Anne Douglas (25 page)

‘That’d be grand. I’d like that, Neil.’

His face relaxed into smiles. ‘How about tomorrow night? Shall we meet in town?’

‘Better make it the day after tomorrow,’ Lindy told him, not explaining that she wanted to say goodbye to Rosemary the next day. ‘You could come up to the Christmas shop to meet me if you like, say, before we close – half past five?’

‘Lindy, I’ll be there!’

Back at home there was no one to welcome her, except Gingerboy, who graciously left his sleep to see if she would put something into his bowl, for everyone was of course at work, which was just as well. Setting down her burdens, stretching and yawning, she didn’t really want to talk to the family yet – there was too much to say.

‘What a day, Gingerboy,’ she murmured, pouring him some milk. ‘I don’t know if I’m on my head or my heels. Fancy meeting Neil again, eh?’

As Gingerboy, of course, made no reply, she filled the kettle and set out a few things for a late lunch, thinking how pleased she’d been to be with Neil again. It would be lovely to have a meal and talk with him, even if he wasn’t Rod and didn’t aim to be.

But why was she bringing Rod into it? she asked herself. ‘Meet in the middle’ Neil had said she and Rod should have done. How could they have done that? There was no middle way for them. And as she made tea and ate a little bread and cheese, some, not quite all, of her new satisfaction faded.

At teatime no one took much interest in Lindy’s first fashion show; Miss Rosemary’s departure, though – that was something different.

‘So she leaves tomorrow?’ Myra murmured. ‘Well, I’ll have to say, I’m sorry. She’s always been one to look out for – see what she’s wearing and that. And so nice if she meets you, eh? Never minds stopping to ask how you are, no’ like some.’

‘Aye, a very pleasant young lady,’ George agreed. ‘There’ll be no one like her in this house again.’

‘Just as well,’ Struan snorted, helping himself to more apple tart. ‘She’s caused enough trouble while she’s been here. Haven’t forgotten Neil, have you?’

‘Och, I’ve no time for Neil,’ Myra snapped. ‘I used to have, but no’ any more. He’s no use to anyone, him and his writing, eh? How he’s kept his job as a printer I’ll never know.’

‘I think you’re being a bit hard on him, Aunt Myra,’ Lindy fired up. ‘He’s very talented and he’s going to do well. It wasn’t his fault he fell for Rosemary, and he’s trying to get over her.’

‘Oh? And how do you know what he’s going to do?’ Myra demanded.

‘I met him on the tram. In fact, we’re going out for something to eat the day after tomorrow. Just as friends, the way we used to be.’

‘Well, now you tell us! Were you going to tell us at all, I wonder?’

‘I think it’s grand,’ said George. ‘I always liked Neil. I’m sorry he left us.’

‘You’re no’ the only one going out the day after tomorrow,’ Struan said, finishing his apple tart. ‘I’ve got a date, too.’

‘With the lads as usual?’ asked Myra. ‘I don’t call that a date.’

‘No’ with the lads,’ Struan said, smiling broadly. ‘With Jemima.’

There was a stunned silence. Myra exchanged looks with George, while Lindy stared at her brother.

‘Are you joking?’ she asked. ‘Why would Jemima want to go out with you?’

‘Why shouldn’t she? I met her in the hall and we got chatting, and I thought, Jemima’s an attractive lassie, why’ve I never noticed before?’

‘Lassie!’ Myra exclaimed, finding her voice. ‘She’s no lassie! Why, she’s years older than you, Struan.’

‘Two years older than me. What’s that? I tell you, she’s very attractive, dresses well, and is clever and all. Anyway, I asked her if she’d like to go to the pictures and she said she would. That’s the end o’ that.’

‘Beginning, more like,’ said Myra. ‘Once you ask someone out they know it means something, eh? I thought you’d have more sense!’

‘I think he’s showing sense,’ George declared, leaving the table to take out his pipe and sit by the range. ‘Jemima’s a grand girl and you’d be complaining if he was taking out some little miss that’d never fit in, Myra. Good luck to Struan, I say.’

‘Look, we’re only going to the pictures,’ Struan protested. ‘Hardly getting engaged.’ He leaped to his feet. ‘Think I might as well see the lads tonight, anyway. ’Bye all.’

‘And I might as well wash up,’ said Lindy into the silence, and as she cleared away was thinking full marks to Struan for taking the limelight away from her own concerns. While Myra was fussing over his going out with Jemima, she’d have no time to think about Lindy and Neil. But what, oh what, was Jemima thinking of?

‘Oh, I knew you’d be coming round,’ Jemima said, flushing, as Lindy arrived at her door later that evening. ‘I suppose Struan’s told you, has he?’

‘Aye, at tea time.’ Lindy’s eyes were seeking Jemima’s without success. ‘Honestly, I didn’t believe it.’

‘Better come in.’ Jemima showed her in to the flat and offered her a seat. ‘We can talk. Ma’s out at a whist drive.’

‘She doesn’t know?’

‘Oh, yes, but she’s – well, she doesn’t believe it either.’ Jemima’s colour was fading; she seemed willing now to let her hazel eyes meet Lindy’s, their expression truculent. ‘Why does everyone think it’s so impossible that I should go out with Struan? Ma says he’s just a boy, but he’s only two years younger than I am!’

‘I know, but some men seem to take a long time to grow up.’

‘Well, maybe if he wants to go out with me it’s a sign he wants to grow up now,’ snapped Jemima.

‘Maybe,’ Lindy agreed, privately thinking that he might just have thought Jemima would be the ideal person to spoil him. ‘But listen, Jemima, you’re very attractive—’

‘Oh, don’t start that again, Lindy! I know how attractive I am.’

‘Well, then, you’ll know you can meet someone who’s right for you, someone who can take care of you, no’ the other way round.’

‘I can take care of myself. I don’t need a man to make decisions, and that sort of thing.’

‘I know, I know, but—’

‘All I’m doing is going out with Struan to see a Marx Brothers film and have a good laugh. That’s all there is to it.’

‘OK, if you’re happy about it—’

‘I am!’ Jemima’s tone was fierce, but then she put her hand on Lindy’s arm. ‘Sorry to be so snappy. I’m just a wee bit depressed, you ken, with Miss Rosemary leaving and everything. I need something to cheer me up.’

‘’Course you do. She’s going to be hugely missed. Made a lovely bride at the show today.’

‘Oh, and I never asked you how it went! Oh, Lindy, I’m sorry – how could I have forgotten?’

‘It went well. I wasn’t nervous at all.’

‘Well done, well done! Listen, let’s have a cup of tea, eh? Miss Rosemary gave me some Earl Grey – she’s clearing out her cupboards, of course. I’ll put the kettle on.’

‘My favourite words.’

When they were trying the Earl Grey tea – ‘smoky’ was their verdict – Lindy told Jemima of her meeting with Neil, and that he was doing fairly well.

‘In fact,’ she finished, ‘we’re going out together for a meal, the night after tomorrow. When you’ll be watching the Marx Brothers.’

Jemima laughed, then said seriously, ‘I’m glad you’re seeing Neil again, even if he isn’t Rod. It will do you both good, in my opinion.’

‘Why mention Rod, Jemima?’

‘Well, I’m just so sorry that it all went wrong for you. There must be some way you could get back together again.’

‘I don’t think so. Anyway, I’m going out with Neil again. That’s good enough for me.’

‘Is it?’ Jemima asked sadly.

Two days later Lindy, at her counter in the Christmas shop at Logie’s, was thinking of Rosemary’s farewell the previous evening. Strange, the way it seemed to have had such an effect on the tenants who’d come down to the hall to say goodbye. It was as though this young woman, elegant in her fur-trimmed coat and matching hat, had taken away something special from those left at number nineteen. Some spark, some touch of magic that they would not see again. Left them facing their own hard lives without the interest they’d been able to take in hers – maybe that was the point?

Of course she’d had her critics, especially over Neil’s personal misery, but she was so different, she gave such an insight into a world they could never know, it was certain they were going to miss her, even if they wouldn’t admit it.

‘Och, she should never have been here in the first place,’ one of Neil’s brothers still muttered to Lindy as Rosemary posed at the front door to give her last smiles and waves. ‘Lassie like her – she never belonged, eh?’

‘That was what we liked, I suppose,’ said Lindy. ‘We liked her to be different, eh?’

‘All I know is that number nineteen won’t be the same without her,’ Jemima said glumly.

Mrs Kerry agreed, adding: ‘She’s a lovely lady, right enough, but we always knew she’d never stay.’

And that had been poor Neil’s mistake, thought Lindy. He’d believed she would.

‘You’ve all been so kind,’ Rosemary was calling. ‘I’m going to miss you all so much. But Jemima has my address and if you’re ever in the West End – do look me up! I mean it – do!’

As though they would! When would they ever be going calling in the West End! Still, it was nice of her to say.

‘Ready, miss?’ asked the taxi driver, who’d been waiting patiently for some time.

‘Just coming,’ said Rosemary and, turning to Jemima and Lindy, hugged them both hard. ‘Oh, dear, I feel rather weepy! Better go, I think.’

And with a last wave she climbed into the taxi.

‘Goodbye, goodbye!’ the watchers called as the taxi driver closed the passenger door, took his own seat and drove away, soon to be swallowed up in the traffic of Scott Street.

That was that, then – she’d gone. The tenants turned to climb the stairs, not saying much, while Jemima lingered for a moment to speak to Lindy. ‘I offered to go with Miss Rosemary, you know, to help her settle in, but she said there was no need. So I just helped her tidy up here.’

‘All ready for the new folk, then.’

‘Oh, don’t remind me. But here comes your stepmother, Lindy.’

‘Have I missed the grand farewell?’ asked Myra, bustling in. ‘I couldn’t get away any earlier.’

‘Aye, Miss Rosemary’s gone,’ Jemima told her, at which Myra smiled coldly.

‘You’ll be missing her, eh? But then you’ll have Struan to think about instead.’

‘We are only going to the pictures,’ Jemima said shortly. ‘Nothing important.’

‘You never know.’ Myra laughed, tossing her head. ‘Well, I must get on. Lindy, you’ll give me a hand?’

‘Don’t I always?’ asked Lindy.

Now in Logie’s, quieter as closing time drew near, Lindy’s thoughts turned to Neil. Of course, it hadn’t been true what she’d said to Jemima – that going out with him was enough for her, but she was looking forward to being with him again, to see him approach his old self, maybe, and to help him with that. Rosemary had gone and would not come back, leaving him to build his own life again, which he was doing with his writing. It would be strange, wouldn’t it, if he really did have success with his novel?

She had turned aside for a moment, deciding she should stop thinking about Neil and begin tidying the counter before closing time, when someone behind her asked, ‘Where are the Christmas cards, please?’

And her heart leaped.

Slowly she looked around and met the eyes of the man who had spoken. She knew his voice. She knew his eyes. Yet still couldn’t take it in. This was Rod standing in front of her, not Neil. Rod, asking for Christmas cards and staring as though he’d seen a ghost. She knew her look on him must seem the same.

‘Lindy?’ he was stammering. ‘Lindy – what are you doing here?’

Only after a long pause could she gather herself together enough to say, ‘Rod, I work here.’

‘I don’t understand –’

Coming round the counter, she could no longer meet his eyes. ‘You wanted to see the cards? They’re just over here. I’ll show you.’

‘Thank you.’

And he followed her to the Christmas cards.

There were still cards left, though the racks in the corner where a few people were browsing were no longer full.

‘You’ve left it a bit late,’ Lindy said, making an immense effort to sound normal, as though she was talking to any other customer. Snatching a quick glance, she saw that Rod’s eyes were fixed on her.

‘Always do. Just want one or two.’

‘There’s still plenty of choice.’

‘That’s lucky.’

‘I’ll leave you to it, then.’

As she turned away he put out his hand as though he would touch her arm, then let it go. But she made no move. At last, their eyes met in a long, troubled gaze.

‘How come?’ he asked. ‘How come you’ve left the grocery shop?’

‘I needed some part-time work and I couldn’t do it there.’ As she knew what he would ask next, she answered the question. ‘I found out that modelling isn’t a full-time job.’

He lowered his eyes. ‘You’ve begun, then? Last I heard you were taking classes.’

‘I did my first show a few days ago.’

‘I expect you did well.’

She made no reply, her heart beginning to beat heavily in her chest. It seemed to her that there was no point in talking any more, no point at all.

‘I must go, people are waiting,’ she said, still trying to speak normally, though to herself sounding a little wild, and hurried back to the counter where two customers were standing. At least, one was a customer. The other was Neil.

‘No need to rush,’ the customer, an elderly man, said kindly. ‘Just want this artificial holly. No hurry.’

‘That’s all right, sir, I’ll just find a bag.’ Lindy’s lips were dry, her eyes desperate as she looked at Neil.

‘Am I too early?’ he whispered, smiling.

She shook her head and finished serving the customer. ‘We’ll be closing soon.’

In fact, she could see Miss Burnett, who had been finding balloons for a customer, looking at her watch.

When would Rod come to the till with his Christmas cards? Did he know Neil? What would he think? What did it matter what he thought? Neil would be of no interest to him, as she herself could be of no interest. She had told him about her first show – that meant she was serious, doing what she’d said she would. And why not? It was Rod who was in the wrong . . . Oh, but it didn’t help to think that! Not at all.