In a Class of Their Own (27 page)

“Hannah,” she pleaded, “don’t do this. Don’t you realise that you’ll spend all of your life being pregnant. Catholics don’t practise … er … restraint.”

Hannah let out an excited giggle. “Mam, didn’t you hear me? I love him so I wouldn’t want him to … you know … what you said.”

By now Rachel could take no more. She leapt up and before realising what she was doing she struck Hannah hard across the face.

Taken completely by surprise, Hannah could only run a hand over her stinging cheek before she backed towards the front door. Still facing Rachel, she whispered, “Oh, Mam, it was you who taught me to think for myself. Now I’m doing it, why are you objecting?”

“Objecting? Of course I’m bloody objecting to you throwing yourself away. And if you think I’ll come and watch you do it, then think again!” said Rachel venomously before turning her back on Hannah.

“Somehow I knew that this would be how you’d take it.” Hannah sighed wearily before adding quietly, “Thank goodness I bumped into Dad today and he’s offered to give me away.”

“Give you away!” Rachel croaked as tears sprang to her eyes. “That sod gave you away years ago, Hannah.”

Hannah was silent.

“Oh, I see,” hissed Rachel. “You seem to have forgotten that. Just as you’ve also forgotten it was me, and only me, that stood between you and a bloody orphanage.”

Hannah shrugged, but still said nothing.

“Shrug all you like, my girl,” Rachel persisted, “but it won’t change the fact that is was
me —
who put the clothes on your back.
Me -
who put the food in your belly.
Me —
who begged, borrowed and stole to educate you so you could think for yourself.”

Advancing towards the outside door, Rachel flung it wide open and with a dismissive nod ordered Hannah out. Before Hannah could make her escape, however, she had to stand back to let Carrie enter.

“Oh, Hannah, are you not going to wait and see me get all dressed up for the ball?” urged Carrie excitedly.

“No, she’s in too much of a hurry to collect her thirty pieces of silver,” retorted Rachel, banging the door shut on Hannah.

Carrie had wrapped her hair in a scarf so that she wouldn’t disturb it when she took her bath. The hairdresser down at Restalrig Brae had set it. She had complimented Carrie on her natural kink – and now that it was professionally set, the golden highlights that streaked her soft brown hair shone like dazzling crystals. When the girl told Carrie that she had a natural kink she’d been taken aback because Sam was always telling her that. So when she realised that the hairdresser was talking about her hair and not her nature she’d laughed out aloud. Funny, thought Carrie, as the warm suds relaxed her, how she’d always cursed having curly hair. Now that it lay in long deep waves, complementing her oval face, she was glad of those curls.

She would have loved to linger in the comforting bath with her reminiscences but, conscious that her darling Will would soon be coming for her, she got out, dried herself and went into the bedroom, only to discover Alice sitting on the bed.

“Nice frock, Carrie,” chirped Alice, running her fingers over the lilac net before picking up one of Carrie’s silver shoes admiringly.

Carrie stopped pulling on her stockings and looked quizzically at her sister. “I get the feeling that there’s something bugging you.”

Alice shook her head vigorously. “It’s nothing really. It’s just … Oh, Carrie, I’ve been picked to play the lead in the school play.”

“You have?”

Alice nodded and a broad smile lit up her face. “Yes, I’m to play chief handmaiden to the Greek god, Dionysus. You know – him that inspires poetry and music.”

“He does?” was all Carrie could say.

“Well, that’s what Miss Leishman says he does,” Alice pouted.

“Oh then, that part will be just great for you,” Carrie enthused with genuine feeling as she went over and hugged Alice. “And you’ll do it so well because you have all the experience of our back-green concerts behind you.”

Alice looked askance at that. Back-green concerts were hardly what she’d call good experience for a Greek drama. As far as she was concerned, Carrie had only organised these so she could charge the other children in the street twopence to get in – and anyway the profit always went on ice-cream pokes smothered in raspberry sauce when Tony Boni arrived on his ice-cream tricycle.

“Have you told Mam?” Carrie asked, unaware that Alice was thinking of ice-cream days – days when they were all just bairns and when a penny to buy an ice-cream cone was all they longed for.

“Tried to,” answered Alice dreamily, “but she said she didn’t want to hear another word from any of us tonight.”

Carrie grimaced. “Well, she’ll have got over Hannah by the morn and you can tell her then.”

Alice nodded, but Carrie could see she was disappointed that Rachel hadn’t shown any interest in her news, so she rubbed Alice’s nose comfortingly before saying, “Never mind. Now, come and help me on with my dress.”

When at last Carrie made her triumphant entry into the living room she was startled to find that Will, splendidly attired in his Highland outfit, was already waiting for her. To pass the time he had sat on the settee chatting to Sam but as soon as he saw Carrie he jumped to his feet and a long wolf-whistle escaped his lips.

This alerted Rachel, who was in the scullery, and she quickly ran into the living room, where she was confronted with a vision of Carrie as she’d never seen her before. She tried to speak, but the tears she’d been shedding ever since Hannah left started to surface again.

“Well?” asked Carrie, giving a twirl that made the tulle skirts of her dress billow out invitingly.

“Fine,” Rachel nodded. “Aye, fine feathers make fine birds,” she muttered thickly -acknowledging that Carrie had indeed been transformed into a swan.

“They certainly do!” Will said, taking Carrie’s coat and placing it on her shoulders.

Once Carrie and Will had left, Sam asked, “Ony tea left, Mam?”

“Aye, I’ll just heat it up.”

“Richt, and while ye’re daeing that I’ve somethin’ to tell ye. Here, Alice – awa ye gang to the chippie and get me a bottle o Vimto.” And he flipped Alice a half-crown so that she could go for his favourite brew – and be out of the way.

Rachel said nothing as Alice went out, but she did remember Sam wanting to tell her something earth-shattering yesterday. Well, she thought, I could do with some good news after the bombshell Hannah has just delivered.

“Pit my notice in, I hae,” said Sam casually.

The fish-slice that Rachel was using to turn the fried potatoes slipped from her hand. “You’ve what?” she gasped, turning to face her son squarely.

“Pit my notice in.”

“But why? You’ve got three years in and in another two you’ll be a fully qualified marine engineer.”

“Aye, but the polis …”

Rachel’s hand flew to her mouth. She had always wondered why the stupid police hadn’t caught up with Sam before – but why now of all times? Och, she argued to herself, why couldn’t his luck have held out till he’d finished his time – before he had to do time of a different kind?

“Mam, are ye aw richt?” asked Sam, coming over to turn off the gas under the frying pan that by now was sending billows of blue smoke about the scullery.

“All right, you ask?” she demanded. “You’re about to do time and you think I should be all right?”

Sam began to chuckle. “Dinnae be daft. I’m no gonnae dae time.”

“Just probation?” Rachel squealed as relief flooded over her.

“Weel, I’ll hae to dae twa years’ probation richt enough, but I’ll no be startin’ that till I come back.”

Rachel shook her head and gesticulated wildly. “Sam, you talk in bloody riddles, you do. Now can we please go back to the beginning?”

Sam nodded “Richt-oh, Mam.”

“You’ve put your notice in because the police have caught up with you? Is that right?”

“They’ve no exactly caught up with me. I kent ever since last week that they were efter me.”

“Then why the hell did you no stop doing what they were after you for?”

“Because I like playing fitba’, Ma.”

Rachel shook her fist in exasperation and when Paul and Alice, who had just returned, came into the scullery, they thought Rachel was about to explode. And she did, grabbing Sam by the front of his jumper. “Are you saying you were lifted by the polis for playing bloody football?”

Sam struggled free of his mother. “No lifted, Mam. I’ve been offered a job wi’ them and I …”

“What!” Rachel, Sam and Alice all yelled in unison.

“Aye.”

“But – you’re a bandit, Sam! You’re the robber no the cop,” giggled Alice, setting Sam’s bottle of Vimto on the table.

Sam was not amused. “Okay, so it was the reference frae the sergeant that runs the force’s fitba’ team that got me the interview. But an Inspector also had a wee word wi’ me efter I came tap in the entrance exam. Oh aye,” Sam cocked his head jauntily. “He telt me that they’d been lookin’ for somebody like me for a lang time.”

“That right?” said Rachel, still perplexed. “But don’t you realise, Sam, that you’ll have to do your National Service now you’ve given up your apprenticeship?”

Sam explained patiently, “That’s anither thing I’ve to tell ye. I’m joining the Royal Scots next week.”

Rachel’s face became drained of all colour as she remembered the day on the bridge when Sam had got the job at Robb’s and Bella had warned that Sam should never annoy the Chinese. “No, Sam,” she groaned, hitting her chin with her clenched fist, “the Royal Scots are being sent out to Korea and there’s a war going on out there. Shooting and firing at each other, they are.”

“That’s right,” Paul joined in, growing fearful for Sam as well. “And they’re daein’ it wi’ real guns and bullets that can kill ye stone deid.”

It was after one o’clock in the morning when Rachel heard the taxi draw up. She’d been sitting by the fire with the light out since Sam, Paul and Alice had gone to bed. In her mind she had gone over and over the events of the day. How could life yet again be so cruel to her? Hannah’s betrayal – as she saw it – had been the hardest to bear. Sam’s departure from sanity had been easier for her to cope with because she could see that he would probably make a great career in the police. After all, he’d always be one jump ahead of the thieves he was chasing. She smiled to herself, picturing Sam in the CID chasing Chalky, who was finding it hard to fathom if Sam was running away
with
him or
after
him. Suddenly she realised that Carrie had still not come in. She tiptoed over to the door and listened before softly opening it. Carrie and Will, who were leaning against it, nearly fell on top of her.

“What’s going on here?” Rachel demanded, becoming aware that Carrie’s coat was open and that Will’s hands were inside.

Carrie’s face fired. “It’s just that Will’s hands are cold, Mam.”

“That right?” Rachel snorted, hauling Carrie towards her. “Then you just tell him to buy a pair of gloves.”

“Mam,” said Carrie plaintively, “Will and I have an understanding.”

“That’s right,” echoed Will. “We have an understanding.”

“You have an understanding, do you?” Rachel cried in maternal rage. “Well, let me tell you that
my
understanding is that
your
understanding thinks that you can molest
my
daughter. So I want
you
to understand that, even if you do have an understanding, you are
never ever
to put your hands inside my daughter’s coat again until you have more than an understanding. And now do you understand my understanding?”

“Oh, Mam,” wailed Carrie. “All Will and I are trying to say is that he’s going away to sea and when he comes back we’re going to get engaged and then get married.”

Rachel exhaled loudly as she hauled Carrie further into the house before banging the door firmly on Will.

“Why did you do that, Mam?” bleated Carrie as she tried to push or pull Rachel away from the door. When she finally realised her mother was immovable, she retaliated, “Are you frightened I’d end up like you?”

“What do you mean?” shouted Rachel as a deep fear rose within her.

“Well, I managed to work it out. You got married in October and Hannah arrived the following April. So you see, you were expecting her long before Dad and you got married!”

Rachel swallowed hard but stayed mute, biting on her lip.

“And I think that’s the reason you’ve always loved Hannah more than me.”

Rachel still said nothing, but her thoughts raced. How, she wondered, could she possibly explain to Carrie that she loved her every bit as much as Hannah? That she had only been trying to make it up to Hannah for the fact that she had tarnished her – that she had somehow conceived her in sin.

“And it wasn’t like how you think, Mam,” Carrie sobbed, breaking into Rachel’s thoughts. “He only had his hands inside my coat.”

“Inside your coat the night, Carrie,” Rachel, who still had her back to the door, whispered more to herself, “but by tomorrow you’d find his hands …” She didn’t finish what she was about to say for she didn’t need to. Carrie had stomped off into the bedroom to take off the ball gown. As it tumbled to her feet, she felt the warm magic of the night drift away to meet the cold reality of dawn.

By the following Friday night the row between Rachel and Carrie had been long forgotten and Carrie was sitting at the table in the scullery reading her beloved
Red Letter.
She had been there ever since Rachel, Paul and Alice had gone to bed two hours ago and had just about reached the climax of the story when the front door opened and in came Sam. He and the boys he worked with had been out for his farewell do.

“Whit are
ye
daein’ up?” Sam asked Carrie as he struck a match and lit the gas under the kettle.

“Thought you might be stottin’ fu’ and you’d need me to put you to bed,” she giggled, relieved, in truth, to find him quite sober.

“Me drunk? Nah! Whenever I’m tempted, the sicht o Gabby staggering aboot wi’ his big blue neb …” Sam made a circle with his finger and thumb and ringed them around his nose, then wobbled his middle finger, “… has put me aff drinking for the rest of my life, so it has.”