Under the Bridges (12 page)

‘Is the Kelty bus in yet?' she asked an inspector.

‘Yes, about quarter of an hour ago—right on time.'

I'll just have to wait, she thought, pulling her jacket around her. The evening had turned chilly.

And then it began to rain. Lorna peered out from the shelter of the bus station, watching for Pete's bus. She glanced at her watch. It was nearly eight o'clock and they'd arranged to
meet
at quarter-past seven. What could have happened?

The wind was rising and the rain drove relentlessly across the area, sending passengers scurrying for shelter, and blowing umbrellas inside out.

Lorna shivered, wishing she'd listened to her mother and brought a raincoat or an umbrella, at least.

It was quarter-past eight when a thought suddenly came to her. Had they arranged to meet at the bus station? But they always did. Or had they planned to meet at the café? She couldn't be absolutely certain.

There was no sign of the weather clearing. Suddenly she decided. If he wasn't in the station, maybe he was at the café.

She pulled her jacket over her head, and running as fast as she could on her high heels, dashed across the tarmac, almost bumping into a man coming in the other direction.

‘Steady there! You all right?' He caught her by the arm.

‘Yes, I'm OK.'

Lorna kept on running until she reached the café and pushed open the door. Inside it was warm and steamy, but at least it was dry.

‘Hello, there—you're a bit wet, aren't you?' The girl behind the counter knew Lorna well. ‘What's it to be? Coffee?'

‘Please.'

Lorna took off her dripping jacket and
shook
it, accidentally shaking the drops over a girl and her boyfriend holding hands at a nearby table.

‘Do you mind?'

‘Sorry—I didn't notice.'

* * *

Lorna caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror behind the counter. Her make-up was streaked—the mascara she'd applied so carefully was running in black rivulets down her cheeks. And her hair—her carefully back-combed hairdo had come adrift from its anchor of kirby grips, and her fringe was plastered to her brow.

‘Jen, has Pete been in?'

The girl shook her head.

‘Not tonight. And I've been here all the time. Stood you up, has he?'

Lorna didn't answer but took her coffee and sat down in dignified silence.

What had happened to Pete? He had never been as late as this before. She decided she would give him another half-hour. Or should she ring home in case he'd left a message there?

She decided the best thing was to go home. The evening was ruined anyway, and she was soaked through. She would order a poached egg on toast or baked beans, and after she'd eaten, head for the bus station.

And
then the door burst open. Lorna looked up and there was Pete, his gaze scanning the café. As soon as he spotted her, he came over to the table.

‘I'm sorry, love. I couldn't get here earlier. When you weren't at the bus station, I thought you might be here.'

Lorna was so glad to see him, she reached across the table and gave him a hug.

‘You're not mad at me?'

‘I was worried,' Lorna said.

‘Lorna—' He reached across the table and took her hand. ‘I missed the bus for a reason.'

He paused.

‘I had a bit of a row with Dad, and I couldn't just walk out. I'll get some more coffee—and then we'll have something to eat.'

Returning to the table with the two cups, he said, ‘As I was telling you . . .'

‘You had a row with your dad?'

‘It's a bit awkward,' Pete said. ‘You know Mick . . . ?'

Lorna nodded—yes, of course she knew Pete's best friend, Mick.

‘Well, he works in the family's engineering business. It's just a small firm, but they've good local connections. And he wants me to join them. I'd really like to—it's the sort of thing I've always wanted to do. I'd learn from the shop floor up—there isn't any money at home for me to go to technical college, so it's a great chance. I know his dad—he's a good sort.
But
. . .'

‘But?' Lorna prompted.

‘I'd not meant to speak about it, not yet. I hadn't really decided. But Mum put her foot in it. She told Dad Mick had left a message wanting me to let him know—about the job.

‘“What job?” Dad says. And then, of course, I had to explain and that was when he flew off the handle. Our family has always worked down the pit, what was I thinking of—that kind of thing.

‘I lost the place a bit.' He frowned. ‘We had a shouting match, if I'm to be honest. Him saying I was throwing up a good job, me saying there wouldn't be jobs down the mines for ever. Mum saying, you should listen to your dad—and then bursting into tears. After a bit I couldn't stand it any more and walked out. But by then I'd missed the second bus.' He drew a deep breath.

‘Poor you. That's families all over,' Lorna said sympathetically. ‘He'll have cooled down by the time you go home.'

‘I doubt he will,' Pete said.

He went on.

‘It's right enough about the pits. There won't be so many jobs in the future. But Dad won't see it that way. Our family have always been miners—and I've to follow him and Grandpa . . .'

Lorna reached across the table and laid her hand on his.

‘Why
don't you wait a few days and talk to him about it—some time when you're together and things are a bit quieter? Explain what your prospects are—he'll see it your way, I'm sure.' She stopped and smiled. ‘Listen to me, giving advice. If my mum could only hear me.'

‘No,' Pete said thoughtfully. ‘That makes a lot of sense .'

He drained his cup.

‘There's another reason I want this chance, Lorna. It's a job with good prospects, and I can learn a lot. I could be promoted. And that means more money—I could afford to think about getting married, getting a house—' His voice trailed off.

Lorna looked down at the table, tracing a pattern on the plastic cloth.

‘Yes?' she said.

‘Lorna,' Pete said urgently. ‘I know we're both young. But I—I love you, Lorna, you know I do . . . And maybe in a year or so, if you feel the same way as me—maybe we could get engaged? What do you think?'

‘Oh, Pete.' Lorna laughed. ‘You do choose your moments! Just look at me—hair in rats' tails, make-up ruined, jacket soaking wet . . .'

‘You look smashing to me,' Pete said. ‘You always do. So, what do you say, Lorna?'

Lorna stopped laughing and looked at him. ‘Yes, Pete. I love you, too . . .'

* * *

‘Come
in, Pete.' Nancy greeted him warmly. 'You're early, lad. Lorna's not back yet.'

Pete shifted uneasily from one foot to the other.

‘It's not Lorna I've come to see, Mrs Mackay. I wondered if I could have a word with Mr Mackay.'

‘Of course,' Nancy said. ‘He's in the living-room. Away you go in.'

Joe was sitting by the fireside, reading a newspaper. He glanced up as Pete came into the room.

‘Hello, lad. You're early. Lorna's not in yet. Take a seat while you wait for her.'

What did the lad want? Joe sighed and folded the newspaper.

‘So how are you?'

Joe liked Pete, a shy lad, who always seemed a little ill at ease. Tonight, for some reason, he was even jumpier, and kept glancing out of the window.

‘I'm fine, thanks.'

‘We've had a grand spell lately,' Joe said. The weather was always a safe topic. ‘I'll need to get the hose on the garden if it's going on like this.'

‘Aye,' Pete answered eagerly, desperately wondering what else he could talk about.

‘Have you had your tea?' Joe asked kindly.

‘Thanks, Mr Mackay, but we'll be going out for a bite to eat, Lorna and me, and then
maybe
to the pictures.'

‘I'm not one for the pictures much myself,' Joe said. ‘Especially not now we've got the television.'

‘Mr Mackay,' Pete said suddenly, ‘that's—that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about . . .'

‘The television?' Joe was a little surprised.

‘No . . .' Pete became more tongue-tied than ever.

‘What I wanted to see you about,' Pete said a little desperately, ‘was Lorna and me.'

Joe looked blank.

‘We've known each other a good while now,' Pete went on hurriedly, for Lorna would be in at any minute.

‘You have that,' Joe nodded. ‘And it's fine that she's got a boyfriend. Mind you, she's a popular girl, my Lorna. The lads are crowding round her to ask her out.'

‘I'm sure,' Pete said miserably.

‘She could have her pick,' Joe went on impressively. ‘I'd like to see her settled with a nice lad who could provide for her. Still, she's young yet. And what about you, lad—?'

‘I'm—' He drew a deep breath. ‘I'm just a miner, Mr Mackay, and my folk are miners. I'm thinking of joining a pal who's got a business.'

‘I've nothing against miners,' Joe said slowly.

‘If you knew my family,' Pete said eagerly,
‘you'd
see they were decent folk. My dad—he doesn't go down the pub on a Saturday. And my mother—well she's a grand person.'

‘I'm sure they are, son,' Joe said kindly. ‘But it's a different way of life. Not like ours. Lorna's used to our ways.'

Pete was quite firm.

‘Mr Mackay, if Lorna marries me, she'll be made welcome in my home.'

* * *

Joe raised his eyebrows. ‘Are you saying you want my permission to marry our Lorna?'

‘I know she's young, and I am, too,' Pete burst out.

‘Well, seeing you've come to ask,' Joe said, ‘because I gather that's what you're getting round to, I'll tell you straight, the answer's no. She's much too young.'

‘We're prepared to wait,' Pete said firmly. ‘But as soon as she's twenty-one, we can get married. Though,' he added, ‘we'd rather have your permission.'

‘Aye,' Joe said thoughtfully. ‘Well, you can see yourself, there's a lot against you.'

‘Not all that much,' Pete insisted. ‘I'm young, and if I go into the engineering business I'll have good prospects. A good wage.'

‘It's a long time away,' Joe said. ‘Suppose you get engaged and save up to get married,
and
she meets someone else in the meantime? She's young to know her own mind—especially about something as important as getting married.'

‘I'd take that risk,' Pete said staunchly.

‘And another thing—where would you live? Not here,' Joe said hastily. ‘We haven't got the room, with the lodgers and all.'

‘We could live with my mum and dad, to begin with.'

‘And what does your mum say to that?' Joe asked. ‘I bet she'll not like the idea of another woman in the place, interfering, getting in the road.'

‘Lorna wouldn't interfere.'

‘You don't know our Lorna!' Joe grinned. ‘No, I suppose what I'm saying, with all these objections, is that Lorna's too young. She's my little girl still, and I don't want to lose her.'

‘But Mr Mackay . . .' Pete's face shone with sincerity. ‘I don't want to lose her, either.'

There was a pause as Joe looked across at the lad, sitting awkwardly in his best suit, his hands on his knees. His mind went back to the day he'd asked Nancy's dad for permission to marry her. Her father had objected strongly—it was 1939, Joe was sure to be called up, it was too risky a time to think about marriage and settling down.

But he'd at last persuaded Nancy's father and here they were, coming up to the silver wedding.

‘All
right, lad,' he said. ‘I can see your mind's made up. You can get engaged, but that's as far as I'll go. And you can save up for your first home. And that'll give you time to get to know each other. So—well, I'll agree.'

The door burst open.

‘Pete!' Lorna stood on the threshold, smiling.

‘I knew you'd be here tonight. Well . . . ?'

‘Your dad's agreed, Lorna, he's given his permission.'

‘Oh, Dad!' Lorna flung her arms round Joe's neck.

Joe disentangled himself.

‘You're an awful lass,' he said fondly. ‘But,' he said mock sternly to Pete, ‘you see and make her happy.'

‘I will, Mr Mackay,' said Pete. ‘You can be sure of that.'

* * *

‘It's a fine evening,' Walter said. ‘Care for a walk?' He glanced out of the window at the bridge, feeling a glow of pride. It was nearly finished now—ready for the opening by the Queen in September.

Shona looked up from her book.

‘Yes, I'd like that. It's too good an evening to stay indoors.'

She picked up her jacket and paused for a moment, gazing out over the waters of the
Forth.
How still it was, how calm. It was hard to imagine those winter days when storms had whipped up the waves, and work had been halted on the bridge.

‘Not long now, Walter,' Shona said as they made their way down the hill. ‘I hope it's a fine day for the opening . The children in my class are so excited about it. They've been drawing pictures and writing stories about the bridge for months.'

Walter smiled and looked sideways at Shona. As always when she spoke about her work, she seemed happy and animated.

‘They're lucky children,' he said.

‘I know,' Shona said thoughtfully. ‘It's an interesting time to be a child—there's so much happening, what with space travel, and all sorts of exciting new developments.'

‘I meant,' Walter said, ‘they're lucky to have you as a teacher.'