the railings.

‘You can’t go any further,’ pointed out logical Robbie. ‘Forbye you want to end up in the river. And,’ he went on, raising his eyebrows quizzically, ‘as far as I know, Miss Kathleen Cameron, you can’t swim. So you might as well let me kiss you.’

That statement took Kate’s breath away.

‘Kiss me?’

‘Aye. Why not? After all, it is New Year.’

She curved her fingers in their woollen gloves around the cold metal of the railings. ‘So ... This is just a friendly New Year kiss, is it?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘But,’ Kate pointed out, ‘you’ve already had a friendly New Year kiss.’

‘Well, I want another one. A proper one this time. Without half o’ Yoker looking on.’ Taking a step forward, Robbie put an end to any further discussion, bobbing his head down and planting a firm kiss on her cold cheek. He lifted his head.

Behind them, the Clyde continued on its steady course. The railings which Kate’s fingers gripped were no less cold or hard than they had been before, the ground beneath her feet no less solid. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed.

‘Kate ...’ Robbie whispered. They stood so close together she could feel his breath warm on her face. ‘Och, Kate, don’t look so worried, hen.’ He bent his dark head once more, and this time he kissed her full on the lips. His arms came around her, pulling her against him. Kate’s hands released their hold on the railings. She felt... she didn’t know what she felt. His lips were firm and soft at the same time, warm on her cold mouth.

‘No!’ she said, struggling in his embrace.

Robbie loosened his hold immediately. ‘No?’

‘I don’t want this, Robbie,’ she gasped. ‘You’re my friend.’

She could hear his breathing, quick and shallow. For a few frozen seconds they stared at each other before he dropped his arms, allowing her to step out of his embrace. He tossed his head, clearing the lock of hair which had fallen across his forehead.

Kate’s own breathing was coming too fast, her breasts rising and falling with the rapidity of it. She put a hand out towards Robbie, but he ignored it.

‘Come on then. I’ll take you home.’ He turned on his heel and headed off without waiting to see if she was following him.

‘Robbie?’ She struggled to keep up with his longer stride. ‘Robbie, I’m sorry. It’s just... Well, I want us to be friends. I want it to stay that way. The way it’s always been . ..’

He didn’t answer at once, leading the way back up to the main road. Then he stopped so abruptly under a streetlight that Kate cannoned into him. His hand shot out to grip her arm in support.

‘All right?’ he asked.

Kate nodded, impatiently pushing a strand of hair under her knitted hat. She saw Robbie’s eyes follow the movement. There was something in that look which made her very uncomfortable.

Just when she was beginning to think that he hadn’t taken in what she’d said about being friends, he spoke. His voice was gentle.

‘We’ll always be friends, Kate. Always.’

Kate looked up at him and wondered why what he had said made her feel so sad.

When she finally got to bed she lay awake, staring into the dark in the silent house. Everyone else was sound asleep. It was a gey lonely feeling. Sometimes, on other nights, she would hear her parents through the wall in the next room, her father’s voice a low persuasive murmur, and then she would hear her mother ... but she didn’t want to think about that. She never liked to think about that.

She shifted her shoulders. She wanted to turn over, but the movement would disturb Jessie. The sleeping Pearl had been lifted down onto the hurly bed to lie beside Granny.

Kate blew out a long breath. Why did things have to change? Why couldn’t it be like it had always been between her and Robbie? She had placed the carving of the robin on the narrow shelf which ran along the back wall of the bed recess. She couldn’t see it, but she knew it was there. He had made it specially for her, spent hours on it probably, getting it just right.

She tried not to think about it. Nor about how his lips had felt on hers, or how strong and warm his arms had been as he had held her against him. And yet, she had started it, with that quick impulsive kiss. She had started it.

Chapter 3

Neil Cameron seemed to have gained another four inches in height.

‘He’s that puffed up with the excitement of the occasion.’ whispered Jessie from behind her hand to Kate. ‘I’m scared he’s going to burst!’

Mind you, thought Kate, suppressing a laugh and looking around at the other men, you could say the same for all of them. It was launch day at Donaldson’s and work had come to a standstill. The men stood eagerly awaiting the arrival of the launch party onto the platform which had been constructed at the bow of the ship.

Kate had to admit that she was feeling pretty pleased herself. It had been decreed that the men could bring their families to the launch. Agnes Baxter had come up with the dress she’d promised Kate back in December. It was a sprigged cotton with a honey-coloured background, decorated with tiny flowers in navy and dusky pink. She’d also found a knitting pattern for a bolero which Kate herself had made. It was navy, picking up the colour of the tiny flowers in the dress.

Jessie had knitted one too. Hers was yellow to go with her best frock - which had been Kate’s best frock until she had grown out of it last year. Agnes, looking unusually ferocious with a mouthful of pins, had pronounced the necessity of letting the new dress out at the bust. ‘You’ll never have a flat chest, Kate Cameron, and that’s a fact. Now hop up onto the table so I can check the hem.’

Kate, on display in the kitchen in front of Mammy, her sisters, Granny and what seemed like a sizeable part of the female population of Yoker, had let her hair fall over her face to hide her embarrassment. Fashion might decree a boyish figure and the new bust bodices might be designed to help a girl achieve just that, but Kate knew she was a hopeless case.

Even Mammy had seemed to enjoy all this prettifying. She hadn’t even complained when Neil had found the few shillings necessary to buy the wool for the boleros. She had put her foot down about Kate’s hair though. She might be nearly sixteen, but she wasn’t to be allowed to put it up.

‘You’re no’ going to put your hair up till you’re eighteen, my lady, and there’s an end to it!’

So Kate brushed her hair till it shone and pinned her old straw hat on top of her head. Agnes had helped out again, finding a new piece of navy ribbon to trim it with.

Kate caught sight of a tousled head about twenty yards away, over to her right. Like her, Robbie was scanning the crowd. When she caught his eye he grinned and waved. With a slight inclination of his head he drew Kate’s attention to his father standing beside him. Jim Baxter had his face lifted towards the hull of the
Irish Princess
, his mouth curved in a smile of pure pleasure. He had his flat cap, his
bunnett
, clutched to his chest, ready to fling it into the air once she was launched.

‘See you later,’ mouthed Robbie, and Kate nodded.

‘Look,’ she whispered to Jessie and Pearl, ‘Mr Baxter’s going to burst too.’ Jessie giggled, but Pearl gave her a very knowing look.

‘What?’ Kate demanded.

‘Oh, nothing,’ said Pearl. ‘Happy now that you’ve seen him though, are you?’

‘I can’t think what you mean,’ Kate said airily. ‘My goodness, would that wind off the river not cut right through you? You wouldn’t think it was April, would you?’ Pearl gave her another look, one which a twelve-year-old certainly shouldn’t have been capable of.

Robbie was a friend, that was all. There had been no repetition of what had happened at Hogmanay. In her more honest moments, Kate didn’t know whether she was happy or sorry about that.

The noise level around them ebbed and flowed. The wind was cold but it was a beautiful spring day, with a blue sky above them - a good omen for the launch of the
Irish Princess
. The men had laid her keel last summer and they were bringing her in well on time, although the launch of a ship was far from the end of the story.

Almost as soon as she hit the river, she would be tugged back into the fitting-out basin for the interior work to be done. There was a lot of carpentry involved in that - internal bulkheads and panels for the cabins, the making of the furniture - beds, tables and chairs.

Destined for the Glasgow-Dublin run, the
Irish Princess
wasn’t a big ship, but she was a bonnie one, small and neat with nice lines.

Kate said as much to her father. ‘What’s that, lass?’ He angled his head to hear her better over the hubbub, rising now in anticipation of the imminent launch.

‘Aye, you’re right there. Lovely lines.’ Neil smiled at his daughter. ‘I wish the whole family could have been here.’

Wee Davie was thick with the cold. For one awful, selfish moment, Kate had been scared that Mammy would make her stay at home to mind him, but Lily had declared that she herself would do it, Granny being no longer fit to be left in charge of a baby.

‘Never mind, Daddy,’ said Kate. “There’ll be plenty of other launches they can come to.’

‘Aye, lass.’ The two words were said without much conviction.

She could have kicked herself. It had been the wrong thing to say. There was no guarantee that there would be plenty of other launches. There was another ship on the stocks, a cargo steamer, but once she was complete there was little else on the order books.

Like many men, her father could and did take his skills to other yards along the river, but it was the same story there.  Time-served though he was, a riveter to trade, Neil Cameron had been laid off  twice in the past two years. That had been terrible. Kate had nearly had to leave school then. There was dole money, but it didn’t go far - and a family didn’t get it at all until the Means Test Inspector had been to the house, poking and prying and trying to prove there was money coming in to the house from somewhere, that they were lying about what they needed to get by.