The Kellys of Kelvingrove (8 page)

‘And my father!’ Mirza said. ‘It’s bloody damnable, isn’t it?’

‘How about Bashir?’ Zaida asked.

‘I know he would help but what can he do? That crowd are liable to turn up anywhere and any time, determined to get me. Bashir, or anyone else, can’t know where and when their next stupid attack is going to be.’

Maq suddenly brightened. ‘We could get a gang together.’

‘Start a race war, you mean?’

‘No, I didn’t mean anything racial.’

‘That’s how it would look. White guys from a posh private school, sons of wealthy and influential parents, and coloured guys like us. We’d get all the blame and I can just see the newspaper headlines – “They’re not wanted in Britain. Send them back home to their own country.” etc, etc.’

‘Och, you don’t know that. We could just meet their mob and batter the living daylights out of them. The chances are that would finish them for good. They would never try anything again. End of story.’

Mirza sighed.

‘I don’t think so, Maq, but I appreciate how you’re trying to help. You’re a real pal. But I think, first of all, we’d be better to try the talking bit. Talk to the Kellys and to Bashir and see what they say. OK?’

Maq shrugged.

‘OK. It’s worth a try, I suppose. But if they don’t come up with a better idea, I can still get a gang together and we could try that.’

Ali spoke then. ‘I’ll go along with whatever’s decided on to help you, Mirza. You know that.’

‘Yes. The pair of you have always been my best friends and I’m really grateful to you both.’

They all began walking along Waterside Way. Maq, Ali and Zaida turned into number three. Mirza waited with Sandra.

‘In you go,’ he told the others. ‘I won’t be a minute.’

‘For God’s sake.’ Sandra became agitated. ‘Go in with them. Your father will see us. Or my mother might come out at any moment.’

‘I’m getting sick of all this. I’m not a coward. I can face my father and your mother.’

‘No, no,’ Sandra cried out. ‘That would be the end of us. They’d make sure of it. I couldn’t bear it.’

Suddenly Mirza caught her in his arms and kissed her passionately. She struggled, broke away from him with a moan and raced along the Way to house number five.

It was fortunate, as she told Mirza at school next day, that her mother had been in the kitchen and had not seen them.

‘But after this, I’m not going to walk home with you from school. I can’t bear the suspense of either my mother or her friend next door or that awful Reverend Denby seeing us. At least we can see each other at school.’

‘We’re doing this extra study course just now but what about the rest of the school holidays?’ Mirza asked. ‘Do we not see each other at all then?’

‘We’ll find somewhere safe to meet. There must be somewhere safe.’

‘Oh Sandra, I need you.’

‘And I need you. But we’ll have to be patient for a bit longer. Once we get to university, it should be easier. Nothing must happen to spoil your career chances, Mirza. Remember the teacher said you had a brilliant career in front of you, if you got to university and worked hard for your degree.

Mirza sighed. ‘You need your degree too.’

‘Yes, and I’m going to work hard to get it. And what’ll help to keep me going is knowing that at the end of it, we’ll be able to get married. We’ll just have to be patient.’

‘I don’t know if I can be patient for much longer, Sandra. I’m beginning to feel like an unexploded bomb.’

It seemed incredible to Mae that Jack was able to chat away to her as if nothing had happened, as if her distress had simply melted away after he’d given her the couple of pounds raise in her housekeeping money.

Now he was telling her about the plan for the opening of a pedestrian area in Buchanan Street. ‘Everybody will be able to walk around freely without the noise and danger of traffic,’ he explained enthusiastically. ‘I’ve read all about it. They’re going to replace the parking meters with plants and shrubs in what is now one of Glasgow’s main traffic arteries.’

‘Really?’ She struggled to put interest into her tone of voice.

‘Yes. At first it will only be enforced from eleven in the morning to four in the afternoon, but if it proves popular traffic could be banished from the entire street!’

‘Goodness.’

‘I thought you’d be more excited – you can do all your shopping with no distraction and in a much calmer environment.’

‘Well that’s nice.’

Nothing on earth was further from her thoughts. All their wonderful plans could sink to the bottom of the river, for all she cared. She felt as if she was sinking herself – alone and drowning. What was she going to do? How could she go on like this?

She only forgot at night when she was gripped in Jack’s strong arms and his lips and hands were caressing every part of her body. Her heart raced then but with pleasurable excitement, not terror. Her body pulsated with the thrill of him entering her. She wanted the forgetfulness, the pleasurable excitement, to last forever. But with the light of morning, and especially after Jack had left for work and she was alone, the terror returned.

She didn’t know what to do. More and more, she depended on Doris for company. Doris was more than happy to have her visit or to accompany her and her mother on some outing. Doris was fascinated when she recounted all that Jack had told her about the future plans for Glasgow.

‘Gosh, Mae, I can hardly wait until all that happens. We could go shopping together, couldn’t we?’

‘Of course, if you wanted to.’

‘That would be wonderful, Mae. It’ll give me something else to look forward to. And if Mother lives long enough to see it, she would be fascinated too. The only time she’s quiet and well-behaved is when she’s out somewhere with you. Otherwise – well, you know yourself what she’s like in the house.’

Indeed Mae did, and she often thought that she’d go stark raving mad if she had to put up with the old woman’s stupid repetitive talk and awful behaviour. All right, the poor soul was ill with dementia but it was terribly hard for Doris. Her mother was always running away from the house day and night and Doris had to chase after her and haul her back from nearly falling in the river or disappearing elsewhere. Doris seldom got a night’s sleep. The old woman didn’t seem to need a whole night’s sleep and as often as not, despite her sleeping tablet, she was up in the middle of the night and away outside, wearing only her nightie.

‘I always worry that, apart from anything else,’ Doris said, ‘she’ll get her death of cold. But not her. It’s me that gets the cold.’

Mae worried about Doris. She had grown painfully thin and gaunt and her grey-streaked hair stuck up like a wild neglected brush.

‘You need to look after yourself more, Doris.’

‘How can I?’ Doris looked as if she was about to break into wild sobbing and Mae realised it was a stupid thing to say. How could poor Doris ever be able to look after herself?

‘I’m sure your brother will soon come over and help you in every way he can. Now that you’ve written to him again.’

Nevertheless, in comparison with Doris, she was lucky. She tried to keep telling herself that. But it didn’t work.

Another day, Mae Kelly was hurrying back from doing some urgent shopping when she saw old Mrs McIvor pulling and tugging at the handle of number one. She began to run towards the house. Obviously Mrs McIvor had got out of her own house and was too confused to get back in to the right one again.

‘Mrs McIvor, it’s Mae,’ she cried out as soon as she reached the house. ‘Mae Kelly. Come on, I’ll take you into your own place.’

But Mrs McIvor pushed her away. ‘She’s locked me out.’

‘No dear, she hasn’t.’

‘Who are you? What do you know?’

‘I’m Mae Kelly. Your next door neighbour. You’ve met me before. Remember?’

‘No, I don’t. I don’t know who you are. She’s locked me out.’

Just then, Jack’s car arrived.

‘Something wrong? Can I help?’ He struggled out of the car and limped towards them. He knew about Mrs McIvor. Mae had told him how poor Doris suffered because of the old woman’s dementia.

It was then that the door of number two was flung open and a wild-haired Doris hastened out in great agitation.

‘I just went to the bathroom. I must have forgotten to lock the door. Oh, I’m so sorry.’

‘Not to worry,’ Jack said, linking arms with the old woman. ‘Come on, I’ll see you safely in to your own home.’

Mrs McIvor said to Doris, ‘I got the police to you.’

Mae went into the house with Doris and the old woman. Jack went back to garage his car.

‘I won’t be long,’ Mae called after him.

Inside number two, Doris was trembling and almost in tears.

‘Oh Mae, I forgot to lock the door. Do you think I’m going the same way as my mother? Is it genetic, do you think?’

‘Of course not. You’re under a terrible strain, Doris. I don’t know how you manage as well as you do.’

‘I’ll get the police to you,’ Mrs McIvor said.

‘Oh God,’ Doris groaned, rubbing a hand through her hair and making it even frizzier and messier. ‘She’s found something else to keep repeating at me.’

‘I’ll get the police to you.’

‘Doris, something will have to be done,’ Mae said firmly. ‘You definitely can’t go on like this. It’s enough to drive anyone crazy. Forgive me for saying this, Doris, but even I feel like punching her in the mouth to make her shut up. And I only see her occasionally.’

‘She wasn’t always like this. She was such a good mother to me and Alec. I must never forget that.’

‘But you’ve got to face it, Doris. She’s not that woman any more. It’s sad, I know, but for her own good as well as yours, something will have to be done.’

‘More and more, I feel like being violent to her myself.’ Doris began to moan and weep and Mae put a comforting arm around her. ‘I’m so ashamed, Mae, but what can I do?’

‘You’ll have to do the best thing for your mother and that means getting her into a good nursing home now.’

Mrs McIvor was wandering in and out of the room. ‘I’ll get the police to you.’

‘I suppose you’re right. But I’ve wanted so much to look after her with the patience and love she always gave me. I felt I owed it to her.’

‘It’s too much for you, Doris. Far too much. You know it is. The very best thing for your mother now is to get her into a good nursing home. You can visit her every day. And she’d be happy there. She’d have company and be well looked after. She’d be much happier, I’m sure. And you’d be happier too.’

‘But what’ll Alec say?’

‘Oh, for pity’s sake, Doris. Give me his address. I’ll write to him and tell him the desperate urgency of the situation. I’ll tell him that if he doesn’t respond and do something, I’ll get the police – something desperate like that. I’ll think of some kind of threat.’

‘You’ve done so much for me already, Mae. Would you really write and tell him the truth about how Mum is?’

‘Of course.’

Doris wiped at her eyes. ‘All right. I’ll wait until he gets your letter.’

‘I’ll write the letter tonight and post it tomorrow. But Doris, are you sure you’ll be all right until you hear from him?’

‘I’ll get the police to you.’

‘Yes, all right, Mum.’ Doris spoke to her mother through gritted teeth and made Mae all the more worried about leaving her.

‘Are you sure you’ll be all right, Doris? Look, I’ll wait until you give your mother her medication. Give her an extra dose to make her sleep.’

Doris nodded and went to fetch the necessary tablets. At least her mother dutifully swallowed them over. Mae waited until the old woman was nodding off to sleep and then she helped Doris tuck her safely into bed.

‘Thank you so much.’ Doris’s voice trembled as she saw Mae to the door. Mae gave her an affectionate hug.

‘Everything’s going to be all right soon. Just cling to that thought.’

Once back in her own house, she wished she had such a thought to cling to. She was sure Doris’s life was bound to get better. Her own life was sinking into the abyss of hell.

She was desperately trying to gather five pound notes but was she going to have enough before the robbers broke in?

Mahmood had not minded in the slightest when his young son Mirza asked if he could bring Sandra Arlington-Jones in for tea. Indeed, he had been delighted.

‘Welcome. Welcome,’ he’d told Mirza and then Sandra. His wife Rasheeda had made a nice cup of tea for their young guest and also produced a plate of assorted biscuits. Biscuits were a very popular seller in his grocery shop. Western people liked biscuits and Sandra had been no exception. She had a healthy young person’s appetite and enjoyed several.

But then Mahmood had become worried. Mirza had settled himself at Sandra’s feet and gazed adoringly up at her.

Eventually Mahmood spoke to Mirza about it.

‘Mirza, you must remember that we are Muslims. You can never be anything more than friends to any Christian woman.’

‘Father, you are prejudiced and I am not. I’ll be more than friends with who I like, whether she’s Christian or not. And eventually, when I’m older, if all goes well, I’ll marry who I like, whether she’s Christian or not.’

Mahmood was horrified. ‘No, no, my son. You cannot do that. Your mother and I will choose a wife for you, even if it means we have to go to Pakistan to do so.’

‘Father, this is Scotland and I’m nearly seventeen. In Scotland, anyone can get married as young as sixteen. It’s the law.’

Mahmood felt a cauldron of emotion begin to boil up inside his small frame. Anger, disappointment, grief. He was completely appalled.

‘You can’t even think of disobeying your parents and your religion. It is not possible.’

‘Anything’s possible, Father, and now that you’ve brought up the subject, I confess – I love Sandra Arlington-Jones and I hope one day to marry her.’

‘You’re being ridiculous, Mirza. Isn’t he being ridiculous, Rasheeda?’

‘Yes, of course. You haven’t even known her long enough to be friends.’

‘I’ve known her a lot longer than you think. She’s lived at number five for years but I knew her before we came to live in Waterside Way. We go to the same school.’