The Tangling of the Web (10 page)

‘Aye,’ Sally replied, ‘we’re moving right enough, but not with your dad because … he’s already moved out and is now kipping up with his girlfriend. So that means this house, our dear home, is up for sale and the rest of us, including your granny, his very own mother, are being thrown out.’

‘You have to be joking,’ Margo gasped, looking towards Flora, who nodded her head.

‘Sorry, lass, I find it hard to believe myself, but what your mother says is true. Had the nerve to give us notice to quit and we’ll all be out of here within days. But, as ever, your mother had come up trumps and she’s found us a flat to rent at 68 Great Junction Street, in Leith.’

Margo started to pace up and down like a caged animal. After three agonising minutes, she spluttered, ‘Let me get this straight – Dad has a girlfriend – and who exactly would that be?’

‘None other than my good
old
pal, Maggie,’ Sally retorted.

‘Aaaah, now it makes sense. And do you know, Mum, this is your entire fault?’

‘My fault?’ yelled Sally.

‘Yes, because whenever Dad came in you were conveniently out and Maggie danced attendance on him. Often I came in and she was whisking him up an omelette or heating him some soup she had made herself. And more importantly, whenever he was doing a gig she was there to cheer him on. When did you ever spend time applauding his efforts? Poor Dad. Imagine him being so desperate that he had to find love and comfort in a doormat like Maggie.’

Two weeks later, whilst walking through Leith Links for her first day at the Four Marys bar, Sally was reminded that Leith was a strong, vibrant, supportive community. Never could you be on the links or streets that you wouldn’t meet someone who would pass the time of day with you.

She smiled as she acknowledged the waves of a woman hanging up her washing on the drying greens, but then it was a warm, sunny day, therefore the women of Leith would think it wasteful not to use the gift. Sally then remembered that the women hung their washing there because their homes were small and cramped so there was nowhere really to hang up a dish towel never mind a full washing.

Loud banging caused her to halt and look over towards the old town. Like herself, the ancient houses, shops, homeless hostels, businesses and old cobbled streets of the Kirkgate, Tolbooth Wynd and all their surrounding areas were being smashed to pieces in the mistaken belief that the change from the old, comforting and beneficial order was needed.

Sally allowed a short, contemptuous laugh to escape her.
I wonder,
she thought,
if those sitting up in the City Chambers in Edinburgh’s High Street, who have deemed that the houses, shops and streets that have known so many people and so much history are no longer fit for the purpose, have really thought through the consequences of their rash actions? Would these,
she further mused,
faceless City Fathers ever accept that Leithers, like myself, consider the demolitions acts of pure vandalism. Don’t they see that as they tear out the heart of old Leith they are also breaking the hearts of the people?
She chuckled again when she considered the proposals of building multi-storeyed flats that the Leith people, who had been temporarily rehoused in all the airts, would inhabit. Sally made a bet with herself that in years to come the magnificent rebuilding of the Old Fort slum area would itself be deemed ‘unfit’.
Oh yes,
she almost shouted.
You can take the people out of Leith, but you’ll never ever take Leith out of the people!

‘Time to move on,’ she said to herself, but she knew she would take a while to arrive at the Four Marys because she would stop at the Old Court House, now the Leith Police Station, to admire the magnificence of the building but more importantly to pray that the sadistic childhood that her brother Peter, her sister Josie and herself had known would never have to be endured by any other bairns – especially the birching Peter had endured. She would then move on to appreciate the magnificent buildings in Constitution Street and Bernard Street.

These buildings had been erected when independent Leith was proud and prosperous and the envy of Edinburgh: covetous Edinburgh, who had in 1920, against the will of the people of Leith, forced upon them the amalgamation with themselves … After that disastrous decision should they not reconsider what they were proposing and doing to Leith today? After all, the ancient port had had, until the wreckers moved in, some of the oldest streets in the whole of Scotland. So why didn’t they listen to those who said that the facades should be preserved and the houses and shops upgraded – didn’t they see what a tourist boon that would be? Imagine it: people from all over the world flocking to Leith to enjoy the architecture and see a way of life that was long gone.

By the time she had stopped raving to herself about the myopic planners she was at the pend in Bernard Street that gave you access to the houses above the two pubs on the Shore. Even although the entrance was in Bernard Street, the windows of the flats overlooked the Water of Leith on the Shore.

True, the houses were ancient and in sore need of renovation to bring them up to habitable standard. But Sally smiled, as she willingly believed the rumour that as a matter of urgency it was planned to upgrade and modernise the houses and pubs.

However, she had to accept that that expediency, to the powers that be, could mean within ten years. This stark realisation set Sally pondering about the state of the houses today. She shuddered. Would anyone appreciate that when she was a child she had lived in such a house in Ferrier Street, which you approached through the hole in the wall in Leith Walk?

Relaxing slightly, she recalled that when they had been allocated the house in Iona Street she had thought that never again would she or any of her family have to live in such squalor.

The flat that Ginny was renting to Josie at a nominal rent belonged to whoever was the licensee of the Four Marys pub – in this case Ginny – who also held the licence for the adjacent pub, the King’s Wark. It was obvious both hostelries had at one time been a solitary establishment.

Sally began to argue with herself again, but, no matter what, she had to accept that this was the abode that Josie would be required to move into. It was true Ginny had done her best to revamp the place. She had had the walls painted, and had laid new linoleum and even rugs upon the floors of the two-roomed house, but even she could do nothing to upgrade one cold-water tap and an outside lavatory.

Getting into the Four Marys pub on time should have been Sally’s priority, but she was detained by wondering how Josie would feel about going through these rusty iron gates before entering into the dark, dank, eerie courtyard and then climbing the ancient, crumbling, worn stairs?

If only,
Sally prayed,
Josie can hold on until the promised upgrading is carried out, which will mean the knocking of two houses into one and installing modern facilities in the form of hot water and a bathroom. She will be in a good position to be considered as a tenant for one of them.

Sheer panic started to rise in Sally’s breast until she reluctantly remembered that Flora had said it was time Josie was standing on her own two feet and her moving into a flat on her own could be the start. Sally exhaled forcibly as she admitted to herself that as far as she could she had always sheltered Josie from the cruelties and realities of life, but now she had to give all her support to Helen and Bobby, who had been so ruthlessly abandoned by their father. Sighing, she thought,
Yes, it is about time thirty-one-year-old Josie is responsible for herself, and there is no reason that she cannot do more to make the flat as comfortable as possible.

Sally remonstrated with herself before she continued,
I know what I’ll do to have Josie know I still care for her – I’ll buy her a commode so she won’t need to go downstairs at night to use the outside lavatory.
She convinced herself that she had come up with a brilliant idea to protect Josie – because there was the possibility, in the dark, that she could be mistaken for an accommodating lady of the ancient King’s Wark and find that instead of relieving herself she had been propositioned. Sally gave a wicked little chuckle as she conceded that would never do.

It didn’t take much imagination when you looked straight on at the front of the Four Marys and the King’s Wark pubs to accept that once they had been the same building.

Sally smiled as she remembered when as a child how she had been given history lessons, which always included the details of what the building that now housed the two pubs had been used for.

She chuckled as she acknowledged that there was not one bairn in Leith who didn’t know that in 1575 those suffering from the dreaded plague were treated in the building, which had been turned into a hospital. The children also shared stories about the ghostly appearances of people who lurked in the great cellar that ran underneath both establishments. These boggies had either died of the plague or had been burned to death when the Wark was destroyed by fire in the 1690s.

During the following years, the building had many renovations to suit the several changes of use it experienced. It was during one of these alterations that the two hostelries came into being.

Sally wondered when the first customers had drunk fine wine from silver tankards if they imagined over the centuries that both establishments would be known infamously throughout the whole wide modern world as the Jungle.

Could they have imagined that all that would remain of the royal patronage they had enjoyed were the names – the King’s Wark and the Four Marys? And what would they say about the gallus women who made their living by accommodating sailors of all nationalities and therefore brought worldwide notoriety to the hostelries? Until recently, every night in these establishments fallen women had bedded men for a few bob, which they then spent on Red Biddy, a cheap, harsh wine. It would be a funny night that the Leith police were not called in to break up fights, not only between men but also women. These women were also expert at getting their clients so drunk that they were then able to rob them before eventually pushing them out into the gutter to sleep it off.

That was what life in the Jungle had been like, but Ginny, a shrewd businesswoman who was always looking at changing trends, had decided that Leith pubs would need to transform if they were to survive. It was also true that the Leith constabulary had warned her when she took over the pubs that change was necessary and if it was not forthcoming then the establishments would be closed down. What they were actually saying was that no longer could they turn a blind eye to the sordid businesses that were carried out under their noses.

Ginny had noted not only that men would no longer be able to seek out the comfort of a woman in pubs, she had also realised that long gone were the days when a man walked into a pub on payday and staggered out to hand over the pittance of what was left to his wife, who would then have to work a miracle to be able to feed and clothe her bairns. Since the war there had been great social changes, especially in the attitude of working-class women. Not only was there now the blessed welfare state, but women also knew that they were not wholly financially dependent on any man and they were therefore able to stand up for their rights to be equal in the marriage deal. They also wished to have nights out at the pictures and perhaps be taken afterwards for a wee sherry or what were becoming the must-have drinks – a Pimm’s No. 1 or a brandy and Babycham. Then there was the unthinkable: before the war, a woman would be happy to stay at home and have numerous children, but now she was better educated and because of the contraceptive pill she was in charge of the decision as to when she would have children and how many.

This being the case, pubs would need to change to become places where men would wish to take their wives out for the evening and where women would feel safe and comfortable.

Sally, with Ginny’s words still echoing in her mind, decided she would have to get a move on and get herself into the Four Marys. Dancing over the cobbles, she noted that the building had been erected centuries ago and she wondered how the stonemasons, who would have been without all the assistance that craftsmen had today, had managed to erect these buildings out of solid hewn stones.

Sniffing and nodding, she opened the door thinking that long after she and her children would be no more, this substantial building would still be standing.

If the outside of the building was a reminder of how hard the tradesmen had worked when Leith was a prosperous town in its own right then the inside carried on the illusion. The bar, which dominated the room, was constructed from oak, and in the firelight its polished lustre gleamed. Last week there had been a sawdust trough around the outside floor of the bar. This was where pipe-smoking men spat into – ‘Disgusting habit,’ Ginny had declared – and now a gleaming brass foot-rail had replaced it, and if you didn’t like it then Ginny thought you should take yourself up to the Standard Bar on the broad pavement where Myles Dolan still provided Red Biddy for fallen women and spittoons for drunken men.

From the very small kitchen a young woman called, ‘We’re no open yet. Eleven o’clock is when our licence allows us to serve drink.’

‘I’m not wanting a drink – well, not of alcohol, though I could murder a cup of tea.’

Immediately the woman, who was drying her hands on a tea towel, emerged from the cubbyhole. ‘You Sally?’

‘Yeah,’ Sally replied. ‘And you must be, Rita. My mother-in-law has told me all about you.’

Rita scratched the side of her head, sought in her apron pocket and brought out a packet of Player’s cigarettes, from which she took one. Advancing to the fire, she selected a wax taper, which she then placed in the flames before using it to light her cigarette. Blowing out the flickering flame of the taper, she turned slowly back towards Sally.

Both women were now eyeing each other up. Sally accepted that it must be humiliating for Rita to have to accept that Ginny was going to groom herself to run this pub and bring it up to the standard she wished.