Dragon Land (10 page)

I said that would be a great idea, but it was just to please her, as I didn’t want to hurt her feelings by revealing my own hopeful plans for the future.

Mum also liked Laura’s company and she would chatter on about her job and how her friend Milly was coping with living on her own.

One night I said to my friend, ‘I hope you don’t find us boring, Laura.’

She looked at me in amazement. ‘Oh, I love the peace and quiet of your house. Don’t get me wrong, I love my own home as well, but sometimes Dad gets carried away with politics and Mum has to calm him down. It gets hectic at times.’

It was my turn to be amazed. ‘That’s the reason I love being at the Hawkhill. It’s so lively.’

Laura laughed. ‘Maybe we should exchange houses then, Lizzie.’ She then studied her knitting pattern for the matinee jacket she was knitting for the church, while I tried hard to get my knitted square finished. I had to admit to myself that I wasn’t one of life’s greatest knitters, but then I couldn’t recall reading about any pirates who spent their lives at sea with their knitting needles, or any explorers, for that matter, because I had made up my mind that was what I wanted to do, as pirates were out of fashion.

Although the general strike was over, there were still families struggling to live on the breadline and the streets were always full of angry crowds gathering to protest about their poverty-stricken lives.

Even Mum, who was working, was feeling the strain, and I knew she was worried about keeping her job in the department store. Some nights when she came home from work she looked pale and worn out, and when Granny asked her how her day had gone she replied that it had been quiet in the millinery department and that some of the shop assistants were becoming worried about their future.

‘It’s just not in Dundee,’ said Mum. ‘It’s the same all over the country.’

One afternoon Laura and I left school and caught the tramcar to Victoria Road. It had been a cold day with heavy showers and we were glad to be sitting in front of the fire. Granny had made cocoa and she laughed when we almost finished the plate of pancakes spread with butter.

‘You haven’t left much for your mother, have you, Lizzie?’ she said as we sat at the table with our homework.

Laura and I must have looked guilty, but she said there were some more in the scullery.

We were still busy scribbling in our school jotters when Mum arrived home. She quickly took off her wet coat and hung it up in the lobby and she stood in front of the fire trying to warm her hands.

‘I got soaked waiting for the tramcar.’ She sat down and took off her shoes and put on her slippers. ‘Oh, it’s such a relief to be home when the weather is bad like this.’ Turning to Granny, she said, ‘Oh, by the way, Mary, Milly is coming round later. She was very quiet at work today, so I hope she’s feeling all right.’

Laura was getting ready to go home when the doorbell went and Milly hurried into the room. She said she wasn’t staying for long.

‘I didn’t want to mention this at work today, Beth, but I want you to know that I’ll be leaving my work and my house and going to live with a cousin who lives in Glasgow.’

Mum and Granny were astounded.

‘What’s brought this on, Milly?’ Mum asked.

Milly looked a bit embarrassed. ‘Well, I’m finding it difficult to live on my own and pay the bills. I’m finding it gets harder every week. Then there’s all this unrest about jobs, and what will happen if we lose our jobs, Beth?’

Mum started to say that this wouldn’t happen, but Milly said it could and Mum had to agree that it was possible.

Granny said, ‘Who is this cousin in Glasgow? Do you know her well?’

Milly said she didn’t. ‘The thing is, Jeannie my cousin lost her husband a couple of years ago and she’s lonely, just like me. She wrote and asked if I’d like to go to visit her in Glasgow on Sunday and see if I’ll like it there.’

While we all sat transfixed by this unexpected news, Laura, who had been sitting with her coat on, said, ‘I’ll have to get away home, Lizzie.’

I went and put on my coat and we went downstairs. ‘I don’t know how Mum will take this news, Laura.’ I said. ‘Milly’s the only friend my mother has and I know they’ve shared a lot because of the deaths of my dad and Milly’s fiancé and brother, who were all killed in the war.’

Laura was sympathetic. ‘Your mum doesn’t talk much about your dad, Lizzie.’

‘That’s because she’s still convinced that he’s alive and lying injured in some hospital in Germany.’

Laura looked at me sadly. ‘That’s awful. I knew you said your dad was posted missing in France, but I just assumed he was dead after all these years, and because you didn’t say anything more I didn’t like to ask. Mum and Dad asked me about him, but I told them you didn’t like to talk about it.’

‘No, I didn’t say too much because I have to keep up this pretence that he’s still alive, although Granny and I both know it’s not true. My mum lives in a world of denial.’

‘I know how you feel. My father joined up in 1915, but he was badly injured when a lorry overturned before he was sent abroad, so he was lucky that he didn’t face the same carnage that other men faced.’

‘Was he very ill when the accident happened?’ I asked, feeling quite shocked by this revelation.

Laura nodded. ‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed that he has a limp when he walks. His leg was very badly broken and it took ages to heal. I remember Mum being so worried about him, but like your family, they never mention anything about those days.’

To be honest I had noticed his limp, but I had been so fascinated by his fervour about the state of the country that I hadn’t thought any more about it, and Laura was quite right about this reluctance to speak about the war. I had met Andy’s mother one day and she said he never mentioned the traumatic years of his army service. However, she did say he suffered from nightmares and he was shy around other people because of his injuries.

Milly was on the point of leaving when I got back upstairs and Mum was urging her to take her time about this momentous move.

After she left, Mum said, ‘I’ve told her to think twice about moving, because she has her own house and it isn’t easy leaving it behind to move in with someone.’

Granny stopped knitting and gave her a sad look. ‘Is that how you felt when you moved here, Beth?’

Mum, realising her faux pas, said, ‘No, we were glad to come here, Mary. You know that.’

Sadly, both Granny and I knew she lacked the conviction of her words. It would have been all right if Mum had had the sense to keep quiet, but she tried hard to rescue the situation, which made it worse instead of better.

‘I mean, we couldn’t afford to stay on in Garland Place, and it was so kind of you to offer us a home here.’ She stopped for breath. ‘Yes, we are both grateful, Mary, that’s the truth.’

Granny seemed mollified by this grand speech, but I knew she was hurt because she began to dig her knitting needles into the stitches, which wasn’t like her at all.

As we got ready for bed, Mum sat at the dressing-table mirror, brushing her hair. She caught sight of me looking at her in the mirror’s reflection and she sighed.

‘What a day it’s been.’

Milly went off to Glasgow on Sunday on the morning train to visit this cousin she hadn’t seen in years. Mum said she wouldn’t like living in a strange house with a virtual stranger, but her words didn’t sound convincing.

The next night Milly appeared at the house.

‘How did you get on, Milly?’ Mum asked as she busied herself with the teapot and the cups. Milly was dressed in her best dress and coat and was wearing her new pair of gloves.

‘She’s a lot older than me, Beth, but I think we’ll get along fine. She has a nice two-bedroomed flat in Garnethill and it’s not far from the centre of the town, and she says it should be easy to get a job in a department store because of my good references.’

Up till that point Granny had been sitting quietly, but she asked her, ‘Do you feel you’ll be happy living in another city, Milly?’

Milly didn’t answer right away and Mum was about to speak when she said, ‘I’m not sure, Mary, but I don’t think I’ve any choice. As I’ve said, since my mother died I’ve been finding things difficult and I know I can’t manage much longer with my wages. No matter how much I try to cut down.’

‘Well, Milly, you must go and do what you think is best for you. That’s what I’ve told Beth.’

Mum gathered up the cups and saucers but didn’t say anything. Milly stood up to leave.

‘I’ll have to think about it, but if I do decide to go then I must put my notice in to the store.’

Afterwards, when we were getting ready for bed, Mum said she was sure her friend had made up her mind to go.

‘I’ll miss her very much, Lizzie, but she has to do what’s right for herself.’

A month after that initial visit to her cousin’s house, Milly was all ready to go. She had sold off the furniture and contents of her house, which gave her a tidy sum of money to start her new life. As she said, ‘It’s not as if I’ll be beholden to Jeannie, at least not to begin with.’

On the Sunday afternoon before she left, Milly asked Mum and I to go with her to the new war memorial on top of the Law. Mum wasn’t keen, but she felt she couldn’t turn down this request from her friend. They had both paid a visit to the memorial on the day it was unveiled, but Mum had been very unhappy when she got home. It was as if the granite monument had been a reminder of all the deaths and she was still living in the hope that Dad would someday come home.

It was a cold, blustery day with some sharp showers when we made our way up the steep slope to the top, where the memorial stood looking out over the city that had lost so many of its young men.

Earlier, there had been a large article in the
People’s Journal
that printed the photos of all the Dundee and district casualties of the war, and Milly treasured the paper, which showed the photographs of her brother Michael and fiancé Billy. I remembered the argument at home when Mum refused to allow a photograph of my father to be used. As a result his name was printed with a black silhouette and Granny had been so angry at this.

‘Peter is dead, Beth. It’s been years and he isn’t coming back,’ Granny had said.

Mum was furious. ‘That’s not true.’ She looked at Granny, her face red with anger. ‘Don’t you want him to be alive, Mary?’

Granny went out of the door and I followed her. She was crying, but when I tried to speak to her she said she was fine. ‘Go back in, Lizzie, and look after your mother.’

Now here we were, standing in the wind and looking at the memorial. Milly said what a great monument it was to the remembrance of the dead. I waited with bated breath, fully expecting Mum to lose her rag, but she turned away and said that it was indeed a great honour for the city to bestow upon the loss of so many fine young lives. Thankfully Milly didn’t hear her murmur, ‘It’s a great pity this country allowed the war in the first place.’

We stood in silence for some time, then Milly said it was time to leave. I saw the look of relief on Mum’s face as we slowly walked back down the hill.

Milly wiped the tears from her eyes and said, ‘It’s so sad looking at the war memorial. Don’t you think so, Beth?’

‘Yes, it is. It’s a sad reminder of all the needless carnage.’

When we reached Victoria Road, Milly said she would come up for a quick cup of tea before leaving for the railway station that evening. Granny was pleased to see her.

‘So you’re all set for your trip, Milly? We hope everything works out for you in Glasgow.’

Milly nodded. ‘Thank you for all your best wishes, Mary, and I think I’ll be very happy.’

Mum brought the tea tray through and placed it on the table. ‘Lizzie and I will come to the station with you and see you off.’

Later that night we stood on the platform, waiting for the train to arrive. I had carried the two suitcases that contained all Milly’s worldly goods, while Mum seemed to be on the verge of tears. Thankfully she managed to keep her composure as Milly checked her handbag to make sure her tickets were safely inside. Then the train arrived, and as she boarded the train, both women began to cry.

‘I’m going to miss you, Beth. Mind and look after yourself and promise me you’ll come and visit me when I’m settled in.’

Mum said she would. ‘You’ve been a good friend to me, Milly, and I’ll miss you as well.’

Then the train began to pull away from the platform and we both waved until it reached a bend in the line and disappeared from view.

We turned and headed for home in silence. The rain had come on, a cold, wet drizzle, and we were glad to get back to the warmth of the house. Granny and Maisie Mulholland were busy with their knitting in front of a cheerful fire.

Maisie stood up as we entered and went to make some hot cocoa. Granny looked at us over the top of her spectacles. ‘Did Milly get away on time?’

I answered, ‘Yes, she did. The train was on time and her cousin is going to meet her in Glasgow.’

Mum quickly drank her cocoa, then said, ‘I think I’ll get away to bed, as I’m really tired.’

After Maisie left, Granny and I sat looking at the photo album again until I began to feel sleepy.

In the bedroom I tried to be very quiet getting undressed, as I thought Mum would be sound asleep, but when I looked at her, she was wide awake, her face turned towards the window.

When I spoke, she quickly closed her eyes, and I slipped into bed with a dark feeling of something I couldn’t put my finger on. Was it fear or apprehension? I wasn’t sure.

It was not long after Milly departed for Glasgow that Granny and I became worried about Mum. We would be fine until she came home from work, but as soon as we had our tea she would start complaining about things like the small stain on my school skirt or something equally trivial.

One night I accidentally spilled some tea on my blouse and she exploded with anger. ‘You’re getting very careless, Lizzie. Don’t you have any idea how much your clothes cost? I don’t want your aunt Margaret to keep forking out good money if you’re not going to look after things.’