The Sun Will Shine Tomorrow (5 page)

The train was approaching. When it stopped, he grabbed his bag and boarded the train which stood like a giant Titan guarding the gates of the gods. Then it slowly moved away with a huge spurt of sooty steam and a mechanical clanking noise. It was like the wailing of a soul in torment.

Joe had tactfully moved away but he now came and stood beside me and we both waved to no one in particular. The train was so overcrowded that there was no room to stand at the windows and make long farewells like they did in the Hollywood pictures whose stars played at make-believe war which was a thousand light years away from the real world.

Joe and I moved out into the street and it was as grey as ever. Joe sniffed the air. ‘I think the sun’s going to shine tomorrow, Ann.’

‘Oh, I hope so, Joe!’ And I didn’t just mean weather-wise.

‘Your Dad’s worried about Rosie and I hope everything goes well for them this time.’

I couldn’t bear all this talk about Rosie’s impending death and my voice was firm when I answered, ‘Rosie will be fine when she gets over this awful sickness, Joe. Honestly, she’ll be fine.’

As we parted at the foot of the Hilltown, I once again cursed myself for my crystal-ball attitude. Yet someone had to be optimistic for Rosie’s sake.

When I reached the house, Lily was sitting with her books and crayons. She looked relieved when she saw me and she said Rosie was lying down.

‘Has she been sick again?’

She shook her head.

I peeped into the small bedroom and saw that Rosie was asleep.

‘I have to get some messages, Lily. Do you want to come?’

She was on her feet in a flash.

When we reached the butcher’s shop further down the hill, we were both dismayed to see a large queue. It was just the way of life now and no one could do their shopping in a hurry these days. Everything was done by standing around – rain or shine.

We joined the end of the queue. ‘I hope you’re not too disappointed at not seeing Dad off,’ I said.

‘Well I am a bit but somebody had to stay with Rosie. Anyway, he’s just away for a month so we’ll see him soon.’

‘Aye, we will,’ I said as the queue shuffled slowly forward.

Rosie got a letter a few days later and she read it out. ‘Your dad says the island is windswept but lovely. He’s in a camp somewhere on the island but he can’t say where for security reasons. He’s missing us and counting the days till he’s home.’ She scanned the page and I saw her blush. ‘The rest is a bit personal so I’ll not read it out.’

She seemed quite happy about his absence. We knew we were living in difficult times and Dad had to go – he had no choice. But, unlike the fighting men on the battlefields, he would soon be home.

Rosie was still being sick but I had become used to this routine and I prayed it would all end soon.

On the Sunday, Alice came to the house as usual so Lily went to the Overgate and I went to Lochee to see Kit and George.

The street was busy with children playing when I arrived. A group of girls had just chalked numbered boxes on the pavement and were busy jumping from one number to the next. Another group was playing with a length of washing rope which they used for their skipping games.

Kit and George were in the house along with their son, Patty. Kit had told me earlier that they were dreading him getting his call-up papers. He was eighteen and working as an apprentice welder in the Caledon Shipyard. Patty had always been a delicate child, suffering from asthma from a young age.

As Kit was making the tea, she said, ‘We’re hoping he doesn’t pass the medical if he gets called up but maybe the fact he’s doing his apprenticeship in the shipyard might help. It’s a reserved occupation.’

I felt sorry for her and all the mothers who had young sons. The thought of them going off to war was horrendous but Winston Churchill had said the country needed every man and woman to be prepared to fight for freedom. It was all stirring stuff but that didn’t help the families.

There had been no more word about Danny since the Red Cross letter saying he had been injured at Dunkirk but it was likely that he was in some prisoner of war camp in Germany.

Kit seemed tense and her face was white and strained. ‘I often think about Danny and hope he’s keeping fine. Now it looks like it might be Patty’s turn to go.’

She turned her tired eyes in my direction. ‘I just hope this awful war is soon over and everyone can get their laddies back again.’

George sat in silence, just nodding at her words.

I told her about Dad being away for a month and how Rosie was coping. ‘I just hope she gets over this terrible sickness, Kit. It’s making her feel run down.’

Kit was sympathetic. She asked me, ‘Have you tried giving her a cup of tea and a dry biscuit before she gets up?’

‘I’ve tried lots of things, Kit. All the old wives’ tales and a few more for luck but nothing seems to help her. She manages to eat and drink something then it all comes back up. It’s horrendous and I think she’s getting thinner. She’s getting no nourishment at all.’

Kit said, ‘Well, the old wives’ tales do say that the bairn is getting the nourishment it needs but at the expense of the mother so let’s hope she gets better soon. She’s certainly unlucky to be still sick after the three-month mark.’

I nodded but could add nothing else to the saga, not having been in the motherhood stakes myself. And, quite honestly, Rosie’s state was putting me off ever becoming a mother.

I was on the verge of leaving when Kathleen came in with her little girl, Kitty.

Kit’s face lit up like a beacon when she saw her granddaughter. ‘Hullo, my wee pet! Are you going to stay with your granny and grandad?’

Kitty nodded. Her blue eyes full of mischief. She was clutching a huge doll which she placed on the couch. ‘Mummy says I can stay here and put my dolly to sleep.’

Kit produced a small blanket from the toy box and Kitty busied herself with it, fussing over the doll and speaking to it as if it was a real child.

I looked at Kathleen and once again was amazed by her beauty. Her skin looked translucent and fragile against her bright auburn hair. She was every bit as good-looking as Rita Hayworth, I thought. She had a job in a shop in the town. Hunter’s outfitters in the Wellgate was a large department store and I had seen her behind the hosiery counter looking smart and lovely in her dark, sober-looking dress. Now of course, with the clothes on the ration like every other commodity, the shop wasn’t as busy as it was before the war but it still got its share of customers.

No one mentioned her husband Sammy who had also been injured at Dunkirk, and who, by some strange coincidence, was also a prisoner of war like Danny. I knew Kathleen was going to end this marriage after the war because of Sammy’s behaviour. As far as Kit and George were concerned it couldn’t come soon enough and I remembered only too well the bruises he had inflicted on Kathleen before he left.

Patty arrived and I was struck again by his fragile-looking air which I think was caused by his ivory coloured complexion which looked so pale against his red hair. Apart from his asthma with left him breathless at times, I don’t think he suffered from any illness but hopefully he would remain at the Caledon Shipyard.

Kathleen stood up when her brother came in. ‘I’m ready, Patty.’ She turned to her mother. ‘We’re going out for a wee while but we’ll not be long.’

After she left, the subject of her marriage was raised. ‘That toerag Sammy Malloy had better not come creeping back here to her when this war is over,’ said Kit. ‘Kathleen wants to make a new start without him. We thought she would end up with that boy Colin Matthews but he’s also been called up. Still maybe it’s just as well because she is still a married woman and you know how folk talk, Ann.’

Before the war, Colin was a clerk in Mr Pringle’s office. Kit told me at the time that they were just friends – companions at the pictures or a couple of dances – but Kit was right to be concerned.

George said, ‘She is still a married woman, Kit, and she should mind that. Why she ever got married to Sammy is a big mystery but she was aye headstrong and doing her own thing.’

I wondered where Ma Ryan was. She was normally to be found in Kit’s house.

‘Where’s Ma today, Kit?’

Kit grinned. ‘She’s over at my sister Lizzie’s house. Lizzie has hurt her back so Ma is looking after her. Poor Ma, I heard that Lizzie had her dusting and cleaning all week and Ma is threatening to go on strike. She says she doesn’t have to lift a finger when she visits me so why should she have to spring-clean Lizzie’s house.’

I laughed but was a bit disappointed. Ma was said to have the sixth sense and she had given me a couple of warnings in my life. I was hoping she would tell me if Rosie was going to be all right. Still, knowing Ma, she might not. I remembered how she told me years ago that she didn’t get feelings about some people and that she didn’t interfere in matters concerning her own family.

It was time to go. Kit made me promise to come back soon and I said I would. The tramcar was busy, no doubt with people on their way to visit friends and relations on the only work-free day of their week. I sat in the tram as it meandered its way through the grimy and busy streets, all full of children playing in the warm sunshine.

My head was full of jumbled-up thoughts. I hadn’t heard from Greg in over a week. I put my hand to my neck and felt the ring hanging from its chain – my engagement ring. Would there be a wedding? I wondered. Oh, I hoped so with all my heart, after this war was finished – whenever that would be. Hopefully not when I was seventy.

It would soon be Lily’s birthday and Joy’s – their tenth. How big she was growing and soon she would be out of my life, but not just yet thankfully.

Then there was the awful daily problem of Rosie. Would she ever get better?

By the time I reached my stop, I had a splitting headache which wasn’t helped by meeting Alice on the stairs.

She just shook her head at my unasked question. ‘She’s not had a good day, Ann. I’ll be glad when your dad gets back from his training camp.’

I echoed that sentiment.

The following morning, Joe was full of the Russian invasion. I often wished he wouldn’t talk so much about the war and I suspected that Connie felt the same but there was little we could do against his non-stop chatter.

‘I see the Jerries are making good headway in Russia,’ he said morosely, before brightening up a bit. ‘Still, Napoleon couldn’t conquer Russia so let’s hope Hitler’s henchmen have the same fate. It’s the bad winters that get them over there. Twenty or thirty degrees below freezing would make your fingers fall off,’ he added cheerfully.

‘But it’s just July,’ said Connie. ‘Surely Russia doesn’t get cold weather for months yet?’

‘Aye, but Russia is a vast country, Connie. The German Army can’t conquer it in a week. No, you wait and see. They’ll still be fighting in the winter and that’ll sort them out – just like Napoleon.’

Then the three girls arrived – Amy, Edith and Sylvia. As usual, they were full of fun as they bought their normal cigarettes and sweeties.

Joe gave them a stern look. ‘Are you lassies not getting called up for war work?’

Sylvia looked at him in surprise. ‘No, Joe, we’re working in the mill and doing our share for the war effort.’

On that note they all departed, laughing.

Joe looked disgusted. ‘War work indeed. They spend their days laughing and joking and buying sweeties.’

‘Well, as long as they’ve got their sweetie coupons that’s all that matters,’ said Connie, winking at me.

After he left, she said, ‘It’s a wonder folk need to buy a paper round here with Joe the oracle spouting forth.’

That was true – where would we be every day without our running commentary on the war front? It was as if he was on the spot, telling it like it was.

It was Lily’s birthday at the end of the week and I planned to take her to see Jean Peters at the Ferry but before I wrote my letter to Jean, Mrs Pringle invited us to a party for Joy at the Perth Road.

‘It won’t be a big party, Ann,’ she’d said, ‘because of the rationing but it will be a day out for Lily and you. Please bring Rosie if she feels up to it and your granny and grandad.’

Once again, the weather was lovely and warm as Lily and I set off. Rosie had initially been delighted with the invitation but, during the morning, she didn’t feel well and had to lie down. As for Granny, well, she would also have come but Grandad had a bad cough and she didn’t want to leave him.

I was in a quandary about leaving Rosie alone but she insisted I should go with Lily and have a good time. ‘After all,’ she said, ‘it’s her birthday and she’s looking forward to her party.’

Lily had grown out of her summer dress so I had to take the hem down and sew a row of colourful rickrack braid along the edge of the hem. How strange it was that Lily was growing so tall while Joy never seemed to grow an inch. Still, maybe she would get a spurt of growth later.

Lily was unhappy about the altered dress.

‘Well, there’s nothing we can do about it, Lily. We need clothes coupons for everything and you’ll soon need new school clothes so the coupons will have to be kept for them.’

I would have loved to give her a new dress for her birthday but we were now living in austere times. Although the threat of invasion was fast receding, the ships in the Atlantic were still being sunk by the German U-boats. An even tighter grip was being put on the rationing system and we were all thankful for the unrationed bread and potatoes which filled us up.

Hattie was at the house with Mrs Pringle and Maddie when we arrived. Daniel was sitting in his pram in the garden and Joy and Lily ran out to play with him.

Maddie looked lovely and cool in a thin cotton dress and her hair was tied up with a blue ribbon, the exact colour of her eyes. I knew this was an unconscious act on her part because she was not pretentious but the effect was lovely and elegant, to say the least. I felt so dull and insipid beside her with my five-year-old frock and sensible-looking sandals. Yes, I had to admit that some women were just born elegant.

Maddie was one and Hattie was another. She was dressed in a lovely soft grey jersey wool dress which clung to her still-slender figure. Her hair, although still dark, now had a few flecks of grey which enhanced her face. Lucky Hattie, I thought, she’s not dowdy like her niece.