Anne Douglas (23 page)

‘That’s one of my parents together, that’s my mother on her own, Andrew on graduation day, and Valerie, his wife.’

She studied them eagerly. Her family! How long she’d waited to see something like these wee photos. Oh, yes, there was Brett’s father – you could see the likeness at once – a very handsome man. Standing beside him, Aunt Mona looked pleasant enough, with a broad, heavy face and fairish hair, while taken on her own she looked older and was unsmiling. Obviously her difficult life had taken its toll, and though Shona searched her face carefully, she could see no resemblance to her own mother. Finally, there was Andrew, smiling for the camera in graduation gown. Another Brett? Yes, though perhaps not quite as good looking. Were his eyes a little smaller? But he was still very handsome, and his young wife, Valerie, blonde and slim, was pretty, too.

Shona passed the photographs back to Brett and thanked him. ‘I loved seeing them. It meant a lot.’

‘You can keep them. I brought them for you.’

‘For me?’ She flushed with pleasure. ‘Oh, that’s so kind, Brett! I’ll put them in my bag. I’m really thrilled.’

‘Do you have some to show me?’

‘Just two, of my folks. I never thought to bring them.’

‘How about yourself?’

‘Oh, no, I never have my photograph taken. Don’t know anyone with a camera.’

‘I have a camera.’ He leaned forward, his eyes intent on her face. ‘I’ll take your picture. I’d like to very much.’

Her flush had deepened. She looked down, busying herself putting the photographs away, but when she looked up his eyes were still on her face.

‘Hope you don’t mind if I say –’ He paused. ‘If I tell you, Shona, that I never expected to find my Scottish cousin to be so beautiful.’

‘Oh, now that’s what we call a piece of nonsense. I’m no’ beautiful, don’t try to be.’

‘Yes, you are. You’re beautiful and different – I mean, quite different from us Websters. Yet we have the family link, which is good.’

They said no more, for the waitress had brought their plates of bread and butter, their tomato ketchup, and finally their fish and chips. And would they like tea to follow? She looked dubiously at Brett. Or coffee?

‘Tea will be fine,’ he told her, and when she’d gone he said in a whisper, ‘No disrespect, but I’ve tried the coffee in town already. I think I’ll be safer with tea.’

‘Cheek!’ cried Shona, and the slight awkwardness of his compliment-making melted.

‘That was so good,’ he commented when their plates had been removed and they were drinking their tea. ‘Scotland’s the place for fish suppers, no doubt about it. Next up, I have to try haggis. What is it, exactly?’

‘Don’t ask,’ she answered, smiling. ‘What you’ll have to go to is a Burns Night supper, always at the end of January. There’ll be haggis and neeps and tatties – turnips and potatoes – and a toast to the lassies. Och, you’ll love it!’

‘I know about Burns Suppers. We have them at home but I never went to one. I was told that the speeches went on for ever – not for me, I decided.’

‘All part of the evening. You have to remember that Scots take their pleasures seriously. If they have plenty to eat and drink, they have to put in a few speeches, too. Only fair.’

Neither wanted to make a move, but eventually rose and found their coats before arguing over the bill.

‘I’m the hostess tonight,’ Shona said firmly. ‘I’m paying.’

‘Aw, now I can’t let you do that, Shona. This is on me – my pleasure.’

‘Next time, not tonight.’ Before he could say more, Shona had advanced on the cash desk and paid. ‘There you are, done. Let’s go.’

‘Will there be a next time?’ he asked, as they set off against the wind for the tram stop. ‘I hope so.’

‘Well, if you’re going to be here some time, I expect we’ll meet again, eh? For a start, I want to show you the Dean Village, where I’m in lodgings and where I was brought up.’

‘You live in a village? I’d love to see it.’

‘It was a village. It’s part of the city now but it’s still got character. Look, here’s my tram – no need for you to come with me, Brett, I’ll be all right.’

‘Are you joking? I want to come with you. Just try and stop me!’

In the shadows of the tram they sat close, with Brett’s gaze once again intent on Shona instead of the lights of the city moving by.

‘I hope I’m not treading on anyone’s toes,’ he said suddenly. ‘I mean, expecting to see you. I daresay there’s a string of fellows wanting to go out with you.’

A string of fellows?

Her thoughts went to Fraser and their trip to the cinema the previous evening. It had been very pleasant, she had to admit, with both of them enjoying
Wings
, a war film, and afterwards Fraser talking at length about his new plans to expand. True, he had meant to see how his present outlets performed first, but now he’d decided to take out a bank loan and set up another florist’s on the south side. He’d already seen the very place – a retiring florist was selling up very reasonably, which meant that Fraser’s offer should be accepted and he might have the new shop ready to open by the spring.

‘Might please you, too, by putting in Brigid as manageress,’ he’d finished. ‘Had thought of asking Mrs Henderson but you’re right, it’s time Brigid had her chance.’

‘Why, that’s a grand idea!’ Shona had cried warmly. ‘Brigid will do well, I’m sure of it. And if Willa hasn’t had any luck with a baby, maybe she’d like to come back to George Street?’

‘Good thinking. We’ll see how it works out, then.’

The evening had ended with friendly kisses in the car and Shona’s going into Mrs Gow’s. Fraser hadn’t wanted her to meet him on Sunday as he had been asked over to see friends in Peebles, which was a relief to Shona, who had it in mind to take Brett round the Dean Village. If only her meetings with Fraser could always be so serene!

‘I don’t know about a string of fellows,’ she answered now, and hoped not to say more.

‘But there’s one, is there?’ Brett asked, not to be put off. ‘Someone special?’

‘I think perhaps I’d rather no’ say.’

‘Of course, I understand. I should apologize – I have a nerve, asking about your private life.’ He moved a little away on the tram’s wooden slatted seat. ‘What must you think of me? We’ve only just met and I’m prying like some old busybody!’

‘It’s all right, Brett, honestly, I didn’t mind.’ She laughed. ‘I mean, I could ask you something the same, eh? Is there someone special for you back home?’

‘Well, I can tell you that there isn’t. My brother’s married, but I’ve no girlfriend at present.’

‘I find that hard to believe. You must know you’re very handsome.’

His smile was wide. ‘If you think so, I’ll be very chuffed.’

They reached their stop and on their way on foot to Baxter Row, Brett had his first view of the Dean Bridge from below. ‘My word, that’s some structure!’ he cried, staring up in wonder. ‘And you live underneath? Doesn’t it kind of – dominate you?’

‘Oh, yes, it dominates the whole place, but you get used to it. See, it’s always been there. I mean, for pretty much a hundred years.’

‘It’s certainly lasted well, from what I can see.’

‘Carries more traffic now than when it was built, with all the cars and lorries. But there aren’t so many suicides, thank goodness.’

Brett’s eyes widened. ‘Suicides?’

‘Yes, seemingly when the bridge was first built, folk were always jumping off it. The engineers raised the parapet and that made it more difficult.’ Shona shivered a little. ‘Awful to think of it, though. Wanting to end your life like that.’

Brett quietly tucked her hand into his arm. ‘Best not to think about it, I’d say. Now, show me where you used to live.’

Pointing out her old home, Shona’s voice still shook a little, even though there had been tenants there for years. Brett’s face in the lamp light was sympathetic. In fact, he took her hand and held it for a moment until they moved on to halt outside Mrs Gow’s.

‘Would my mother have known this street?’ he asked softly, but Shona shook her head.

‘No, our grandparents lived in a tenement in the Old Town. It’s been pulled down because I tried to find it once. It was my dad who came from the Dean Village, so when Ma married him, she came here too.’

‘And you’re in lodgings with this Mrs Gow? What’s she like, then?’

‘Sweet. Very motherly. A bit nosy, though she swears she’s not, but we get on very well.’ Shona smiled. ‘Hope you won’t mind, but she’s very interested in you. Soon as I told her you were here, she asked me to bring you round for a cup of tea.’

‘Why, that’s so nice! When can I come?’

‘How about tomorrow? I can show you round the village and then we’ll have tea. Mrs Gow’s planning to make her soda scones already, and her coconut cake!’

‘People are so kind here,’ Brett said seriously. ‘You know, Mom said to me that sometimes Scots people are slow to get to know you, but I’ve found the opposite.’

‘I’m glad.’

Standing outside Mrs Gow’s door, their eyes met as the time came to say goodnight. There would be no attempt at kissing, of course, for they were just cousins who’d met for a meal, not two people who were attracted to each other. Wasn’t that true?

Of course, but Brett’s dark eyes seemed loath to leave Shona’s face, and Shona’s heart was beating fast.

‘See you tomorrow, then,’ she whispered. ‘Hope it doesn’t snow.’

‘Snow or no snow, I’ll be here.’ He took her hand again and pressed it before letting it go. ‘What time?’

‘Oh, middle of the afternoon, when you’re ready. It was a lovely evening, Brett. Thank you.’

‘For what? I didn’t even pay. You’ll have to let me live that down next time.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ she told him, laughing. ‘Goodnight, Brett.’

‘Goodnight, Shona. It’s been wonderful, meeting you.’

‘Next, I want you to meet my boss. I’m sure he can fit you in somewhere. I’m going to speak to him on Monday.’

‘I’d be so grateful.’

He was walking away, still looking back, until she finally went into the house, preparing herself for her landlady’s excitement at the news of Brett’s visit next day.

‘I’ve made the cake already,’ Mrs Gow told her. ‘And that means I’ve just the soda scones to do tomorrow. Your cousin will like ’em, eh? Real Scottish scones. That’s what foreigners like.’

‘He isn’t a foreigner, Mrs Gow. He’s from Canada – it’s a British Dominion.’

‘Aye, well I just hope I understand him!’

Shona lay awake for half the night, for no good reason that she could see. Or so she told herself. Next morning, however, she was relieved to see that her looks had not suffered, that she seemed, in fact, to appear quite radiant and had to be careful that Mrs Gow didn’t notice. After all, Brett Webster was only a cousin, even if he was very handsome. And he would certainly not be staying for ever, even if he did find a job.

But I will speak again to Fraser tomorrow, Shona promised herself. He’d seemed so much more reasonable when she’d last seen him, and he knew, too, that Brett was only her cousin.

There was no snow the following day. It was cold, yes, and frosty, not the weather for sightseeing but, as Brett said afterwards, he’d never enjoyed a walk more. As he’d been fascinated by the city, so he was charmed by one of its villages, which he described as being so different from Toronto, it was like being in another world. And another time.

The narrow streets, the gaunt mills, the old houses all of distinctive character, some bearing panels set in by the Baxters, with dates going back to the seventeenth century and beyond – these all made Brett feel he was moving through a period from long ago. Yet there were more recent buildings, such as the Dean Church and Shona’s school; also Well Court, designed for the workers, where there were flats and a club room, rather than the individual little houses of Baxter Row.

Perhaps most attractive of all was the Water of Leith, flowing between houses, or green banks and trees where, as Shona told Brett, she had loved to walk as a child. ‘You could walk all the way to Stockbridge, following the water,’ she told him, ‘and that’s another place that was a village but is part of Edinburgh now. So many places are like that, but the Dean’s kept its character, that’s the difference.’

‘You can say that again,’ said Brett as they leaned over the old single-arch bridge in the village. ‘I’ve never seen anywhere that’s so distinctive. I want to thank you for showing it to me, Shona.’

‘I love showing it, Brett. I love just being here. And there’s lots more to see, but we haven’t time today.’ Shona paused. ‘Maybe, another day, I could show you my mother’s grave? It’s in the Dean Cemetery and that’s quite famous.’

‘Sure, I’d like to see it. Pay my respects.’

‘I’ve got a stone for it now and go there when I can.’ She brightened again. ‘But now we’d better get back for Mrs Gow’s soda scones.’

‘First, there’s something I have to give you.’ Brett was taking from his pocket a small package. ‘It’s from my mother.’

‘For me?’ Shona asked, amazed. ‘Aunt Mona’s sent something for me?’

‘Yes. I was going to give it to you in the café but it was too full of people. It’s better here with just the two of us.’

‘But what is it? Brett, tell me!’

‘Why don’t you unwrap it?’ he asked with a smile, putting the tissue-wrapped package into her hands.

‘What can it be?’ she was still murmuring, as she tore away the paper to reveal a small well-worn box, and was reminded of her excitement when Fraser, too, had given her a package with a little box like this. But this was a different kind of gift.

Glancing up at Brett’s watching dark eyes, she slowly opened the box. And stared. ‘It’s a watch,’ she whispered. ‘A ladies’ silver watch. It’s beautiful.’

‘It’s special,’ he told her. ‘It’s not just any watch. It was our grandmother’s. Granddad had saved for years to give it to her and she wore it on her dress for best, but when Mom left to be married, Grandma gave it to her. Now Mom’s sent it to you.’

‘Oh, Brett!’ Tears were welling into Shona’s eyes as she held the watch. ‘Oh, I can’t believe it. Grandma’s watch! And your mother’s sent it to me? Why? Why would she want me to have it?’