Crystal's Song (23 page)

“Oor Crystal coming the day?” Archie asked, taking his seat on the couch.

Tom nodded. Like Archie, he thought there was something so very special about Crystal. Of all his children, it was Crystal who’d had the most eventful life over the past three years. He recalled her ever-increasing desire to have a baby. The more time passed without her falling pregnant, the greater her longing became. It wasn’t until Tess went into hospital to have her second daughter and Crystal had been left to look after Davina for a fortnight that she seemed to relax. That seemed to have done the trick. Soon she was delighted to be having morning sickness. And from the day the doctor had confirmed the pregnancy, she’d worn a smock to let everybody know that she was expecting. Eventually, she gave birth to Tom’s first grandson, David. Tom would never forget the sheer joy on her face when she showed him the baby – her own son, David. Her life then grew quite intense as she not only nursed her baby but also Granny Mary Glass, Tom’s mother, when she was suddenly taken ill with pneumonia. Mary’s death had left Crystal feeling so guilty, being unable to accept that the old lady was weary and had actually welcomed death as a friend. Then there had been the weekly trip to Bangour Psychiatric Hospital to visit Bing’s mum. David was only five months old when Crystal realised she was three months pregnant again, and six months later Tom’s second grandson, Alan, arrived.

When the football talent scout, Jack Brown, arrived and announced that he was the representative for First Division Fulham, despondency overtook Tom, who now had to accept it was just a matter of time until Joe left home. To add to Tom’s disquiet, Jack Brown added that the Fulham manager was willing to give Joe a trial, with all expenses paid! On the other hand, Joe himself couldn’t believe it. The offer was so much more than he had ever dared dream.

Before the scout left it was agreed that Joe, accompanied by Tom, would go to London for the trial.

On their arrival at Kings Cross, Tom and Joe were suitably impressed by being met at the station and being driven in style to the Fulham ground before being put up in a very comfortable hotel nearby.

The trial took place the following morning. Tom had mixed feelings – Joe seemed so very nervous and probably wouldn’t play at his best. Yet his father, who was dreading the possibility that Joe might be leaving home, somehow wanted him to play well and see his dream come true.

Joe played marvellously and Tom couldn’t hide his pride. But as the management wanted Joe to sign up there and then and begin his training down in London, Tom felt obliged, as Joe’s guardian, to withhold his permission.

Taking Joe to one side Tom spoke solemnly to him, saying, “Son, Fulham is a great opportunity for you. But football is a short career and as you’re bright I feel you should stay on at school in Edinburgh and get a Higher Leaving Certificate under your belt. That will carry you on to another career once you’ve finished chasing a ball around a field.”

Joe shook his head. “But football is all I want to do – all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

“I know. But you’re a minor and I have the right to advise you to think again. Have I ever given you bad advice? Haven’t I always acted in your best interests?” Joe nodded but said nothing. Tom went over and placed his hand on Joe’s shoulder, “Look, son, in spite of what I’ve said, if you still persist – I’ll sign.” Joe shook his head and Tom smiled as he said, “Good. Now, son, believe me, three years will soon pass and I’m sure Fulham’s offer will still be on the table when it has.”

Tom was staring out of the window into his back garden, thinking that now he’d spruced up the whole of the house over the last three years it was high time to do some work on his garden. Some landscaping, he felt, would be best. And maybe he could get a bench and bird bath. When all that had been achieved, it would make such a nice place to relax and reminisce. After all, he was now getting on a bit. Before he could scold himself for thinking about taking time to sit in the garden when old age overtook him, he realised that Joe was standing beside him. “Didn’t hear you come in, son,” he said, putting his hand round Joe’s shoulder. Joe smiled. In the past three years he’d sprouted to six-foot-two and now quite dwarfed Tom’s five-foot-ten.

“How do you think it’ll go today, Dad?”

Tom realised Joe was feeling nervous. Well into the wee small hours, they’d discussed what would be best for the lad. At eighteen, he now had his Higher Leaving Certificate and Tom would cheerfully have financed him through university or college. He even suggested that Joe might try for a trade. But Joe’s heart was still set on playing football and Jack Brown, the Fulham scout, was coming back today. In Tom’s eyes the only drawback for Joe (if he did go to Fulham) was that it was away in London! It would mean Joe leaving the family behind – the family where he’d always been accepted. He’d been treated no better and no worse than any of his siblings. How would he cope without their support?

For Joe’s part, he’d grown to love Tom deeply during the past year. He was now sufficiently worldly wise and mature to appreciate how difficult it must have been for Tom to come back from the war and find that his wife, Joe’s mother, had had an affair. And to add to that humiliation the evidence, for the whole world to see, lay in the mixed-race child sitting on the carpet.

Joe remained wholly unaware of the blazing row and physical attack on Dinah that took place when Tom arrived home from the POW camp. He’d been too young to have any clear memory of sitting in the gang-hut with Crystal, who’d vowed she’d never let anyone “kill” him – as if Tom had it in him to kill anyone! He didn’t even know that Sam Campbell, when only a child – but a wily one – had negotiated with Tom the terms Crystal demanded before she would return home with Joe.

There might well have been a smaller crowd to see off the Queen when she departed from Edinburgh, thought Tom, as he and the family assembled on the platform to wave Joe goodbye.

It had been such a quick four weeks since Joe signed his contract with Fulham. Tom had thought, when he waved Elsie off to New Zealand, that she would be the only one of the brood to fly the nest completely. Now here they were seeing Joe off to London. Tom couldn’t explain why he felt even more bereft about Joe’s departure. Could it be (as he suspected) that they wouldn’t see much of him when he became a star? Or was it that when Joe found his feet in London he would feel happier down there and forget all about Restalrig? Or was it that he might some day feel confident enough in the big world to go and seek out his natural father?

The guard had his whistle in his mouth and his flag held aloft. Joe grabbed Patsy first and cuddled her, saying, “Bye, Granny. I’ll see you soon – honest.”

As he let her go, Patsy thought that one of the best things she’d ever done in her life was to stop Dinah, her darling daughter, from having aborted Joe. She brushed a tear from her eye, knowing that this was a secret she’d take to her grave.

Now Joe was saying goodbye to Crystal and her two sons, David and Alan. Holding them close, he realised there were no adequate words he could say to Crystal, who’d played such a crucial role in his upbringing – even financing him in whatever way he required – and not seeing her regularly was going to be so hard to bear.

The whistle was now blowing and Joe turned to Tom who’d opened the door of the carriage and was urging him to get on board. “Quick, son. Jump in.”

“But Dad, I have …”

“No, you don’t! Just do well, son. That’s all I ask. But please ….” The train was now leaving the station and as it gained momentum Tom ran along the platform shouting to Joe, who was leaning out of the window. “Please, son. Don’t forget me.” But Joe never heard a word that Tom said. All he could do was to return Tom’s frantic waves of goodbye.

The flat in Jameson Place was in turmoil. Crystal had been trying on several cocktail-length dresses that she’d borrowed from her sister Tess and her pals Molly and Ena. “What do you think, Bing?” she asked, as she twirled in a frothy, shocking-pink tulle dress – a dress that, she knew, did nothing for her or her crooked leg.

Bing laid down the paper he was reading. He wished now that when he’d been told he’d been selected as Employee of the Year he’d asked them simply to forward his certificate by post rather than have it presented to him at the black-tie ball in the prestigious Assembly Rooms of Edinburgh’s George Street.

The problem was: what should they each wear? For Bing there was only the expense of hiring a dinner suit. But Crystal should really attend in an evening dress. Such a thing she simply didn’t possess and they certainly couldn’t afford to splash out on one. Right now, every penny was a prisoner since they were saving to buy a better house – a home that would have a front and back door as well as a garden. “Well,” her husband eventually responded, “other peoples’ frocks are just not right for you. A long dress would be better.”

Crystal knew he was thinking that a full-length evening gown would hide her legs. Not that he personally would feel embarrassed but he knew just how much it would affect her.

Aware of her despondency, Bing went over and put his arms around her. “Look, to hang with saving all our spare dosh for the house. You go over to the Leith Provi tomorrow and get yourself the dress you need.”

She supposed that must be the right thing to do. It was important to her that Bing’s diligence and hard work had been recognised and that she should be kitted out properly. And what was even more important to her was that the certificate should be handed over to him at a posh affair and not posted to him second class.

As soon as she arrived at the Ladies’ Section of the Great Junction Street store with Tess in tow, she felt elated. She’d never seen such beautiful dresses – and in all sizes and colours.

Tess, being Tess, explained in her most elegant manner to the shop assistant what was required.

Four dresses duly arrived but it was the lilac one that Crystal instantly fell in love with. She didn’t even bother to try on any of the others. “Oh,” she gasped, proudly parading around the room. “Will we just take it, Tess?”

“Hmmm,” said Tess, glancing at the assistant. “Perhaps we could try some others.”

The young girl had just left when Crystal twirled around in the lilac dress again. “Look, Tess, this is exactly the dress I want.”

“I know that,” Tess replied. “But look at the price of it.”

“So?”

Tess now ushered Crystal to one side and began to whisper in her ear, “Look, when I have to go to a dinner or dance, Rupert insists that I get a dress from here out on
appro
. You know, on approval. I wear it to the do – taking care not to get it stained or torn. The next day I air it and then I take it back, saying it wasn’t quite to my husband’s liking.”

Crystal gasped as the notion fully dawned on her. She could really and truly go to the ball dressed like Cinderella without spending some of their precious savings. Yes, she could. Beyond taking the dress out on appro, all she’d have to do was buy lace mittens. And Tess would lend her silver shoes and a matching handbag!

Granny Patsy, who would be caring for the boys, arrived an hour early. She was so excited about Crystal getting all dolled up and going to a ball. Her very first ball!

And when Crystal, resplendent in the lilac gown, eventually came out of the bedroom, Granny Patsy gasped and her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, hen,” she said, “you look just like Princess Margaret. Now, don’t fine feathers make fine birds?”

Bing – who’d said he felt like a penguin in a straitjacket in his evening suit – was at first quite tongue-tied. When finally he did manage to speak, he stammered, “Oh, d-darling, I’ve never ever seen you looking lovelier.”

He went over to embrace her but she put up her hand saying, “No. Now, don’t crush me. Like Cinderella, the dress goes back tomorrow.”

Granny and Bing both started to laugh as the doorbell sounded and Crystal said, “Hope that’s not a horse-drawn carriage.”

“No. It’ll just be your Dad. He drove me down here. That’s why I was so early. He said he’d some papers to deliver to the school first. But he’d come on here later. Said he couldn’t let you go to your first ball without having a good look-see.”

When the taxi drew up at the floodlit entrance to the Assembly Rooms, Bing alighted first and was careful to assist Crystal out. Entering the front entrance hall, Crystal was completely spellbound. Never had she seen such splendour as those magnificent sparkling chandeliers. Immediately they were directed by the liveried ushers towards the cloakrooms. There they’d leave their coats and Crystal would have an opportunity to freshen her make-up.

Dinner was the first item on the programme but once they realised they were to sit at the top of Table Two, so that Bing could readily approach the top table to receive his prize, Crystal began to panic. There were just so many glasses and the cutlery went in all directions, up the way and sideways on the table in front of her. How could she possibly know which fork, knife or spoon she should be using? As her panic gave way to terror, a large jovial woman sat down beside her. “Hello there,” she said chirpily. “I’m Evelyn Lamb and I’m just here for the beer, you know. It’s my husband who’s getting presented.”

“Same here,” Crystal replied, gradually feeling more relaxed.

“Mind you,” continued Evelyn, “it’s nice to get invited to a free dinner.” Evelyn leant forward, grabbed a bottle of red wine and proceeded to fill one of the glasses in front of her, “And the booze is on the house too. Shall I fill up your glass?”

Crystal shook her head but Bing now bent forward with a glass in his hand and replied, “I don’t mind if I do.”

After Crystal declined the offer of wine, Evelyn had replaced the bottle, but when Bing said he’d like to indulge, she seized the bottle again and, leaning over Crystal, began to pour some red wine into Bing’s glass. Unfortunately, her husband arrived at that moment and, giving her ample bottom a sound slap, announced, “Silly cookie, you are. You’re …”

Crystal screamed as Evelyn dropped the wine bottle and half its contents into her lap. Immediately a waiter rushed over with a napkin and tried to sponge up the liquid that by now was trickling down into Crystal’s shoes. “Blast!” he said “Red wine’s notorious. You just can’t get the stain out. Hope your dress is insured.”