Authors: Millie Gray
Utter exhaustion eventually overcame Tam and he fell asleep for a short time but awoke suddenly at five o’clock to discover the sun streaming in through the kitchen window. After refreshing himself in the bathroom he left home and wandered down Restalrig Road and then across Leith Links, finding himself at length in the dock area that he knew so well. It was only natural that his wanderings took him to Henry Robb’s shipyard where he’d first been an apprentice and then a time-served shipwright. He bit his lip and wondered if he could perhaps get a second start there. Already he was planning how best he could support his family once he’d been officially demobbed.
From Henry Robb’s, Tam rambled rather aimlessly around the Leith he had known as a child – Couper Street Primary School, David Kilpatrick’s Secondary, the Salvation Army Halls, where he had banged the tambourine – all had to be revisited along with the many other places that had known him as a boy. By lunch-time he found himself outside the Black Swan pub, his father’s favourite watering-hole, and it was not until three in the afternoon that he finally arrived home.
On opening the door, Tam was immediately greeted by his mother and Dinah, surrounded by all the children.
“Where on earth have you been?” demanded Dinah furiously.
“We’ve been beside oursels with worry,” added his mother.
Tam took a deep breath before giving his orders. “Right now! All you bairns, get outside and play.” Dinah and Mary exchanged glances with each other. “And you, Mammy, you get back to your own house. I’ve things to thrash out with Dinah.”
“You’ve had your feet in the sawdust with your Dad?”
Tam nodded. Dinah couldn’t hide her apprehension.
“Look, Tam, this bloody war has made all of us do things we wish we hadnae,” pleaded his mother.
“You been whoring with the darkies an aw?”
Mary shook her head. “Naw. But if it hadnae been for Dinah, and even more for Patsy, I wouldnae be here the day. They saved my life, son, so they did.” Tam was unmoved, so Mary continued, “I tried to end it all after yer brother was slaughtered. Never thought about you and Archie, I didnae. And okay, we ken ye’re mad about wee Joe – but he’s a braw wee laddie.”
Tam went over to his mother, took her roughly by the elbow and steered her towards the door, then signalled with a jerk of his thumb that she should depart. “You just go, Mammy. This is between Dinah and me and I’m gonnae sort it oot Leith-style.”
As soon as Mary had left, Tam turned on Dinah. “That wee bastard goes.”
Dinah shook her head. “No. He’s
my
flesh and blood, just like the others. I could have got rid of him – but know something?” She now looked directly into Tam’s eyes and he could see no fear in her gaze. “There isn’t a day when I look at him that I’m not glad I didn’t.”
The belt that Tam had found too big for his waist now he’d become so thin was still lying where he had left it. Seizing it, he rolled the end once around his hand, stepped forward and lashed out at Dinah.
The first painful lash caught her full on the face and she screamed. The bedroom door flew open and Senga, who had been hushing little Joe to sleep, rushed over to protect her mother.
“Daddy,” wailed Senga, struggling to come between him and Dinah, “whatever are you doing?”
By now Dinah was rushing for the door but before she could escape Tam yelled, “You’re right! The wee bastard won’t be going because after I’m done sorting you out I’m gonnae kill him!”
Dinah hesitated. Tam was now lashing the air with his belt and coming menacingly towards her. Quickly she fled out of the door and began to run round Restalrig Circus. Some of the residents were out and about and they quickly alerted the other neighbours. Soon the spectacle of Dinah being chased round the Circus by Tam wielding a leather belt was holding everybody spellbound.
“That’s right, Tam,” jeered one old crone who had to remove the clay pipe from her mouth to encourage him. “You gie her the right guid doin’ she deserves!” The old woman then cackled but her laughter stuck in her mouth when Mary Glass punched her squarely in the face.
“Oh my goodness,” observed Judy Smith. “Did you see that? His mother, his own mother,” she emphasised, “standing up for her whoring daughter-in-law that’s made her son the laughing-stock of the whole district.”
By now Dinah was halfway round the Circus and when she saw that Tam was gaining on her, she kicked off her high-heeled shoes, picked them up and flung them at Tam. To her amazement, one of the heels caught him in the corner of his eye and, while he tried to stem the blood, she had just enough time to escape, running barefoot over the street. However, instead of taking the opening that would bring her to Restalrig Crescent and into sure safety, she continued to flee round the Circus until Tam’s rugby-style tackle brought her down at the large communal area just outside the allotments.
Tam raised the belt again and Dinah rolled herself tightly into a ball with her hands over her head to protect her face. Four lashes rained down upon her as the assembled crowd heckled and urged him on. Tam was about to vent all his five years of anger and frustration on Dinah but this time, as he raised the belt, he felt a fierce punch in his back. Turning around, he was faced by Patsy.
“So you’ve gone back to the old Leith ways of dealing with a wayward wife, have you? God, are you no just a hero? You ken something, Tam? It must be a guid ten years since I’ve seen a wife beaten and humiliated in public. And for what? Because, in my Dinah’s case, she got a wee bit consolation for all the loneliness she felt ever since you went away?” Tam stood as silent and still as a statue while Patsy went on, after first grabbing the belt from him and hurling it high in the air over into the allotments. “Look, why don’t you make a real job of it and go right back to the time when stoning to death was a woman’s fate?” she sneered at him.
Dinah meantime had taken the opportunity of her mother’s intervention and with the help of Mary, her dear mother-in-law, she managed to stagger to her feet, limp over the road and escape into the safety of her home.
Tam was now breathing heavily and tears were brimming in his eyes but Patsy was not to be deterred. “And tell me this, Tam. Have
you
always been a clean tattie?” Patsy turned to the crowd and bellowed with a broad sweep of her arm to indicate that she included them all, “And you lot can get going. The peep-show’s over for the night. And something else … Is there even one among the ugly lot of you who could cast the first stone in my Dinah’s direction?” She paused before giving a final taunt to the onlookers. “Jealousy’s a hellish thing, is it no?”
Patsy then turned to Tam. “You coming home with me or do you mean to entertain your dim-witted audience here with another barbaric pantomime performance?”
When Patsy and Tam entered the house they went immediately into the kitchen where Mary and Etta were attending to Dinah’s wounds. “Think that gash on your knee needs a stitch,” said Etta as she tried to stem the blood.
“No. I don’t want to go to the hospital,” protested Dinah. “They would want me to charge him and I don’t want that. Even if he has ruined my last pair of nylons!”
“Why not charge him? He blooming well deserves it,” argued Etta, who was beginning to wonder what fate awaited her if Harry ever worked it out that her darling son wasn’t his!
“I’m not thinking of Tam. I’m thinking about what might happen if the authorities get involved.”
“Well, if that’s what you want. But along with it will go a bonny scar on your bonny knee.”
“Right,” said Patsy. “Things have to be settled in here and not outside, making a public spectacle of yourselves.” A long silence followed. “So I take it the two of you want to call it a day?” Both Dinah and Tam shook their heads. “So the sticking point is wee Joe?”
Tam nodded. “I want him out of my house.”
“And I still say: if he goes, so do I!” retorted Dinah, who had not been cowed in the slightest by the beating.
“Okay,” said Patsy, nodding. “How about a compromise – like I take him and you can see him every day?”
“And would that suit Senga?” Dinah replied. “And by the way, where is Senga?”
“She’s run away,” piped up Elsie, “and she’s taken wee Joe with her.”
“Took wee Joe with her?” exclaimed Patsy.
“Aye. Put him in his go-cart alang wi’ what she thought they’d need.”
Dinah forgot all about her wounds, grabbed hold of Elsie and started shaking her. “But why has she gone?”
Elsie’s eyes grew wide with fear as she wondered if she was to be the next one to be belted. “Because … because …” she stammered.
“Because what?” howled her mother, shaking her vehemently.
Tam went over and relaxed Dinah’s grip on Elsie. “Look, darling,” he said softly. “Don’t be afraid … Daddy’s sorry … He was bad – but do tell us why Senga’s left home?”
Elsie looked imploringly at her two nodding Grannies before looking back at her father and then uttering reluctantly, “Because she doesn’t want you to …
kill him
!”
Ten-year-old Elsie, who was desperate to be part of the search, was ordered to stay at home in the care of Tess while everyone else went out to hunt for Senga and Joe. Having made his decision, Tam, who had now taken full charge of the situation, resolved it would be best to break up into pairs. So Tam joined up with his mother Mary. Dinah went with her mother Patsy, and Johnny attached himself to Etta. It was agreed from the start that, since they would be leaving at five o’clock, they would all meet up at seven, whether or not they had managed to trace the missing children.
Elsie had been looking out of the window for half an hour when she called to Tess, “Here’s Daddy and Granny Mary coming back but they haven’t got Senga and Joe with them.” Tess made no reply but joined Elsie at the window. “And look,” Elsie cried as she pointed, “there’s Mammy and Granny Patsy and they haven’t got them either!”
Once assembled in the living room, both exhausted grannies flopped down on chairs and remained speechless. What words could they have spoken that might possibly ease the situation? Two of their grandchildren were missing and it was all because the parents, their own adult children, had lost control of themselves.
Tam too sat down and buried his head in his hands. He was desperate to find a solution but none was forthcoming. Slowly he raised his head. Placing his hands at the back of his neck and entwining his fingers, he gave a long hard look at Dinah. She seemed to have aged ten years in the last few hours. Her lovely face was now taut and drawn, while her body sagged with fatigue. His eyes travelled down to her legs and he winced as he saw the cuts and bruises that had been inflicted by none other than himself! There and then, he vowed that no matter what happened in the future he would never lift his hand to her or his children ever again. Brutality of the kind he had meted out was for barbarians and if he continued to act like one then those who had brutalised him in his captivity would have won.
Dinah was the first to speak. “Right,” she said, her voice shaking with emotion, “I think it’s now time to get the police involved.”
A long silence followed before Patsy replied, “No. It’s only half past seven … let’s give it till nine … there’s still plenty of daylight.”
“You’re right, Patsy,” agreed Mary. “No polis until it’s really necessary. Besides, Johnny and Etta aren’t back yet and they might hae found them.”
“Will I put the kettle on?” asked Tess, who could think of nothing else to say.
Etta and Johnny had searched in all the most likely places and all the most unlikely places for Senga and Joe – every school playground and every play-park. They even begged the scoutmaster of the 11th Leith troop to let them search the Log Cabin Scout Hall in Craigentinny Road but there was still no sign of the missing pair. From there, they went up to Findlay Gardens and, just as they were approaching Restalrig Crescent, they saw Sam Campbell, a sharp-witted twelve-year-old – who’d had to grow up fast when his father deserted the family and left them destitute – jumping over the railway dyke.
Johnny whistled to alert Sam and Sam stopped and turned. “What’s up?” he asked.
Approaching the wall, Johnny jumped up to sit on the dyke while Etta got out her cigarettes and lit up. “Have you seen oor Senga and Joe?” were Johnny’s opening words.
Sam shook his head. “Naw. Last time I saw Senga she was reciting in the poetry competition.”
“Aye, she won,” replied Etta.
“So she should,” agreed Sam. “She sure is guid at speaking – even though she’s got a bandy leg.”
Etta shook her head and Johnny just ignored the remark about Senga and the poetry competition, where she had come first in the whole of Edinburgh, even beating all the posh fee-paying school children. It still rankled that Senga was to be presented with her prize by the Lord Provost up at the City Chambers but that snob of an English teacher at Norton Park School had said it would be better for another pupil – someone else who would create a better impression for the school than Senga with her deformed leg and no school uniform – to receive the accolade, and then Senga could receive it from her. When Senga had come home and told her mother and Granny Patsy what the teacher had proposed, Dinah was incensed and threatened to pull the school down on Miss Strang. Patsy, who very rarely swore, just advised Senga that she should tell Miss Strang to stick the prize up her big arse! And Senga never did accept the prize.
Johnny was about to go and look elsewhere but Etta, who knew Sam very well, said, “Sam. There was another wee spot of trouble …”
“About the poetry prize?”
Etta shook her head. “No. About wee Joe – well, Senga’s run away and taken him with her.”
Johnny snorted through gritted teeth. “Etta! Nobody was to know.”
Etta just patted Johnny on the arm. “Look, I’ve known the Campbell family for years … they won’t say a word and Sam here will know, if anybody does, where someone would go if they wanted to hide for a while.”
Sam became thoughtful. “You know,” he said eventually, “if I was doing a runner I think I’d get myself over this dyke so I could get to the Bare Lady …”