Roses of Winter (33 page)

But finally, one night as they were leaving Jaconelli’s, he turned to her and said, “Ye know we canny pit this off for ever, don’t ye?”

“Aye, ah know,” she replied. “Ah wis just hoping tae enjoy a wee bit o’ happiness before we had tae deal with it.” She looked into his eyes. “It’s no’ aboot you, ye know.”

Jimmie nodded but Pearl thought she saw doubt in his eyes. She took his head in her hands and drew him close. “Ah mean it,” she said and kissed him gently on the lips. “And ah know ye’re right,” she said after they had drawn apart. “Ah do have tae tell them.”

They walked along Maryhill Road, neither speaking for a while. Jimmie broke the silence. “Ah don’t see why it should matter a damn whit religion ye are.”

“Naw,” Pearl agreed.
 
“But it does tae a lot o’ folk, and mah Da’ is wan o’ them. Ah doubt that anything ah say will make the slightest difference tae him. But wan way or the other, ah’m no’ giving you up. Ah want you tae be sure o’ that.”

“It’s easy for ye tae say that now,” Jimmie protested. “But whit if it comes doon tae picking me or them? Whit chance wid ah have then? Ah widnae want tae have that hanging over me.”

Pearl turned on him. “Ah thought ye knew me better than that by now, Jimmie Gow. If ah cannae get ma father tae cam round tae accepting you, then that’ll be it. Ah’ve had enough o’ him and his bloody nonsense anyway. You should see the way he treats mah mother.
 
Ah’m no’ gaun tae give you up, and that’s that!”

Jimmie, pleased by her firm declaration, put his arm around her and was happy for the moment. He ignored the insistent voice in his mind that said, aye but it’s no’ gaun tae be that easy.

❅❅❅❅❅

The coming of summer relieved the dreich miseries of winter but did little to lighten the anxiety that Mary had lived with since the deadly nights of the blitz. Foremost was her concern for Ellen. She had been subdued and withdrawn since Jim’s departure.

“Ah’m awfy worried aboot her,” Mary confided to Ida one morning in June. “It’s no’ like her. Ah almost wish a could have the auld Ellen back, tantrums an’ aw.”

“Aye, well, ye say that now,” Ida said, half seriously, but stopped herself. “Ah, know, it’s no’ funny,” she said apologetically. “But ye know whit she can be like.”

Mary laughed and nodded her agreement.
 

“So there’s been nae word from her lad?” Ida asked.

Mary shook her head. “No, and after waiting tae hear from Charlie at Dunkirk, ah know how she feels.”

“Aye that was an awful time for ye right enough,” Ida said. They sat in silence for a few moments and stirred to the sound of someone knocking softly on the front door. Mary looked at Ida.

“Who can that be? Ah’m no’ expecting anyone. It sounds like a wean.”

The gentle nature of the sound had allayed her fears that it might be bad news, and she went to the door, curious to know who it might be.

She opened the door to reveal an elderly lady who was unknown to her. They stood for a few moments, each taking in the other. The older woman was extremely well dressed, Mary noted, and held herself with a bearing that was self-assured but without any air of arrogance. There was something else, Mary noticed in her quick survey of the other woman’s face - fatigue, strain.

The woman asked, “Are you Mrs. Burns?” Receiving Mary’s confirmation, the woman looked relieved. Her stiff posture relaxed. “I’m Elizabeth Dennis, James is my son. May I come in?”

Mary ushered Mrs. Dennis into the kitchen. She invited her to sit by the fire, annoyed to see her survey the room as she passed through it. Seeing no hint of criticism on the woman’s face, Mary relaxed.
I expect she’s never seen a Glasgow room and kitchen before
, she thought. She introduced Mrs. Dennis to Ida who made a move for the door. Mary waved her back to her chair, feeling she might appreciate the support of her friend.

A thought struck Mary. What would bring Mrs. Dennis all the way from London? Mary felt a wave of anxiety and fear for her daughter well up in her belly. She allayed this for a short while by going through the rituals of hospitality. Finally, sitting opposite Mrs. Dennis, she was unable to forestall any longer the discovery of the woman’s purpose.

“Whit brings you up here all the way from London, Mrs. Dennis?” Mrs. Dennis rested her teacup in her lap and hesitated before replying. She sagged a little, exhaustion plain on her face.

“Please, call me Elizabeth,” she said. Her tone reminded Mary of Jim’s easy manner - polite but not stuck up.

“If that’s all right with you,” Mary said. “And my name is Mary,” she added.
 

Elizabeth Dennis nodded. “I have news about James.” She stopped, seeing the look on Mary’s face. “No, it’s not that. He’s alive.”

Then it must be a serious wound, disfigurement
, Mary thought. As if reading Mary’s mind, Elizabeth Dennis continued.

“And he’s not wounded. I suppose we should be grateful for that.”

“Then whit is it?” Mary exclaimed, unable to keep a tone of exasperation from her voice.

“I’m sorry, it’s just so hard for me to talk about this,” Elizabeth replied. “James is…James was captured by the Germans. He is a prisoner of war.”

      
Mary’s relief to hear Jim was unharmed was swept away by this news. She stared at Elizabeth, shaking her head, unable to speak.

      
“I know,” Elizabeth continued. “It was a terrible shock for me too. At first you are just so glad that he is alive and unharmed. Then there is the aftermath when you realize what it means.”

      
Mary recovered herself. “Aye, we were worried sick, no’ hearing a word from him aw this time.” She thought a moment. “But why did ye come aw this distance yersel’ tae tell us? Ah mean we are happy tae meet ye, but is there no’ something else that ye want tae tell us?”

      
Elizabeth inclined her head in agreement. She looked at Mary with new respect. “There’s not much that gets past you, is there, Mary?”

      
Mary blushed while Ida gave a little laugh.

      
“You’re right there Mrs. Dennis,” she said.

      
“You are quite correct, there is something more,” Elizabeth resumed. “I have received a letter from my son. He wanted me to come in person and deliver it to Ellen.”

      
Mary looked at her. “Dae ye know what is in the letter?”

      
“I do, but if you don’t mind, I would prefer to wait until Ellen is here to read it. Don’t worry, Mrs. Burns, you won’t be kept in the dark,” she said, seeing Mary’s disapproving look.

      
“Ah know, Mrs. Dennis,” Mary said, "but ah am the girl’s mother. If it’s bad news ah think ah wid like tae know so ah can stand by mah daughter when she needs me.”
 

Elizabeth Dennis sighed. “I suppose you are right Mary,” she said gently. “It’s not bad news exactly, but I think it will result in your daughter having a very hard decision to make. James wants Ellen to know that he loves her and wants to marry her. However, he realizes that he may be imprisoned for quite some time. Who knows how long this awful war will last. Therefore, he wants Ellen to be free to choose whether she waits for him. He hopes that she will, but knows how difficult that will be.”

The three women were silent, struck by the poignancy of the situation the young people found themselves in. Mary considered the possibilities and could see only unhappy outcomes for Ellen and Jim. This feeling took on the weight of a premonition so that a deep chilling dread spread through her body. Some of this must have appeared on Mary’s face because Elizabeth, looking deeply concerned, asked “Are you all right Mrs. Burns?” Receiving no response she repeated her question.
 

Mary said, “Ah just felt like someone had walked over mah grave.”

Mrs. Dennis appeared unperturbed by her ominous exclamation. “It does chill one, doesn’t it, Mrs. Burns? You can’t help feeling a great sympathy for them both; to be suddenly in love and then to have this happen. This is why I felt the need to come in person.”
 

Ida left, citing a need to get her man’s dinner ready, glad to make a tactful retreat before Ellen’s arrival. Mary and Elizabeth distracted themselves with conversation until the unavoidable moment arrived with the sound of Ellen’s key in the door. She walked into the kitchen quietly without the din and fanfare that had been her way in times past.

Mrs. Dennis rose to greet her. When Mary introduced her, Ellen’s look of interest quickly turned to alarm until she understood from Elizabeth’s swift reassurance that Jim was alive. To their surprise, the news that he was incarcerated did not appear to upset Ellen. In Ellen’s mind the fact that her Jim was out of the fighting was good news. It was only later when the full implication of his situation hit her that she cried, quietly and in private.
 

“There’s something more, Ellen,” Mrs. Dennis said quietly, handing her the letter. While she read it, each scrutinized her face carefully. For Mary, it was concern for her daughter, holding herself ready to give emotional support. Elizabeth’s look was more appraising, an attempt to get the measure of the girl who had captured her son’s heart. She was not a snob, she hoped. Yet she had felt the need to be guarded in her reactions since she had arrived, wishing to give no offence. She couldn’t help feeling that Ellen, from so different a cultural and social background, could not be the right match for James.

Elizabeth liked Mary, despite the differences between them.
She was solid and intelligent
, Elizabeth thought, being willing to recognize that you could find such qualities even in unlikely places like this.
 

Ellen finished the letter, having provided no outward sign of the effect of Jim’s words. She was aware of the older women’s close examination and felt the need for privacy and concealment. Her calmness hid a number of confusing emotions that raced through her mind. It was Ellen’s temperament to hate restrictions of any kind.
 
She could not help the feeling of resentment about Jim’s imprisonment that arose unbidden. She railed against obstacles in her life, whether small or great, fussing over them equally. The idea that the Germans or their war could interfere with her wants was insufferable to her.
 

And then there was Jim’s mention of marriage. The very idea of it frightened her. She had known him a scant few weeks. Of course she liked him well enough. Perhaps it
was
love. If things had developed along a more normal course she might well have decided that she wanted to marry him. But to be forced into saying yes or no under these circumstances was intolerable. Forced indeed, because what could she say that wouldn’t wound someone or bring down disapproval on her head unless she committed herself to the idea of waiting for Jim. She was not sure that she could do that.
 

Elizabeth, perhaps sensing some of the girl’s conflict, broke the awkward silence. “Ellen, I know this must be quite a shock for you. You need time to think this over carefully. I think you should take all the time you need before you write to my son. For the moment, perhaps the best thing is that I leave you both and return home.”
 

Mary saw Elizabeth to the door and came back to find Ellen staring into the fire.

“Are ye all right, Ellen?” she asked.

Ellen looked up at her mother. “Aye, ah suppose so.”

Her tone did not reassure her mother. Mary sat down opposite her. She tried to think of what to say. The silence between them expanded. Ellen broke it with a heavy sigh.

“For once in mah life, Ma, I don’t know whit tae dae. If ah don’t tell Jim ah’ll wait for him then everybody will make me oot tae be the bad one.”

Mary opened her mouth to speak but was prevented by Ellen.

“Let me finish whit ah want tae say, Ma. But if ah decide tae wait…” She stopped. “Ah don’t know if ah can dae that.”

“Ellen, dae ye want tae hear whit ah think?” Mary said cautiously.

Ellen nodded and looked at her mother. Mary saw an expression on her daughter’s face that she had never seen before. It was a look of mingled fear and receptiveness. To Mary’s surprise, she thought she even saw respect. Despite that, she began carefully.

“Ah think that you’re the kind of person who doesn’t like tae feel hemmed in by other folk. Ah don’t mean that ye mind whit people think, that’s no’ it. It’s not wanting tae have other people minding your business for you. Ah’m ah no’ right?”
 

Ellen looked at her mother in amazement. “Aye, Ma, that’s it in a nutshell.”

Pleased at this rare success with Ellen, Mary continued. “This business wi’ Jim is something that ye’ll have tae decide for yersel’. And ah want ye tae know that whatever ye do decide, ah’ll stand by ye.”

Ellen came over to her mother and flung her arms around her. Mary felt closer to her daughter than she ever had before.

A few days later at McLellan’s, Ellen told Pearl of Mrs. Dennis and the news she had brought. Pearl, knowing Ellen’s temperament, took a pragmatic view of the situation.

“So are ye gaun tae wait for him or no’?”

“Ah’ve thought aboot nothing else since she came tae see me,” Ellen said. “Ah want tae, ah just don’t know if ah can.”