Monday Girl
MONDAY GIRL
Also by Doris Davidson
Brow of the Gallowgate
Cousins at War
A Gift from the Gallowgate
The House of Lyall
Jam and Jeopardy
Time Shall Reap
MONDAY GIRL
by
DORIS DAVIDSON
This eBook edition published in 2012 by
Birlinn Limited
West Newington House
Newington Road
Edinburgh
EH9 1QS
www.birlinn.co.uk
First published in 2007 by Birlinn Ltd
Copyright © Doris Davidson 2007
The moral right of Doris Davidson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form without the express written permission of the publisher.
eBook ISBN: 978-0-85790-543-7
ISBN 13: 978-1-84158-597-0
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Contents
Part One
Chapter One
11.02 a.m. Sunday, 3rd September 1939. ‘. . . Consequently, this country is at war with Germany.’
Neville Chamberlain’s grave words left millions of Britons filled with horror, or openly excited, or believing that they heralded the end of the world. One not quite sixteen-year-old Aberdeen girl, who had taken in only this last sentence of the Prime Minister’s speech, brought her private thoughts briefly to a halt, then decided that the coming of war could never affect her life.
Irene Gordon, familiarly called Renee, was blissfully unaware that her own actions would blast her little world asunder in just over two hours. She’d made up her mind to give Fergus one more week, and if he hadn’t told her mother by then, she would do it herself. It must be done on a Sunday, when the other three lodgers were away, and she’d have to keep it calm and simple. ‘Mum, Fergus and I love each other.’ That’s all she needed to say, and he could take it from there.
Little bubbles of excitement welled up inside her, like fizzy lemonade, at the prospect of being able to declare her love at last, so she was rather annoyed when her lover broke the spell.
‘Well, it’s here.’ Fergus Cooper sounded pleased.
Anne Gordon rose to switch off the wireless set. She was the most upset of them. ‘Don’t sound so happy about it, Fergus. I remember the last war, the war to end all wars, and the amount of lives that were lost. What a waste of young men, and what for? So another war could break out in twenty-one years? We don’t want to have to go through all that again.’
‘We won’t.’ His face sobered, to humour her. ‘This’ll all be over in a few months.’
Anne still looked despondent. ‘That’s what they said in
1914, and it lasted for years, not months. And remember, Poland and Czechoslovakia were no match for Hitler’s stormtroopers.’
‘That’s different. He’ll never try to invade Britain, and I wouldn’t mind joining the army to see a bit of Europe before it’s too late.’ Fergus stood up. ‘Would you like me to give the back grass a run over with the mower?’
‘Oh, thanks. It’s badly needing it.’
When Anne went through to the scullery to prepare lunch, Renee was left to organise her jumbled thoughts. She’d said nothing since she’d heard the declaration of war being made, but her brain was turning over furiously, and her heart was aching at the thought of Fergus wanting to leave her.
On the spur of the moment, she made up her mind that she’d have to make her stand today, instead of next Sunday. That way, if he did go into the forces, she’d be sure that he’d come home to her when the fighting was over.
By the time she sat down at the table in the dining room, at one o’clock, her stomach was churning, but she was still determined to carry out her plan. Any unpleasantness which might arise would be past by the time Jack, Tim and Mike came back this evening.
She waited until they finished their broth – it was better that they had something substantial inside them when she sprang it on them – and spoke as her mother rose to bring through the meat and vegetables.
‘Sit down, Mum.’ Her voice quavered a little. ‘Fergus and I want to tell you something.’ The planned simple sentence was forgotten, but this would be just as good, as long as she kept calm. Whatever happened, she must keep calm.
Unadulterated fear registered painfully on Fergus’s face.
‘Renee, your mother doesn’t want to hear about . . .’ He was stuck for words for once – this totally unexpected threat to him had knocked him off balance – but he recovered quickly. ‘She doesn’t want to know what we’re planning for her birthday,’ he finished lamely.
Anne’s suspicious eyes swivelled from him to her daughter. ‘What’s going on? My birthday’s not till December.’ She turned her attention again on the man, now cowering fearfully in his seat. ‘I wasn’t born yesterday, Fergus.’
‘Don’t mind him,’ Renee said, quietly. ‘This is a new kind of experience for him.’
‘Yes?’ Anne barked the word out and waited for an explanation.
‘I’m in love with Fergus, Mum, and he loves me.’
It was out at last. She had known there would be some repercussions, but had never, in her wildest nightmares, imagined the explosion that followed.
Even when it was all over, and she was lying on her bed sobbing her heart out, she could hardly believe what had happened.
Fergus couldn’t be so low. All the months he’d been making love to her, and telling her he loved her, he’d been doing the same to her mother. It couldn’t be true! But he’d actually admitted it. Even if she’d waited another week, it would have come out just the same, and she’d never be able to forget this disastrous Sunday. It was far worse than that other time when her life had been shattered, and that had all started on a Sunday, too. A Sunday six years ago, long before she’d ever known Fergus.
Chapter Two
Renee Gordon’s school holidays had been spent at Gowanbrae that summer, because her mother had thought she was looking peaky. ‘A long spell of country air’s what you need,’ Anne had said, and had written to her aunt to ask if the girl could go there for the eight weeks. Renee hadn’t wanted to go. Uncle Jimmy was very nice, but she was rather scared of Auntie Teenie. Christina Durno, however, had left the not-quite-ten-year-old to her own devices, and Renee had revelled in the freedom of not having to wash herself except on Sundays, when the three of them went to church. This Sunday, they hadn’t pursued their weekly worship because Anne and Jim Gordon were coming to take their daughter home, so she didn’t bother to wash. This was somewhat unfortunate for her, as she discovered later.
When her parents arrived in the green Erskine, Renee had mixed feelings about leaving the cottar house attached to the farm of Gowanbrae. She was glad to see her mother and father, of course, but sorry to be losing the friends she’d made among the neighbouring children. Surprisingly enough, she realised that she would also miss Auntie Teenie.
In the car, she chattered on during the 35-mile journey, until her father laughingly remarked, ‘And there was Mummy worrying in case you were homesick.’
‘Oh, no. I was never homesick. I loved it, and Daddy, can I go back next year?’
Looking rather upset that her daughter hadn’t missed her, Anne said, ‘We’ll have to see what happens. A year’s a long time, and things could change.’
‘How could they change?’
‘Oh, I don’t know, and I said we’ll see.’
To her own surprise, as well as her parents’, Renee burst into tears as soon as she went into her own home again.
Anne, on her way to light the gas under the kettle to make a pot of tea, turned round anxiously. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I don’t know,’ the girl sobbed. ‘I can’t help it.’
Jim laughed. ‘She’s homesick now. That’s what it is. She’s so glad to be home, isn’t that it?’
‘I suppose so.’
Relieved, Anne continued through to the scullery, but returned in a few seconds to try to comfort the still-weeping girl. Renee hadn’t realised that her tears were to bring retribution for the weeks of glorious neglect to her toilet, but her mother took one look at the grey rivulets leaving lighter skin behind as they ran down the heart-shaped face, and hit the roof.
‘Renee Gordon! I thought you were sunburnt, but you haven’t been keeping yourself clean, have you? And just look at the state of your knees! The fire hasn’t been on, so there’s no water for a bath, but use the kettle and scrub yourself properly.’
Renee picked up
Little Women
, which had belonged to Auntie Teenie’s daughter, and which she’d been told she could keep, and went into the bathroom. She scrubbed her grimy face, hands and knees – only the parts that could be seen – before she sat down on the lavatory seat to read.
After about fifteen minutes, her father shouted to her,
‘Come on, Renee. What are you doing in there all this time?’
‘I’m nearly finished, Daddy,’ she called back. ‘Just drying my legs.’
‘Get a move on, then. I’ve to get up early in the morning, remember.’ Jim’s irritation showed clearly in his voice.
Pulling a face, Renee turned a page, but in a few minutes, she heard him saying to her mother, ‘I’ll soon get her out.’ She wondered fleetingly what he meant to do, but the antics of Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy were so exciting that she lost herself once more in the story, until, without warning, the light went out. She’d always been afraid of the dark, and she shot out of the bathroom like an arrow from a taut bow.
‘I knew that would shift you.’ Her father was laughing as he straightened up from the electricity box after switching the lights back on.
‘I hate you for that, Daddy!’ she shouted as she ran up the stairs. ‘I really hate you!’
For a long time afterwards, she was to regret these angry words, because they were the last she ever spoke to him.
She was shaken awake the next morning by her mother, white-faced and trembling. ‘Daddy’s been in an accident with his bike, and you’ll have to get up, Renee. Two policemen came to tell me, and one of them’s gone next door to ask if Mr Fraser’ll go with me to the hospital.’
Dressing herself hastily, the girl ran straight downstairs to the living room. Mr Fraser and his wife were already standing there beside the two constables.
‘I’ll take Renee next door,’ Mrs Fraser was saying. ‘And Archie’ll go to Woolmanhill with you, Mrs Gordon.’
‘I don’t know how long I’ll be.’ Anne bit her lip with anxiety. ‘It might be better if you took her to my mother, if you don’t mind? It’s not far, and Renee can show you the way. You can say I’ll collect her as soon as I can.’
Renee’s young brain had hardly taken in what was happening, but she did grasp the fact that she wouldn’t be going to school, even though it was the first day of the new term. Her grandmother was very surprised when they knocked at the door of the tenement flat in Woodside, and was shocked when Mrs Fraser explained why they were there, but her usual hospitality didn’t desert her. ‘Ye’ll come in for a cup of tea, Mrs Fraser?’
‘It’s very kind of you, but I’d better get home. I offered to keep Renee with me – it would have been no bother – but Mrs Gordon wouldn’t hear of it.’
‘Na, na. It’s best the bairn came here.’
Maggie McIntosh led her granddaughter into the kitchen.
‘Dinna worry, my pet, yer daddy’s goin’ to be a’ right, I’m sure. Did ye ha’e ony breakfast?’ A negative shake of the girl’s head made her carry on. ‘I’ll use this packet o’ oats, then, for they’re quicker than oatmeal, though yer granda doesna think they mak’ real porridge.’ She smiled brightly.
The breakfast duly made and supped, Maggie said, ‘I’ll wash up the dishes, but it would be a big help to yer granny if ye did the dustin’.’
Not understanding that this was only a ruse to keep her busy during the suspenseful waiting, Renee dusted everything thoroughly, then sat down at the table to shell the large mound of peas Maggie set out for her. Time dragged interminably for the woman, but the girl was quite unaware that it was almost two hours before her mother and Mr Fraser came back from the hospital.
Anne walked in slowly, her steps mechanical, her face ashen. ‘Jim died before the ambulance got to Woolmanhill,’ she said, in a flat monotone.
‘Oh, Annie!’ The two words conveyed all Maggie’s heartfelt sympathy, and she shepherded her daughter into the bedroom to find out exactly what had happened. Anne refused the proffered chair, and held on to the bedpost, while Maggie stood anxiously waiting, afraid to say anything in case she upset the young woman even more.
‘The police just told me a van had run into him when he was cycling across Ashgrove Road.’ Anne’s voice was quite steady, but her white knuckles revealed her inner agitation.