Monday Girl (25 page)

Kitty Miller caused some excitement at the beginning of January, when she came back off leave and announced that she was engaged. Renee and the other girls showered her with congratulations and questions about the lucky man.

‘He’s a boy I went to school with.’ Kitty was uncharacteristically shy. ‘But he joined up and I kind of lost touch with him till I ran into him again on my last leave.’

The ring was duly admired again, and the questions went on. What did he look like? How tall was he? What did he do in peacetime? When did they intend getting married? Anne sat silently until the clamour subsided, then she said quietly,

‘I’m very happy for you, Kitty. You’re the last one I thought would settle down.’

Kitty laughed uproariously. ‘Who said I’d settled down? When the tom-cat’s away . . .’ She caught Anne’s disapproving frown and sobered. ‘No, you’re right, Mrs G. My wild days are over.’

Flora Sims tossed her auburn tresses aside. ‘Well, mine aren’t, that’s for sure.’

‘Nor mine,’ added Renee.

‘Me, neither.’ Hilda looked at Nora, who looked away.

‘I’m not as wild as you lot, anyway,’ she said softly. ‘I did have a steady boyfriend once, but he was killed at Dunkirk.’ They all remembered her remark about the ‘lucky ones’, and their hearts went out to her.

Kitty voiced their feelings. ‘I’m sorry, Nora, really very sorry, but why didn’t you tell us before?’

‘I don’t like speaking about it, though it’s a bit easier now. I was frozen when my mother wrote and told me.’

‘You’ll meet someone else,’ Anne said gently. ‘Don’t let that tragedy ruin your life.’

Nora smiled sadly. ‘I try not to.’

Nora’s sorrow affected Renee’s thoughts that night. She had believed that she’d been treated harshly by fate, but the death of a man she loved was something she hoped never to experience. Not that there was any fear of that at the moment, because she had no steady boyfriend, but . . . how would she feel if Jack were killed? Even if he’d scrupulously avoided ever telling her that he loved her, she would be absolutely devastated. Then she realised that she would feel almost as bad if anything happened to Tim, or to Mike, and she’d never imagined herself to be in love with either of them. War, although she had been relishing it lately, was unpredictable. Tragedy could strike at any moment, so it was just as well to enjoy herself while she could.

Tim came to see them the following Saturday forenoon on his own, because Moira was working. She had been employed in the haberdashery department of the same large store since she left school, and was now second in charge.

‘You should see young Michael now,’ Tim told them.

‘He’s growing so fast, you wouldn’t believe it.’

‘As long as he’s healthy, that’s the main thing,’ Anne smiled. ‘Doesn’t seeing him give you any ideas?’

‘Now, now, Mrs Gordon.’ He shook his head ruefully.

‘You should know me better than that, by this time. A child would tie Moira down, and that’s one of the reasons I don’t want to ask her to get married.’ Anne pouted and glanced at Renee, who raised her eyebrows in resignation. Tim would not be bulldozed into marriage.

‘How’s your mother and father keeping these days?’ he asked his ex-landlady.

‘Granny’s not able to get about much,’ she told him sadly. ‘And Granda’s failing now, too, with having to do nearly everything in the house, as well as the shopping, but they’re full of spunk.’

‘They’re good folk. I’m sorry to hear they’re not in the best of health.’

‘They’re getting on in years, of course,’ Anne reminded him. ‘We’re going over there this afternoon, so I’ll tell them you asked about them. Granny always asks if we’ve heard from you. What’s been happening since we saw you last?’ Tim told them about his life in the Shetlands, where the soldiers were billeted in the huts previously used by the girls who followed the herring fleet to gut and pack the fish. At half past twelve, he stood up. ‘I’ll have to go. I promised to meet Moira in her dinner hour. I’ll see you the next time I’m home, though. You’ve been very quiet for a while, Renee. Having trouble with one of your boyfriends?’

She forced a short laugh. ‘No, there’s nothing. I just feel a bit down in the dumps today.’ She couldn’t explain to him that she’d been feeling sorry for Moira because Tim wouldn’t ask her to marry him, and sorry for herself because she’d nobody to love her. When they went to visit Maggie in the afternoon, she was still full of spunk, as her daughter had told Tim, and it cheered Renee up quite a bit.

Her grandmother seemed to be pleased that Tim had been visiting, and was delighted that he had asked after her health. Then she looked at the girl and said, ‘Is there a boyfriend, the noo, Renee? You havena said onythin’ aboot it.’

‘There’s dozens, Granny,’ she giggled. ‘But nobody you’d give tuppence for.’

The old lady looked relieved that Renee could joke about it, and asked about Jack, and then about the land girls, so the conversation was kept going for quite a while, until Peter came back from his weekly shopping expedition, earlier than usual.

It had been several weeks since Anne and Renee had seen him, and he looked more frail and tired than he had been then. His faded eyes lit up when he saw them, and he made them laugh about his price-comparing.

‘I can get butter thruppence cheaper in Lipton’s than the Home and Colonial, but their tea’s dearer, so I get some things at one place an’ some things at the other. Whichever’s cheapest.’

Renee laughed. ‘Good for you, Granda. You know more about prices than I do.’

It was Anne who was quiet on the way home, and at last Renee said, ‘What’s wrong, Mum? If you’re worrying about Granny and Granda, don’t. They’re quite happy, you know.’

Anne’s anxious expression didn’t alter. ‘Yes, just now, but what’s going to happen when your Granda’s not able to go out, either? He wasn’t looking well today, and there’ll come a time when the shopping’s going to be too much for him. I wish I could take them into our house, but there’s no room.’

‘I don’t suppose they’d want to come, anyway,’ Renee said, sensibly. ‘They’re too independent, but I could offer to do the shopping for him.’

That made Anne laugh. ‘He’d always be telling you he could have got things cheaper than you.’

Life in Cattofield continued on a fairly even keel, the weeks and months passing with monotonous regularity. The two ex-boarders came to see them, on their different times at home, and Renee began to regard them both in the same light – Jack being just another close friend, like Tim.

Her only wish now was that the war would soon be over, even if that happy event might complicate her routine existence. The land girls would leave, Tim would probably marry Moira, and Jack would . . . But would Jack want to return to Aberdeen and a dull job? And if he did, would he be her old friend again, or a stranger?

 
Chapter Seventeen

On the last Sunday in May 1941, the Gordons were relaxing with the newspapers after their lunch, when someone came to the door.

‘Who on earth can that be?’ Anne hoisted herself lazily from her armchair. ‘It’s not that long since Jack was here, and Tim was just a wee while after that.’

Renee straightened up from her lolling position on the settee and smoothed down her old jumper and skirt, in case it was a male caller. She could hear her mother’s excited voice as she brought the visitor through the hall, but she looked up without a sign of recognition at the bronzed face of the air force sergeant who came in. Even the Canada flash on his arm meant nothing to her.

The man took off his cap, and the fiery red hair stirred the girl’s memory. ‘Bill Scroggie!’ She jumped to her feet and shook his outstretched hand wildly until a shyness came over her. She should remember that she would be eighteen years old in just over three months, and that her dear old friend was almost a stranger to her now.

‘He hasn’t been in this country long,’ Anne informed her.

‘He’s stationed in Lincolnshire, but he had some leave, so he came to see us.’

Bill smiled. ‘Lena gave me strict instructions to visit you, but I’d have come even if she hadn’t.’

‘We often wondered what had happened to you,’ Renee said.

‘Yes, we wondered how you were getting on, and if you’d had any family.’ Anne’s eyebrows went down in pretended displeasure. ‘You never wrote to us, you naughty thing.’

His face sobered. ‘We did mean to write after we got settled down, but the man I was working for, an old bachelor, died about three months after we got there, so my job was finished.’

‘Oh, Bill, what a shame.’ She looked sympathetic. ‘And I believe jobs weren’t so easy to come by in Canada in 1937.’

‘No, you’re right there, Mrs Gordon, and we were put out of our house, for his nieces and nephews sold the whole place up. We couldn’t find work where we were, so we kept on the move, and got lifts sometimes. We maybe got a job for a day at a little farm, and a decent meal, before we moved on again.

‘I couldn’t let anybody back home know how we were living. We were like tramps for over two years, and slept out in the open most nights, except in the winter. Some farmer’s wife usually took pity on us if it was bad weather, and let us sleep in an outhouse or something. If we’d had the money, we’d have come home, but . . .’ His face clouded at the memory of what they’d suffered.

‘Lena was the one thing that kept me going. She wouldn’t let me feel sorry for myself, and she never blamed me for taking her away from Aberdeen.’

Anne was quite distressed at what he was telling her. ‘Oh, Bill, what a terrible time you must have had.’

‘Our luck changed, though,’ he said quickly. ‘I happened to land at the right place at the right time, when they were needing a storeman at this big warehouse just outside Toronto. The boss belonged to Aberdeen himself, so I had the job as soon as I opened my mouth. Then, when he discovered that I was really a gardener, he introduced me to one of his friends who was looking for a man to take charge of a new branch of his horticultural firm in Toronto, and I was back on my feet again. We’ve managed to buy our own little house now – well, we’re still paying it up – and we’re quite comfortable.’

‘I’m glad to hear that.’ Anne was smiling again, pleased that everything had turned out so well for him in the end.

‘Have you any family, though? You never said.’

‘No, Mrs Gordon, we haven’t any yet.’ He smiled. ‘At first, we . . . well, we couldn’t afford any, and we hadn’t a roof over our heads. Then, when I got this job, we were saving as much as we could to buy a house. When the war started, I wanted to come over right away and do my bit for the old country, but I hadn’t long started working, and I wanted to see Lena settled, so I didn’t manage to volunteer till the middle of 1940. She wasn’t all that keen on the idea, but she came round to it.’

Anne’s heart went out to the girl whose life had been so disrupted at a time when she had thought it ordered at last.

‘I’m not surprised she was against it, Bill. She’ll be lonely in a strange country on her own.’

‘She’s made quite a few friends now, and our neighbours are very good. Anyway, she’s taken a job to keep her occupied till I get back.’ His eyes twinkled suddenly, and he laughed. ‘After that, we intend to have a big family, and that’ll keep us both busy – night and day.’ He winked.

‘You haven’t changed, Bill.’ Anne smiled broadly.

‘Neither have you, Mrs Gordon.’

‘Oh, come off it. Waist spreading, hair turning grey? I’m beginning to feel ancient.’

Renee had been feeling too shy to enter into the conversation, but found her tongue at last. ‘Oh, Mum, you’re only forty-one. That’s not ancient old, just ordinary old.’

‘Thank you for those kind words.’ Anne roared with laughter. ‘I’ll have to shift my ordinary old bones now, anyway. I’ve to get the tea ready for my four land girls.’

‘Oh.’ Bill looked crestfallen. ‘I was going to ask you about staying, Mrs Gordon. You see, I went to Lena’s mother this morning when I came off the train, but she’s still mad at me for taking her daughter away from her, so I thought you could maybe put me up for a few days, but if you’ve got four . . .’

‘Bill Scroggie! You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like,’ Anne said, indignantly. ‘You can sleep on the bed settee, if you don’t object?’

‘No, no, it’s OK. I’ll find somewhere in the town. I don’t want to put you out.’

‘You’re not putting me out. It’s all right with me, if it’s all right with you. We’ll be delighted to have you.’

‘Thanks, Mrs Gordon. It’s very kind of you, for I’ve nobody left in Huntly, now. My father died just weeks after we went to Canada, and my mother died five months after that. I didn’t write to her after my chauffeur job was finished, but I sent a letter once I was settled in Toronto, to let her know we were all right, and one of her neighbours, the postie’s wife, got my address off the envelope, so she wrote to tell me about my mother’s death. It was an awful shock, especially when we’d just got ourselves sorted out.’

‘Poor Bill.’ Anne laid her hand on his shoulder. ‘You’ve had more than your share of troubles, haven’t you?’

He shrugged philosophically. ‘Oh, well. I’ll take you up on your offer of a bed, Mrs Gordon.’

‘That’s settled, then. Renee, you keep Bill amused while I get on with the tea.’

He looked at the girl properly then. ‘My goodness, there’s a big change in you. I wouldn’t have recognised you if I’d met you in the street. You’re quite a sophisticated young lady now, not a little schoolgirl any more.’

Her shyness returned, although their ex-boarder was not so unfamiliar as he’d seemed at first. ‘I didn’t know who you were, either, till you took off your cap.’

There was a slight, awkward pause, then Bill started the conversation rolling. ‘How’s your Uncle George?’

She told him the story of George Gordon’s abrupt departure, and about the debts he had left behind, and Bill was completely shocked. ‘Your mother’s had a hard struggle as well, then? I’m sorry to hear that, for it was bad enough for her before. Have you heard anything from him since he went away?’

‘Not one word.’

‘And what about young Jack? What’s he doing now?’