The Baker's Daughter (14 page)

‘He's called Malcolm—Malcolm Watt, and he had a plumbing business. Of course, he's retired, and has been some years.'

‘Well, I'll look forward to meeting Mr Watt—Malcolm,' said Angus kindly. ‘And I'm sure we hope you'll be very happy. Isn't that right?' He turned to Doug and Rona.

‘The only thing,' Aunt Lizzie said, not acknowledging his good wishes, ‘is that I'm kind of worried about leaving you folks to cope
on
your own.'

‘Think nothing of it,' said Angus. ‘You've done us proud all these years, and the bairns are grown now. You deserve a bit life of your own. Anyway,' he continued, ‘Rona did fine when you were away looking after Maisie. She can make a grand pot of soup—near as good as yours, Lizzie,' he said with a smile.

‘Aye,' Lizzie agreed, ‘and you're doing all right in the shop, especially now you've got Elsie.'

Rona felt as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water over her.

What about me? she raged inwardly. Am I to be a housekeeper just like Aunt Lizzie? Don't I deserve a bit of happiness, something to look forward to? She thought of Jake and his promises.

Suppose he got her an interview, and he'd said it was certain he would, suppose she had a chance to train as a model, and had to give it up because she was needed at home, and was needed to make soup and mince as good as Aunt Lizzie's.

Suddenly she felt that her first pleasure at hearing Aunt Lizzie's news had gone.

Oh, it was all very well for Aunt Lizzie and her widower who needed looking after and it was all very well for Father who had a daughter at home who would fill the gap left by Aunt Lizzie's departure. And it was all very well for Doug, who didn't care about anything
much
except cars and motorbikes and sitting down to a good meal.

Rona felt as if her chances of romance were vanishing into thin air, and she could see nothing much ahead of her but years of a dull, monotonous life.

Still, she smiled at Aunt Lizzie. ‘I'm really pleased for you,' she said, as she felt a lump in her throat.

*        *        *

The weeks went by. There was no word from Jake and Callum, too, seemed to be keeping a distance.

‘I haven't heard from Jake, and he promised to write,' Rona confessed to Nancy. ‘He said . . .' she hesitated, ‘that he would be in touch. He has lots of contact with modelling agencies, and he thought he could easily get me an interview.'

Nancy looked doubtful. ‘What does he do? How does he know these people?'

‘He's in the entertainment business.' Rona was a little defensive.

Nancy hesitated. She hated to disillusion her friend, but wasn't it better to tell her now?

‘Wait a bit,' she advised. ‘I'm sure he'll be in touch with you.'

But there was no word from Jake. The holiday was beginning to seem a distant dream.

Although
two girls from West Fife that they'd met while on holiday—Bet and Isla—had written, and Bet sent copies of a photo they'd taken of Rona and Nancy, standing in front of their chalet.

‘Bet says they're hoping to come to Kirkton to visit a cousin and maybe we could meet up,' said Nancy, reading the letter.

‘That would be fun.' Rona had liked the two lively girls when they'd shared a table in the huge dining hall, and laughed at their stories of life in the linen factory where they both worked.

It would be good, thought Rona, to have something to laugh about. She was still anxious about the future—what would happen when Aunt Lizzie left?

By now the family had met Malcolm. He was a solid, good-natured man in his sixties, who'd taken Rona's hand in a huge grasp and said, ‘So you're the niece. My, your auntie's told me all about you—nothing but good,' he'd added hurriedly. ‘A fine wee housekeeper, and a real ray of sunshine about the house.'

Rona was quite sure this wasn't true. She could hardly credit Aunt Lizzie with such a flowery phrase, but it was kind and well-meaning of the good-natured Mr Watt (or Uncle Malcolm, as he'd asked them to call him).

So it was pleasant to have a half-day meeting up with Bet and Isla off the Kirkcaldy
bus,
and spending the afternoon touring the shops.

‘Not that I've a lot to spend after the holiday,' said Isla, ‘but it's great to see different shops from home.' They spent an hour at least, trying on clothes, deciding on a new shade of lipstick, choosing a wooden toy for a small nephew.

Although it was a half-day, they insisted on going to see Maclaren's. ‘My word,' said Bet in admiration, ‘did you do the window yourself?'

They gazed at Rona's display of the shrimping nets and buckets and spades. ‘Are you not the clever one? I couldn't have thought of that not if you'd paid me a fortune,' said Isla.

Finally, they sat over ice-creams and coffee in the Cosy Café. Rona remembered with a slight pang how Callum had brought her here and they'd watched the flickering pictures on the television set and how he'd chosen her favourite tunes from the jukebox. A boy and girl affair, she thought. That was over anyway.

‘That was a real good holiday,' said Isla, sipping her coffee.

‘A lot of laughs,' Nancy agreed.

‘And quite a few holiday romances,' added Bet. ‘Even though they don't last,' she said realistically.

‘Remember that one, what was his name? Jake. The airline pilot?' said Bet.

Rona felt suddenly apprehensive. ‘Jake?'

‘You
know, medium height, dark curly hair, very smooth talker.' Bet laughed.

‘I thought you and he maybe,' her voice tailed off as she saw Rona's face.

‘Ooops, have I put my foot in it?'

‘No, not at all,' said Rona hastily. ‘Yes, I did meet him but,' she hesitated, ‘I didn't know he was an airline pilot. I thought he was in entertainment.'

‘Is that what he told you?' Bet shook her head. ‘What a fibber. He told me I'd have a great future as an air hostess. Me? Imagine! I've never been in a plane and nothing on earth would get me up in the air.' She roared with laughter.

Rona was silent for a few moments and the others looked at her. ‘Has he, I mean, has he written to you?' she asked Bet.

Bet shook her head. ‘No, he hasn't and I wouldn't expect him to. Ships that pass in the night and all that. Never mind, it was fun while it lasted and he was a really nifty dancer. What about you? Has he written?'

‘No, he hasn't. And I wouldn't really have expected him to.' Nancy was about to say something and then thought better of it.

As they waved the two girls off on the bus, she turned to Rona, ‘You'd best forget him and his promises.'

‘I've been a bit of a fool,' said Rona bitterly.

Nancy laid a hand on her friend's arm. ‘Don't worry, he's not worth another thought.
There's
as good fish in the sea,' she said, and as she spoke, she thought this was not much comfort to poor Rona.

Well, that's that, thought Rona as she made her way home. An end to my dreams of being a model. Let's face it, she told herself firmly, I'm not cut out to be a model. You need poise and personality and I'm just an ordinary girl, maybe with a decent figure, but that's all. I'd never make a real model.

She thought, sadly about how foolish she'd been believing his stories and promises. She realised now that Jake had never really talked about himself.

And what if he had exaggerated, made all kinds of promises he wasn't able to keep? It was her own fault, Rona decided, aware that the moonlight and the romantic atmosphere often made things more exciting than they really were.

A pity, she thought briefly, that she had to fall for someone like Jake, when she'd met so many ordinary, but very pleasant young men during the week—young men who'd been eager to get to know her. Romance, she thought, wasn't always what it seemed.

She pushed open the garden gate. ‘I'd better settle for being a ray of sunshine around the house.' And she went indoors to peel the potatoes and shell the peas and set the table for tea.

A
SURPRISE FROM DOUG

It was astonishing how quickly things happened. One moment Aunt Lizzie was housekeeper to the Maclaren family, cashier in the shop and a familiar figure round the streets of Kirkton.

The next, it seemed, she had gone and was settled in Glenmuir, the wife of a retired businessman. And she appeared to be very contented in her new role. There were letters weekly, detailing her busy life—she and Malcolm had joined the indoor bowling club, she had been welcomed at the Guild, and there were frequent outings.

Malcolm had taken her in his new Austin Cambridge up to Pitlochry for a sight of the autumn colours: they had driven up north and had spent a few days in Banchory.

She was kept busy in her new home, cooking, looking after Malcolm, and taking a pride in cleaning and polishing. She would ask how they were getting on—was Rona remembering that Angus liked porridge done a certain way, and the best kind of starch to use on the tablecloths?

Rona ignored this advice—her father never complained about the porridge. By now she had mastered the skill of making it without lumps. And as for starching tablecloths . . .'
Does
she think I have nothing else to do?' muttered Rona to herself. She had never starched a tablecloth in her life and wasn't going to begin now.

And be sure
, added Aunt Lizzie,
you dust the tops of your doors.

Rona gritted her teeth and was glad that Aunt Lizzie was 50 odd miles away. Still, she managed the housekeeping—it was a busy time in the shop and between home and work, Rona had little time for regrets about Jake and longing for someone of her own.

Doug seemed preoccupied these days and, to Rona's surprise, he began to take much more interest in his appearance.

‘You'd not believe it,' she told Nancy, ‘he's really fussy about shining his shoes, and he's started using brilliantine on his hair!'

‘It's a girl,' said Nancy knowingly. ‘These are all the signs.'

She had two elder brothers of her own, so was wise about these things. ‘You wait—he's met someone.'

‘He hasn't said anything,' said Rona, remembering the disastrous relationship with Neela.

‘He'll be bringing her home one of these days,' Nancy prophesied.

Rona looked doubtful. ‘Well, we'll have to wait and see.' They didn't have to wait long.

One evening, Doug, looking embarrassed and said, ‘Can you make your steak and kidney
pie
for the tea on Sunday.'

Rona looked surprised. ‘Yes, if you like.'

‘With plenty of gravy,' Doug added.

‘Hey, what's all this?' Rona stopped wiping the sink in a rather perfunctory way. ‘I often make a steak pie on a Sunday.'

‘Yes, well . . .' Doug paused then said all in a rush, ‘and maybe a trifle.'

‘If you like.' Rona was puzzled. ‘Why? It's not a birthday.'

‘Well, it's a bit special.'

‘All right.' Rona had planned to go with Nancy to the pictures to see
Roman Holiday
. She'd heard that Audrey Hepburn was wonderful and as for Gregory Peck . . . but Doug didn't often ask her for a favour—he ate up everything that was before him and often had second helpings.

‘Is there,' she hesitated, ‘is there a special reason?'

‘I'm wanting to bring someone for her tea!'

‘A girl?'

‘That's not what I said.'

‘You said “for her tea”. This kind of argument was common between the brother and sister.

‘Well, it is a girl,' said Doug. ‘And I want her to get a good impression.'

Rona didn't know what to say. He had only once brought a girl home, and that was a painfully shy, tongue-tied creature, who said only, ‘Thanks,' or I don't mind' and gazed at
Doug
throughout the meal with an expression of adoration that annoyed Rona intensely. She hadn't lasted long, that one.

But what about the girls he met at the dancing? Large, energetic girls who didn't mind Doug birling them round and round, rosy-faced outdoor girls who laughed a great deal. It would be one of these girls, Rona decided.

‘So,' she asked hesitantly, ‘what's her name? And what's she like?'

‘She's Austrian,' said Doug, as if the information was dragged out of him. ‘Her name's Erika.'

‘And where did you meet her? What's she doing here?'

‘You ask a lot of questions.' Doug refused to satisfy Rona's curiosity. ‘You'll meet her on Saturday.'

*        *        *

‘How interesting,' said Nancy. ‘Where do you think he met her?'

‘He's not saying. I wonder if it's serious, him bringing her to tea?'

Rona was determined to make a special effort for Doug and his new girlfriend, so she starched the tablecloth and cleaned the silver.

She hummed to herself as she made the pastry for the steak pie. What would the Austrian girl be like, she wondered. Tall, slim
and
blonde, probably.

As she put the finishing touches to the table that Sunday, and decorated the trifle with cherries and small silver balls, she looked approvingly at what she had done.

‘My, this is a grand spread,' said Angus. ‘You've fair done us proud.'

Rona had hardly had time to think of her own appearance, but she tidied her hair, and changed into her tweed skirt and a new pale pink sweater that Aunt Lizzie had knitted for her.

‘They're here!' She hurried to open the door with a wide welcoming smile.

The girl shook hands formally, and Rona had to stop herself looking astonished.

For this wasn't the young girl she'd imagined but a much older woman—she must be at least thirty, thought Rona.

Doug was clearly very proud of Erika. He helped her off with her coat in a way that made Rona smile to herself—Doug being gallant, this was something new.