The Road to Rowanbrae (24 page)

‘Oh yes, nearly every night, and it's getting worse. I've been nearly out of my mind with worry.'

‘Oh, God, Maisie, why didn't you tell me before? It's all my fault. I've been giving him money occasionally, but I never thought for a minute that he would spend it all on drink.'

‘So that's where he got it! And I was beginning to think he must have been taking something out of his trust. Why didn't
you
tell
me
before?'

Sandy butted in now, his brain not clear enough to make him guard his tongue. ‘I haven't been spending it all on drink, anyway, so there. I sometimes pick up a woman …'

‘That's enough,' Gregor warned, but Sandy said, truculently. ‘Is it a crime to go out with women nowadays? I've been doing it for years, and doing a lot more than kissing, though I'd to pay some of them to let me use their bodies.'

‘Sandy!' Mysie exclaimed.

‘Have I shocked you?' he giggled. ‘What a naughty boy I am – drinking, smoking, having my way with women.'

Gregor's slap wiped the smile off his face. ‘You will not talk like that in front of your mother, and there is no need to gloat over your misdeeds.' Turning to Mysie, he said, ‘I am deeply ashamed at my part in this. If I had told you about the money, you would have been saved a lot of heartache. Now, Sandy, after you have had your tea, you are coming for a walk with me, to see if that will sober you up.'

About to object, Sandy thought better of it, and sat down at the table. Mysie felt humiliated because Gregor had witnessed her son's disgusting behaviour, but was glad in a way that he had been there to deal with it – she wouldn't have known what to do if she'd been on her own.

As soon as they finished eating, Gregor stood up and Sandy followed him out. Mysie was still clearing up, wondering what was passing between them, when Gina came home. ‘That woman is away, is she?'

Mysie kept her temper. ‘Jess left a present for you.'

Screwing up her nose, Gina tore the paper off the parcel. ‘A Fair Isle jumper? God, I could never go out wearing that!' She picked the offending article up with two fingers and held it well away from her as she tossed it on to the settee.

‘Gina, you're an ungrateful little brat!' Mysie's taut nerves snapped. ‘Jess spent ages knitting that, and you'll wear it supposin' I've to knock the livin' daylights oot o' you! Sit doon an' tak' your supper afore I tak' my hand roon' your lug!'

The girl's top lip curled. ‘You can't hide your origins, can you?' she sneered. ‘That's why I can't take my friends here. I don't know what they'd think of you … yes, I do. They'd laugh at you, and at me!' She jumped back as Mysie's hand hit her cheek with full force.

For a moment there was an electrifying silence, then Mysie sank into a chair. ‘I shouldn't have hit you, Gina, but you asked for it, and I was all strung up anyway, for Sandy came home drunk. Gregor's taken him out to sober him up.'

An angry crimson spot on her cheek, Gina seated herself at the table and lifted her knife and fork. ‘You told me to sit down and eat my supper – well, I'm waiting. Where is it?'

Sighing, Mysie rose to take the dish out of the oven. It was useless trying to discipline her daughter, she had let her take her own way for far too long.

When the two men returned, the subdued Sandy muttered, ‘The pubs don't open on Sundays, so I'd been drinking at a friend's house, but I shouldn't have spoken to you the way I did. I'm very sorry, Mother, and I'd better go and sleep it off.'

When Sandy went into his own room, Gina said, defiantly, ‘I suppose you've given Sandy a good telling off, Gregor? Well, you needn't bother starting on me, I'm going out.'

As the door slammed behind her, Gregor looked puzzled. ‘What was all that about?'

‘We had an argument and I slapped her face.'

The tremor in her voice stopped him from asking why they had been arguing. ‘I'm sure she deserved it. I think I got through to Sandy tonight. I gave him a very strong lecture, and although I can't guarantee that he will stop what he's been doing with girls, I don't think he will talk to you in that manner again. I will not give him any money in future, so he probably won't be able to drink so much, either.'

‘Thank you, Gregor. I'm glad you've sorted him out. Just one thing, has he been taking money out of the trust?'

‘No, it's still intact, but I honestly feel responsible for his drinking, Maisie. I began giving give him an odd pound or two years ago, when he first started at Varsity. Remembering my own student days, I knew he'd feel out of it if he hadn't the money to keep up with his friends.'

‘I should have told you long ago about him drinking,' Mysie said, ruefully, ‘but I didn't want you to know I couldn't control my children. Gina gave me the height of impudence tonight, that's why I slapped her, but it didn't have any effect.'

‘Do you want me to talk to her when she comes home again?'

‘Not tonight, Gregor. I've had all I can take already.'

‘Working so hard in the shop is beginning to tell on you, my dear. You should consider employing someone to help you.'

Mysie thought this over when he went home. If she had an assistant, she could cook during the day and spend more time with Sandy and Gina in the evenings. More attention might be all they needed. Gregor was good at solving her problems, but she shouldn't have let him kiss her earlier. It could make him think she was weakening, and marriage was out of the question as far as she was concerned. Her biggest problem, the one she had swept to the back of her mind for so long, had loomed up menacingly again, and there was no way that he could solve it for her.

Chapter Twenty-three

1934–5

‘Oh, boy! Just look what's walked in!' The young man gave a low whistle, and his two friends looked round to see what had caused him to be so excited. They were in a bar on the quay, and girls seldom came into these places on their own, but this one seemed oblivious to the attention she was attracting. She was rummaging inside her handbag now with her head down and Sandy Duncan couldn't see her face, but her hair was long and silky-looking, and very blonde. At that moment, she pulled a packet of cigarettes out of the bag and looked directly at him. Her dark eyes held his for an eternity, then she looked away and took out a box of matches.

‘She's beautiful,' he murmured in awe, causing the other two to make lewd comments.

‘I wouldn't say no to going up a dark alley with her.'

‘You wouldn't have the stamina.'

‘I'd die happy if I was on top of her.'

‘Just look at her tits. I'd love to get my hands on them.'

This was too much for Sandy, who had been growing steadily angrier at them. ‘Don't speak about her like that!' He had only noticed her hair and eyes, but taking another glance he saw that her figure was enticingly curvaceous.

Pete, one of the men he had met in another bar some months previously, was eyeing him teasingly. ‘Has the love-bug bitten you? I'd leave her alone if I was you, she's not your type.'

‘You've no idea what my type is.'

‘Well, being an up and coming solicitor, I'd have imagined you'd prefer them a bit classier.'

It always irritated Sandy when Pete sneered that way about his profession, although it was probably jealousy because he wasn't a white-collar worker himself, so he ignored the remark and walked across to the girl. ‘Would you allow me to buy a drink for you?'

Her eyelashes fluttered. ‘Oh, thanks, you're a pal. A gin an' tonic, if you wouldna mind.'

The harsh, common voice shocked him – she had the face of an angel – but while they were drinking he saw that her hands were red and rough, and guessed that she had to work hard for a living. She told him her name was Libby and refused another drink. ‘I'd better be gettin' hame.'

He offered to see her home and they left with the catcalls of his companions ringing in his ears. Once outside, she slid her arm under his and took him over Regent Bridge and along the docks. ‘I bide in Torry,' she explained.

She led him to the top floor of a tenement in Menzies Road, and seemed to be surprised that no one was in. ‘Oh, my Ma's surely oot, so will you nae come in for a while?'

Despite having been alone in a room with many women before, Sandy felt shy with Libby, and wondered if she would be angry if he kissed her. She sat down on the shabby sofa with her slim legs crossed, her short skirt riding up to reveal smooth thighs above the tops of her stockings, and he could restrain himself no longer. Practically throwing himself on her, he kissed her passionately.

‘There's nae hurry,' she murmured, as his hands delved down.

She let him pet her until he was almost begging her to let him take her, then she stopped pushing his hands away. ‘Oh, Sandy,' she moaned, ‘I've never daen onything like this afore, but you're makin' me …' She halted as he tried to force her legs apart, then said, ‘We'll ha'e a fag first, eh?'

‘I don't want to smoke just now.' He waited impatiently until she flung her cigarette end into the fire and turned to him.

On his way home, Sandy reflected, rather ruefully, that she hadn't been as innocent as she had tried to make out. She had taught him a thing or two about prolonging and enjoying love-making – him, who had been the best stag in the herd since he had been about eighteen. Oh God, even knowing the kind of girl she was, he was mad about her … and her gorgeous body.

Forty-four years old, and feeling older than that some days, Mysie was glad that she had taken on an assistant three years previously. She could bake and cook during the day – though she had to serve if the shop was busy – and she was free in the evenings. Her original intention had been to spend more time with Sandy and Gina, but they were so seldom in that she had seen little more of them than she had before. Like all mothers, she worried about what her children might be getting up to – Sandy especially. He was twenty-seven now, and there was no sign of him wanting to marry and settle down. Some of her customers had said that he was with a different girl every time they saw him, and one had even hinted that the girls he went with were no better than they should be.

Gina was still at school, and only interested in fashions, hairstyles and make-up. Mysie disapproved of the ‘war-paint', but had to admit that it made the girl even more attractive. When she was all dressed up to go out, she looked twenty-one, not sixteen, and Mysie worried in case any boys took advantage of her. Gina ‘had all her back teeth in', as Jess would have said, but she was very young and could easily be led astray.

Mysie always found something to worry about, indeed Gregor often teased her that she must have been born worrying. But her terror about what might be found by the owners of the new house at Rowanbrae had been allayed when Jess visited six months ago.

‘The bungalow's finished,' her friend had told her, ‘though it took mair than twa year. Dick Cattanach built it himself – he's a mason to trade – an' he's made a good job o' it. Mary showed me inside one day, an' there's a bathroom, a kitchen
and
a livin' room, an' they've got three bedrooms as weel. They built oot at the front, nae the back, so the byre's been left as it was, an', Mysie, they're usin' it for a shed. Naebody would ever think o' diggin' up the floor o' a shed, so you've naething to worry aboot noo. The Cattanachs are good enough folk, but they're nae my kind.'

Her information had relieved Mysie so much that Gregor had remarked, the next time he came, ‘I don't know what has been troubling you for so long, Maisie, but I'm very glad that you've got over it.'

‘Yes, I feel a lot better now.' She hadn't told him why and he hadn't asked.

One Sunday afternoon in September, Mysie was sitting on her own as usual. Sandy was making a name for himself as a junior partner, and both Gregor and she were very pleased about that, but he was always out and had recently taken to coming home in the early hours of the morning. It wasn't Bobby Phillip who was keeping him out – Gregor had told her that he had moved some time ago to a practice in Glasgow, though Sandy had never mentioned it – so he must have made other friends. But what kept him out so late, for he never came home drunk now? Gina, too, was often not home until after midnight and wouldn't say where she had been, which was even more worrying, but it was useless trying to speak to her. She had always been a law unto herself.

When Gregor came for his supper, she told him that she was worried about her children, but he just smiled. ‘They're young. Sandy will have fallen in love with his current girl, and Gina has probably found a boyfriend.'

‘But she's only sixteen,' Mysie wailed. ‘She's too young to have a steady boyfriend.'

His eyes twinkled. ‘How old were you when you married?'

‘That was different. I told you – I'd no say in it, and I'd never been out with any boys before that.'

‘It might have been better if you had.' His face sobered. ‘I went out with dozens of girls when I was young, but only for a bit of fun and I never loved any of them.'

It was ten past ten, only twenty minutes after Gregor left, when Sandy came in. Mysie was delighted that he was earlier than usual, but his apprehensive expression alarmed her. ‘I've something to tell you, Mother, and I don't think you'll be very pleased about it.'

Wishing that Gregor was there for support, she said, ‘You'd better get it over, then.'

‘I've been going out with a girl since February, and … well, she's …'

His acute embarrassment told her the rest. ‘She's going to have your child?'

Face scarlet now, he nodded. ‘Yes, but I do love her and I'm going to marry her.'

Slightly relieved that it wasn't some young tart he'd picked up and didn't give tuppence for, Mysie said, ‘Who is she?'

‘She's outside. I'll take her in to meet you.'

The girl who came in
was
a tart, Mysie realised with dismay. A painted, brazen tart. How could Sandy love that smirking, common face? This would have to be nipped in the bud, but it would have to be dealt with tactfully.

‘This is Libby Baxter, Mother.'

The pride in his voice made Mysie realise that her son was besotted with the creature, and she had to force herself to be pleasant. ‘Sandy tells me he wants to marry you?'

‘It's just as weel he wants to, for my Da woulda made him if he didna.' The girl's eyes were bold and triumphant, her voice rough and grating. ‘An' a' the quines at my work ken.'

‘What is your work?'

‘I'm a fish gutter, an' I'm nae ashamed o' it.'

‘No, that's nothing to be ashamed of, but …' Mysie chose her next words carefully, ‘Sandy has a position to keep up.'

Libby was quick on the uptake. ‘You dinna want him to marry me, is that it? You think I'm nae good enough for him?'

‘She didn't say that.' Sandy glared at his mother, waiting for her to deny the accusation.

‘It's what she meant, though,' Libby sneered.

‘Yes,' Mysie said, quietly, throwing discretion to the winds. ‘It's what I meant. I'm sorry, Sandy, but …' She hesitated, then continued with what she had been about to say. ‘You can't marry a girl like this. What will your friends think? What will Gregor say?'

‘I don't give a damn what Gregor Wallace says. Anyway, he couldn't condemn me for making love to Libby, when he's been making love to you for years. I know what's been going on, you see, Mother, and it's only because you're past it that you haven't had a child to him.'

Mysie was so incensed that she didn't see Gina coming in. ‘Gregor has never touched me in that way, Sandy, and you should be ashamed of yourself for saying such a thing.'

Sandy
had
seen his sister, but was past caring who heard him. ‘Maybe Gregor hasn't made love to you, but you can't deny that Doddie Wilson did, and you weren't married to him, either.'

‘That was different.'

‘No it wasn't. It was exactly the same, and we had to leave Burnlea House because you were expecting
his
child.'

‘I loved Doddie.' It was all Mysie could think of to defend herself. ‘If he hadn't been killed, he'd have … married me.'

‘Well, my child isn't going to be illegitimate like Gina.'

Shocked, Gina stepped forward. ‘I am not illegitimate,' she shouted, making Mysie spin round and cover her mouth.

‘Yes, you are.' Sandy was too provoked to consider anyone's feelings – his mother's or his sister's.

‘Is that true, Mother?' The girl's voice was cold.

‘I never thought of it like that,' Mysie groaned.

‘Is it true?' Gina persisted, her eyes hard and glittering.

‘Yes, it's true, but I can explain …'

‘It's too late for explanations, and in any case, you couldn't say anything to excuse this. You told me once that you were a country woman like Jess Findlater, and how true that was! You are an ignorant, uncouth country woman with no morals! Did your husband know about you, or weren't you married to Sandy's father either?' Gina was beside herself with fury.

‘I
was
married to him, though it was against my will, but he walked out and left me.'

‘And I suppose that made it all right for you to have a baby to another man? Oh, my God! I hate you!'

Sandy stepped towards her, appalled at what he'd stirred up in his anger. ‘I'm sorry, Gina. I didn't mean to …'

‘Didn't you? I bet you've been gloating over it ever since I was born, but I'll never speak to you again for flinging it in my face like that.' She moved towards the door. ‘I can't stay in this house a minute longer with a brother like you and a mother like … her!'

Mysie's legs refused to move, but she flung her arms out as if to hold on to her daughter. ‘Gina?'

‘Don't talk to me. You're nothing better than a … whore! I suppose your husband found out you'd been carrying on with other men, and that was why he walked out on you?'

‘I wasn't carrying on with other men.' Recalling why her husband
had
turned on her, Mysie felt sick, but was heartened by the thought that only Jess and Jake had ever known about the young packman who had taken advantage of her sorrow over her elder son's death, and they would never tell.

‘You don't look very sure about it,' Gina said, caustically.

‘I wasn't carrying on with other men,' Mysie repeated. ‘It was only after Sandy's father walked out that I let myself love Doddie Wilson. Gina, please try to understand. I loved your father, and he loved me. You were the outcome of our love, and I even named you after him.'

Gina's attractive turned-up nose screwed up even farther in distaste. ‘Doddie? How dreadfully common, but my name is my own. Gina. Do you hear me? Gina! I've always thought that my surname was Duncan, but it appears I don't even have the right to that – but I'll soon change it. Campbell has been after me for months like a dog after a bitch in season, and I've kept him at arm's length, so he'll jump at the chance to get me, and his parents have pots of money, so I won't need you.' Whipping round, she stalked out.

As the outside door banged and Gina's heels clattered on the stairs, Libby Baxter looked at Mysie and said, sarcastically, ‘An' you thought I wasna good enough for your son, after the carry on you've had? I'm nae bidin' here, either, Sandy, an' you should leave, an' all.'