The Sun Will Shine Tomorrow (25 page)

When I got home from the shop, Maddie and Daniel were waiting for me. I could see by her face that there was still no news of Danny.

‘We’re trying the Red Cross records but nothing has turned up. It’s getting to be very worrying – especially since Sammy Malloy has been demobbed from the prisoner of war camp.’

I tried to cheer her up. ‘Aye, Maddie, but Sammy wasn’t in the same place as Danny and I believe him when he says he’s no idea where they took Danny after his stay in hospital. Sammy has been demobbed because his camp was liberated by the Allies just after VE Day.’

Granny said, ‘That’s right, Maddie. Maybe Danny was put somewhere further away and it’s taken a while to sort everything out.’

Maddie nodded, her blue eyes full of worry and pain.

Daniel looked at us. ‘I’m going to see my Daddy soon – Mummy says so, don’t you Mummy?’

Maddie knelt down in front of him. ‘Of course you are. It won’t be long now and you’ll see your daddy before you go to school.’

With a pang, I realised Daniel was almost five years old and he had never seen his father – and, just as bad, his father had never seen him.

When Maddie left to go home, I went with her. It was a lovely but blustery autumn day. Leaves from the trees in the gardens of Perth Road were scattered all over the pavement until they were caught by the breeze which swirled them over our heads like multicoloured confetti. Daniel walked ahead of us, his shoes scuffing against the leaves.

Maddie said sadly, ‘What if Danny doesn’t come home, Ann? What if he died of his injuries? Would I ever get to hear about it?’

Everyone knew Europe was in a state of total chaos. The newspapers were full of the carnage and destruction left behind by the armies. The Germans, Americans, British and Russians had all left their deadly fingerprints on the countries that had been under German rule. Danny could be anywhere in that vast heap of broken cities. A lot of them had been reduced to rubble.

Then I remembered my dream and I felt dismayed once again by its clarity. Had his camp been bombed by one of the hundreds of aircraft that had systematically destroyed so much? I decided not to mention my dream or the fact I had been hoping to speak with Ma Ryan. Maddie had enough to cope with without me adding to her worries. When we reached the top of Roseangle, we both gazed wistfully down at the close.

‘You should have stayed on in the house, Ann,’ said Maddie.

I didn’t want to mention that I thought Danny would have been home by now. ‘Och, well, it’s all ready for you and Danny when he comes home.’

‘Promise me that you’ll go and live there this winter if Danny doesn’t come home.’

My head ached. What should I say to her? Was she looking for confirmation that Danny was all right? Or had she made up her mind that Danny wasn’t coming home? Ever.

I gave her arm a squeeze. ‘Don’t be so daft, Maddie. Danny will be back home long before the winter comes.’

She looked relieved. ‘Do you honestly think so, Ann?’

If I had to be really truthful, then the answer was no. I didn’t know what had happened to him but I had to be positive for her sake. ‘Of course I think so. I would never have said it if I didn’t believe it.’

‘Oh, I do feel so much better now, Ann. You’re normally right with your assumptions and I do believe in you.’

A hundred yards ahead, we parted and I watched as she made her way along the road, holding Daniel’s hand. There seemed to be a spring in her step, as if I had allayed her fears. However, there was no spring in my step when I made my way back to the Overgate.

Why did I always seem so sure in my assumptions? I should have stayed silent but then Maddie would have gone home full of misery. I had at least given her a few more days of peace. After that, should there still be no word of Danny, then I would have to review my policy of happy-ever-after endings.

One bright spot amid all this gloom was Lily’s academic success. She was outstanding at her studies and enjoying the school very much. She still wanted to go to art school with Joy but it was comforting to know she could perhaps do something else should she change her mind.

The picture she had painted at the VE Day party was now framed and we hung it on Granny’s wall, above the fireplace. Granny was so proud of it and everyone who visited her was told all about her wonderfully talented granddaughter which, of course, she was.

Over the next few weeks, I met up with Maddie three times a week but, in spite of the searches by the Red Cross, nothing was heard of Danny. By now, we were all really worried.

Kit and George went to see her one Sunday and came in to see us on their way home. Maddie had been very distressed and Kit was vexed that there was nothing she could do to help her.

‘It’s just a matter of waiting. That’s what I said to Maddie but it’s not easy – especially with wee Daniel always asking where his daddy is.’ Kit was almost in tears when she told us this.

George was angry. ‘Every time I see that toerag Sammy strutting about it makes my blood boil. Not that I wish him any harm but he’s been demobbed like thousands of other servicemen and Danny is still missing. And he’s still pestering Kathleen to go and bide with his folks – as if they haven’t enough room for themselves, never mind a wife and a bairn.’

I was almost frightened to broach the subject but I was at my wits’ end with worry. ‘Kit, can Ma tell us where Danny is?’

Kit shook her head. ‘I’ve asked her but she says she can’t see the future to order. Things just come to her and she says she can’t tell me anything about Danny.’

I mentioned the earlier vision she had seen years before – the one I had overheard a snatch of and had asked Ma about when Danny first went missing in 1940. She’d said then he was all right but now there was nothing. It didn’t bode well.

‘Well, Ann, Ma still sticks to her story of that earlier vision but she says she never had another one regarding Danny. But then she hardly ever gets any feelings about her family and, if she does … well, she never mentions it.’

I wanted to know something. ‘Did Maddie mention Ma?’

Kit gave this some thought. ‘No but I got the impression she wanted to say something but Hattie was there as well as her mum and dad and she wouldn’t have wanted to upset them. Not everyone believes in Ma’s second sight.’

‘How was Hattie?’ Granny asked.

Kit looked sad. ‘Putting on a brave face but she’s suffering as well. After all he’s her laddie as well as being Maddie’s husband.’

After they were gone I was left with a feeling of depression which even Lily’s chatter about her schoolwork couldn’t lift. Perhaps it was because of the high hopes we all had on VE Day when we thought everyone was going to come home from the battlefields and POW camps. After all, the war was over and we’d imagined we could all settle down to enjoy the peace. Now, as the euphoria of that wonderful day in May slowly evaporated, I could see our worries for the future weren’t going to be over for a long time yet – if they ever were to be over. Like the rationing, things were getting worse instead of better.

Connie had stopped asking about Danny as had Rosie and Dad. They knew by my face that no news was forthcoming. Even Joe stopped speaking about the war, at least when I was in the shop, although Connie said he was as bad as ever when I wasn’t there. Still, I appreciated his small gesture.

The snow arrived in a blizzard of white flakes, leaving the pavements covered in a white carpet that soon changed to a pile of melting grey slush which seemed to penetrate the seams of my sturdy shoes and seep into my depressed soul.

Granny looked out a pair of old galoshes to put over my shoes but I found they were too slippy in the slushy streets. People no longer stood and chattered on the street corners. They were too glad to be indoors in front of their fires, albeit tiny ones because of the coal rationing.

Customers came into the shop all muffled up, their grey pinched faces peeping out from under woollen scarves and headsquares. Some lucky people had the luxury of owning furry gloves – huge items that made the wearer resemble a refugee from a bear park in Canada.

In all, we were a motley population, perpetually cold and totally fed up with queues and rationing with not enough coal to keep warm or enough food to eat on some days.

The government was still trying to keep up our wartime spirit with chirpy slogans and informative films at the cinema but, to be honest, it was the Hollywood films with all their glamour and escapism that cheered us up as we watched life as it was lived in the land of plenty where the sun always shone on seductive film stars in expensive apartments with their glamorous clothes and fabulous jewels. Watching these scenes always made Granny, Lily and I drool and Granny could never understand why they sat down at a table laden with food but never ate a thing.

‘Can you imagine that happening here, Ann? The food on yon table would have disappeared like snow off a dike. It would resemble a flock of vultures descending.’

We had laughed then but this couple of hours of glamour didn’t last long. For another dose of pleasure we had to wait till the following week’s picture from that utopia, America.

Then, one morning at the end of November, Kathleen arrived at the shop. She had taken Kitty to school before catching a tramcar for the Hilltown. I could see she was distressed and had been crying and Connie also noticed it. She took her key from her bag. ‘Go round to my house and make yourselves a cup of tea,’ she said.

I gave her a grateful glance and ushered Kathleen along Stirling Street towards Connie’s flat. Once inside I noticed the large bruise under her eye – a blue streak that extended right down her cheek. She had kept the hood of her coat up in the shop and we hadn’t noticed it.

While I was putting the kettle on, she told me about her bruise. ‘Sammy caught up with me this morning, Ann, but, because I wouldn’t listen to him about going back to him, he gave me a punch right in front of Kitty and now she’s away to the school crying. I told her it was just an accident and she’s accepted that, thank goodness. I don’t want her teacher to know.’

I was shocked but, before I could reply, she went on, ‘I’m telling Mr Portland that I can’t work for him any longer. In fact, I’m going there shortly.’

I sat down beside her and put a hot cup of tea in her still shivering hands. I was so angry that I was afraid to speak. I walked to the cooker to pour out my own tea and took a few deep breaths.

‘You mustn’t give up your job, Kathleen. You love the work.’

Tears ran down her cheeks. ‘Oh, aye, I do but Sammy’s father came to the shop last week and threatened to thump Mr Portland – said he was a dirty old man for taking photos of a young lassie. What else can I do, Ann? Mr Portland was very nice about it but I can’t let the awful Malloys break up his business.’

That was true but it didn’t make me feel any less angry.

Kathleen stood up and walked across to the mirror which hung above the fireplace. She inspected her bruise. ‘If I put some pancake make-up on it it’ll not be so noticeable.’

She rummaged in her handbag and brought out the make-up. The thick foundation certainly covered the mark but I suspected it couldn’t cover her bruised heart.

‘What about Chris?’ I asked. ‘Have you seen him recently?’

She shook her head sadly. ‘Not since the day we went for the drive and the picnic. He’s been in Germany and I got a letter from him a fortnight ago.’

I gave her a startled look and for the first time since her arrival she gave a rueful laugh.

‘Oh, it came through the shop, Ann – he knows not to send anything to Lochee.’

I nodded. ‘So you’re looking for another job?’

‘I suppose so. Maybe I’ll apply again to Hunter’s department store where I worked before Mr Portland asked me to work for him.’

She re-examined her face in the mirror and we then left Connie’s flat to make our way back to the shop.

In the street, she stopped and looked at me directly. ‘I’ll not walk back with you Ann but thank Connie for the use of her house and the cuppie.’ She pulled the hood of her coat over her bright hair and I noticed fresh tears in her eyes. ‘I just wish Danny was here. He would know how to deal with Sammy and his father. I often lie awake at night and wonder where he is.’

‘We all think that, Kathleen. If only we had some word of his whereabouts it would be such a big relief to Maddie and to us all.’

Before we parted, I said, ‘Tell your dad about Sammy punching you. He’ll soon put a stop to it, Kathleen.’

Once again she smiled ruefully. ‘Och, Dad would kill him if he ever found out. Now promise me you’ll not say a word, Ann.’

‘But what about the bruise? What will they think has happened to you?’

She gave this some thought. ‘I’ll make up some story about banging my head against a door or something like that.’

Then she was gone. I was quite bemused by her excuse. How many women had come into Connie’s shop since I started with this excuse or a variation of it. There must be lots of women in the city who were accident prone with doors.

Back at the shop, Connie gave me a questioning look. I explained what Kathleen had told me because I knew Connie would keep the information to herself.

She just shook her head in anger. ‘You would think that young man had seen enough violence in the war to fill a lifetime. Still, maybe he sincerely loves her and wants her back. Maybe he can’t live without her.’

I smiled. ‘Maybe you’ve been reading too many of your own books from the lending library, Connie.’

‘Aye, maybe I have.’

The year slowly dawdled to a close. The weather was terrible and people became grumpy and totally fed up. One woman in the butcher’s queue said what we all thought. ‘This is not living. This is just getting up in the morning and if you’re still breathing then you’re still alive.’

No one applauded this sentiment but the ripple of agreement that ran through the large queue summed up all our feelings.

Still, we had our Saturday nights at the pictures to give us some colour and glamour in our grey lives. Just before Christmas, Granny, Lily and I went to the Plaza cinema for our weekly fix of escapism. The Pathé News burst on to the screen with its usual blast of frenetic music. I was looking at it with half my mind, wondering about Chris Portland and waiting for the main film to come on. Suddenly the commentator was telling us about the prisoners of war in a Russian hospital. I grabbed Granny’s arm. In the corner of the ward, a figure lay on his bed and, although it was a grainy picture, I could swear it was Danny or someone very like him. Then the image faded to be replaced with another news item. Without waiting for the main film, we hurried out of the cinema.