Cousins at War (8 page)

‘She’s over the worst of it, Mum,’ Patsy observed.

After a few minutes, Queenie looked up with moist eyes. ‘I . . . I’d like to keep it . . . please, Auntie Gracie?’

‘I’m not sure it’s a good idea, but . . . well, all right.’

‘Would you mind if I spoke about my mum and dad?’

‘If you think it’ll help . . .’

For the next half hour, Queenie told them how idyllic her home life had been, how her parents had always listened to anything she had to say, how they had discussed together any family decisions
which had to be made. ‘They never left me out. They never did anything without asking what I thought first. When Dad wanted to change the shop round, Mum and I gave him suggestions or he told
us what he was thinking and we all talked it over.’

She went on to describe the shop as it eventually was, and the house above it where they had lived. ‘It wasn’t as big as the house in the Gallowgate, but it was fine for three of us,
and Mum kept it ever so nice. On my thirteenth birthday, Dad let me choose the colour scheme I wanted for my bedroom, and I went round the wallpaper shops for days before I chose the cream with
teeny pink rosebuds. Dad did the papering and painting and Mum made curtains and a bedspread to match.’

The catch in her voice made Patsy say, ‘It must have been lovely. I wish my dad would do something about my room – I mean our room, but there’s no wallpaper to be had
now.’ She brightened as a thought struck her. ‘Mum, would you let us paint on top of the old paper? I’ve read hints about how to make patterns on plain walls with a bit of sponge
dipped in another colour. You can make flowers, or anything you like.’

‘We’ll see what your dad has to say about it.’

Patsy turned to her cousin. ‘What about painting the walls cream and using pink and . . .?’

When Joe came in, the two girls were still working out a colour scheme, Queenie looking more animated than he’d have thought possible, and he was pleased that her mind had been taken off
her bereavement for a short time. ‘You can paint your room whatever way you like – sky blue and pink with magenta spots, if that’s what you want. It’s not me that’ll
have to sleep in it.’

After tea, the two girls disappeared to draw up plans, and Gracie said, ‘Patsy’s worked wonders with Queenie, so I hope Hetty doesn’t come rushing here when I tell her,
it’ll just upset the poor lassie again.’

‘Have you not phoned Hetty yet? Look, you can’t put it off any longer, Gracie. I’ll wash the supper dishes and you go and do it right now. Just say what’s happened, and
explain it’s for the lassie’s sake you don’t want her to come. Have you written to Flo and Ishbel and Ellie yet?’

‘I won’t bother with Ishbel. Flo can pass it on to her. So I’ll write the two letters once I’ve phoned.’

Hetty burst into tears when she heard the sad news, and it took all Gracie’s tact to prevent her sister from coming to King Street there and then, but she did make her
understand that it would do no good, and might even do some harm. She said that it had been Patsy who had comforted Queenie and was stumped for a moment when Hetty offered to send Olive to help,
too. ‘It’s all right, Hetty,’ she murmured. ‘Queenie’s had enough for one day, and I think she’ll be going to bed early tonight, and Patsy, as well.’

Luckily, Hetty did not take offence. ‘Poor thing, both her parents killed like that.’ She had to suppress another sob. ‘I can’t believe we’ll never see Donnie and
Helene again.’

‘Is Martin there with you?’ Gracie asked, gently.

‘Yes, I’ll be all right. It’s just . . . it was so sudden . . .’

‘I know, it’s been a terrible shock.’

‘Will Queenie be living with you for good now?

‘I promised Helene I’d look after her if . . .’

‘Well, remember if you ever feel you’re at the end of your tether, let me know, and I can have her here for a while.’

The offer took Gracie totally by surprise, but she said, earnestly, ‘It’s very good of you.’

‘You’ve had more than your share of looking after people, but don’t think it hasn’t been appreciated.’

Gracie felt chastened when she sat down to write to Ellie and Flo. After feeling so sorry for herself earlier, it was gratifying to know that she had not been taken for granted over the past . .
. was it really nineteen years past November since their mother had died?

Snuggling against Patsy in the three-quarter bed, Queenie forced her tears back. She had begun to like it here, having a temporary brother and sister had been fun, but at the
back of her mind there had always been the warming thought that she would be going home after the war. Now there was no home to go to; no mother and father to come to Aberdeen and take her back; no
grandmother and grandfather to exclaim over how much she had grown.

‘Oh, Patsy,’ she gulped, unable to bear it in silence any longer, ‘why did it have to happen? I’ve never done anything bad, and neither did Mum and Dad, so why did God
punish us? Is it because I’ve been happy here? Is it because I sometimes forgot London was still being bombed?’

‘No, I’m sure it wasn’t that.’ Patsy had no experience in comforting the bereaved, and wished with all her heart that she could find the proper words to soothe her
cousin.

There was a short silence, broken only by small, hiccuppy sniffs, then Queenie whispered, ‘I suppose I’ll have to live here for ever?’

‘Don’t you want to live here now?’

‘It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just . . . it’s going to feel different, knowing I have to.’

‘I’m glad you’ll be staying here . . . I mean . . .’ Patsy felt confused. ‘I’m not glad about why, but I’m glad you won’t be going away. I like
having you to speak to. Neil’s all right, but he couldn’t speak about things I wanted to speak about . . . and he’d never have let me put his hair in curlers.’

Giving a faint gurgle of amusement, Queenie said, ‘I’m so glad I’ve got you, Patsy. You make me forget . . . for a little while, anyway.’

‘Good. Now, we’d better try to get some sleep, or else we won’t feel like getting up at rising time, and I’ll have to go back to work.’

Hetty and her daughter arrived at quarter past nine the following morning. ‘Olive hasn’t got any lectures today till later on,’ she said. ‘Where’s
Queenie?’

‘I made her stop in bed,’ Gracie explained. ‘She’ll need a while to get over it.’

‘We’ll all need a while to get over it. I can hardly take it in yet myself. Will any of us have to go to the funeral? You didn’t say when you phoned last night.’

After hearing what Mrs Bertram had written, she said, ‘It seems terrible that none of Donnie’s sisters will be there to see him buried, but I suppose it happens all the
time.’

‘Joe and me didn’t get much chance to speak properly till we went to bed, but he reminded me we wouldn’t have anywhere to stay if we went down there, and I couldn’t leave
Queenie just now, anyway.’ Ashamed of how she had given way when she was alone with her husband, Gracie did not describe how long Joe had held her, how he had kissed her tears away, how he
had convinced her that their duty to Donnie and Helene lay in comforting and caring for their daughter.

Queenie came through just after half past ten, and Gracie was thankful that Hetty didn’t overdo her condolences. Olive said nothing until her mother prodded her, then she went to her
cousin, shaking hands stiffly and saying, ‘I’m sorry,’ in a not very convincing manner. Queenie did have a little weep, it was only to be expected, but she was soon talking quite
calmly about her parents. It seemed to Gracie that by airing her memories of them, she was bent on inscribing them indelibly in her heart so that she would never forget them.

Olive sat stone-faced, and her aunt wished that she hadn’t come . . . she was still a spoiled brat even if she was at the university and should know better. Just after eleven, Hetty stood
up. ‘Raymond comes home at half past twelve, and I’ve nothing made for lunch yet. Would you like to come with me, Queenie? Olive’s to go to Medical School, and I’ll be glad
of a hand. I’ll take you back in the afternoon.’

Thankful for the respite from having to make conversation when they had gone, Gracie moved into a more comfortable chair and lay back with her eyes closed. She would have to get something ready
for Joe’s dinner, but there was plenty time. She’d hardly had a wink of sleep last night, and she deserved a wee rest.

Only fifteen minutes later, she was dragged out of a deep sleep by someone shaking her shoulder. ‘Gracie, it’s me.’

Her brain was still a little foggy, but she sat up to find her eldest sister leaning over her. ‘Ellie?’

‘I got your letter first post and I was so upset I had to come to see poor Queenie.’

Having heard Gracie’s explanation of the girl’s absence, Ellie sat down. ‘I couldn’t stop thinking about Donnie when I was driving up. He was the last of our three
brothers . . . though wee James died when he was just an infant. Father was so proud when Charlie and Donnie started working with him in the shop in the Gallowgate. He got a new sign put up above
the window, remember? Albert Ogilvie and Sons, it said, then the war came and they both went into the army.’

Gracie wiped her eyes. ‘I remember how angry Mother was at Father for being proud of them enlisting. I don’t think she ever got over it properly.’

‘Charlie was her favourite, of course . . .’

‘And you were Father’s.’ This fact had never rankled with Gracie. She had grown up with it, and had known that it was none of Ellie’s doing.

‘At least we know Donnie never regretted settling down in South Norwood,’ Ellie observed. ‘When they were in Aberdeen for Father’s funeral, we could all see how happy he
was with Helene, and now . . . they’re both gone, too.’

The two sisters had a weep together, then went on to talk about their childhood, each remembering incidents which the other had forgotten, and they were both astonished when Joe came in just
after one, Gracie jumping up in agitation. ‘Oh, is it that time already? I haven’t made any dinner yet.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he assured her. ‘A sandwich’ll do, if you’ve anything to put in it.’

‘There’s a bit of corned mutton left from yesterday.’

‘That’ll do fine.’

‘That’ll do me, too,’ Ellie said, rising to help just as Patsy appeared.

Hetty brought Queenie back in the middle of the afternoon. The girl was still very pale and Gracie’s heart contracted at the sight of the large, blue eyes so deeply filled with pain.
Thankfully, at four o’clock, when Hetty said that she would have to go, Ellie also stood up. ‘I’d like to take a look at some of the shops before I go back.’

Gracie saw them downstairs, assuring Hetty that there was nothing else she could do, and when she went back to her own kitchen, she knelt down beside Queenie to put her arms round her.
‘You’ve been through an awful lot this past two days, lass, and you must be feeling lost, but Joe and me’ll always be here for you. Remember that.’

The girl nestled her head on her shoulder. ‘I know, Auntie Gracie. You’ve been ever so kind, and I don’t know what I’d have done without Patsy, but I wish Mum and Dad
hadn’t sent me away. I wish I’d been killed along with them.’

‘Oh, lassie, don’t say things like that. You’ve your whole life in front of you, and they didn’t send you away. They didn’t want to get rid of you, don’t ever
think that. They loved you. They wanted to keep you safe.’

‘I know they loved me, but . . . oh, Auntie Gracie, I’ll never see them again.’

Holding the weeping girl tightly, Gracie felt angry at her sister-in-law for not listening to reason. Helene could have persuaded Donnie to give up the shop and come to Aberdeen if she had
wanted to. They shouldn’t have left their daughter to become an orphan, for they knew the danger they faced if they stayed in South Norwood. In the next instant, however, she was overcome
with grief at their deaths and ashamed at what she had been thinking. As Joe had said at the time, the shop was Donnie’s livelihood, and he couldn’t give it up.

When Olive went home at teatime, she glared at her mother, ‘It made me sick the way you and Gracie fussed over Queenie. I know her mother and father are dead, but she’s not a small
child, she’s fifteen. Hardly anyone spoke to me. You’d think I had the plague.’

‘If you were nicer to people, they would be nicer to you,’ Hetty barked, uncharacteristically sharp with her daughter, ‘but you sat with a face like a fiddle. Why can you not
be like Patsy?’

‘I’m tired hearing what a good girl Patsy is. Patsy never complains about anything. Patsy always does what she’s told. Patsy helps her mother in the house. If you ask me,
Patsy’s too good to be true, and she doesn’t like me any more than I like her.’

Hetty heaved a prolonged sigh. ‘Don’t you have any friends to go out with? That might stop you being so self-centred.’

‘The girls I know are only interested in flirting with the boys they meet.’

‘Well, what’s wrong with that? I flirted with dozens of boys before I met your dad, and it didn’t do me any harm.’

‘I’m waiting for Neil.’

A deep frown creased her mother’s brow. ‘Don’t be stupid. Neil’s your cousin.’

Saying nothing more, Olive went upstairs to her own room. She hadn’t meant to let her mother know how she felt about Neil, but she was missing him so much that it hurt sometimes just to
think about him. But even if he didn’t write to her, he must be missing her, too. He must be!