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  He looked at his sweetheart with so much compassion and love that Bathie’s heart contracted with sympathy for them. They were both so young and they were having to start off with two disadvantages – a shortage of money and an unplanned child. She realized, with a start, that she’d been a year younger than Mary when she married Albert, but, of course, he’d been twenty-four.

  Well, there was nothing she could do to help Mary and Willie about the child, but she made up her mind to give them some of her own money as a wedding present.

  Albert came in just as Willie was leaving, and the whole thing had to be told over again. He was pleased that Willie was going to stand by Mary, and he had some more good news.

  ‘I was thinking, when I was in the shop filling up the shelves, we’ve two attics that are never used. Would you be willing to carry on as nursemaid, Mary, if I let you have them? You can sit rent-free, for they’re no use to us, and, in any case, I’m not wanting to make money out of you.’

  Mary’s eyes were glistening by the time he had finished speaking, and she turned to Willie. ‘Did I nae tell you they were good folk? The best in the whole world.’ She looked at Albert again. ‘I dinna ken how to thank you, Mr Ogilvie, but I promise I’ll work harder than I ever did, an’ . . .’

  ‘You work hard enough, lass.’ Albert’s laugh was tinged with embarrassment. ‘And, Bathie, I was thinking. Mary and Willie won’t need to buy any furniture, for they can use that old stuff of ours, it’s still up there, gathering dust.’

  Willie had been silent since Albert came in, and seemed to have difficulty now in speaking. ‘There’s no way I can thank you, but I’ll do any jobs you’re needin’ done about the house.’

  ‘He finishes servin’ his time as a joiner in a month,’ Mary put in, ‘but he can put his hand to onythin’.’

  ‘I’’ll be getting the best side of the bargain, then,’ Albert joked to Bathie, who was almost as overcome with his philanthropy as Mary and Willie. ‘Well, that’s settled,’ he carried on. ‘You can arrange your wedding for as soon as you like, for we’ll get the place ready for you within a few weeks. Now, Mary, I think you and Willie should go and tell your mother everything, but don’t stay too long.’

  When the excited couple went out, he remarked, ‘It’s as well to have those two attics used, to save them getting damp, so it’s them that’s doing us the favour really.’

  Willie fitted some shelves in the attics for his bride-to-be, Bathie ran up some curtains and cushion covers on the box-topped sewing machine she’d bought the previous year, while Mary hand-stitched a fine layette for her expected child.

  Two-year-old Ellie, with her father’s red hair but her mother’s blue eyes, seemed to know Bathie was busy, and didn’t pester her as much as she usually did. Occasionally, however, the curly red head would pop round the door and the piping voice would proclaim, ‘Challie and Donnie won’t let me play wiss ’em.’

  Bathie would lift her eyes momentarily from whatever she was sewing. ‘Tell them Mother says they’ve to let you play, whatever it is they’re playing at . . . and tell Mary to make sure that they do.’

  Mary’s mother and Bella, her youngest sister, Willie’s parents and Albert and Bathie were the only people present in Greyfriars Church when Mary became Mrs William Dunbar.

  Mary had insisted that Mr and Mrs Ogilvie must be there, and Jeannie had been a little put out at first at not being allowed to go, but acting nursemaid, even for only a morning, was such an honour that she soon forgot her grievance.

  Bathie’s eyes were moist as she watched the bride and groom being joined together, Mary radiant in the blue dress which Bathie had helped her to make, and Willie, uncomfortable in his hard-starched collar and stiff new suit.

  ‘This brings back memories,’ she whispered to Albert.

  He squeezed her hand. ‘You were a lot bonnier than Mary.’

  She’d wanted to lend her nursemaid the beautiful white lacy dress and veil she’d worn herself, but he had flatly refused to allow it. ‘I want that kept for our Ellie.’

  ‘She’s only two, Albert, and Mary would look after it.’

  ‘No, Bathie,’ he’d answered firmly. ‘And that’s final.’

  She’d had no option but to give in, but felt sad that Mary had been deprived of wearing a proper wedding gown, although she might not have got into it anyway, being six months gone.

  Mrs Wyness had prepared a special meal, which she’d left in the care of her sister, Mrs Lindsay, until they came back from church, and while they were dishing it up, Albert poured out the port wine he’d provided to toast the bride and groom.

  After a few glasses, Mrs Lindsay started telling some rather crude stories which caused Bathie to blush, and Mary and Willie to look embarrassed, but Mrs Wyness roared with laughter, and was soon joined by Albert, who had kept his old promise and was drinking lemonade. But, taken all in all, it was a good celebration.

  It was nearly three o’clock before Bathie and Albert could get away, and her head was spinning with the effects of the two glasses of port she’d drunk, but she felt at peace with the world as they walked the short distance to their close.

  ‘I’ll change out of my finery and get back to the shop,’ Albert was saying, when the house door opened and Jeannie came flying down to meet them, her eyes popping and her fair hair streaming out behind her.

  ‘I thought you’d never come,’ she gasped.

  His happy face changed. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘It’s Ellie. She was climbing on the top of the chest o’ drawers in the boys’ room, an’ . . .’

  ‘Out of my way, girl!’ Albert pushed past her and ran up the two inside flights, with Jeannie close behind him babbling, ‘It wasna my fault, it wasna my fault.’

  Bathie’s heart, as well as her head, was reeling by the time she reached the middle floor, and she leaned against the nursery door weakly, the scene before her etching itself on her brain.

  Ellie was lying unconscious on Donnie’s bed, her face waxen and a huge, purpling lump protruding from her forehead. Albert was on his knees, feeling for a pulse. Jeannie was standing at the end of the bed with her knuckles in her mouth and her shoulders hunched up. Donnie was beside the fireplace, anxiously watching his father’s movements, while Charlie was sheltering fearfully behind him. Belle and Spanny were cowering in the far corner, as if they sensed that something terrible had happened.

  Not one of them was aware of Bathie standing just inside the door, her heart in her mouth, unable to move.

  ‘She’s still breathing,’ Albert said quietly, ‘but her heart’s quite faint.’ He slipped his arms under his daughter and gently lifted her up. ‘The quickest thing would be for me to take her to the Children’s Hospital at Castlehill myself.’

  He carried his precious bundle to the door. ‘Look after your mistress, Jeannie. I’ll speak to you when I come back.’

  Although obviously very upset and apprehensive, the girl turned to take hold of Bathie’s arm, and led her over to the rocking chair by the fire. ‘Is there anything I can do for you, Mrs Ogilvie? Would you like a cup of tea to steady your nerves? Ma says hot, sweet tea’s best for that.’

  ‘Yes, please.’ Bathie’s teeth were chattering now, and her voice was scarcely audible. ‘I’ll be all right in a little while, it’s just the shock.’

  When Jeannie ran out, three-year-old Donnie sidled over to his mother, his round face white and his brown eyes full of fear. ‘Is Ellie going to die?’

  ‘Oh no! She’s not going to die.’ Bathie was reassuring herself as much as her son. ‘Your father won’t let anything like that happen to her.’

  ‘He’s angry at Jeannie, but it was all Charlie’s fault.’

  Bathie patted his ginger head affectionately, then saw that Charlie was standing at her other side.

  ‘I didn’t mean for her to fall down.’ His blue eyes were huge circles, and his teeth were biting into his bottom lip. ‘I just said she couldn’t get on top of the wardrobe from wh
ere she was, but she likes to show she’s not scared at anything, so she jumped, and hit her head on the chest of drawers.’

  Picturing what had happened, Bathie could feel a terrible pain gripping her heart and a pounding at her temples, but she couldn’t give way. Tears would solve nothing, in any case, and would just alarm her sons. There was only one thing to do.

  Placing her arms round both boys, and drawing them close, she said, very softly, ‘Dear God, please let Ellie get better. She’s not really a bad girl, just headstrong, and Charlie didn’t mean it.’

  ‘No, God, I didn’t, but I’m sorry, and I’ll never do it again.’ Charlie buried his face in Bathie’s side.

  ‘God understands,’ she murmured. ‘Now we’ll all say amen.’

  As the little chorus went up, Jeannie came in with a tray and echoed, ‘Amen.’

  The tea did help, and Bathie felt calmer as she said, ‘Why didn’t you send someone to tell us about it, Jeannie?’

  The girl grew agitated again. ‘Oh, Mrs Ogilvie, it wasna lang afore you came back, but I was feared to leave her, an’ Charlie was feared he’d get a row, an’ . . . Oh, I just couldna think.’ She hesitated, then burst out, ‘What’ll Mr Ogilvie say? Will he gi’e me the sack?’

  Bathie sighed. ‘I’ll try to make him see it wasn’t your fault, Jeannie, but I can’t promise anything.’

  Even the boys were quiet over the next hour, and although Bathie insisted that the girl make something to eat at five o’clock, she had to force herself to swallow a few mouthfuls before her sons would touch what was laid in front of them. Jeannie, however, didn’t eat a thing.

  When a haggard Albert returned from Castlehill alone, just after half past six, his wife’s blood ran cold, but he smiled as reassuringly as he could.

  ‘She’s got concussion, but they’ll let her home tomorrow.’

  ‘Thank God.’ Bathie and Jeannie spoke together.

  ‘I told George Pirie I’d be down in a minute to let him go home, for he hasn’t had any dinner or supper yet, but I’ll have to change my clothes first. I can’t serve with my dickie on, for the customers would die laughing.’

  ‘Albert, it wasn’t Jeannie’s fault.’ Bathie had to make it quite clear to him.

  ‘No, I suppose it wasn’t,’ he answered wryly. ‘I’d time to think about it when I was sitting waiting at the hospital, and I know Ellie won’t listen to anybody. Don’t worry, Jeannie, I’m not blaming you for what happened.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Ogilvie.’ His unexpected kindness released the anxiety the girl had been suppressing, so she thumped down on a chair and let herself go by wailing loudly as she rocked backwards and forwards.

  ‘I’ll leave you to cope with her, Bathie.’ Albert went out hastily.

  His wife thought it best to let her little maid cry her tension out, and was relieved when Jeannie raised her head after a few minutes. ‘I’ll put the boys to their beds, Mrs Ogilvie.’

  ‘Wash them and take them out to the lavatory first, then. I’ll let you do everything, because I’m very tired.’ Bathie went into her bedroom, and, as she lay on the bed, she found her mind going over the events of the day. It had started off so happily; dressing for the wedding, the peace of the ceremony, the hilarity in Mrs Wyness’s house. She felt thoroughly ashamed that she had never once wondered how Jeannie was coping with the three children. She wouldn’t feel easy about leaving them again, and soon there would be a fourth one to worry about.

  But Mary would be there, once her own baby was born, and she seemed to have a steadying influence on the wayward Ellie. Poor little Ellie. It would be good to have her home again and up to all her little tricks.

  Bathie dozed off, and didn’t hear the two boys coming in until Donnie touched her hand. ‘Good night, Mother.’

  ‘Good night, my pet.’ She sat up. ‘Charlie, there’s no need for you to look so sorry for yourself. You couldn’t help what happened, any more than Jeannie could, but for goodness sake don’t tell Ellie to do anything like that again.’

  He ran over to kiss her cheek. ‘I promise. Good night, Mother.’ He made no move to leave, and realizing that there was still something on his mind, she lifted her eyebrows.

  ‘Do you really like Ellie best?’

  ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ She couldn’t tell him that he was her favourite, her eldest son, born out of the wanton passion of the first days of her marriage.

  ‘Ellie said you liked her best because she’s a girl.’

  ‘I love you all exactly the same, Charlie, boy or girl,’ she said firmly, and brushed the top of his head with her lips.

  His worried, shining-clean face lit up. ‘That’s what I told her,’ he squealed delightedly as he ran out.

  Chapter Eleven

  For some time after the two infants were born, Jeannie Wyness had been kept very busy. Florence Ogilvie and William Dunbar, both dark like their mothers and fair-skinned like their fathers – had meant a lot of extra work for her. Willie wasn’t really the father of Mary’s child, of course, but he’d been just as excited as if he had been.

  As she waited at the corner of Nelson Street, Jeannie was thinking that she was getting her reward now, the last laugh. Robbie Park might never have asked her out if he hadn’t felt sorry for her. He’d always been very friendly, ever since Mr Ogilvie had taken him on after George Pirie had left to go to another job, but it had all started when she’d told him that her sister and Mrs Ogilvie were back on their feet and that she was having her first night off in weeks.

  Robbie had come straight out with it. ‘Maybe you’d like to come oot wi’ me? We could tak’ a walk, if it’s still fine.’

  She’d never been out with a boy before, but she’d liked him ever since she first saw him, and he’d told her, just last night, that he’d felt the same about her. She hadn’t told her mother that she was meeting him in case she put a stop to it, and Ma still thought she was working every night. That’s why they had to meet in Nelson Street, for fear of being seen.

  Jeannie turned with a faster-beating heart as Robbie Park touched her arm. ‘You’re late,’ she accused.

  ‘Sorry, but somebody came in at the last minute and kept me speaking.’ He tucked her arm through his, as they walked along the street.

  Jeannie was so intent on looking up at her young man, that she didn’t see her mother coming towards them, and jumped in alarm when Mrs Wyness let out an angry roar.

  ‘You sleekit besom, an’ here’s me thinkin’ the Ogilvies had ta’en advantage o’ you, never lettin’ you get a night aff. I’d ha’e sorted you oot if I’d ken’t you were meetin’ a lad.’

  It was Robbie who answered. ‘Mrs Wyness, did you never sneak out to meet a lad when you were young?’

  ‘Mony’s the time, but . . .’ She stopped, then gave a loud chuckle. ‘Ach weel, I suppose it’s a’ right, as lang as you mind she’s only fifteen.’

  ‘Ma, Robbie says he wants me to be . . . his steady lass,’ Jeannie confided, proudly, looking even younger than she was.

  Her mother’s face straightened abruptly. ‘How lang have you two been meetin’ in secret?’

  ‘Just a week, Mrs Wyness,’ Robbie said, and added, shyly, ‘I’ve been oot wi’ other lassies, but I never felt like this aboot them. It’s only Jeannie I want.’

  His earnest face won her round. ‘See an’ nae jump the gun, then. One o’ my lassies ha’ein’ to get wed’s enough.’

  Jeannie was afraid that her mother’s forthright speech would upset the boy, but he grinned. ‘I’ll nae jump the gun.’

  Next morning, Bathie took her little maid aside. ‘I’ve never had a chance to thank you before, but I want you to take this to show how much I appreciate all you’ve done to help recently.’

  Jeannie accepted the envelope her employer handed her, but said, ‘You didna ha’e to gi’e me onything, Mrs Ogilvie, for I was happy to do it. I’ll be pleased to oblige ony time.’

  When she opened the envelope, she was so overcome by the five pound n
ote she found inside that she ran up to the nursery to have a weep, and Mary was as affected by Bathie’s generosity as she was.

  Later on, Jeannie told her sister what had happened the night before, and was rather annoyed when Mary told her not to let Robbie go too far.

  ‘You didna stop that Davie when he went the whole way wi’ you,’ she said indignantly.

  ‘Aye, an’ look where it got me,’ Mary retorted, regretting having told Jeannie that Willie wasn’t the father of her child. ‘An’ if the same thing happens to you, you maybe winna be so lucky as me. My Willie stood by me, would Robbie Park stand by you if he lands you the same?’

  Bathie was quite pleased when she learned that Robbie and Jeannie were walking out. He was a decent young man, and the girl would come to no harm with him, she was quite sure.

  Robbie stuck rigidly to his promise to Mrs Wyness not to ‘jump the gun’, and Jeannie began to feel rather hurt that he did nothing more than just kissing and cuddling. She sometimes thought that he couldn’t like her as much as he swore he did, then some sixth sense told her that he was having to hold himself back from what he really wanted to do, and that made her feel much happier. He’d let himself go one day.

  For over six months, Jeannie Wyness and Robbie Park met once or twice every week, and Mary eventually stopped asking her sister, ‘Did Robbie try onythin’ last night?’ She could tell by Jeannie’s indignantly innocent face that he hadn’t, and was glad that the boy was as honourable as he looked.

  Albert teased his young assistant by asking, every now and then, when the wedding bells would be ringing, but Robbie took it all in good part, and it was assumed by everyone that he and Jeannie were only walking out together, and that there was nothing serious in it.

  It was on Jeannie’s sixteenth birthday that things took a different turn. Bathie had given the girl a lovely, fine lawn blouse as a gift, and she looked so beautiful in it that Robbie lost control, forgot his promise and let his emotions run away with him. His kisses became demanding, his hands caressed her until she could hardly breathe for the thrill of it, and she didn’t even think about stopping him.