The Nickum Read online

  ‘I wish I could come with you,’ Willie told him, ‘but I’m tied hands and feet for the next four years.’

  Poopie grinned. ‘The war’ll likely be ower by that time. We’ll beat the Jerries afore you’ve finished your first year, I’m damned sure o’ that. I’ll let you ken every time I get hame, so we’ll see each other sometimes.’

  ‘I’ll miss you, Poopie,’ Willie muttered, feeling quite sad at the idea of them parting. Although they hadn’t been as close during the past few years as they had once been, there was still a deep bond between them. After recalling their younger days, and all the trouble Willie had been in, the other young man took his leave with a cheery, ‘I’ll never ha’e anither pal like you.’

  ‘Neither will I,’ Willie assured him, and it was true, he thought. They had been little boys together, they had done everything together. It was just a pity that Poopie hadn’t had the brains to pass the qualifying examination.

  Neither of the two young people liked Aberdeen at first, but they soon got used to it. Millie’s Auntie Sophie was a tall, slim lady who wore her hair in the fashion of the 1920s rather than the longer style of the present day. At first sight, Willie thought she would be severe and grim, but how wrong he was. Sophie Chalmers was full of fun, and didn’t lay down any rules.

  ‘I trust you two to behave yourselves,’ was all she said, and of course, they had to, anyway. They did not have time to do otherwise, for they were kept at it until late in the evening, Millie concentrating on English on her Arts course and Willie taking History on his, so they had no subjects in common.

  There was a shortage of lecturers after a while, when many were called up or went voluntarily into the services. Gradually, too, the number of male students drastically reduced, a sore point with Willie, who felt that he could not give up the chance he had been given to improve his prospects. It would be like throwing his sponsors’ largesse back in their faces. He made no mention of his feelings to Millie, although his conscience pricked him each time he entered a huge lecture hall, where row upon row of seats sat empty, while the rest were occupied mainly by females. He wasn’t the only young man there, though, which did salve his guilt a little.

  One thing cheered him. Walking twice daily through the entrance to Marischal College, his heart filled with pride. This was said to be the largest granite building in the world, and it was absolutely magnificent. Looking up at the hundreds of intricate minarets and granite figures which decorated its façade, it was impossible to imagine the amount of hard work that had gone into the making of them, especially at a time when modern-day machinery and tools had not been invented. When the sun was shining it was a sparkling, silvery edifice as impressive as any royal palace. He would be forever grateful to the men who had made it possible for him to study there.

  He and Millie went home for Christmas, and he felt obliged to help his father as much as he could. Jake’s back was getting bowed, his hair was fast disappearing and what was left was pure white. He wasn’t that old, Willie mused one day. Born in 1890, he would only be fifty on his birthday in May but he’d had a hard life with a son who had not helped him enough. His mother wasn’t much better, of course. Her hair was still as thick as ever, but it was pure white, too, and there were deep wrinkles on her brow. He was likely the cause of most of them, he thought, sadly. He’d given her a lot of worry when he was young, and then there had been the trauma of Connie’s death. She had never really got over that, and likely wouldn’t until Gordon Brodie was caught and paid the penalty for what he had done.

  Becky hadn’t helped her mother’s health, either. They had never had another word from her since she’d left Jackie Burns in search of a better life in America. More than likely, she had got in tow with some shady character who had promised her the earth and given her nothing when it came to the point. Or she may have found another husband and could be saddled with a string of kids. Knowing Becky, she could even be on to her second or third husband by now. It’s what they did in America.

  Willie was very pleased when Poopie Grant turned up one evening and they went out together for a drink in the Students’ Union. Willie plied his friend with questions about his initial training but, although Poopie did answer them, he didn’t seem overpleased with himself. ‘Six weeks o’ drill and route marches,’ he moaned. ‘Blistered feet an’ broken back. It’s nae human. An’ the food! Nae fit for pigs.’

  Willie smiled. ‘Ach, come on, Poopie, you’re pulling my leg. It can’t have been as bad as that.’

  ‘It was, Willie, I swear it. You should be glad you couldna join up. But we’ll be sent overseas come time, so that surely winna be so bad.’

  It would probably be much worse, Willie reflected. It was just as well that Poopie wasn’t all that logical.

  The ‘glorious retreat’ from Dunkirk absorbed everyone’s interest over the summer, many wondering how it could be called ‘glorious’ when ‘retreat’ usually meant ‘defeat’, but the die-hards would explain how it had been an almost impossible rescue of the troops who were cornered like rats in a trap, yet got away. It was the main talking point in pubs, after church services, at all times when people got together.

  Then came the Blitz, which, although it mainly concentrated on London, also affected parts of several large cities in southern England. Rural Aberdeenshire did not come under attack, although many Scottish cities and towns were to receive the Luftwaffe’s unwelcome attention before long, as were cities in all parts of England.

  Fraserburgh and Peterhead, both important seaports, were the nearest recipients to Tillyburnie and the Burnton area, and Aberdeen itself was to become known as the most frequently bombed city in Scotland, although it did not suffer the same amount of damage and casualties as Glasgow and Clydeside.

  Willie made a point of doing some work in his father’s large garden every weekend as well as in his holidays, but claimed the occasional Sunday to go cycling with Millie. During term they had little time for pleasure, occupied in writing essays and theses until well into the mornings, but they were both quite content for it to be like that.

  In October 1940, both Willie and Millie discovered, to their great delight, that they had passed all their first year exams. ‘They’d probably been easy, being the first,’ Millie observed as they looked at the notice board. ‘They’ll get harder as we go on, no doubt.’

  The questions did get harder, and the day-to-day work, but they persevered, surprising themselves by how well they were coping.

  On the Easter 1941 vacation, Willie heard with dismay that Poopie Grant had been sent to the Middle East. ‘Poor Poopie,’ he said to Millie when they managed to get an hour together. ‘He doesn’t know what’s in front of him. I’ve heard it’s killing fields over there, but his Mam says his letters are cheery enough, when he manages to get time to write.’

  ‘Don’t worry about him, Willie. He can probably take care of himself.’

  ‘You don’t know him.’ With all his heart, Wilie wished that he could be there to protect Poopie, as he had done when they were small.

  It was in May of the following year, on a beautiful sunny day, a soft wind blowing gently, that Willie heard the news. On his way to his first lecture, he was quite pleased to see Malcolm Middleton in the Gallowgate, although he had no idea what had brought him there. Millie wasn’t with him because she didn’t have a class until 11 o’clock, so he stood up to have a chat with his erstwhile chum – the joint assembler of the old Raleigh bike that had caused Willie – and PC Jeemsie Cooper – so much trouble.

  ‘I suppose you’ve heard aboot Poopie Grant?’ Malcie asked, eyeing Willie to see his reaction.

  ‘What’s happened to him?’ Apprehensive anxiety swept into his very being.

  ‘He’s been killed. Oh God, Willie, I’m sorry, I thought you’d have heard. That’s why I was comin’ to see you. Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m a bit shaken,’ Willie admitted. ‘I hadn’t heard, and Poopie and me – we were like brothers, in a way.’
/>   ‘Aye, I can mind on you stickin’ up for him at the school, and him a year aulder than you. You did his fechtin’ for him, an’ all.’

  ‘Not this time.’ He felt bitter. Why, oh why, hadn’t he just said to hell with everything and joined up along with Poopie? ‘I’d better go, Malcie, or I’ll be late.’

  Malcolm carried on up the hill, Willie continued going down, but just before reaching Marischal College, he turned right down Upperkirkgate. With no destination in mind, he trudged onwards across the junction with St Nicholas Street and up Schoolhill. As he passed Robert Gordon’s College, a private school for boys, he remembered that the Gordon Highlanders’ Drill Hall was just round the corner. It was also their Recruitment Centre. It was a sign, wasn’t it? He hadn’t consciously planned it, but why should poor Poopie give up his life while he was cowardly hiding in huge lecture halls in the University, making excuses for not answering the call to arms? Why couldn’t he go? Why should he care about other people? If he wanted to go to war, nothing should hold him back.

  A little farther along, standing in front of the Cowdray Hall with its granite lion in the corner, a memorial to those killed in the Great War, he struggled with his problem. He was being kept back by the fact that two honourable gentlemen had been willing to support him in getting the best of education, which would enable him eventually to choose whatever career he fancied, but was that enough to tie him to them for years? Wouldn’t they be just as proud of him if he went to save the entire country from annihilation by the Germans? Should he wait until he next went home and ask his parents’ permission? What if they said no? How would he feel then about doing nothing to atone for Poopie’s death? He would never forgive himself, that’s what. His mind finally made up, he turned into Blackfriars Street and on into the Recruitment Centre.

  More than half an hour later, he emerged from the rather dingy hall, where a burly sergeant had asked him several direct questions that he was able to answer to the man’s satisfaction. Then he’d had an embarrassing medical examination, and had passed that also. Whatever happened now, he had signed on as a Gordon Highlander, and no one could alter that. He marched out as though he were already wearing the kilt, back to Marischal College to inform the office of his decision.

  It was easier than he had expected. The secretary smiled wearily. ‘You’re the third one this week, and I’m beginning to think I’ll do likewise. The trouble is, I haven’t the nerve to tell my lady friend.’

  His lady friend. Willie had completely forgotten his lady friend. What on earth would Millie say? Rather than face her in the quad, he made for her Auntie Sophie’s house in the Spital, hoping that he wouldn’t meet her on the way. He had a quick glance at the watch she had given him as a Christmas gift. Five to eleven. It was safe enough. She’d be in the lecture hall by this time.

  Sophie Campbell was astonished to see him back so early. ‘Are you not feeling well?’ she asked solicitously.

  He attempted a smile. ‘I’m feeling better than earlier on. I’ve just enlisted in the Gordons.’

  ‘You’ve done what?’ she gasped. ‘Does Millie know?’

  ‘Not yet.’ He told her what had happened to make him take the momentous step.

  She listened with interest, then asked, quietly, ‘You and this Poopie? You were very good friends?’

  ‘Yes, very good. I was the strong one; he was always the weak one, and I’ve let him down. I wasn’t there for him.’ At last his grief for his boyhood chum overwhelmed him and he sank on to a chair, put his arms on the table and burst into a paroxysm of tears.

  ‘Oh, laddie,’ Sophie consoled, ‘don’t take it so badly.

  The two of you had drifted apart and you couldn’t have protected him from harm all his life.’

  He tried to pull himself together. ‘I know, I know, but I can’t help feeling I was still responsible for him … and now … and now …’ The tears came again, but with less force. ‘I’m sorry, Sophie. Just give me a minute. I’ll get over it.’

  ‘Will you be all right if I go out? I’ve nothing in for your lunch.’

  ‘I’ll be fine, but don’t worry about me. I think I’d best go home.’

  ‘I’ll have to get something for Millie and me for tea anyway. Are you sure you won’t wait and tell her what you’ve done?’

  ‘I can’t face her yet.’

  ‘I can understand that. Lock the door if you go off before I come back. You’ve still got the key I gave you?’

  ‘Yes, and I’ll put it through the letter box. Thanks for everything you’ve done for me.’ It came to him then that this was another person who had helped him financially. ‘I just wish I could pay you for my board and lodgings.’

  ‘Don’t be soft. If I can’t spend my money the way I want, what’s the world coming to?’

  It was some time after she left before he washed his face and packed his belongings. There was a train at five past two, and he would just have time to catch it.

  The fifteen-mile journey took quite a time because of the number of stops on the way, but at last it steamed into Udny Station, the nearest he could get by rail to the Burnton area. Lugging his cardboard suitcase, seemingly heavier now than when he had gone to Aberdeen first, he set off to cover the three-and-a-half-mile gap, but fortune smiled on him. Just as he was beginning to think that he couldn’t walk much farther without a rest, a tractor drew up alongside him. ‘Can I gi’e you a lift, Willie?’

  The young man had hardly enough breath to answer Johnny McIntyre, who jumped down, hoisted the case on to the back of the tractor then jumped up again and held out his hand to help Willie. ‘I was sorry to hear aboot Poopie Grant,’ the farmer said then, kicking the feet from under his passenger’s hold on his emotions. ‘Losh, Willie, I didna mean to upset you.’

  After a few seconds and having bottled his grief once more, Willie said, ‘I wasn’t there for him. I wasn’t there for him.’ He looked round into the other man’s face. ‘I wish I’d joined up with him, but I enlisted in the Gordons this forenoon.’

  ‘Well, it’ll not help Poopie, but it’ll salve your conscience. I suppose it’s the best thing you could have done. Dinna blame yoursel’, lad. It would’ve happened whatever.’

  ‘You’re a believer in Fate, then?’

  ‘I am that. Oor lives are drafted oot for us afore we’re ever born.’

  ‘Maybe that’s true, but I feel better for having done something positive. As you say, it won’t help Poopie, but it might help the war effort. Not that I think I’ll make any great difference,’ he hastened to add, ‘but at least I’ll feel that I’m being of some use.’

  ‘Aye, you’re right, Willie. If every young man felt like that, we could wipe the Jerries aff the face o’ the earth the morra.’

  Willie was a little surprised to find himself smiling as he walked up the track. He had thought he would never smile again. But there were still his parents to face, and they wouldn’t adopt McIntyre’s realistic outlook.

  He walked into the house without knocking, as he had always been in the habit of doing – it was his home, after all – and was amazed by his mother’s reaction. Her face had blanched, her hand hand lifted to he chest, her mouth had fallen open.

  ‘Willie! What’s wrong?’ she managed to gasp.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mam, I didn’t mean to … I never thought …’

  ‘You never think, that’s the trouble with you,’ she murmured. ‘Why are you here? Has something happened?’

  He felt his throat closing again. She wouldn’t understand, but he would have to tell her. ‘I’ve volunteered for the Gordons.’

  ‘You’ve what? Have you gone out of your mind? What about University?’

  ‘This is more important, Mam. I need to go. Surely you can understand?’

  ‘Has this anything to do with Cecil Grant? I suppose you know about him?’

  ‘Yes, I know. That’s why I did it. I always looked after him, remember, fought his battles for him, protected him …’

  S
he ended the sentence for him. ‘So you feel responsible for his death?’

  ‘Exactly. I’m glad you see it my way.’

  ‘No, I don’t see it your way, but I guessed that’s what your twisted mind would think.’

  ‘It’s not twisted, Mam. If I’d been there, I’d have looked after him. I’d have made sure nothing happened to him.’ He could feel the tears gathering again. ‘I’d better go and tell Dad, though he likely won’t be pleased, either.’

  Getting no answer, he stood up and went out, not knowing exactly where to find his father, but letting his eyes scour around hopefully. He had no luck until he saw him hammering in a gatepost at the far side of the ley field.

  ‘Good God, Willie!’ Jake exclaimed. ‘What are you daein’ hame the day?’

  ‘You’ll likely have a fit when I tell you, Dad.’

  ‘Weel, come on then. Best get it ower wi’. Have you been expelled, or whatever they cry it? Sent doon? For daein’ something you shouldna dae?’

  ‘No, it’s nothing like that. I …’ He hesitated apprehensively.

  ‘Oot wi’ it, lad. I havena a’ day to waste.’

  As if taking a running jump at it, Willie drew in a deep beath and blurted out, ‘I joined the Gordons this morning.’

  ‘You what? Are you mad? You canna gi’e up your chances like that!’

  ‘I don’t care about my chances. This is more important to me.’

  ‘Mair important? But it’s nae jist yoursel’ you’ve to think on, it’s the two men that made your education possible. Were you nae thinking on them?’

  ‘They’ll understand. At least, I hope they will, but even if they don’t, I still have to go.’

  ‘Still have to? So somebody’s makin’ you go? Some lassie, mebbe?’

  ‘A laddie, Dad.’

  ‘Ah! I think I see noo. Poopie Grant? You want to get revenge for him? No, wait a minute. I’ve got it. You think you should have been wi’ him?’