Time Shall Reap (35 page)

The old lady hurried up the next flight as fast as she could, the smell growing worse with each step, her mouth even feeling the taste of it. In her panic, she fumbled with the knob of the door, then, heart thumping madly, lungs almost bursting with the effort she had made, she flung herself into the kitchen and clutched at the doorpost in relief. ‘Oh, Elspeth, I smelt gas and I thought ...’ Meg stopped when she saw the tear-stained face and swollen eyes. Elspeth had been having a good cry, that’s why she’d wanted to be on her own, and no wonder, after what she’d been through. ‘I should have ken’t you’d more sense. I’ll have to report that gas leak in the morning.’

Elspeth’s eyes met hers squarely. ‘There’s not a leak. I did mean to gas myself, but I hadn’t the courage.’

‘Thank God! Oh, what in heaven’s name come over you, lass? I thought you’d be happy here, but if you want to look for another place to bide ...’ Feeling that she had let Elspeth down in some way, Meg patted the bent head gently. ‘It’s just reaction. You’d lost everything, and I took you to a strange place and left you here on your own before you’d a chance to come to yourself.’

‘It wasna your fault, Meg.’

‘It was so. I should have understood what you were feeling and not traipsed off to the pictures. You would never have tried anything so silly if I’d been here.’

Lifting her head, Elspeth grimaced. ‘Aye, it was silly. I’ve had a good greet, though, and I feel a bit better. I was tired, and depressed about not getting the kind o’ job I was looking for, but there’s plenty jobs in the paper.’

‘Not the kind you’re looking for. I was telling Mrs Milne you’d been a dressmaker, and she said there was a lot o’ women round here were saying they wished they ken’t somebody to do alterations for them. Would you consider that? It maybe wouldna bring in much, but it would be better than nothing. Just till you found a job you’d be happy at?’

After considering for a moment, Elspeth nodded. ‘I suppose I could. I’d have to sew everything by hand, but it would be something for me to do.’

‘I’ll tell Mrs Milne the morrow, and she can pass the word round. Now, what about a cup o’ tea before we go to bed?’

‘I’ll make it.’

While Elspeth was engaged in this important task, Meg sat down. She had still not quite recovered from the shock she’d had when she came in, and was glad to have time to think.

They had almost finished their tea when the old lady burst out. ‘I’ve got it! The very dab!’

Wondering what Meg was going to spring on her this time, Elspeth said, ‘What’s the very dab?’

‘There’s an empty shop down the street next the chip shop, mind? Well, you could buy it and start a dressmaker’s shop.’

‘But I could never afford to buy a shop.’

‘Aye could you. There’s all that money you tell’t me about, just waiting to be put to a good use.’

‘I was wanting to keep that for my old age.’

‘What next?’ Meg couldn’t help laughing. ‘Any road, you can sew till you’re a hundred unless your sight goes, and yours is better than mine ever was. Folk havena the coupons to buy the things they’d like, and some women are no use at make do and mend like the papers tell us. We’ll go and see about it the morrow ... and I’ve just thought – maybe it’s for renting and you could easy manage to pay a rent out of what you take in.’

The shop was not for renting, as they discovered the following morning, Elspeth’s heart sinking when she saw the small notice on the door: ‘FOR SALE. APPLY TO LINDSAY & FERGUSON, SOLICITORS, GRASS-MARKET, FOR FURTHER PARTICULARS’.

They made their way to the Grassmarket and were shown through to Mr Lindsay – small and dapper, his black hair slicked back – who drove them back to Leston Road and took them into the three-roomed ground floor flat which had been converted, many years before, into a front shop with a small room off it, and a room at the back with a sink and a gas ring. Looking at her keenly, he asked, ‘What type of business were you intending to start, Mrs Fullerton?’

‘Just a little dressmaker’s – alterations and mending, and that sort of thing.’

The solicitor smiled approvingly. ‘The premises are good value for the money – quite bright, and the decoration seems in fairly good order.’

Sensing that Elspeth was dithering, Meg said, ‘It’s just fine. The wee room could be a fitting room, and a lick o’ paint on the doors is all the place needs.’

After a few token protests – swept airily aside by Meg – Elspeth agreed to buy the shop, and in the solicitor’s office, in the act of signing the necessary documents, an unexpected little thrill shot through her at what she was accomplishing. ‘I suppose I’d better go and see about the things I’ll have to buy before I can start.’

Mr Lindsay beamed. ‘I can give you the address of a firm of wholesalers who could supply practically everything you would need, or tell you where to get them if they did not have certain items in stock themselves.’

Outside, Meg said, ‘I think we should get something to eat first, and that’ll give you time to write out a list.’

When they finally went home, Elspeth had bought an old sewing machine and as many of the required goods as were available, all to be delivered when requested. She had even asked a signwriter to paint her name and the nature of her business above the door.

That evening, she wrote to Mr Reid in Auchlonie, asking him to transfer the balance of her money to a bank in Edinburgh to pay for the shop she had bought, then she drafted a notice to place in her window to let people know the date she would open.

Too excited to sleep, her thoughts turned to David and Laura. What would they have said about her starting a dressmaker’s shop? But it was best not to think about them. They belonged in the past, and it was the future she had to concentrate on now. The present was taking care of itself – once Meg had shown her the way.

When Elspeth received the key to 29 Leston Road, Meg gave her a hand to paint the doors and clean up generally, then the wholesalers were instructed to deliver the goods she had ordered. All that remained to be done was to organize the layout to her own satisfaction, Meg being amused at first, then slightly irritated, by her indecisions. On Saturday they worked until fairly late, because Meg put her foot down about going in on Sunday. ‘You’re not wanting to open your door on Monday looking like something the tide’s washed in,’ she said, in her droll manner, ‘and working on the Sabbath would maybe bring bad luck.’

Elspeth was secretly glad of the rest, and it was with great pride that she slid the key into the lock on Monday morning and entered her own shop. The long wooden counter with its brass yard measure was gleaming from Saturday’s polishing, but she gave it another rub with a duster to make sure that there were no fingermarks on the calibrated strip. Next, she twitched at the roll of cotton material she had been able to get with her own clothing coupons combined with Meg’s and Mrs Milne’s, in case she might be asked to make a few blouses or summer skirts. She held her breath as two women stopped to look at the material in the window, artistically draped over cardboard boxes, but they walked on after a few moments.

Just after eleven, when she had come to the conclusion that it had all been a waste of money and effort, a young mother, with a small boy in tow, came in to ask how much it would cost to let down a pair of his trousers. Having had the foresight to work out a scale of charges, Elspeth replied, with a smile, ‘It should really be a shilling, but I’ll do it for nothing seeing you’re my first customer.’

The woman was delighted. ‘I’ll take them in after dinner.’

At twelve o’clock, Meg brought in sandwiches and a flask of soup, but Elspeth said, her voice a little flat, ‘I’m not hungry. You didn’t need to bother.’

Meg gathered that the morning had not gone well. ‘You need to eat something, though. It’ll take time to establish yourself, but things’ll pick up.’

‘I hope so.’ Elspeth had imagined a queue waiting for the shop to open and a steady flow all day, so her one potential customer was something of a let-down.

About ten past one, the young mother returned with two pairs of trousers and a girl’s skirt, so Elspeth had something to occupy her at last. A few assorted items were taken in that afternoon and the following day, to be shortened or let down, so she was kept busy, and at the end of the first week there was just over three pounds in her till. But there were the rates to pay, the electricity and gas, and she would have to replace all the threads and tape she had used. Three pounds was not enough to cover all that and leave her enough to live on, she thought sadly.

Business picked up in a few weeks, as Meg had foretold, and so did Elspeth’s spirits. She had quite a few ‘regulars’ now, all of them just asking alterations to be done, so she changed her window display to several large placards, and felt much happier and more optimistic than she had done since leaving Aberdeen. She had even gone out several times with Mrs Farquharson, a widow who lived round the corner from the shop, and who often came in for a chat. Elspeth had refused her first two invitations, having enjoyed the peace when Meg was out, but she had realized that it would do her good to take an interest in something other than her shop.

If anyone had told her when she came to Edinburgh first, she thought one night, that she could pick up the pieces and remodel her existence like this, she would never have believed it. Yet after only a few weeks, she owned a prospering business and was free to do what she liked, when she liked and with whoever she liked. And it was all because of the grandfather clock her father had picked up at a country sale before she was even born.

Watching the brawny corporal making his way towards her with a purposeful glint in his eyes, Laura felt amused. He was new at Wick, and if he thought she was a pushover, he was in for a rude awakening. ‘Hey, good looking, whatcha got cooking?’ he said, brashly, in the words of a popular song.

‘Nothing you’d fancy,’ she replied, tartly.

His smile was broad and confident. ‘You’re wrong, baby. I do fancy you. How about this dance?’

Shrugging, she went into his arms and he led her expertly round the floor as the three-piece band played ‘We’re Going to Hang Out Our Washing On the Siegfried Line’, but after a minute or two his hold tightened, and she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, ‘I’d like to be able to breathe, if you don’t mind?’

He relaxed his grip. ‘Sorry, most girls like it. The name’s Tony, by the way. The one and only Tony Sharp.’

She smiled slightly, it was so appropriate – they didn’t come much sharper than this one. ‘I’m Laura Fullerton.’

‘Hi, Laura. Are you always so prickly?’

She couldn’t help laughing now. ‘I didn’t realize I was being prickly. Please accept my humblest apologies.’

Tony looked pleased that he was getting through to her. ‘You should laugh more often, it makes you look human, beautiful even.’

Laura laughed again. He was obviously an accomplished flirt looking for a few laughs and she felt easier with him. ‘Thank you, kind sir.’

‘That’s better. Have you been at Wick long?’

‘Three months, one week and two days, to be exact.’

He looked surprised by her precision. ‘Do you always keep count of the time like that?’

‘I’ve a reason for remembering how long I’ve been here.’

‘You’re Scottish, aren’t you? Ock aye the noo, and all that sort of thing?’

‘Oh, God, I’ve never heard anybody saying that, not even the most dyed-in-the-wool Scotsman. It’s as bad as thinking all the Welsh say “Indeed to goodness” all the time.’

‘Prickle, prickle,’ Tony murmured, his eyes twinkling.

She grinned. ‘I’m at it again, am I? Sorry.’

‘My fault for teasing you.’ He whirled her round and round as the music came to an end. ‘Thanks, I enjoyed that.’

‘Even with an old prickle like me?’

‘Especially with you.’ He held her hand when she tried to pull it away. ‘No, you’re mine for the rest of the night.’

She gave in. There was no sense in depriving herself of an entertaining partner and she could brush him off later. His gaiety was so infectious that the evening passed so quickly that she was dismayed when the last waltz was announced. She had meant to ditch him long before that.

When the lights dimmed, he rested his chin on her head as they moved slowly round the small hall. ‘I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw you first, and I’m not letting you go now I’ve found you. I’ll see you back to camp and ...’

‘I prefer going on my own, if you don’t mind.’

‘I do mind. Nobody’s ever refused me before.’

‘There’s always a first time.’ Laura realized that Tony wouldn’t be so easy to squash as she had thought. ‘I never let anybody see me back.’

‘You don’t know what you’re missing,’ he smiled, then gripped her as she tried to pull away. ‘No, my prickly little friend, you won’t get off like that.’

Not wanting to make a spectacle of herself in the middle of the floor, she let him take her outside, where he steered her roughly round a corner into the shadows. ‘No,’ she gasped, struggling to get out of his hold, ‘I don’t want you to kiss me.’

‘Don’t you, though?’ Covering her lips with his mouth, he pressed against her, breathing heavily, and when he tried to lift her skirt, she lashed out wildly with her foot.

‘You teasing little bitch! They said you were a dead loss and I didn’t believe them.’ He bent down to rub his tender shin, and seizing her chance, she dodged him and ran off as fast as her shaking legs would carry her.

‘You’ll meet your match,’ he shouted after her. ‘One day you’ll fall in love and it’ll all go wrong, I guarantee it.’

His prediction was more than three months too late, Laura thought, wryly, as she sprinted along, her heart racing and a stitch starting in her side. Bursting into the hut, she ran to her bed, out of breath and still trembling.

The girl lying on the next bed looked up. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I’ll tell you later, Pat,’ Laura said, then, to her chagrin, burst into tears.

Pat Haggarty rose and sat on the edge of the other WAAF’s bed. ‘I think you’d better tell me now.’

Laura swallowed. ‘This corporal said he’d see me back, and then ... he tried to ...’