Brow of the Gallowgate Page 17

  Heaving a sigh as she reflected that she still looked on them as master and mistress, Mary knew that she would likely never know the truth, so she should stop worrying about it. Bella was settled now, and Matt made sure she behaved herself.

  She came out of her reverie with a start when Jeannie removed the cup from her hand. ‘Leave the dishes, it’ll be somethin’ to keep me busy when you all go.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Jeannie regarded her closely. ‘It would let me get away quicker, for I dinna like leavin’ the bairns ower lang, though Betty said there was nae hurry.’

  Betty was the Parks’ next door neighbour, and had offered to look after their two children, and young Will Dunbar, until they came back from the funeral.

  ‘Aye, I’m sure,’ Mary said firmly, ‘so awa’ you go hame. I’m fine now, an’ Bella an’ Matt’s stoppin’ on a wee while.’

  ‘Oh?’ Jeannie couldn’t hide her astonishment. ‘I wonder what Bella’s up to? Nothin’ good, I bet.’

  ‘It was Matt said he’d something he wanted to discuss wi’ me, but I’ve nae idea what.’

  ‘You can tell me the morn, when I tak’ Will back.’ Jeannie hesitated for a moment. ‘If he offers you money, tak’ it, for he can weel afford it.’

  She whisked away before her sister could say anything, and within a few minutes, only three people remained in the small bungalow. Bella smoothed her skirt carefully before she sat down on the other side of the stove, while Matt drew a chair up beside his sister-in-law.

  ‘Now, Mary,’ he began, softly, ‘I’ve been thinking this over ever since I heard of Willie’s accident, so it’s not a spur-of-the-moment decision. I suppose there isn’t . . . ?’ He paused, as if unsure of how to phrase his question. ‘I suppose he didn’t have much savings?’

  Permitting herself a slight smile, Mary said, ‘None at all, hardly, after paying for this house, but if you’re goin’ to suggest givin’ me money, you needna bother. I’ll not take it.’

  The man smiled now. ‘I knew you wouldn’t, that’s why I’m not offering you any. I want you to sell up here, and come to live with Bella and me.’ He shook his head and frowned to stop her protest. ‘Just hear me out. Will would be company for Martin – like an older brother – and I’d see that he had a good education. My house is big enough for all of us – you could have your own little flat – and if you want to keep your Scottish independence, I could let you have a job in my factory.’

  ‘You might have asked what I thought, before you said anything to Mary.’ The interruption came from Bella, whose face had darkened the minute she heard what was in his mind.

  ‘This has nothing to do with you, Bella,’ he said sharply. ‘It is between your sister and me.’

  ‘My sister!’ she hissed. ‘Do you think I want all our friends to see the kind of sister I have?’

  ‘Bella!’

  She ignored him. ‘A joiner’s wife, who still speaks broad Aberdeen and hasn’t any decent clothes to wear?’

  Mary turned to her angrily. ‘Dinna fight ower me, for I’ve nae intentions o’ disgracin’ you in front o’ your friends. I’ll never leave this place, but if I did, it’s Aberdeen I’d go, Bella, nae your fine hoose.’

  ‘It’s my house,’ Matt said grimly. ‘And I’ll have whoever I bloody well . . .’

  ‘No, Matt.’ Mary touched his arm lightly. ‘I’m not sell-in’ the house Willie provided for me. He maybe didna live to give me the better life he wanted for me, but he did buy this hoose, an’ my memories o’ him are here. I’ll find a job, an’ look after my son the best I can. I’m very grateful for what you meant to do, but I’d prefer to sort things out for mysel’.’

  ‘You’re a stubborn woman, Mary, and I only wish your sister had half your integrity.’ Matt stood up and held her hand for several seconds, then turned away abruptly. ‘I’ll bring the car to the gate, Bella.’

  ‘I’ll be out in a minute, Matt.’

  When he closed the door, Bella took the seat he’d vacated, her eyes as hard as the granite which had built most of her native city. ‘You think you’re very clever, don’t you, Mary?’ she sneered. ‘I can see you have your eye on Matt, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he thought he was attracted to you, but I’m telling you – forget it. He’s mine!’

  Mary, whose breath had been taken away by this completely unexpected and unprovoked attack, waited a moment, then said, quietly, ‘I’m nae wantin’ your man, Bella. I had the best man in the world till he was ta’en awa’ from me five days ago.’

  Bella gave a low snigger. ‘You’re so sure of yourself, aren’t you, but let me tell you this. I nearly took him away from you years ago.’

  Through frozen lips, Mary murmured, ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘I mean I had Willie up to fever pitch for weeks wanting me, before I let him take me.’ She laughed at Mary’s gasp of disbelief. ‘Yes, your dear husband took me, in the bed he shared with you, on the nights you stayed with Jeannie when she had her second child.’

  ‘It’s nae true!’

  ‘It is true, and he’d have left you in a minute, and taken me away with him, if I hadn’t met Matt. I liked the idea of being a rich man’s wife, you see – beautiful clothes, a lovely house and servants to attend to my every need. That’s why you still had your precious Willie.’

  Bella’s contorted face, so close to hers, incensed Mary so much that she swung her hand up and slapped it. ‘You’re a liar, an’ I dinna believe you. My Willie would never . . .’

  ‘You can think what you like.’ Rubbing her stinging cheek, Bella stood up. ‘But you’ll never know for sure, will you?’ She strode out and banged the door behind her.

  Shaking violently, Mary leaned back. It couldn’t be true – she’d have noticed if Willie had taken a fancy to Bella. He’d been a good, loving husband and a good father to young Will, just as he’d promised. He’d been disappointed that she hadn’t given him a child of his own, but surely that wouldn’t have made him take her sister? No, Bella had been lying, she’d aye been a dab hand at that. She must have been jealous because Matt had made that offer.

  Bella had done some terrible things in her life, but to tell a lie like that, and to come out with it on the day of Willie’s funeral, that must be the worst thing she’d ever done.

  Of course, she took after their father, who’d walked out and left his wife with a young family to bring up on her own, the rotten devil. She’d been a troublemaker from the time she learned to speak, and she would never change.

  Aye, Mary thought, grimly, Bella Wyness would carry on causing trouble till the very day she died.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was after one-fifteen on Monday morning when Gavin McKenzie took Bathie back to the Gallowgate. She was almost dropping with anxiety and fatigue, but refused to go to bed when Maggie Lindsay told her that was where she belonged.

  ‘I couldn’t sleep.’ Her voice broke. ‘It’s thirteen hours now. Something terrible must have happened to Charlie.’

  The others in the room believed the same, but Maggie did her utmost to sound hopeful. ‘Maybe some kind soul saw him wanderin’ about, an’ took him in oot o’ the rain.’

  Gavin nodded. ‘You’ll collapse if you don’t take a rest, Bathie. I’ll leave you a sleeping powder.’ Knowing the state she was in, he had come prepared.

  ‘No, no.’ Bathie sat up in alarm. ‘I don’t want to be asleep when they bring Charlie home.’ Dead or alive, came the unwelcome thought, and her heart palpitated madly.

  Her vehemence dared him to argue, so he laid the folded paper containing the sedative on the table, with a meaningful glance at Maggie. ‘I’ll go now, then, but I’ll call back in the morning . . . well, later on, to see if there’s any news.’ He laid his hand on Bathie’s shoulder and crossed to the door.

  ‘Thank you, doctor, and I’m very grateful that you gave up your own sore-needed rest.’ Bathie smiled tremulously.

  ‘He’s a right good man,’ Maggie observed, when he went clattering down
the outside steps. ‘An’ you should tak’ this sleepin’ pooder. You’ll ruin your health if you dinna rest.’

  ‘My health’ll be ruined, anyway, if I lose Charlie.’ The long, anxious hours had taken their toll on Bathie, and she put her hands up to her face and burst into uncontrollable weeping.

  When Annie moved to comfort her, Maggie restrained her. ‘It’s best to let her greet it out,’ she whispered. ‘She’ll feel better for it after, but you could gi’e her a drop o’ brandy.’

  When Bathie’s hysterical sobbing did eventually tail off, Annie laid a small glass on the occasional table beside her. ‘Drink that, Mrs Ogilvie, it’ll be good for you.’

  At twenty minutes to three, Albert came stumbling in, saw immediately that there was still no word of Charlie, and sank blindly into his armchair. Then, lowering his head, he covered his face with his hands as though he’d given up all hope.

  His wife jumped up to go to him, the waiting having given her a chance to recover slightly from her own exhaustion. ‘The police will find him, Albert, I’m sure. They know the places to look, where somebody might take shelter from the weather.’

  A loud knock on the outside door made them all look at each other, and Maggie jumped up to answer it. She returned with another young constable, who took off his hat and cleared his throat when he entered the room.

  Albert was on his feet again. ‘Is there any news?’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir. I was sent to find out if the boy had come home himself. They’re still searching.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Albert’s body seemed to cave in again. ‘I’m not long back myself.’

  ‘You should all try to get some sleep,’ the constable said, kindly. ‘You look as if you could drop any minute. We are doing all we can, and we’ll let you know as soon as we . . . ’

  ‘Yes, I know, and I’m very grateful.’ Albert’s head fell forward again in his despair.

  ‘Have you time for a cuppie o’ tea to heat you up?’ Annie asked the young man. ‘The kettle’s boilin’ on the range.’

  ‘No, thank you, I’d better go back.’

  He left four people to what could be a long vigil.

  The grey light of dawn trickled in through the undrawn curtains. Albert had spent the best part of the last four hours looking out into the street below, and praying for a miracle. He’d been dozing in his chair for about half an hour, when he made the short pilgrimage across the room once more, and was amazed that he’d been able to sleep at all.

  He took up his stance again, but after only a few seconds, he felt his wife’s presence beside him, and turned and buried his head on her shoulder. ‘Oh, Bathie,’ he groaned. ‘I can’t bear it much longer.’

  She stroked his untidy hair. ‘It’ll be all right, Albert. I can feel it now. Charlie’s going to come home, I’m sure.’

  Their soft voices woke Maggie, who prodded her sister. ‘Annie, get some breakfast made, an’ I’ll attend to the lassies.’

  Albert and Bathie had just washed their faces in the kitchen when they heard footsteps coming up from the close.

  Grabbing the towel from his wife, Albert ran to the door, drying his face as he went, with Bathie close behind him, water dripping from her hands.

  What they beheld, when the door was opened, made her cry out, ‘He’s not dead, is he?’

  The policeman who was carrying Charlie smiled broadly. ‘No, ma’am. He’s just sleeping.’

  Charlie’s eyes fluttered. ‘I’m sorry I got lost, Mother.’

  Bathie opened her arms and threw them round her son when the constable set him down on the landing. ‘Oh, Charlie. My dear, dear, Charlie.’

  His own eyes moist, Albert watched his wife’s tearful reunion with their son for a moment before he turned to the two policemen. ‘I don’t know how to thank you. You’ve done a grand job. Where did you find him?’

  ‘He’d been sheltering in an old hut beside the Don, that’s why we didn’t see him before, and it was lucky we went back when we did, because he was just coming up on to the road, and he could have wandered far enough again.’

  ‘Thank God! Thank God you found him.’ Reaction to all the walking and worry caught up with Albert suddenly, and he staggered over to his chair.

  Maggie and Annie gently took the boy from his mother and half carried him upstairs, Bathie following them, her joy at having her son home making her forget to thank his rescuers.

  ‘We’ll be away now, then,’ one of the constables remarked. ‘I don’t think the boy has come to any harm nothing that a good few hours’ sleep won’t cure.’

  Albert himself was asleep before they reached the mouth of the close.

  By the time Donnie and Hetty, pale and quiet, were allowed home, Maggie and Dan Munro – the policeman she’d met outside his headquarters at Lodge Walk – had been keeping company for over five weeks, and even inquisitive Ellie had lost interest in what they did when they were out.

  The convalescing children were tearful at first, but Hetty soon began dishing out orders. Her sisters did all she asked until the novelty of having her home again wore off, then Hetty decided that it wasn’t much fun being in bed any more.

  Donnie took much longer to recover, and didn’t return to school for another three weeks. He had shot up so much in height, during his recuperation, that Bathie had to let all his trousers down, and even then they were hardly long enough.

  The Johnstones and the elder Ogilvies had all come to see Hetty and Donnie after they came out of hospital, and Henrietta and Nell had both been pleased that Bathie showed no signs of being pregnant again. Albert had learned his lesson, and long may he remember it.

  When Donnie went back to school, Bathie felt that life was back to normal, but her complacency received a bitter blow the following day. She did wonder why Mary was writing to her in the autumn, but had no premonition about the news the letter contained, and Albert was alarmed to see her running into the shop at half past nine, with tears streaming down her face.

  ‘My God, Bathie!’ he exclaimed, leaving the customer he was serving. ‘What’s happened? Has one of the children . . . ?’

  Dumbly, she handed him the letter.

  ‘Oh, poor Mary,’ he said, in a moment. ‘And poor Willie.’

  ‘I can hardly take it in,’ wailed his wife. ‘They were so happy with their life, and now . . .’

  He placed an arm round her. ‘Don’t upset yourself, Bathie. There’s nothing you can do, anyway. It’s a terrible tragedy, but Mary seems to have come to terms with it.’

  That was what had upset Bathie as much as anything, the calm way Mary had written about her husband’s death. But, of course, she’d waited a few weeks before she wrote the letter, so perhaps it had taken her that long to ‘come to terms with it’, as Albert expressed it.

  When she went back upstairs, Bathie closeted herself in the parlour, and had a long weep for Willie, whom she had come to regard very fondly when the Dunbars were living up in the attics. Then she wrote a letter of sympathy to his widow, reflecting as she did so that all the sympathy in the world wouldn’t give Mary back her husband.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It took Dan Munro a whole twelve months to bring himself to ask Maggie Lindsay to marry him.

  ‘I’d have said yes, if he’d asked me afore,’ the girl told her mistress the morning after the proposal, ‘but he’s kept me waitin’ ower lang.’

  Bathie recalled how impatient she’d been at having to wait for three months until she could wed Albert, but she said, ‘A year’s not very long.’

  ‘Well, it’s been ower lang for me, so I’m goin’ to keep him waitin’ now. I said I’d gi’e him my answer in three months.’

  ‘Three months? Oh, Maggie, he mightn’t wait three months for you. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’

  ‘He’ll wait.’ Maggie’s smile was a little secretive. She was quite sure, for she’d watched him changing from a bashful young man, timid about touching her at all, even to kiss her, to a man desper
ate to possess her. At first, she’d been hurt when he broke away from her after a few minutes, but it had slowly dawned on her that he wanted more than kissing.

  Oh yes, Dan would wait, but if she got any inkling that he was cooling off, she’d let him know she was willing to wed him as soon as he liked. She wasn’t going to let her chance slip through her fingers through her own pettiness.

  Bathie thought that Maggie was being stupid, and, to help the romance on a little, she told the girl she could ask Dan into the house on one or two of the evenings she wasn’t off-duty. At least it would give the boy less time to transfer his attention to another girl who might be willing to marry him.

  Ellie was very curious about Maggie’s romance, but Bathie stopped the flow of questions by saying, ‘When you start going out with boys, you won’t like people asking you about it, so leave Maggie in peace, for goodness sake.’

  Seeing Charlie grinning, Ellie flared up. ‘You just love to see other people getting a row, don’t you? And I don’t know why it’s always me that gets it.’

  ‘It’s always you that keeps asking things,’ he retorted. ‘I wish you’d shut up, for a change.’

  ‘I wish you’d shut up and leave me alone.’

  Albert folded his newspaper noisily. ‘I wish the pair of you would shut up and stop your arguing.’

  At the end of the three months, it came as no surprise to any of them when Maggie announced that she’d agreed to marry Dan Munro. They were all happy for her, although her sister felt a bit left out of things.

  ‘I dinna think I’ll ever get a lad,’ she remarked to Ellie, sadly, when the girl asked her if she was interested in anyone.

  ‘I don’t see why not. You’re pretty enough.’

  Annie simpered. ‘Oh weel, maybe some day.’

  The day came sooner than she anticipated. She had been asked to be Maggie’s bridesmaid, although it was just a quiet wedding, so Bathie had bought a remnant of blue taffeta at a sale, and the resulting creation transformed Annie into a lovely young woman, Albert even commenting on the difference.