Monday Girl Page 18

Her husband lifted his head from the newspaper he’d just picked up. ‘Aye, an’ what we got up to when we were young is naebody’s business.’ His eyes twinkled mischievously.

  ‘Oh, you two!’ Anne sounded exasperated. ‘You’re like sixteen-year-olds yourselves, and you’re both nearly seventy.’

  Tim Donaldson was called up in May 1940, and, on his last day in the house, Renee gave him a little advice.

  ‘You should ask Moira to get engaged before you leave on Sunday.’ He was going home to Turriff first before he had to join his unit in Nottingham, but she knew that he was seeing his girlfriend later that day. When he shook his head without speaking, she went on, ‘She could find somebody else after you’re in the army. Aren’t you worried?’

  Tim pursed his lips. ‘I’ll have to take that chance. I don’t think it’s fair to tie her down when I’ll maybe never come back.’

  ‘Oh, Tim, that’s a stupid thing to think,’ Anne said quickly. ‘I’m sure Moira wants to be engaged to you, and she wouldn’t feel you were tying her down.’

  ‘No, I suppose she wouldn’t, but I still don’t think it’s right, and it’s her I’m thinking about.’ Tim looked grim.

  ‘Look at Babs. Since Mike’s been called up, she worries herself sick if she doesn’t get a letter from him nearly every day, and she’s terrified he’ll be sent overseas. She never goes out, just sits at home and mopes. I want Moira to find somebody else – well, feel free to find somebody else – if she wants to.’

  Renee looked at him sadly. ‘I thought you loved her. Men can be so insensitive.’

  ‘I do love her.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘But it’s better this way.’

  Anne broke in to change the subject. ‘I’ll have to find some more lodgers now. It’s been taking me all my time to manage since Jack left, and I didn’t feel like having somebody new here, but I’ll have to, now. Would anybody at the yard need digs?’ She looked hopefully at Tim.

  ‘There’s not that many single men left in the yard now, it’s mostly women workers coming in.’ He raised his eyes to the roof in an expression of disgust.

  ‘I don’t fancy women lodgers.’ Anne couldn’t really explain why she felt like that, it was just one of those things.

  ‘It’s time I was off,’ Renee butted in. ‘Goodbye, Tim, and good luck.’ She leaned across the table to shake his hand, and he gripped it tightly.

  ‘Thanks, Renee. Is it OK if I drop you a line now and then, and you could maybe write to me?’

  ‘Yes, Tim, I’d like that.’

  ‘Thanks again. I want to keep in touch and hear how Jack’s doing, as well. Remember, Renee, he’s a decent bloke.’

  ‘I know,’ she said, quietly, and was glad when Tim dropped her hand.

  When she went home at lunchtime, her mother handed her an already opened envelope. ‘Read that.’

  Before she glanced at it, Renee had feared that it might be from Fergus Cooper, and prayed that he wouldn’t be returning to upset her existence again. But the neatly written ‘Mrs Gordon’ was not in his hand, so she pulled the letter out with relief, and glanced at the signature. It was from Jeanette Morrison.

  Dear Mrs Gordon,

  I told my mother when I went home that day and there was a big row, but she simmered down and talked my father round to let me stay at home.

  I wrote to Fergus, and you were right, he never answered, so I wrote to his commanding officer and they’re giving me an allowance. It’s being kept off him, so he’s been made to support me after all.

  He’s overseas, they told me, and I don’t suppose I’ll ever see him again, but I’m getting over it. I had a baby girl two weeks ago, and her name is Sheena, so I’ll have to make my life round her now.

  They gave me his parents’ address from the army records, so I went to see them, to let them know what their son had done. They didn’t seem all that surprised. His mother said she put him out because he wouldn’t give her anything for his keep, and he made her life a misery, so I suppose I’m lucky that he didn’t want to marry me. She was very kind, and gave me something to buy clothes for the baby.

  Thank you for all your help and understanding. Yours gratefully,

  Jeanette Morrison.

  ‘I’m glad her mum and dad let her stay with them,’ Renee said, as she slipped the letter back in its envelope.

  ‘I thought they would.’ Anne looked enquiringly at her daughter. ‘What do you think of Fergus Cooper now? Have you really got over him?’

  ‘Yes, Mum. I did see through him eventually. How do you feel about him?’ It was an impertinent question, but she had to be sure that Fergus would never be allowed back in their lives.

  Anne sighed deeply. ‘I was hurt and humiliated, like you, but I was older, and wiser, I hope, and I made the final break before you did. When he wrote – only the one letter – I felt sorry for him not having anywhere to go, so I said he could come here on that first leave. As soon as I posted the letter, I regretted it. I knew he couldn’t be trusted, and when he arrived, I was surer than ever I’d made a mistake.’

  ‘Did he try to . . . ?’ Renee asked, purely out of curiosity.

  ‘Yes, he did, and he was so cocky, and sure I couldn’t resist him, it made me sick. I slapped his face, but he just laughed and said, ‘‘Your daughter won’t say no to me.’’ Well, I was absolutely furious, but I wanted to find out if that was true. I found out it was, when he told me on Monday morning that he was meeting you that night.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say anything when I told you I was going out with Phyllis and you knew it was a lie?’ The girl was angry with herself for being so naive as to agree to that meeting.

  Anne briefly gripped her lips together. ‘What good would it have done, Renee? I’d only have made you more determined. I had it out with Fergus, though, and I called him every bad name I could think of, then told him never to come back here after he left the next day. And he knew I meant every word.’

  Renee’s smile was humourless. ‘Yes, and he tried to make me feel sorry for him about that. I only met him to ask if there was still . . . something going on between him and you.’

  ‘So you didn’t trust me, either?’ Anne said sadly.

  ‘I didn’t know who to trust, Mum. I was so mixed up about you writing to each other after you’d sworn not to have anything more to do with him, I couldn’t think straight. I was sure I loved him, even after everything, but when he tried to kiss me in the Graveyard, I couldn’t

  . . . Oh, I don’t know what it was, but I suddenly hated him. We began shouting at each other, and it was really horrible.’ After a short silence, Anne said, ‘I can understand why his mother put him out. He’s a real bad lot.’

  ‘That’s what Granny said once.’ Renee recalled how upset she’d been about that remark at the time, but Granny had known what she was talking about.

  Poor Granny. Her legs had given out on her altogether now, and she was unable to visit any more. Granda did all the shopping and most of the housework, but he wasn’t all that fit himself and his chest bothered him quite a lot, although it hadn’t made him give up his pipe. The girl felt ashamed of herself for not going to see them more often. Her mother did go occasionally, but Maggie had always been very good to her granddaughter, and had helped her to face the world after that last terrible night with Fergus.

  Anne broke into her thoughts. ‘Look at the time, Renee. You’re going to be late back if you don’t hurry.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Because the firm of Brown and Company was concerned with food distribution, Renee Gordon and Sheila Daun were in reserved occupations, so there was no likelihood of them having to go into the forces, and they spent most of their evenings flirting with every soldier, sailor and airman they met.

  Anne only rarely reprimanded her daughter, now – it was like water off a duck’s back. Renee’s war bore no resemblance to that of the yo
ung people in the services, although some of them were also having the time of their lives, including the four now ensconced in the Gordons’ house.

  Anne’s reluctance to take female boarders had proved well-founded. After Tim left, she’d answered an advertisement in the local newspaper. ‘Homely board and lodgings required for four.’ Believing that it was the answer to her prayers, she’d been elated at the thought of both her rooms being filled at one fell swoop, if the men were suitable.

  She’d been dismayed when four land girls turned up, but they seemed to be friendly and well-behaved and she realised that there was little hope of finding any male lodgers while the war was on. Pushing her doubts aside, she let them have the rooms on condition that they would take no male visitors into the house without letting her know, and that they would undertake to launder their own clothes.

  The girls were every bit as friendly as they had appeared when she met them first, and never had any men callers. Kitty Miller and Flora Sims had taken the downstairs bedroom, and Hilda Matthews and Nora Perry were upstairs. They were a harum-scarum lot, apart from Nora, who was more reserved, and the bathroom always seemed to be occupied by one or other of them having a bath, washing her hair or rinsing out her ‘smalls’. Furthermore, the rope which Anne had fixed up over the bath seemed to be forever festooned with stockings, every available surface in their rooms was draped with knickers or brassieres, drying or airing, and the mirrors on the dressing tables were spattered with liquid make-up and perfume.

  They were good fun, however, and helped Anne around the house at times, and even kept her supplied with eggs and fresh vegetables, so she resigned herself to be thankful for small mercies. The house rang with shrill laughter, and discussions about boyfriends occupied every mealtime, so Anne felt it her duty one day to give the five girls some sensible advice.

  ‘I hope you’re all being careful when you’re out with those boys of yours, and not letting them . . .’ Her opening was met with howls of amusement.

  ‘Oh, Mrs G.,’ gasped Kitty Miller at last. ‘You sound just like my mother.’

  Flora Sims spluttered. ‘Mine’s always giving me lectures, too.’

  Hilda Matthews nodded vigorously. ‘So’s mine – on the facts of life, she says.’

  ‘I’m glad your mothers have some sense, then.’ Anne felt slightly put out by their reaction. ‘I was only saying it for your own good.’

  ‘Yes, thanks, Mrs G.’ Nora Perry, the smallest and quietest of the four, sounded apologetic. ‘Don’t mind this lot.’ The other three had calmed down and seemed rather ashamed of their outburst. ‘Sorry, Mrs G. I know you were doing it with good intentions, but we’re all careful. We’re not going to land ourselves up the spout.’ Kitty smiled to show that she was quite sincere, in spite of the slang, and her green eyes pleaded for understanding.

  Anne’s heart melted. They were good girls, the lot of them, just a bit thoughtless. ‘That’s OK,’ she said, ‘but just remember.’

  ‘We’ll always remember.’ Hilda nodded her dark head, then glanced at Nora. ‘Right, Tich, race you to the bathroom.’

  There was a wild splatter, then Anne and Renee were left alone, looking at each other and laughing.

  ‘Here endeth the first lesson,’ Renee said.

  ‘I meant it for you as well,’ her mother reminded her.

  ‘You go out with so many different boys, too.’

  ‘I’m careful, Mum. More than careful – I abstain.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  Tim Donaldson’s letters to Renee were long and chatty, about his training and all the humorous incidents that had taken place between him and his fellow conscripts. She’d been very surprised, at first, that he also signed off by writing

  ‘Love’, but he was a bit of a tease, and she knew that all his love was given to Moira Sandison, so she accepted it as a bit of fun. A letter from Jack arrived regularly every week, short notes, mostly, but her heart leapt when she saw his writing.

  ‘I’ll be coming on leave on the 4th of June,’ he wrote one day. ‘I hope it’s OK if I give you a quick call before I carry on to Peterhead? It’ll be late afternoon, so I won’t have time to stop long, and if you’ve got a date, I’ll understand. See you soon, I hope. Love, Jack.’

  She was pleased that he wanted to see her, but disappointed that it would be only a flying visit. Still, he might decide to come back during his leave, and there were only a few days to wait until he’d be in Aberdeen.

  The next day, Saturday, was brightened up by Mike Donaldson appearing. Tim had told them in his letters that his brother was in the north-east of England, and that he’d been home for a few long weekends, but it was the first time Mike had come to Cattofield since he’d been called up.

  ‘It’s good to see you again,’ Anne said. ‘How are you getting on in the army, and how’s Babs?’

  Mike smiled. ‘I’d better give you my news right away.’ Renee interrupted before he could do so. ‘Oho! Are we going to be hearing the patter of tiny feet?’

  ‘Aye, you’ve guessed right.’ His face wore an expression of sheer pride, in spite of his embarrassment. ‘Babs is expecting in six months, about November sometime.’

  ‘That’s great.’ Renee was beaming broadly.

  Anne’s face also wore a huge smile. ‘Congratulations, Mike.’

  ‘I only hope I’ll still be in this country when it arrives,’ he said wistfully. ‘There’s word of us being sent overseas.’

  Anne looked serious now. ‘We’ll keep our fingers crossed for you both.’

  Poor Babs, Renee thought. If Mike is sent abroad, she’ll have to bring their child up on her own. ‘Do you know where you’ll be going?’ she asked him.

  ‘There’s rumours it’s the Middle East or North Africa, and that means we wouldn’t get home again till the war’s finished.’

  ‘Oh, Mike, what a shame if you’ve to miss seeing your baby growing.’ Anne was quite distressed at the idea.

  ‘The war can’t last all that much longer.’ Renee was still optimistic, not really having taken much interest in what was going on in any of the war zones.

  Mike’s mouth twisted in doubt, then he laughed to shake off his own fears. ‘There’s nothing I can do about it anyway, except do what I’m told. It’s the fortunes of war, I suppose.’ When Anne went to make the obligatory pot of tea, he turned to Renee. ‘Any word from Jack lately?’

  ‘Yes, and he’ll be here on Tuesday, but he’s only popping in for a wee while before he goes home to Peterhead.’

  ‘I won’t have a chance to have a chinwag with him, then, for I go back on Sunday.’ He seemed quite disappointed.

  ‘Tell him I was asking for him, will you? He’s a nice lad.’ He paused for a moment. ‘And Fergus? Has he been home on leave again?’

  Renee was taken completely unawares, and feverishly searched for a reply. She’d forgotten that Mike, like Tim and Jack, had no idea of the outcome of Fergus’s last leave. She realised that Mike was regarding her with some curiosity, and was extremely thankful when her mother came back. ‘Mike’s asking about Fergus,’ she muttered.

  Anne’s eyes narrowed, then she gave a brittle laugh. ‘Of course, you wouldn’t know, Mike, but he . . . blotted his copybook the last time he was here, and I had to tell him not to come back.’

  ‘Oh.’ Mike was obviously astonished and wondering what had actually happened, but he made a joke of it.

  ‘He came in drunk, and made a nuisance of himself, I suppose?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Anne said quickly. ‘He must have picked up bad habits in the army, and I wasn’t used to that kind of thing. None of my other lodgers ever gave me any trouble, and I wasn’t going to let him upset me like that.’

  She knew, as did Renee, that Mike had not been fooled, and that he had handed her the excuse to save her any further embarrassment, so she wasn’t sur
prised when he let the matter drop.

  ‘Tim should be home in a few weeks,’ he said. ‘According to Moira, anyway, though he does drop me a line now and then, as well.’

  ‘He writes to Renee sometimes,’ Anne remarked.

  Mike nodded. ‘Aye, Moira told me. I think she’s a wee bit jealous of you, Renee, and she half believes you’re the reason Tim never asked her to get married.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Renee was still recovering from the shock of him asking about Fergus, but this was something she could put straight. ‘There was never anything between Tim and me, Mike. I like him and he was good fun, but we all knew it was Moira he fell in love with. Please tell her that, Mike.’

  ‘I’ve tried to tell her already, but jealousy’s difficult to master, even if there’s no grounds for it.’ He wrinkled his nose and smiled.

  ‘He told us he didn’t want to tie her down,’ Anne volunteered.

  ‘He told Moira that, as well, but . . .’ Mike suddenly stood up. ‘I’ll have to go, though, or Babs’ll be wondering what I’m up to.’

  ‘Give her our regards, and I hope she keeps well.’ Anne saw him to the door, then came back and sat down. ‘Mike’s still the same, isn’t he? He’s always concerned about other people, and so thoughtful and dependable.’

  Renee’s smile was wry. ‘He knows how to help people out of awkward situations, that’s one thing.’

  Jack Thomson was in the house when Renee went home on Tuesday, and he greeted her with a kiss, quite naturally, in front of her mother, who smiled but said nothing. He held the girl away from him for a moment, saying, ‘You’re even bonnier than I remembered you,’ then he crushed her to him once again. Anne walked through to the scullery to dish up the tea, but also to leave them alone for a short time.

  ‘Oh, Jack, it’s good to see you,’ Renee breathed, as soon as she could. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Very well, thank you,’ he replied, formally, and they both flopped on to the settee, giggling.