Roses of Winter (24 page)

“Ah suppose so,” Ellen said. “It’s either that or the pictures.”

“Ye’ll have a lot more fun at the dance than the pictures,” Pearl told her. But Ellen just shrugged and Pearl let it go at that.
 

At the tea break, their talk turned to a common subject, men, their manifest deficiencies, and which particular ones either had been out with recently. “So whit’s the story on that lad upstairs from you?” Pearl asked.

“Dae ye mean Jimmie Gow?”

“Aye, ah thought he asked ye out?”

Ellen laughed. “Aye, he finally got up the nerve.”

“Well?” Pearl said.

Ellen shrugged. “Ach we went tae the Star on Saturday night.”

Pearl was getting exasperated. “Are ye gaun tae tell me what happened or dae ah have tae drag it out o’ ye?”

“There’s nothing tae tell,” Ellen said. Ah didnae have anything better tae do so ah went out with him.
 
He wis that shy ah could hardly get a word oot o’ him.”
 

“Did he ask ye oot again?” Pearl asked.

Ellen snorted derisively. “Aye, he got up enough courage tae dae that much but ah telt him ah wid only go oot wi’ him again as long as he knows ah’m no’ interested in gaun steady wi him. If somebody else asks me oot ah’ll please masel’.”

“Whit did he say aboot that?” Pearl wanted to know.

“Whit could he say? He doesnae have much choice, does he, if he wants tae see me?”
 

Pearl didn’t approve of Ellen’s callous attitude and said so. “Ye shouldnae play around wi’ the lad’s feelings like that Ellen. It’s no’ right.” “Maybe, but that’s the way it is, and he can like it or lump it,” Ellen replied.”

Pearl shook her head, sorry for Jimmie and annoyed with her friend. She hoped Jimmie realized what he was getting into but knew that he was likely to rush headlong into the fire of Ellen’s careless regard.

When Ellen got home after work her mother was stirring a pot on the stove. “Ida was saying you and Jimmie went oot tae the pictures.” She was in a good mood. She liked Jimmie Gow and was pleased, although, like Pearl, she had reservations on his behalf.

Ellen bristled. “An’ whit wis she saying aboot it?”

Mary’s expression changed. “Jist that you two had gaun oot thegither. And there’s nae need tae be like that either.”

“Ah don’t like people talking about me behind my back.”

“It’s no’ behind yer back, ah just telt ye aboot it, didn’t I. Did ye think ye could go oot with Jimmie Gow and Ida widnae say anything aboot it tae me?”

Ellen’s face turned to a scowl. “Ah telt ye, we’re no’ going thegither. We just went tae the pictures.”
 

Mary came over to her. “Now you listen tae me. Jimmie Gow is a nice boy and Ida’s a good friend o’ mine. You mind how you treat him or ye’ll have me tae answer to.”

But Ellen stood her ground, a look of defiance on her face. “Ah’ve telt him the truth. Ah’ll go oot wi’ him noo and again if ah’ve nothing else tae dae but that’s aw.”

Mary opened her mouth to speak but changed her mind, taking out her annoyance instead on the pot. She splashed some of the mince on the stove and sent the smell of burning food through the kitchen.

Sitting by the fire with Betty that evening, Mary teased her daughter. “Ah notice ye’ve been getting quite a few letters from Harry. How is he getting on?”

Betty blushed. “He’s getting on fine.” She looked down at her knitting, a nearly finished baby jumper.

“Ah hope that’s no’ for you,” Mary teased. Betty’s face turned a deeper shade of red. “Ah’m only kidding, Betty,” Mary said quickly.

“It’s for mah friend Peggy,” Betty told her. “You remember her, surely. We were in school thegither. She got married and they’re living on Kilmun Street. They’re jist startin’ out an’ don’t have much so ah’m knitting a few things for the baby tae help her out.”
 

“That’s nice o’ ye pet. Ah mind her now, a nice quiet girl. Ah didnae know she got married. Is it anybody ah wid know?”

“Ah don’t think so, Ma. He’s in the Navy so she’s by hersel’ quite a bit. Ah go over there tae keep her company when ah get a chance. She’s that worried her man’ll get killed at sea an’ her jist married a year wi’ a new wean."

“Ah know how she feels,” Mary said. There isnae a minute goes by that ah don’t worry aboot yer faither. Ye remember whit ah wis like when he was stranded at Dunkirk. Ah didnae think ah wid ever see him again. An’ noo he’s back on the boats again.” She stopped when she saw the look on Betty’s face. “Ah’m sorry pet, ah know ye’re worried aboot Harry.”

Betty nodded. She wiped her face before resuming her knitting.
 

“Well at least they’re on the same ship so they can look out for each other. That’s something tae be hopeful about, isn’t it?” Charlie, who always seemed to be able to arrange matters to his advantage, had found a berth for Harry on his new ship, a coastal tanker that carried oil around Britain. Although not deepwater sailing like the Atlantic convoys it was still a dangerous enterprise, made even more so by the nature of the cargo.

They lapsed into silence, lost in their own thoughts. It was hard to believe, Mary thought, that Dunkirk was almost a year in the past. Nor was there any sign of an early end to the war. During the summer after Dunkirk there had been the worry that the Germans would invade. Then came the intense air war that came to be called the Battle of Britain. In early September, the German air force had turned their attention to London and frightening stories of the Blitz had filled the newspapers. There was no way to escape the feeling that Glasgow’s turn would come. London’s fate had removed any uncertainty about what to expect when it did.

The Glasgow winters were dark and dreich enough
, Mary thought,
without a war to add to it
. She dreaded the winter months in Glasgow. Even the sun seemed lethargic, rising late before struggling to make it up the sky; then sinking to bed early, like a tired old man. The closer the end of winter came the more her frustration grew. Mary longed for April when the days would lengthen. Even a wartime Spring would be welcome. And here it was only the first week in February.

At the church Pearl and Ellen were surveying the already crowded hall. “They look like a bloody hopeless bunch,” Ellen observed unkindly. A short distance away Jimmie Gow leaned awkwardly against the wall trying to look nonchalant and at ease, and failing miserably. Ellen had made it clear to him that she would dance with other men if she took the fancy. Pearl threw him a quick glance before returning her attention to the hall.
Poor bloody sod
, she thought,
falling for somebody like Ellen. Well he bloody well better get over it, or find somebody else. There was no future for him with her.
 

Ellen, oblivious to Jimmie’s misery or even his presence, was bored. She was ready to talk Pearl into forgetting about the dance and going to the pictures and was already thinking up excuses to leave Jimmie out of it. The idea was shaken out of her mind by the abrupt contact of Pearl’s left elbow with her ribs.

“Don’t look now,” Pearl hissed in a theatrical whisper, “but there’s a sodger heading in oor direction and he’s bloody gorgeous.” Ellen let her eyes glance casually around the room. Carefully looking elsewhere and talking out of the side of her mouth, she said, “Ah see him.
 
Don’t let him see ye looking at him.”

Ellen’s quick assessment had taken in a remarkable amount of information in a very short time. The man approaching her was tall with dark wavy hair and an athletic build. She had to agree with Pearl - he was stunningly handsome. Ellen felt a rush of warmth expand through her chest and other places that brought a red bloom to her throat. She fingered the collar of her dress hoping that her face had not revealed her excitement.

The man stopped in front of her, smiling at her studied nonchalance. She had no choice now but to look him in the eye, having the opportunity at last to study his face. He returned her scrutiny with a quiet confidence that was quite unlike the tentative, nervous behavior she was used to from the local lads. She found it thrilling and unnerving.

“Would you like to dance?”

His voice was pleasant and decidedly not Scottish. English, Ellen knew at once but she was not certain from what part. Maybe southern England, London, she guessed. She realized that she was staring at him. Smiling at her confusion he asked her again. She nodded quickly and was annoyed with herself at the tremulous “Aye, OK then,” that escaped from her lips.

Pearl watched them waltz off before stealing a careful look at Jimmie. Breaking her resolve to mind her own business, she went over to him. “Why did ye no’ ask her tae dance yersel’,” she asked, unable to keep a tone of exasperation from the words.

“Ah wis jist trying tae get up the nerve,” Jimmie admitted, “when Mr. Movie Star came and wheeched her away.”

Surprised by his candor, Pearl discarded what she had been about to say and put her hand on his arm. “Listen Jimmie, there’s nae easy way tae say this, but she’s no’ interested in ye. Ah know her. She’s mah pal but ah’ve got nae illusions aboot whit she’s like. And she’ll no’ give a damn aboot whit ye feel. Ye’re gaun tae get hurt anyway so ye might as well hear this now.”
 

Jimmie looked at his shoes. Pearl was afraid for a moment that he might even start crying. “Whit the hell dae ye see in her anyway? She treats ye like dirt.”

Jimmie looked at her and nodded. “Ah know that,” he said with a sigh. “And ah know ah’m making a bloody fool o’ masel’. But have ye no’ ever jist fallen for someone an’ ye don’t know why?”

Pearl looked at him and for a moment was tempted to confide in him. Instead she said primly, “Ah suppose so.” Privately, she thought,
Aye ah bloody well do understand that
.
 

“Listen, they’re no’ exactly beating a path tae mah door and you’re no’ daein’ anything either, so why don’t
we
dance?” Pearl said. She took his arm and led him towards the dance floor.

“Ach ah don’t know,” Jimmie protested.

“Whit’s wrang, ah’m ah no’ good enough for ye?” she challenged.

He stopped abruptly and looked at her, her brusque comment overwhelming his defenses completely. “Naw, naw,” he said quickly, “it’s no’ that. Actually ah think ye’re quite a looker.”

A thin smile formed on Pearl’s lips. She was pleased but couldn’t help thinking that he was a bit too honest for his own good. “Dae ye now? Well then, ye won’t mind being seen dancing with me, will ye?”
 

On the dance floor Ellen was discovering that her partner’s dancing ability was every bit as good as his looks. Nor did he display the customary awkwardness of the men who on other nights had summoned up the nerve to approach her. He had introduced himself as James Dennis. She could call him Jim, he told her. And he
was
from London, he conceded, when she had asked the question. Ellen found herself unusually shy before his confident and easygoing manner. When the band stopped playing after their first dance, Ellen hesitated, unsure whether to stay or go back to the side. Jim took her arm and eased her so casually and naturally into the next dance that they remained partners for the evening.

Pearl was discovering that Jimmie was quite different from her early impression, once he was out of the oppressive influence of Ellen. He had not been very talkative at first but Pearl had persisted. Soon he was telling her about his family and his job. By the third dance she was surprised to find that she was enjoying his company. It came as a surprise to both of them when the last dance was announced, so little had they noticed the time passing.

“Ah’ve had such a nice time wi’ you. Ah wish we could dae this again,” Jimmie said. He looked thoughtful for a moment before continuing. “Thanks, for being so nice tae me.”

“Why can’t we?” Pearl asked.

Jimmie looked puzzled. “Why can’t we dae what?”

Pearl looked long and hard at him until Jimmie began to feel uncomfortable. “Are ye daft? Ah’m saying, why
can’t
we dae this again?”

“Dae ye mean…?”

“Aye, do ah need tae spell it out for ye?”

Jimmie laughed. “Naw, naw, ah get it now. Ye’re right, there’s nae reason at aw.”

But Pearl decided to press the matter. “And whit aboot Ellen?”

“Ellen?”

“Aye Ellen. Whit aboot her now?”

“Whit does she have tae dae wi’ it?” Jimmie asked, looking dense.

“Nothin’ at aw,” Pearl said firmly, satisfied, “Ah wis jist checking.”
 

As the end of the dance approached, Ellen was wondering whether Jim would ask to see her again. He
had
been very attentive. She thought it likely that he would. Despite all the signs of his interest, she felt an anxious chill expand through her chest at the thought he might not.

Jim, if he had been able to read her mind, would have been astounded to know this, so certain was he that the evening had gone well. He found himself already thinking of them as a couple. But then quickly came the thought that perhaps he shouldn’t count his chickens so casually.
 
And so, when he asked “May I see you home?” his heart awaited her answer with a long hesitating beat.

“Aye, if ye want, that wid be fine,” Ellen replied, painfully aware, as she had been all night, of the contrast between her Glasgow accent and his posh sounding tones. As they started off up Maryhill Road Ellen slipped her arm around his. Jim looked at her and smiled and she felt enveloped in a comfortable and welcome intimacy that seemed to have grown up between them as naturally as the bluebells in a wooded glade she had seen on a long ago walk with her father. In some mysterious way that neither could fathom, the formal question of their next meeting never arose, being already assumed between them. At her close, they came in from the public street, where he drew her to him and kissed her.