Capital Union, A (7 page)

She looked at me. ‘You are young. Perhaps you could look after him? He is bound to run off the minute he is well. Isn’t that what they all do? Pledge themselves to escape. Then he’ll simply vanish and we can get on with our lives. He’ll never make it to the coast.’

I sat down at the table, which was covered with a white crochet cloth. The pattern of flower motifs was perfect,
regular
. I wondered if Professor Schramml’s wife had made it. The thought of her death made me feel sad. I was tired of people dying, of fighting, of being alone.

‘I’ll do it,’ I said. ‘No one need know, and then we won’t have the police back. When the German is well, he can tell us
what he wants to do. Maybe he doesn’t want to fight any more? And if he gets out of hand, I can take the broom to him, like you say.’

‘What about Jeff?’

‘I won’t tell him.’

‘There should be no secrets between a man and his wife. A woman has a duty to her husband.’

‘Believe me, Mrs MacDougall, I’ve come to realise that Jeff has more than a few secrets of his own. Perhaps I should be allowed one, too?’

‘You’re as big a fool as I thought,’ she said, ‘but I am
grateful
to you. I always had a soft spot for Schramml. A very good man for a German.’ She passed me the key to the flat. ‘I don’t know what you’ll do when he gets hungry,’ she said. ‘My ration would never have stretched to feeding two.’

She left me alone. It was odd knowing Jeff was moving around beneath my feet. I tiptoed to the airing cupboard and switched on the water heater, but there was no electricity. The sheets would have to wait. I got the heebie-jeebies without Mrs MacDougall around, but I filled a basin with cold water and went into the room. He was sleeping, or unconscious. I could feel a faint pulse in his neck, but he didn’t stir.

Downstairs, Jeff came out of the bathroom dressed in his best suit. ‘You were a long time with Mrs MacDougall. Don’t tell me you have sued for peace?’

‘Where are you going?’ I asked, as he kissed my cheek.

‘Douglas’ appeal at the High Court. I told you.’

‘No, you didn’t.’

‘Well, don’t make a fuss now. I have enough on my plate. We’ll talk later. Perhaps you could give the place a good clean after last week’s unpleasantness?’ He put on his hat and walked out the door, banging it shut.

He was gone all day and came back in the evening. I was glad he was late. I had got the sheets done and had given the German a couple of aspirin and a little gravy from a fresh
rabbit
stew. The vegetables from the garden had made a
nourishing
stock.

Jeff looked scunnered when he came in. Douglas had been sentenced to twelve months in Saughton prison on the spot.

‘It could be me next, Pip. Thank God, Mother isn’t here to see this. He had a thirty-page defence and they took five
minutes
to sentence him. Douglas never had a chance. The judges all served in the last war. They weren’t going to humour a CO with nationalist tendencies; said this was no time for a loose cannon as he was led down to the cells.’

‘I suppose not,’ I said.

‘You suppose not? What do you even know? What do you do all day, anyway?’

‘I look after you,’ I said. It wasn’t a lie.

‘You look after me? All you do is wander round the flat twirling a feather duster.’

‘Perhaps you’d like to try it, then, if it’s so easy? You try getting food from a butcher that doesn’t like you, and keep the peace with Mrs MacDougall. See how long you last before you’d be begging me to take you away from this flat. It is like a museum, Jeff. A museum to your mother.’

‘Leave my mother out of this.’

‘Her clothes are still hanging in the wardrobe in our
bedroom
. It’s still her room. It is even her bed.’

‘Well, you don’t need to sleep in it.’

‘And where would I go? I am your wife.’

‘Try the Anderson shelter. What kind of country woman can’t even keep a decent fire going in the hearth? You’re
making
things difficult for me with the police.’

‘How am I making things difficult for you? You’re the one who had letters to burn, not me.’

‘Yes, to save Douglas. There were jokes in German in there that the authorities might have misconstrued.’

‘Well, why are you joking in German in a war?’

‘We are linguists, Pip. It is what we do. It’s a game.’

‘Well, I’m not having any fun.’

‘I thought I could rely on you for support.’

‘You could.’

‘Could or can?’

‘You can.’

‘Do you still love me?’ He held out his arms.

I remembered Millie saying how much he talked to her, and his easy laughter with Douglas. He rationed everything with me. I had the scraps from his life.

‘I love you, Pip,’ he said. ‘I need you. I think they are going to send me to jail, too. I’ll be a nationalist martyr like Douglas.’

‘Why bother, Jeff? Douglas has already made the point about Westminster. You’re a nobody, like me. Why not work for an office somewhere? Drive an ambulance, anything.’

‘Strength in numbers? Unfinished business?’

‘It’s not the time. Hitler is coming. I don’t want you
shouting
it wisnae me, and tearing up a copy of the Treaty of Union in front of him when he marches up Falkland Terrace. You need to fight this fight. It’s not 1707 now.’

‘But I don’t want to shoot anyone. I can’t imagine taking up a gun. I am a paper warrior.’ He wiped his eyes with his
handkerchief
. I felt annoyed with him. His nose was streaming and his face was going red. He was greetin’ like my little cousin.

‘Hold me, Pip.’ He nuzzled his face into my breast, but I didn’t kiss his curls, which smelt of cigarette smoke and hat felt. The ceiling upstairs creaked, but he didn’t notice. I tried to breathe more deeply so he would think I was relaxed, but my chest ached by the time he released me and wandered into his study.

‘Perhaps you could bring me some of that stew in half an hour,’ he called over his shoulder.

A week later I saw Saughton prison for the first time. It stood in the middle of long grass behind high walls near the Water of Leith. There were bars at the windows. The flats nearby looked much poorer than ours, with drying greens at the front. The Pentlands stretched between the prison and the south. I parked my bike at the gate. Jeff had been feeling sick and asked me to go alone. He claimed it was my cooking. Cracked, white tiles lined the walls of the waiting room and two old men sat on the benches in the centre. The warder didn’t smile as he took my pass and showed me into the narrow visiting room. He lifted up a bar that ran the room’s length, and dropped it into place before me. Douglas was leaning on an identical metal rail opposite. The warder stood at one end between us, filling the doorway.

‘Good of you to come, Agnes,’ said Douglas. He looked tired. ‘Is Jeff all right?’

I nodded. ‘Just an upset stomach. He heard you got to play the harmonium on Sunday, so he thought you might like some Bach and Mendelssohn.’ I held the music out towards him, but the warder took it from my hand and leafed through the pages, looking for writing, before passing it to Douglas.

‘This will be perfect,’ he said, and smiled. My eyes must have been shining with pleasure because he added, ‘You look particularly lovely today, a ministering angel.’

I blushed and smoothed down my polka-dot dress. ‘So, how are they treating you?’ I asked, to hide my embarrassment.

‘Admirably,’ he replied with a glance at the warder, who stared straight ahead as if he had cloth ears. ‘I attend a garden party in the mornings and spend my evenings very profitably translating Theognis.’

‘Who’s he?’ I asked.

‘Oh, a cynical Greek reprobate like myself, although
considerably
older. “All’s gone to the crows and ruined, we’ve none to blame…” I might ask Jeff about a couple of points. I believe he read Greek at Edinburgh? I am allowed to send a number of letters out but, as you know, my visits are strictly rationed.’

‘Well, this might help keep your strength up,’ I said,
reaching
over a bar of chocolate from my pocket. The warder stepped forward and pushed my hand back.

‘No supplementary food rations for the prisoners,’ he said.

‘But it’s just a sweetie,’ I replied.

‘No supplementary food rations,’ he repeated.

Douglas patted his stomach. ‘Better for the figure now that I am subject to hours of enforced inactivity. I wonder if you might send a telegram to my parents telling them that King George’s establishment is treating their guest tolerably well.’

I nodded and put the chocolate back in my bag.

The warder tapped his watch.

‘Before you go, Agnes, could you tell Jeff that the Party is getting up a petition? Perhaps he could check that stays on course?’

‘I am sure he’ll try, but he is up before the tribunal any day now. He might be your cellmate before you know it.’

‘Let’s hope it won’t come to that,’ he said.

The warder steered me back to the waiting room with a hand on my back. I tried not to greet as I walked past the old men. In the corner, a woman was nursing her baby.

I was peched out cycling home up the hill from Balgreen to Morningside. On Canaan Lane, nurses in their blue and white
uniforms were wheeling injured servicemen back to Astley Ainslie Hospital after some fresh air. I remembered the German upstairs, not much older than me. I didn’t know his name.

Jeff met me at the door, waving a newspaper article about Douglas’ conviction. ‘They are calling the SNP a party which looks both ways – pro-war but anti-conscription. They are
calling
Douglas a Janus.’

I walked past him. Why was it only at home that I found so many words I didn’t understand?

‘Where are you going?’ Jeff asked.

‘The kitchen. I’m tired. Do you want some tea?’

He followed me through. ‘How was Douglas? Did you get the music to him?’

‘Yes.’

‘And?’

‘He was fine.’

‘Did he give you a message for me?’

‘Something about a petition.’

‘It’s in hand.’ He stood at the window.

‘I could help,’ I said.

‘Really?’ He pulled a dead leaf off one of the geraniums on the sill. ‘You are neglecting these.’

‘Must you have so little faith in me?’

‘Stick to what you know, Agnes. How many people can you call on in positions of power and influence?’

I poured the dregs of the tea leaves from the pot into my compost bin and looked up. ‘Mrs MacDougall?’

He didn’t laugh. ‘Our Chairman is jailed and you are
making
jokes.’

‘I mind the day you would have laughed at that.’

‘It’s no laughing matter. I am writing to all our major literary figures and Tom Johnston, the Secretary of State for Scotland.’

I laid out the cups and saucers.

‘Do we have to use the good set?’ he asked. ‘Why not use the everyday ones?’

‘You didn’t complain when Douglas was here.’

He walked over to me. ‘You like him, don’t you?’

‘Of course, he is your friend.’

He smacked me on the bottom with his rolled up
newspaper
. ‘That is not what I meant.’

‘What did you mean, Jeff?’

‘You were gone a long time. What did you talk about on your visit?’

‘Nothing.’

‘You see our Chairman and you talked about nothing?’

‘He mentioned a Greek poet.’

‘A Greek poet? To you?’

‘I am not daft. He wants to ask you about him.’

‘So what was he called?’

I couldn’t remember. His name had gone. ‘The kettle has boiled,’ I said, reaching out for it. Jeff laid his hand over mine.

‘Did you comfort him?’ He lifted my hand, and sucked my finger.

‘What are you talking about?’ I tried to pull away. ‘The visiting room has rails, if you must know.’

Jeff dropped my hand and sat down. ‘I don’t know if I can do it,’ he said. ‘Live in a cage.’

‘It’s not too late. You could sign up.’

‘I have told you,’ he shouted. ‘I will not fight for Westminster.’

‘It’s not for Westminster, Jeff. It is for us.’

‘Not this again,’ he said, jumping up. ‘I am going out.’

‘What about your tea?’

‘Give it to your plants.’

At two o’clock he still wasn’t back, so I ate a couple of boiled eggs, and poked a hole in the bottom of the empty shells, like Mother did, to stop witches sailing to sea and sinking boats. I wished I hadn’t eaten both of them, as I could have taken one upstairs to the German, but I decided he could have my bread and butter. Jeff would never notice. The university was
probably
giving him lunch; motherly women who polished his fork on their aprons to make it shine, and called him ‘Sir’. I tidied my hair and went upstairs.

Professor Schramml’s flat was very quiet when I crept in. For a moment I wondered if I should pick up the broom in case the German was dangerous, as Mrs MacDougall said he might be, but he was lying on his side, gazing towards the door as I entered. I wanted to throw up the blinds and windows to let in the air, but I was afraid someone might see us from the flats opposite. I showed him the bread wrapped in a cloth and went to find a plate in the kitchen, filled a glass with water and brought it through to him on a tray.

He looked hungry but was still too weak to hold the plate, so I tore off small pieces of bread, dipped them in the water and fed him. His brown eyes watched me the whole time. The bandage round his head smelt bad, sticky with blood and pus. When I had dressed the wound with iodine and one of Mrs
MacDougall’s bandages, I washed his face and hands with a cloth, and propped him up on his pillows. He touched his chest. ‘Hannes,’ he said. ‘Sie?’

‘Agnes,’ I replied.

‘Agnes,’ he repeated.

I gave him two aspirin tablets. Then he pointed to the clock on the mantelpiece that had stopped, and I wound it up for him. He closed his eyes after that. I left him to sleep, and emptied the chanty before going downstairs.

I had just climbed into the bath to try and get rid of the smell of illness that clung to my clothes, when the phone rang. It was Jeff.

‘Pip, it’s me. What took you so long?’ he said.

‘I was in the bath.’

‘It’s all right for some. Listen, I have decided to go to Glasgow to the Home Rule Association. We are trying to get a Douglas Grant Defence Committee together. I don’t have much time before the tribunal. They are processing people more quickly now.’

‘When will you be back?’

‘Sometime tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow?’

‘It is only one night. I’ll have a better chance with the authorities if they see we have teeth. Douglas’ article about the quislings in Scotland has really set the cat among the pigeons.’

I didn’t ask what a quisling was.

‘I love you Pip… You have gone very quiet.’

‘I don’t want to lose you.’

‘No chance of that. I have to go now. I’ll ask Sylvia to pop round and take you out in her motor. Keep you out of mischief. She took quite a shine to you at my do in the department.’