Towards a Dark Horizon (17 page)

The sun beat down from a cloudless blue sky and the heat was almost unbearable. I glanced at Peter and, to my dismay, his ice cream had melted and was now dripping down his shirt front.

Minnie cried out, ‘I told you to keep clean, Peter, and now look at you!’

‘It’s not his fault, Minnie. It’s the heat and the poor bairn can’t eat it quickly enough.’

She sighed loudly. ‘I sometimes think I’m getting to be as bad as my mother.’

By now we had reached the Overgate and I suggested they come up to Granny’s house to clean him up.

Granny was pleased to see them. ‘My, he’s getting to be a big laddie, Minnie.’

We cleaned him up as best we could while Granny made some tea. Peter found a box of old comics that had once belonged to Lily and he sat quietly on the floor to look at them.

Minnie relaxed. ‘Oh, this is great – being able to sit down without worrying about dropping crumbs on the floor.’

Granny smiled at her. ‘Well, you’re welcome to come here for a visit any time you like.’

Later on, as she was leaving, Minnie said, ‘If I do go back to Glasgow, it’ll mean that Danny won’t get his transfer – at least not this one. Will he mind?’

‘I’ve no idea, Minnie. I suppose he’ll just have to stay where he is and get on with it.’

She smiled. ‘Well, as long as he’ll not be disappointed.’

As I watched them walk away towards the Hawkhill, I knew her mind was made up.

One thing I was thankful for was the fact I hadn’t seen Rosie since her angry exchange that night and I had no idea if Dad was still seeing her. He was still visiting Margot Connors but he had to sort out his own problems as I had enough to cope with.

The hot weather lasted for most of that week with the temperature rising each day. The paper shop was dim and cool and I was thankful for that.

Sylvia, Edith and Amy appeared each morning wearing their pinnies but no coats. Full of life and chatter, they bounded into the shop like young deer.

‘The mill is so warm that we’re just wearing our peenies over our petticoats,’ said Sylvia, buying the usual cigarettes and sweeties.

Connie gazed at her in mock alarm. ‘Don’t you lassies go showing your legs to the gaffer or else I’ll get to hear about it.’

The three girls burst into peals of laughter.

‘The gaffer,’ said Amy. ‘Have you seen him, Connie? He’s an old man about fifty. He’s forgotten what a woman’s legs look like.’

On that cheery note, they all ran off towards their work while Connie shook her head.

‘If they think being fifty is old what does that make me?’

I thought of Margot. What was her age? I wondered.

I was waiting for Lily at the school gates when the sky became ominously black. I was also without a coat and I hoped the rain would hold off till we were home. But it didn’t. Suddenly a loud crack of thunder sounded overhead and it was followed by large drops of rain. Lily appeared and we raced up the road towards the house. The rain became a torrent and lightning lit up the black clouds. Lily was frightened but I put my arm around her as we raced through the deep puddles of rainwater. By the time we reached home, we were both soaked and we had to strip off our wet clothes. Leaving large wet puddles on the kitchen floor.

As I dried her hair, Lily said, ‘I hope it’s not like this tonight when we go down to Granny’s. I don’t like the thunder and lightning.’

I confessed that I didn’t like it either. ‘I’m sure the storm will be over by then, Lily.’

But it wasn’t. Dad arrived home soaking wet and in a bad mood. Whether because of the soaking or the fact he couldn’t visit Margot I wasn’t sure.

‘Any word about Harry, Dad?’

He shook his head.

We ate our tea and then listened to the wireless. Dad couldn’t settle and he was getting on my nerves. He kept walking over to the window to see if the rain had stopped and, when he saw it hadn’t, he drummed his fingers against the arm of the fireside chair.

‘What’s the matter, Daddy?’ asked Lily, also noticing his restlessness.

He smiled at her. ‘Nothing’s the matter, wee pet. It’s just that I’ve got a lot of grass to cut at Mrs Connor’s house and this rain is stopping me.’

I looked at him cynically – a trait I was aware of. As I grew older, I had noticed how cynical I had become and I was trying hard not to be.

He saw me and raised his eyebrows, as much as to say, ‘What? Don’t you believe me?’

It was very hard to believe that he loved grass-cutting so much that he couldn’t sit in peace in his own home. No, it was more like it was Margot Connors he was missing and it was then that I realised that Rosie had no chance.

It was nine o’clock before the rain stopped. I quickly got Lily ready and we set off towards the Overgate while Dad made his way towards Margot and the grass. He muttered as he went through the door, ‘I don’t suppose I’ll get it cut tonight but I better go and tell her I’ll do it tomorrow.’

As far as I was concerned, he could tell her anything he wanted. I was still annoyed at his treatment of Rosie.

The storm had cleared the air and it was much fresher. The pavements gleamed in a late burst of sunshine and a mini river ran down the gutter, carrying loads of rubbish in its wake.

Lily kept glancing at the sky in case of more thunder but all was calm. Granny thought we weren’t coming and Lily told her the whole story of her journey through the storm. She made it sound so dramatic that I wondered if we had both been in the same rainstorm. ‘The jagged lightning was just over my head, Granny, and Ann had to cover me up because it was thunder as well. The rain was stotting off the pavement and we got soaked.’

Granny nodded in harmony and the story went on and on. I left them in the middle of it.

The storm caused some flooding in Dock Street and turned the Tay into a seething mass as brown water flowed into the drains and into the river.

At 1.30 p.m. the next day, the river gave up its dead. Harry Connors’ body was found.

Dad arrived home early. I was barely in the house with Lily after school when he hurried through the door.

‘I’ll not be here for my tea,’ he said, quickly filling the basin to get shaved. ‘Mr Pringle and I have to visit Mrs Connors. Her man’s body was washed up today.’

I sat down, numb with shock. ‘Oh, no, Dad, what a shame for his wife.’

There were tears in his eyes. ‘Aye, it’s a damn shame. He was a great guy and really good to me. I’ll miss him as well.’

‘Was it an accident?’

He shook his head. ‘We don’t know. There will be an inquiry into it and maybe the truth will come out then.’

Lily sat in silence, her eyes huge and round.

Dad went on, ‘I don’t know what time I’ll be home but I’ll get some fish and chips so don’t keep anything hot for me, Ann.’ On that note, he darted through the door. He was back within a minute. ‘Oh, blast it! I’ve just remembered I was to see Rosie tonight. I was going to tell her that I had the grass to cut and that I couldn’t stay for my tea.’ He gave me a pleading look. ‘Could you tell her about the change in the plan?’

He didn’t wait for an answer so I had no option. Still, in the circumstances, I didn’t mind. Poor Harry – I didn’t know him well but I used to see him when I passed the warehouse door when Dad first started his job there. He seemed an ordinary, pleasant and hard-working man.

I found Rosie in her house. She was standing by the cooker with a spoon in her hand. Something brown bubbled in a pot and she was engrossed in stirring this glutinous mixture. She was wearing her sludge-coloured skirt and a bright floral apron with an enormous pink frill around its edge.

She looked up in alarm when I entered. ‘Och, it’s you, Ann.’ She smiled. ‘Where’s your Dad?’

‘He can’t come tonight, Rosie.’

A red flush tinged her cheeks and she looked angry. ‘What’s wrong with him now?’

I told her the story and she suddenly lost her sullen expression. Sympathy flooded her face and she sat down. ‘Och, what a terrible thing to happen! That poor old woman, Mrs Connors. What will she do now?’

So Dad hadn’t enlightened her about Margot’s age or her looks. As far as Rosie was concerned she was a poor old widow.

She switched off the gas ring and put a lid on the pot. ‘I’ll keep this for him because he’ll need a meal when he gets back.’

‘Dad said he would get fish and chips, Rosie. I’m not keeping his tea for him.’

‘I’m sure you’re right, Ann, but I’ll just keep it in case he wants it.’

It was like talking to a brick wall. Rosie really thought Dad would immediately run to her after his visit to the grieving widow. Maybe it was a blessing that she didn’t know the fair Margot.

She came through to Granny’s house with me and I repeated the awful story.

Rosie sat with her hands folded on the riotously floral apron and nodded in sympathy. ‘It must be awful when your man dies,’ she said, ‘especially when you’re old. It will be a blow to her but your dad will know what to say, Ann. He’s really good with words.’

Granny looked at me wordlessly. I had described Mrs Connors and the house in detail to her and we both knew Rosie was living in a fool’s paradise.

After she left, Granny said, ‘Somebody will have to tell her the truth, Ann. She’s under the illusion that your Dad’s dealing with a doddery old woman of seventy.’

‘But surely, now that her man’s body has been found, Dad will not have to visit her so often. It was just because the man was missing.’

Granny looked doubtful. ‘Well, we’ll just have to hope so.’

I knew Margot was an attractive woman but she wasn’t in the same class as us. She had money and a lovely home. Why would she want Dad’s company? I said this to Granny.

‘I expect you’re right, Ann, but I just hope he doesn’t cast Rosie aside for some cheap flirtation like he’s done before. I’m not saying this Mrs Connors will be serious about your father but that won’t stop her liking him, will it?’

No indeed.

Much later that night he arrived home. He looked weary.

I asked him how Mrs Connors was.

‘She’s bearing up well although it was a great shock to her. She aye thought he would turn up out of the blue – like he’d lost his memory and wandered away. It seemingly happens to folk quite a lot.’ He sighed loudly. ‘His sister however was a different kettle of fish. She wouldn’t stop wailing.’

He slumped down on the chair and rubbed his eyes.

‘Harry’s sister seemed really fond of him,’ I said.

He sighed again. ‘Oh, she was but that doesn’t mean she can cast aspersions on Margot.’

Minutes before I had been tired but I now perked up. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Och, it’s just rubbish,’ he said. ‘She said that Harry wasn’t happy living with his wife.’

‘And is it true?’

‘How should I know? Mr Pringle was also taken aback by her statement. In all the years he’s known him, Harry has never said a word about his wife. Mind you, Margot is Harry’s second wife. I didn’t know that. His first wife died ten years ago and he’s been married to Margot for the past six years.’

I was surprised but I should have guessed it – there was the difference in their ages for one thing.

‘What did Margot say when her sister-in-law said that?’

‘She didn’t say much – just shook her head sadly at her. She told Mr Pringle and me later that Olivia had liked the first wife very much but had never taken to Margot. She said that if Harry was unhappy with his marriage then he never said a word to her. As for her, well she loved him very much.’

‘When will the funeral take place?’

‘Next week sometime, I think. There has to be a post-mortem before he can be buried. We all think it was a bad accident. He was forever walking by the edge of the docks and we think he tripped over something and fell in. It’s just so sad and him just a wee while away from retirement.’

He stopped speaking and looked at me. I waited because I knew that look. He was about to say something and he wasn’t sure of my reaction. I wasn’t wrong.

‘I was just thinking, Ann, how are the funds?’ He was referring to our small amount of money which I tried to save every week from our wages.

I took the tin down from the mantelpiece and tipped the money into my lap. ‘There’s three pounds, five shillings and sixpence,’ I told him, placing all the coins on the table.

He rubbed the back of his neck – another giveaway sign that he was unsure of how I was going to take something.

Suddenly he blurted out, ‘It’s just that we’ve all got to give two bob each for a wreath at the work.’

I breathed a sigh of relief – two bob was all right.

But he wasn’t finished. ‘Another thing, Ann, I need a new suit. The one I’ve got is getting really shabby looking.’ As if to emphasise the shabbiness he went into his tiny bedroom and brought out the suit.

Although I knew he’d had it for years, long before Mum’s death, it was still serviceable. I didn’t say so because I had the strong feeling that he had thought this out for weeks. He had never bothered much about sartorial elegance before but, since meeting Margot, it now seemed of prime importance.

‘It’s because I’ve been going around with Mr Pringle, Ann. I aye look like a tink compared to him and I would like to look smart at the funeral.’

I suddenly realised how selfish I had been and I handed him the tin with the money. ‘Will that be enough for a suit, Dad?’

‘Och, aye – I’m not wanting anything from Saville Row. A suit from the Fifty Shilling tailors in the Murraygate will be fine.’

On the Saturday afternoon, he went shopping and came back with a lovely dark-navy suit which suited his slim figure. He was also carrying a few brown-paper packages from McGill’s shop. He saw me looking at them and he explained, his neck getting redder by the minute, ‘I paid cash for the suit but I got a shirt, tie and a new pair of shoes on tick from McGill’s.’ He opened the parcels to show me.

Lily danced around him, saying, ‘Oh, you look great, Dad – just like a film star!’

I had to admit I thought the same. Clothes made such a difference as I had experienced with the lovely cashmere coat that the late Mrs Barrie had given me – the one that Miss Hood had destroyed so viciously.