The Nickum (17 page)

‘No, you’re right, and it was why you thought it was. He couldn’t help it.’

‘What a shame. Was he a nice boy?’

‘He was my best friend for years. He’s a year older than me, but he didn’t pass the qualifying exam, and we don’t see so much of each other now. Last time I saw him, he was working at Easter Burnton as ploughboy.’

‘You shouldn’t lose touch with him, though. Try to see him again.’

‘I do sometimes see him, but just long enough to exchange a few words.’

They had passed the old mill, not in use for many years, and the grass and weeds were practically blocking it from view. Without thinking, Willie remarked, ‘There’s a story that two little twin boys fell in the mill race and were drowned. They had been picking wild rasps. Look, you can still see them growing there.’

‘Oh, that’s really sad. Let’s speak about something different.’

‘I’m sorry.’ He very much regretted it, for her shoulders had slumped, and there was a general air of sadness about her. He searched for something to cheer her and spotted something ahead that might do the trick. ‘See this old hut coming up. They say that was used by men making illicit whisky. They kept their stills hidden in there, so the Revenue Men wouldn’t catch them. There was a lot of that going on round here at one time, and poaching.’ She seemed happier again, he was glad to see. ‘They say the Covenanters roamed about this area, as well.’

‘I suppose there are stories like that wherever you go in Scotland. I’m quite interested in history, but so are you, of course?’

‘Yes, I am. I like to read about the past. If I’d been able to go to the Varsity, I would maybe have aimed at being a history master somewhere, but …’ He shrugged his shoulders.

On the point of telling him her news now, Millie was glad to see the start of Carter Loch just ahead. ‘Well, here we are,’ she said, slowing down as they mounted the grass and pushed the cycles slowly and carefully between the clumps of heather and other low bushes until they reached their favourite spot – secluded and sheltered, and carpeted by mossy grass that was very comfortable to lie on.

First opening the straps that held the basket, Willie set it on the ground, laid his cycle carefully down beside it and then helped Millie with hers. Then they spread their jackets out, although there had been no rain for some time and everything was bone dry. He helped her down first and then sprawled by her side. ‘Will you tell me your news now? Or shall I go first?’

She regarded him thoughtfully, yet her eyes soon began to dance again. ‘I think you should go first.’

So he told her what he had suggested to his father and the response that he had received. ‘So this is the last day we’ll be together for I don’t know long. But I’ll surely get a day off now and then.’ He felt saddened that she was not looking disappointed, and decided that he didn’t really want to know what she had to say, all about the university, he presumed.

‘Well, now it’s my turn,’ she began, sounding far too cocky for his liking. ‘I’ve been studying a railway timetable, and it’s not handy going to Aberdeen by train.’

Wondering why she bothered to tell him this, he muttered, ‘So what are you going to do?’

‘Dad says the bus isn’t much good, either, but his sister has a large house in the Spital and she has offered to take us.’

‘No!’ he said, sharply. ‘Don’t include me. I’ve told you I can’t go.’

She laughed gaily. ‘I know you have, but arrangements have been made.’

‘They’ll have to be unmade, then.’ He was disappointed in her, hurt by her determination to ignore his position. ‘I can’t go and that’s final.’

She didn’t seem in the least perturbed by his persistence. ‘But, Willie, you don’t know what I know.’

‘Stop joking, Millie! It’s not funny.’

‘I’m not joking.’ She looked round into his face, then stroked his cheek. ‘I wouldn’t do that to you, my dearest. But it’s been arranged by my father and the minister that they’ll pay all your expenses.’

He shook his head mournfully. ‘My father won’t agree, and anyway, even if he did, I couldn’t accept such an offer.’

‘But they really believe you deserve it, and you surely aren’t going to let them down?’

‘You make me feel bad about it, but I really can’t. Not only would it be my fees, but books, and now, you’re telling me, board and lodging to your aunt.’

‘She doesn’t want us to pay. She’s got plenty of money. Her husband was a skipper and left her very well provided for.’

‘But I can’t …’

She rolled over to stop him with a kiss, a kiss that lingered, was repeated over and over again, and he knew he had been overruled. He could not argue against her now, he would have to accept and be grateful to all the people who were making his dream possible; it would be up to himself to make it come true. He would actually be starting his first year at Aberdeen University with Millie at the beginning of October, 1939.

Part Two

Willie had worked on his father’s plot of land for most of the summer, with one day off every week, which he spent with Millie, but things changed somewhat on the third day of September, when Neville Chamberlain announced that Britain was at war with Germany. Many of the young men in the Burnton area were fired with patriotism between then and Christmas and volunteered to fight for their country. Poopie Grant – Willie could never get into the habit of calling him Cecil – came to say that he’d made the decision and had to report at the Scottish Horse base at Perth.

‘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.