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Authors: Maureen Reynolds

The Sunday Girls (12 page)

BOOK: The Sunday Girls
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She then called over to Danny. ‘Where’s your mother, son? Are we no’ good enough for her at Hogmanay?’

‘Mum’s had to work tonight,’ he said but she wasn’t satisfied with a short answer and wanted the entire version and nothing but that.

Maddie interrupted. ‘Hattie is working in our house tonight – or I should say this morning? My parents are entertaining a few of my father’s colleagues to dinner.’

Bella gave her a puzzled look. ‘Dinner? Surely your dinner was over long ago. We have our dinner in the middle of the day.’ She took another swig of her medicine which obviously cleared her head and engaged her brain. ‘Oh, I forgot – you toffs have your dinner when we’re eating our supper.’ The perplexed frown vanished from her face and she looked pleased at solving this problem.

Maddie’s face began to twitch and we thought she would erupt in a gale force of laughter but she managed to keep a straight face and she gave Bella a serious look. ‘Yes, that’s right, Bella.’

Meanwhile, to my dismay and Rosie’s apparent anguish, Dad failed to appear.

Another absence hadn’t escaped Bella’s eagle eye. ‘Where’s Johnny, Nan? Is he not coming as well? Heavens, what a family! You would think he would want to wish us a happy New Year – especially folk like me that doesn’t keep well and will maybe not be here next year.’

She stopped suddenly, warned by the annoyed look from Granny. She looked embarrassed when she remembered my mother who had been hale and hearty this time last year. She lowered her head and muttered, ‘Sorry about that but I just thought he might want to wish his kids a happy New Year – especially Ann. He could have wished her well in her new job at least.’ She then fell silent.

I thought the same thing myself but maybe I would see him before I left for Broughty Ferry on the second of January.

By now Grandad had finished his performance on the spoons. Then, in the brief interval that usually followed these impromptu recitals, Mary Watts, a normally timid little woman but now fortified with a dram of whisky, began to sing. Her rich alto voice soared majestically in the small kitchen and we were all spellbound. Lily even stopped waving her rattle.

When the song was over, Granny clapped her hands enthusiastically. ‘Oh that was great Mary. I’ve aye liked “The Sunshine of your Smile” – it’s a grand song.’

Alice echoed this statement and added, ‘You’re good enough to be on the stage. You’re far better than a lot of singers I’ve heard.’

Mary blushed but looked pleased. ‘It’s funny you should say that but, when I left school, my mother was going to get my voice trained but it was the old story of a lack of money. Then I met my man, Willie. Well to cut a long story short, we got married during the war but then he was killed in action. Now of course there’s not enough money to live on, let alone have a voice trained.’ She gazed down at her hands with a wistful expression on her face, thinking maybe of what might have been.

‘Well, that’s a shame,’ said Grandad. ‘A great voice like that shouldn’t be hidden under a bushel.’

Bella, who was feeling left out now that the conversation had swung away from her health problems, said waspishly, ‘Maybe you can win a song competition or something.’

Although it was meant as a sarcastic remark, Grandad immediately pounced on it. ‘What a good idea, Bella! We’ll have to keep our eyes skinned to see if any of the halls have song competitions.’

Bella, puffed up with pride at this unexpected appreciation, tried to look modest but failed. ‘Well, as I’m tired of telling you lot, I’m not just a bonny face. I have good ideas all the time but nobody ever listens to me.’

Granny muttered under her breath, ‘We do nothing else but listen to you.’

It was time for Danny to take Maddie home and he rescued her before Bella could unearth another ache or long forgotten pain.

Then, to my surprise, he asked if I wanted to go with them. The cold wind smacked against our faces as we stepped out into the street which was still thronged with people celebrating another new year.

‘It’s a long way to Tipperary,’ sang a group of inebriated men as they tried to negotiate a narrow close entrance, their voices suddenly amplified by the vault-like walls.

‘Speaking about Tipperary,’ said Danny, looking at both of us, ‘I’m visiting my relations later on today. Would you both like to come?’

I accepted with such alacrity that I was suddenly embarrassed. I hoped I hadn’t sounded too eager. I saw Maddie’s face fall.

‘Oh, Danny, I would love to come with you both but my aunts and uncles always come to our house on New Year’s Day and I have to be there.’

Danny sounded cheerful, ‘Oh, well, maybe another time, Maddie.’

Although I was sorry she couldn’t make it, I was still elated that Danny and I would have some time together before I started work. I had another idea. ‘What about taking Lily with us? It’ll mean pushing the pram instead of taking the tramcar, though. What do you think, Danny?’

Danny thought it was an excellent idea and we strolled on to Maddie’s house. This quiet road was such a contrast to the Overgate with its throng of merry revellers and their loud rasping singing and sharp peals of laughter. It was like walking along a hushed road towards a church and most of the houses lay in slumbering darkness, their gardens deep pools of mysterious shadows.

Maddie was silent during the walk, her eyes downcast on the pavement as if measuring each paving stone. Suddenly she blurted out, ‘Oh, I wish I was coming with you to Lochee instead of a stuffy day with my relations. They’re not as funny and good-natured as your grandparents and their friends. I’ve got two aunts who look down their noses at drink but make a concession at this time of year. They sit around like two stuffed prunes, sipping a little glass of sherry as if it were poison. I do wish they were like Bella.’ She giggled loudly and made a funny face, imitating her aunts’ expressions, and we laughed so loudly that a light sprang on in one of the darkened houses. We ran along the pavement in case the irate owner would perhaps open his window and shout at us.

Maddie was still lamenting. ‘Then one of my uncles goes to sleep after his lunch and doesn’t wake up till it’s time for tea. What boring company he is and not like Bella with her numerous complaints and medicine bottle full of whisky. Not to mention her “Dinner at dinner time unless you’re a toff”.’ She mimicked Bella to a tee.

Danny was amused. ‘So you noticed that, did you, Maddie? It’s supposed to be our family secret – our skeleton in the cupboard.’

‘Actually I didn’t notice right away,’ Maddie admitted, ‘but, after a few drinks from her bottle and after finishing her glass, she got tired of waiting for a refill. She gave me this huge wink and poured some of her so-called medicine into her glass and it looked like whisky.’

‘Aye, we just love it when she looks so innocent and tells us what a blessing her medicine is,’ I said.

Maddie gave another huge sigh. ‘It’s all right for Joy – she’ll sleep through most of the long boring day – but I’ll have to play the piano and sing something totally cheerless. Still maybe I’ll sing the Horsey song.’ This thought seemed to cheer her up.

When we reached her house, a light still glowed in a downstairs window. I remembered Hattie. ‘Is your mum coming back with us, Danny?’

‘No, her plan was to go home straight after the meal was served. Isn’t that right, Maddie?’

Maddie nodded. ‘Yes. As Bella would say, us toffs are a dull lot with our boring parties that end early.’ She turned to face us. ‘Come in for a moment and see Dad.’

I was dying to get home to my bed as I had had a really busy day with the housework and a heavy stint at the local wash-house but it seemed churlish to refuse.

We stepped once again into the lovely pink-toned room, now made even softer with a solitary lamp burning. This cast a golden glow, making the room seem mysterious with its shadowed corners. The red embers from a dying fire echoed the warm look.

Mr Pringle sat in a deeply cushioned chair, a crystal glass with an inch of amber liquid in his hand. The room was extremely tidy and devoid of any party traces. Either they had received no ‘first-footers’ or else Hattie was extremely good at her job.

He greeted us warmly. ‘I thought I would wait up for you, Maddie.’

Refusing a glass of ginger wine, we explained we had to be on our way back in case Granny became worried.

Maddie turned an anguished face to her father. ‘Can I go with Ann and Danny to Lochee later today?’ she implored, her clear blue eyes large and gleaming. ‘Ann is going away to her new job and I won’t see her for quite a while.’

He shook his head. ‘No, Maddie, I’m sorry but you know how much your aunts and uncles like to see you at this time of year.’ He turned to us. ‘Sorry, Danny and Ann, any other time I would have said yes but you understand, don’t you?’

We both nodded while Maddie made a face at him but he was still adamant. Before we left, they both wished me well in my new job, with Maddie adding, ‘I’ll be out to see you sometime, Ann. We Sunday girls must stick together.’

When we were outside, Danny burst out laughing. ‘I thought Maddie would get her own way and get round her dad but she was unlucky this time.’

The wind whipped coldly against our faces and I pulled my headscarf tightly under my chin as we hurried homewards. When we reached the house, the party was still in full swing and Mary was singing again.

Lily had fallen asleep and she had been put in my tiny room where I joined her, leaving Danny to return to the Westport. Within minutes I was fast asleep.

Daylight dawned clear and cold with some thin wintry sunshine but, by eleven o’clock, a thick bank of grey ominous looking clouds appeared as a threatening mass above the tenements.

Granny didn’t like the look of the weather. ‘I don’t think you should take Lily in the pram. Why do you and Danny not go on your own?’

Grandad, who was nursing a headache after the night’s celebrations, was in the process of swallowing an Abdine powder. He looked at me. ‘Aye, you’d better not let Hattie see Danny pushing the pram. She’s never liked it.’ He was still obviously smarting from her attitude.

‘We don’t mind taking Lily and letting you both have a wee rest – especially when I’m off to work tomorrow.’

I put Lily’s arms through her little jacket. She looked so bright eyed and lovely in the pram suit with the matching pixie hood, the one Mrs Pringle had given her.

‘We can just as easily go on the tramcar to Lochee,’ I said.

Danny appeared, looking so handsome that I almost felt sorry for Maddie having to miss our outing. I mentioned the pram and Danny said the walk would do us all the world of good. So the pram was manhandled down the stairs.

Grandad gave Lily a cuddle as he passed. ‘Cheerio, my wee pet. You look really bonny and wrapped-up in your new suit. A proper wee toff – that’s what you are.’

The street was still as crowded as the previous night and we almost knocked over a small woman who suddenly darted from one of the closes. She was extremely thin with a shrivelled looking face. She was almost wraith-like except for her hands which were encased in an enormous pair of furry gloves that looked as if they had once been the front paws of a grizzly bear. Her thin bony face was wrinkled and her pale eyes were watery from the cold wind. She turned to look at us. ‘A happy New Year to you and your wife. What a bonny baby. Is it your first?’

Danny smiled at her. ‘Oh, no, we’re not married.’

The woman took this misleading statement in her stride. ‘Oh, that doesn’t matter a scrap these days. Many a bonny baby’s born out of wedlock and good luck to you.’

I was appalled at being taken for an unmarried mother so I butted in. ‘No, what he means is the baby’s my sister and he’s my cousin.’

‘Oh, I see,’ she said, looking quite perplexed. ‘Mind, I did think you were both too young to be married with a wee one.’ She peered at Danny and recognition dawned. ‘I know you. You live in the next close to me. I saw your mother earlier. She seemed to be in a hurry.’

‘She’s away to work, Mrs Cooper,’ he explained to the woman, who looked pleased at being recognised. ‘Her boss is having a lot of relations visiting today and Mum helps out in the house.’

I thought Hattie would be wild at this domestic description of her job. Helping out wasn’t what she told us she did – no, it was housekeeper stroke companion and not general dogsbody stroke skivvy – but I held my tongue.

As the woman hurried away, I said to him, ‘I wonder if Maddie is practising her piano party piece.’ I couldn’t control the grin on my face.

Danny laughed as well. ‘The strange thing is that the Pringles don’t think so much of Maddie’s rebellious nature as my mum does. She thinks it’s terrible not to act like a lady when you’ve been born to it. If she had her way, Maddie would be dressed in frills and flounces with ringlets in her hair and wearing white cotton gloves all the time.’

I had this absurd picture of Maddie sitting simpering in yards of pink tulle and white gloves and I burst out laughing. ‘I don’t think I would like her if she was like that.’

We pushed the pram past high tenements. Some had their curtains still tightly drawn but, in others, there were the remnants of Hogmanay and the sounds of merriment floated out. In a dismally grey, unemployed and poverty-stricken world, people had to take their little bits of pleasure when they could.

We soon reached Atholl Street – or Tipperary as it was better known. Like the Overgate, this street was buzzing with activity. Scores of children went whooping past us. Some had scooters and most of these wooden toys had bent wheels which meant the rider had a struggle to keep up the momentum on the grimy pavements. Others were playing with pretend guns, acting out scenes from the latest cowboy picture at the cinema. A group of more fortunate lads had an old cart which was a scrappy-looking box on a set of old pram wheels.

If there was one place I liked as much as the Overgate, it was this street where all Danny’s relations lived. In fact, if one should spit, they would shower the entire Ryan clan because their houses radiated around the abode of Ma and Dad Ryan like some gigantic cobweb.

BOOK: The Sunday Girls
6.55Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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