A Question of Love (18 page)

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Authors: Gwen Kirkwood

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Despite
Etta’s
stoical
silence
Tam
Gorton
went
on:
“Listen
tae
whit
Ah’m
tellin
ye
...
when
ye
come
hame
the
nicht
for
once
in
yer
stupid
life
use
yer
heid.”
Completely
in
the
dark
as
to
what
her
father
was
talking
about,
Etta
took
the
coward’s
way
out
and
simply
nodded
her
head,
hoping
his
next
words
might
enlighten
her.


Jist
get
hame
by
ony
roonaboot
way
ye
like,
but
make
damn
sure
ye
keep
well
clear
o
ony
streets
near
tae
the
toon
centre.
And
for
the
love
o
God
dinnae
get
within
spittin
distance
o
the
Bloody
Bridewell.
Noo,
ye
got
that,
huv
ye?”
Again
Etta
simply
nodded.
“Mark
ma
words,
sure
as
hell
roasts
the
souls
o
the
damned,
there’s
gonnae
be
trouble
in
the
streets
o
Greenock
this
nicht.
Trouble
the
likes
o
which
we’ve
never
seen
afore.
The
workers
and
decent
guid-livin
folks
hereabouts
willnae
staun
for
the
militia
bringing
yon
political
prisoners
intae
our
midst
and
trying
tae
lodge
them
in
the
Bridewell.”

At
Etta’s
blank
look,
Tam
Gorton
shook
his
head.
“Uch,
see
ye
...
ye’re
that
dizzy
at
times
ye
widnae
recognise
ony
Radical
Marchers
even
if
they
bashed
ye
ower
the
heid
wi
one
o
thon
banners

Scotland
Free
or
a
Desert

whatever
the
hell
that
means.
Just
for
once
in
yer
life,
bloody
well
dae
what
Ah’m
tellin
ye.”

Although
somewhat
alarmed
by
her
father’s
warnings
Etta
thought:
Rough and ready he might be but he must indeed love me if he’s all that worried about ma safety
.

These
warm
comforting
thoughts
were
immediately
squelched
as
Tam
continued:
“Let’s
face
it

if
onythin
was
tae
happen
tae
ye,
God
alone
kens
where
our
next
crust
would
come
frae.
Wi
ma
bad
back
and
it
bein
a
wheen
o
years
afore
ony
o
the
rest
o
ma
weans
is
earnin,
without
yer
Ropework
wage
we’d
be
bloody
paupers.”

 

TWO

 

Still
smarting
from
the
latest
hammer
blow
to
her
already
fragile
self-esteem
Etta
worked
through
the
afternoon
in
a
blur
of
misery.

As
she
and
her
friend
Aggie
were
leaving
the
ropeworks,
Aggie
said:
“What’s
up
wi
ye
the
day,
Etta?
Ye
look
like
someone’s
stole
yer
scone.”

Etta
laughed.
“If
ever
Ah
was
lucky
enough
tae
hae
a
scone
Ah’d
guzzle
it
doon
that
fast
that
Auld
Nick
or
all
his
witches
frae
hell
widae
be
quick
enough
to
snatch
it
frae
me.”

Taking
hold
of
Etta’s
arm
Aggie
said:
“They’re
sayin
the
Port
Glasgow’s
Militia
is
tae
be
in
the
toon
the
nicht.
With
any
luck,
we’ll
mibbe
get
oorsells
a
sojer.
That
would
soon
enough
cheer
ye
up

a
braw
sojer
laddie?”

“After
what
happened
tae
Tillie
Edgar
when
she
got
hersel
a
sojer

if
it’s
all
the
same
tae
ye
Ah
think
Ah’d
rather
hae
the
scone.”

Aggie
pulled
a
face
of
mock
horror
and
disgust.
“Oh
aye,
poor
Tillie.
No
a
ring
on
her
finger,
no
a
man
tae
call
her
ain
and
no
decent-livin
body
in
the
toon
tae
look
the
road
she’s
on
and
–”

“And
her
saddled
wi
twins
no
less.”

Aggie
grimaced.
“Trust
ye
tae
look
on
the
bright
side,
Etta.
Niver
mind
if
all
else
fails
we
can
at
least
get
a
good
laugh
and
mibbe
hae
a
bit
o
a
march
behind
the
drummers.”

Grabbing
hold
of
Etta’s
arms
Aggie
frogmarched
her
down
the
street.

“Think
aboot
it,
Etta.
If
we’re
marchin
alang,
surely
we’ll
be
safe
enough
at
that?
Efter
all,
they
cannae
dae
the
business
while
they’re
bangin
awa

no
at
us

but
at
their
bloody
great
drums.
Need
tae
be
damned
contortionists
so
they
would.”

Mildly
scandalised
at
the
turn
the
conversation
had
taken
both
girls
took
a
fit
of
the
giggles.
So,
helpless
with
laughter
Etta
allowed
herself
to
be
propelled
down
the
street.
When
she
found
them
on
a
street
corner
furthest
from
where
she
had
intended
to
be,
Etta
jerked
free
from
Aggie’s
hawser-like
grip.

“Sorry,
Aggie,
but
this
is
as
far
as
Ah
go.
Fine
well
Ah’d
like
tae
gae
wi
ye
tae
hear
the
drums
but
Ah
cannae.
Ye
see,
Ah’m
takin
the
lang
way
hame
the
nicht.”

Aggie
pursed
her
lips.
“Oh!
Is
ma
company
no
guid
enough
for
ye?
Is
that
it?”

At
once
Etta
protested:
“Uch,
Aggie,
nae
need
tae
be
sae
huffy.
Ye’re
ma
best
friend.
Ma
very
best
friend.
Ye
ken
that.
No,
the
thing
is
Ah
promised
ma
father
...
ye
see
he
was
worried
aboot
me
and
telt
me
tae
stay
clear
o
the
toon
centre
...’
Etta
paused,
recalling
just
how
little
her
father
valued
her
for
herself
and
seeing
the
hope
in
Aggie’s
eyes
decided
if
she
was
worth
so
little
then
she
had
nothing
to
lose.
“Uch,
tae
hell
wi
it.
Let’s
go
and
look
for
the
drummers.
We
can
dance
alang
the
street
wi
the
best
o
them.
But
that’s
all
Ah’m
agreeing
tae.
Mind
ye,
naethin
else
...
and
o
a
certainty
nae
dirty
business.
Ah’m
no
Tillie
Edgar!”

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