Authors: Millie Gray
“Onyway,” said Tam, turning to Dinah while popping into his mouth the bread he’d used for mopping up the remaining sauce on his plate. “It’ll be four years till we’re on the grant and by that time,” he gulped, “Joe’ll be at school and you can get yourself a wee job.” Dinah started to laugh. “What’s so amusing about you going out and doing your bit?” spiered Tam.
“Just that, as you’ve said, you’re fighting fit again. So fit actually that it’ll be another five years and eight months before I can take on a wee job to keep the home fires burning!”
Tam’s mouth sagged. “Are you saying …?”
Dinah smiled, “Five weeks gone – and before you suggest I get rid of it, remember I’m a Catholic.”
“You never got rid of
him
,” Tam now pointed with his index finger towards wee Joe, “so why would you want tae get rid of my legitimate …?”
“Don’t you dare say Joe’s no legal,” retorted Dinah, going over and placing her hands over the boy’s ears. “But to get back to your burning desire – yes, my bonny lad, you can please your pal Andy and go to Moray House – but ask him first how you’ll cope with all those sleepless nights that’ll be coming up in eight months time!”
When Senga arrived at her Granny Patsy’s house, she leant over and tapped on the kitchen window. Immediately the window opened upwards and Patsy stuck her head out. “Nearly ready,” she called, looking admiringly at wee Joe in his go-car. “My, you’ve got him looking just dandy the day. New coat?”
“Yeah, I got it in the Store. Mind you, he’d no clothing coupons left. Daddy wouldn’t give him any of his. Says he’s got to get a new funeral shirt and suit now he’s put on weight.”
“Does he think somebody’s about to kick the bucket?”
“Other than Granddad Glass …?”
“He’d be a right miss and I don’t think so,” interrupted Patsy, her voice full of disgust.
“Well, no. Counting granddad, I think everybody else is okay except …” Senga hesitated. She wasn’t sure if she should tell Granny Patsy about Mammy and Daddy’s fall-out. It could be looked upon as being disloyal. But she’d no need to worry for Patsy had taken her head in through the window again and Senga could hear her granny’s outside door being banged shut.
As soon as Patsy appeared outside, she pushed Senga away from Joe’s go-car and took over pushing the vehicle along the road. “Johnny away on ahead to the football field?”
“Aye. They’re playing down on Leith Links – and, Granny,” Senga paused for she hated hurting Patsy, “Johnny says even if the ball knocks his head off you’ve not to run on to the field shouting ‘
foul
’ and then go about lashing out at the laddie that’s collided with him!”
Patsy sniffed before explaining, “That was a mistake last week. I never meant to land that Sam Campbell a shot.”
“Oh, so you forgot he plays on the same side as Johnny?”
“Sort of. But you see, when I saw our Johnny falling over him I thought he’d deliberately flung himself down on the ground. How was I to know he’d been wrong-footed by the other team’s inside-right?”
Senga smiled. She never could stay angry for long with Granny Patsy. She knew that when Granny Patsy did things like smack Sam Campbell it was because she was so besotted with her grandchildren. She was just wondering what life would have been like without her when Patsy stopped pushing the go-car and asked, “You were saying everybody was all right except … except who?”
A long silence followed but, as Patsy made no attempt to move on, Senga resolved to tell her what she would find out anyway. “Granny Patsy,” she said, “now this is secret.
Very
secret.” Patsy crossed herself to acknowledge she was to tell no one what Senga was about to impart. “Well, Daddy’s been listening to Andy Young again.”
“So what?” remarked Patsy. “He always gives him good advice. Look how he and that Fred guy got him through the war – and not only that, he taught him to read and write.”
“That’s the problem,” explained Senga. “Now he can read and write, he wants to be a teacher.”
“How could he be that? He’s only a joiner.”
“Yeah, but if he goes to night school at the Heriot Watt he could do studying and exams and then go on to teacher-training at Moray House College.”
“Hmmm,” Patsy half sang. “Good for him. And that wouldnae half cheer up his mammy.”
“But that’s not all …” Senga paused. “He also wants Johnny to go with him.”
“Johnny?”
“Aye, he thinks Johnny should be trying to better himself and it would get him paid his worth.”
“You mean he’d be paid more than your Dad?”
“Naw, Granny, he wouldn’t be paid more that way but he
would
be able to work the hale thirty years or so to get a full pension. Daddy’ll be forty-three when he qualifies so he’ll only get a wee pension.”
“Aye,” agreed Patsy, as she moved on. “But it would at least be a pension. Maist of us hae to depend on the State and it’s in a right state, is it no?”
“Here, would you look at that?” shouted Senga, as they neared the playing fields. “The game’s started and oh, oh, oh!”
“Is that Sam Campbell scoring again?” commented Patsy to Senga, who was now blushing and gasping. “Know something, Senga? He always seems to have that red face effect on you. Do you fancy him or something?”
Shaking her head vehemently, Senga exclaimed, “Me fancy him, Granny? Don’t you know he’s a whole thirteen months, two weeks and three days younger than I am?”
“Oh, I see. So you don’t want to be caught cradle-snatching?”
Refusing to discuss her secret feelings for Sam Campbell, even with her Granny Patsy, Senga decided on a quick change of subject. “Here, Granny,” she simpered, “do you think if I took wee Joe to the barber’s he could cut away most of these lovely black corkscrew curls that seem to annoy Daddy so much?”
“Well, you could try, but know something? Joe having his hair straightened won’t stop you having a crush on bonny, tall, curly-headed Sam Campbell!”
“This your first time?” asked the woman in the bed opposite to Dinah.
Dinah reluctantly turned her gaze away from the small delicate bundle she had just given birth to. “No and yes,” she replied. “You see, it’s the first time I’ve given birth in a hospital – my other six were born at home.”
“Seven in all you’ve had?” Dinah nodded. “And you look so g-good still,” the woman began to stammer. “What I mean is, you dinnae look as if you’ve been yased as a breeding machine.”
Ignoring the woman’s remarks, Dinah looked down once again at her precious baby. “Think I’m going to call her Myra after my mother-in-law.”
“One o’ your other bairns called after your own mammy?”
“No. One Patsy at a time is quite enough for this world.”
The woman was now out of bed and came over to sit beside Dinah. “My name’s Rosalie O’Donnell. I’m from west of the Shannon.”
“Thought you might be Irish with that lovely brogue of yours. I’m Dinah Glass. Think they’ve put us thegither because we’re getting on a bit for having bairns.”
Rosalie laughed and her whole face lit up. “This wee soul now,” she said, pulling down the baby’s shawl to get a better look. “Did she come as much as a surprise as mine did?” Dinah nodded.
“I’m forty, would you believe it? My youngest laddie is eighteen and here’s me … Ah well, the milkman’s got a lot to answer for.”
Dinah looked quizzical but decided not to pursue Rosalie’s confession – if it really was one. “I’m thirty-eight but my last wee one, a laddie, is just three. You know, I just don’t know what it is about April the first that makes me feel I
have
to give birth!”
The evening visiting session officially allowed no more than two visitors at the bedside, but since no one was willing to be left out of the group that had come to inspect the new member of the Glass family, Dinah had continued to have her whole family crowd round her.
Tam was first to pick up little Myra and his eyes moistened as he held her. “Think she’s very like you, darling,” he said, looking directly at Dinah.
“Any good news?” Dinah replied.
Tam handed Myra to Patsy who promptly summoned Mary to come over and admire the latest addition. “Any good news, you ask?” he said thoughtfully, taking Dinah’s hand in his. “Now, let’s see. Would Johnny and me passing our first-year exams at the Heriot Watt count?”
Dinah pulled her hand away from Tam’s. “No! But winning the pools would!”
“But you know I’m against gambling, so I don’t do the pools,” protested Tam.
Dinah was about to make a caustic retort when a drunk and dishevelled man staggered into the ward and lurched his way to Rosalie’s bed. “Another wee thon,” he lisped. He tried to bend over the bed to kiss his wife but almost fell over. Regaining his balance he then shouted to the whole ward, “Ken what all the boys in the docks thaid?” No one spoke so he went on. “They thaid, they did, that thomeone had had it in for me!”
To which Rosalie replied quietly, with a wink to Dinah, “Didn’t believe me, did you? But now you do.”
Before anything else could be said, Tam and Johnny had to take their leave of Dinah so as to go to their evening class. Both grandmothers meantime were anxious that the children shouldn’t start asking what Rosalie meant so Patsy blurted out, “Here, Dinah, you’re never going to believe this – but Mary and me hae joined the Co-op Women’s Guild.”
Dinah’s eyes widened in mock amazement as she replied, “Oh, that’s the most exciting thing I’ve heard since Betty Grable insured her legs for a million dollars.”
Patsy well knew that Dinah was being sarcastic and she nudged Mary before going on. “You tell her, Mary. Tell her just where we’ll be going with the Guild and who we’ll be seeing.”
Mary looked warily about the ward and a coy look overtook her before she confided, “Blackpool! And we’ll be staying in a Bed and Breakfast!”
“Blackpool? And staying in a Bed and Breakfast!” exclaimed Dinah. “But how on earth can you two – especially you, Mammy, who’s always pleading poverty – possibly afford that?”
“Well,” continued Mary, relishing her moment of glory, “it’s only for the September weekend, Dinah. No for the whole week.”
“And,” Patsy quickly interrupted, “as we start paying it up from now, not only will it all be paid for before we go, but we’ll also hae saved up oor spending money.”
“And remember, Patsy,” Mary continued, with a deliberate pause to add to the suspense, “that it also includes oor tickets to see Joseph Locke in the theatre – and in the Winter Gardens, at that. Just imagine it.” Mary now looked over to Patsy and grinned. “Little old us going to the Winter Gardens to see all the big stars!”
“Next thing you’ll be telling me, Mary, is that you’ll be getting a wee perm before you go.”
“It’s already been booked – and Etta’s going to lend me a suitcase.”
By the time the September weekend came along, the household in Restalrig Circus had settled down, complete with baby Myra. All that is, except for wee Joe, who couldn’t understand why everything wasn’t still revolving around himself. “Jealous wee blighter,” remarked Tam, who took every opportunity to pick Myra up and nurse her – something he wasn’t seen to do with Joe when anybody was about.
Dinah and Senga, lugging the suitcases, escorted the two grannies down to Fire Brigade Street where all the buses were lined up, ready to take the eager passengers to Blackpool for the weekend.
“Which bus are we on?” Mary asked, grabbing hold of Patsy’s arm.
“That one. See – there’s Ella ticking off everyone from her sheet as they get on.”
Mary giggled. “So she is. Quick, Patsy. Let’s get aboard so we can get a good seat thegither.”
As Patsy and Mary scrambled aboard the bus, Dinah and Senga were left to heave the cases up into the luggage rack.
“You know, Mum, you’d think they were off for a week to Butlins in Ayr the way they’re carrying on,” remarked Senga, who was vastly amused that a weekend trip, even if it was to Blackpool, could cause so much excitement.
“Aw well,” replied Dinah, who was secretly pleased that the two were off on their own. “You see, they’ve never really had the wherewithal to go any further than Porty beach, where for thruppence the café will fill your teapot with hot water. So this is all a great adventure – and good luck to them. But know something?” she trilled delightedly and then slipped her arm through Senga’s as they both waved furiously when the bus engines roared into life and set off into Great Junction Street. “How do you think we’ll keep them down in the farm now when they’ve seen Blackpool?”
Dinah was still arm-in-arm with Senga as they made their leisurely way home. This intimacy gave Senga – who always felt she was the
saftest
in the family, the only Johnny-raw – the much-needed confidence she usually lacked. For some time she’d been wanting to talk to her mother about confidential matters that were worrying her. “Mammy,” she said hesitantly, “ken the lassies in the Bond?” Dinah nodded. “Well they’re arranging a night oot for Halloween.”
“Oh, that’s good. And you should go. Get mixing with lassies your own age instead of always taking wee Joe with you everywhere.” Senga bristled but Dinah went on, “Spoil your chances, so he will, because the laddies will be thinking he’s yours, and with him being …”
Senga, who always turned herself off when anyone commented that her Joe was of mixed race, abruptly interrupted. “They’re haeing their tea oot in a chippie first, they are. Then going on to Fairley’s Dance …”
Now it was Dinah’s turn to break in as she pulled her arm abruptly away from Senga’s. “Fairley’s Dance Hall in Leith Street?” Senga nodded. “But that’s the place where whores pick up the sailors!”
“Mammy, if you’d let me finish. Before the lassies go into Fairley’s, their boyfriends are meeting up with them so there’ll be nae problems for them …” Senga turned and looked straight at her mother. “But as I’ve no got a boyfriend, and oor Johnny has told me to ‘get lost’ ’cause he wouldnae be seen dead in the place, I was wondering if it would be out of order to ask a neighbour laddie?”
Dinah sighed. She remembered that she had been just Senga’s age, fifteen, when she’d fallen for Tam and how painful it had been when their families had tried to keep them apart. But it had been different for her and Tam because they’d been besotted with each other. In Senga’s case, Dinah (who knew her children only too well) was aware that Senga was bewitched by Sam Campbell, who was only going on fourteen. Dinah shook her head. There was just no way a fifteen-year-old naïve lassie and a fourteen-year-old laddie, even if he was as worldly wise as Sam, would be allowed into Fairley’s. But more importantly, she didn’t want Senga entering that den of iniquity. “Look, Senga darling,” she began, “you’re just too young for that kind of dance hall. And you shouldn’t be throwing yourself at any boy … or young man …”