The Nickum (27 page)

Despite this, the servicemen were mostly in a cheerful mood – outwardly, at least. It was during the nights, trying to snatch a few winks of sleep in whatever part of the ship they had been assigned to, that their imaginations took over. If we’re bombed and the ship goes down, what are we supposed to do? None of the convoys are allowed to stop to pick up survivors. They were not pleasant thoughts and it would be best to push them aside and look on the bright side. But … there didn’t seem to be a bright side. It was like running the gauntlet – taking your life in your hands.

Willie Fowlie, just as apprehensive as any, had an incentive to keep his spirits up. He could see that Pat Michie was absolutely petrified, and was liable to do something stupid if the ship was hit. With this in mind, he bombarded his friend with questions about his childhood – questions that took the other man’s mind off the present. Pat, of course, hadn’t been a ‘nickum’ like Willie, but he made his brief accounts fairly amusing.

When they finally disembarked, the relief was practically tangible, but they soon found that it was not much safer on land. The 1st and the 5th/7th Battalions of the Gordon Highlanders, who were already part of the 51st (Highland) Division, now became part of the British 8th Army, and were soon involved in the bitter fight against the Germans under their commander, Erwin Rommel. The troops they relieved were given local leave, but the new arrivals had little time to draw a breath, let alone write letters home. Fortunately they were issued with printed cards, with comments such as ‘I am well’ or ‘Hope you are well’ etc., to which they just had to tick whichever phrase was appropriate, sign it and add the name and address of the intended recipient.

The ensuing period was hell upon earth for all troops taking part in the struggle to gain possession of El Alamein, the Allies and the Axis forces alike, with each side temporarily taking the city in turn. Whenever possible, Willie Fowlie kept half an eye on his friend, and was pleased to see that Pat seemed to have conquered his blind terror and was giving a fairly believable imitation of acceptance of their situation.

They had all been given training in desert warfare, which helped them to stand up to their environment, but the days seemed inordinately long while the nights – unless they were on duty – seemed inordinately short. The night-time patrols were fraught with danger, unexpectedly running into a pair, or more, in hodden grey, or being shot at by snipers on the lookout for ‘Tommies’ such as they.

Prior to what became known as the Battle of El Alamein, they had been given five days’ leave to spend locally. Some of their comrades passed the time in heavy drinking, some in the whorehouses that seemed to be there for their special benefit, some, like Willie and Pat, took advantage of the freedom to explore as much of the area as they could. They would probably be moved on when their task here was successfully finished and they would never get the chance again. They were expected go back refreshed and ready for action, but it was a motley crew who returned – several with life-sapping hangovers, some with medical problems from indiscriminate womanising, some quite well rested, but all desperately wishing they hadn’t had to come back.

It was some considerable time before Emily, and Millie, heard from Willie, and not a letter that would satisfy them as to his whereabouts and well-being; merely a communication pre-printed on a postcard, indicating that he was well and in good spirit, neither of which statements was believed by the woman or the girl. Even the address where he could be reached – his Service Number, followed by the letters BFPO, for British Forces Post Office – told them nothing.

It did ease Emily’s mind just a little, but Millie had much more to worry about than Willie’s health and whereabouts. She had missed her show twice, and was frantic with fear, of her father and of the unknown ordeal ahead of her. She had once hoped for pregnancy in order to get Willie to marry her, but with him fighting God knows where, what was she to do? She couldn’t expect him to come tearing home to give the infant a legitimate name, not now.

After spending many hours debating on what would be her best plan, she decided that she must tell Willie. He deserved to know. He was the father. The only thing was, did he want to be a father? They had never discussed that, although her instinct told her that he would be delighted – if things were different. If there weren’t a war on. If he was where he could get home in an hour or so to be with her at the crucial time.

One Sunday evening, in her Aunt Sophie’s house, she said she had some work to finish and went into her bedroom.

My Darling Willie,

I have thought long and hard about writing this letter, but I feel you should know. We should both have realised it was possible, but we were too blinded with love. My dear, I am expecting a baby in about 7 months. I suppose this will be as big a surprise to you as it was to me, and to be honest, I don’t know what to do. I haven’t told my parents yet, not even Auntie Sophie, I’m too scared. I’ve even thought of trying to get rid of it, but I want to know how you feel about that first. It’s rather a cowardly step to take, when all’s said and done.

I don’t mind waiting for you to marry me when the war is over, as long as I know you still want to, so if you will please write back as soon as you can, I’ll let things take their course. I don’t know how my mother would take the news, but I’m sure my father will hit the roof. I do think, however, that I could possibly talk Sophie round to let me have it here. You know how good-hearted she is. Anyway, don’t worry, I promise to look after myself properly, and I’ll do whatever you want as far as the baby is concerned. I think you’ll know what I mean. Just let me know what you think.

Yours with all my love and kisses.

Millie. XXXXXXXXXX

Laying down her fountain pen, she leaned back with a sigh. That was all she could do until he answered, as long as he answered in time. If an abortion was called for, it would have to be done before a certain number of weeks had gone by; she didn’t know how many.

Another month sped past without any word from Willie, and, so worried by the delay, Millie confessed to Sophie. The cheery smile was wiped off her aunt’s face, to be replaced with deep concern. ‘You haven’t been taking up with any other boys?’ she asked.

Millie didn’t have to ask what her aunt meant. ‘No, it’s Willie’s. I’m afraid we misbehaved last time he was home and I’m scared to tell Mum. You know how Dad is.’

Sophie pulled a face. ‘Yes, my love, I know my own brother. A genuine, liberal man with a vile temper when he is roused. He is old-fashioned in his views, Victorian even, and I don’t envy you your task, but you will definitely have to tell him. He may surprise you, for he loves you with a deep, abiding love.’

Millie heaved a long sigh. ‘Which means he’ll be disappointed in me, and end up hating me with a deep, abiding hate.’

‘No, my dear, I don’t think so. He’ll be hurt at first, disappointed that you have gone against his teachings, but he will come round. I’m sure of that.’

‘So you’re advising me to go home on Friday and tell them?’

‘Yes – but it just came to me, Millie. Does Willie know?’

‘I did write to him, but he hasn’t answered yet.’

‘He’ll be in the midst of all this fighting that’s going on – North Africa or the Middle East, or something. He won’t have had time to write. Don’t wait any longer, dear.’

The lines on her aunt’s cheery face stopped Millie from asking if she could have her baby at the Spital, and she decided to throw herself on Willie’s mother’s mercy. Surely she’d be glad to help her grandchild to be born, even if the maternal grandfather refused to have anything to do with it.

Emily felt herself to be in the deepest quandary ever. The rumours that Millie Meldrum was in the family way were spreading like wildfire, and even Beenie Middleton had said to her yesterday, ‘You maybe werena fancyin’ bein’ a granny yet, but I dinna think it’ll be that lang.’ Worse still, she’d seen the girl herself last Saturday from a distance, and there was no doubt about it.

Damn Willie! She thought he’d settled down after he got serious about Millie, and especially now he was in the Gordons, but he’d still been up to his old capers; only this time it wasn’t just himself he’d landed in a fix. Poor lassie. Her father would go mad at her, maybe throw her out, and where would she go? Jake would have to be told about it whatever happened, and he’d be as angry as Mr Meldrum – there was no getting away from that – but what could he do? Nothing, as far as his wife could see. He wasn’t involved in disciplining his son now; that would be the Gordon Highlanders’ job, or the War Office.

Whatever, Willie was in for a rude awakening. Dismissed from his regiment? Clapped in irons and locked away for years? She might never see him again. Did she want to see him again, anyway? He’d been the bane of her existence ever since he was born; a ‘wee nickum’ when he was still a toddler, but a disobedient rebel when he got older. My God, if he managed to get home after this got out, she would …

Lost in searching for a fitting punishment for her wayward son, Emily was startled by a timid knock. Positive that it was Willie, thrown out of the army, she stamped to the door and threw it open, to be completely taken aback at the sight of the pregnant young girl. ‘Millie Meldrum.’ She could think of nothing else to say.

‘Can I come in, please, Mrs Fowlie? I’ve something to tell you.’

Emily stood back to let her pass, frantically trying to make up her mind what to do. Fortunately, the decision was taken out of her hands.

‘I suppose you know?’ Millie didn’t waste time.

‘Aye.’ But the woman couldn’t help adding, ‘The whole of Burnton must know by this time.’

‘I wondered if Willie had written and told you?’

‘I haven’t heard from Willie for weeks, and that was just a stupid card. All he had to do was tick some boxes.

Millie’s face fell. That’s the same as I got. I did write when I was sure about … but he surely hasn’t got that letter.’

Emily’s fluctuating emotions suddenly took up a proper stance. This poor girl was at her wits’ end, that was quite clear. Like enough her mother and father had been furious when she told them, and she had come here for at least a little comfort. It hadn’t been Millie’s fault. It had definitely been Willie’s fault, but surely to God he hadn’t taken her against her will? He would never have done anything like that … would he? ‘Sit down, Millie. We’ll have a cup of tea.’

Although this was their first actual meeting, they talked for a long time, Millie first explaining how she was as much to blame for her condition as Willie was, which made Emily open her heart to her. Even though she was the daughter of a headmaster, she wasn’t afraid to tell the truth, however badly it reflected on her.

‘You see, Mrs Fowlie, I love him. I truly love him, from the first day I saw him, when we were still at my father’s school. I don’t think he felt the same about me until we were older, though, and then, of course, we ended up at University together, and lived with my Auntie Sophie before he volunteered.’

‘You’d been devastated when he did that, I suppose.’

‘I was at first, but when he told me about his friend being killed and why he had joined up, I could understand.’

‘Poopie,’ murmured Emily, her throat contracting at the memory of the little boy who had been constantly in her house. ‘I don’t think Willie’s got over that yet.’ So their conversation carried on, with Emily laying out her own feelings towards her son. ‘He was a great annoyance to me,’ she admitted after relaying several of the scrapes he had got into. ‘I could only see him as a bad boy, though Jake kept telling me most boys were the same. But I still can’t excuse him. Look what he’s done now. He was old enough to know what it could lead to.’

‘But I knew what it would lead to, as well,’ Millie admitted. ‘I wanted it to happen. I thought it would be the only way to get him to marry me.’

Emily’s imagination stalled at the thought of Willie being a married man. It just didn’t bear thinking about, and as for him being a father … ‘Look, Millie,’ she murmured, after a few moments, ‘have you told your own parents yet?’

‘I’ve the feeling that Dad’ll throw me out, and I wanted to have somewhere up my sleeve where I could go. Please understand I’m not forcing you into anything. If you don’t want to take me in, just say so.’

The older woman’s thoughts were now in such turmoil that she didn’t know how she felt about it. ‘I’ll have to ask Jake,’ she murmured, procastinating.

‘Oh yes, of course. That’s all right.’

‘But I think you should go home and tell your mother and father right now. It’s not right to keep such a secret from them, and anyway, I’m sure your mother must know by now.’

‘You think so? She’s never said anything to me, and she can’t have told Dad otherwise he’d have been reading me the riot act. Auntie Sophie says he’s as strict as any Victorian father.’

‘Even so, it’s your duty to tell him.’

‘And face up to the consequences?’

‘They maybe won’t be as bad as you think.’

They said goodbye at the door, and Emily went inside to go over what had been said. She knew how Millie must be feeling at telling her father, because she was terrified at the thought of telling Jake. He wouldn’t think twice about leathering Willie when he came home, even at the age of twenty-two. And now she had time to think about it, if she got hold of him herself, she would give him a real hot backside. She couldn’t give him the clip on the ear she used to give him; he was much taller now than she was.

As Emily had suspected, Millie found that Margaret Meldrum was already aware of her daughter’s condition, so it was only Herbert’s reaction that they waited for, fearful and trembling. Millie broached the subject as soon as he came in from school.

‘Dad, I was scared to tell you before, but … I’m expecting a baby.’

His face gave nothing away. ‘Couldn’t you have let me sit down first?’

‘I’m sorry, and I know it must be a shock, but I want to know …’

‘It’s not so much a shock as you may think, Millicent. I am not blind, and when my daughter’s waistline thickens to such an extent that she has to wear one of her mother’s old skirts …’