Dragon Land (8 page)

‘I specifically asked for a detached house with an uninterrupted view, so I won’t be considering this lot.’

Back in the solicitor’s office, she mentioned this to Mr Anderson. ‘My husband and I don’t need the house right away, so if you can keep an eye out for the one I’ve described then you can get in touch with us.’

Mr Anderson said he would, but he explained, ‘We don’t get many houses like you’ve described coming up for sale or rent, but I will do my best to keep looking and I’ll inform you if one does become vacant.’

Margaret said that would be fine and we made our way out of the office and back to the hotel. After our evening meal and an hour spent in the lounge with coffee and sherries for Mum and Margaret and a glass of lemonade for me, we decided it had been a tiring day and we went upstairs to bed.

I was reading my latest book, while Mum sat at the dressing table brushing her hair. Without meaning to, I suddenly said, ‘Mum, do you think Dad is dead?’

She gave me a suspicious look. ‘Were you listening to us on the beach, Lizzie?’

I thought about telling a lie, but I felt my face turn red. ‘I didn’t mean to, Mum, but I did hear what you said to Aunt Margaret.’

To my deep embarrassment I began to cry, and Mum came to sit on my bed, giving me a hug. ‘I’m sorry, Lizzie, but I just don’t know what to think any more. I do want to believe your dad is still alive, but I get so confused now and my thoughts are all over the place.’ She gave me a serious look. ‘I don’t want to hurt and worry your granny with all of this, so you’ll be a good girl and not say a word to her. Will you promise me?’

Although I didn’t like the idea of not telling Granny, I nodded.

‘You were just a wee girl when your dad went away to the war, but I hope you have lovely memories of him like I do. And another thing, I’m not going back to the meetings with Milly and her mother. They are too distressing.’

I nodded again, and later, when Mum had fallen asleep, I took the photo of Dad holding the trophy at the swimming baths, the one that showed the water dripping off his dark hair that was so like my own. I had quietly taken it out of the photo album that Granny had shown me – I fervently hoped she wouldn’t miss it, at least for a little while. I kissed the image and placed it back in my book. I had memories of him, just small, fleeting things, like the way he used to laugh and tease me. I could almost smell the shaving soap he used to use, a tangy, smoky smell that I loved. I lay in bed and wished he was still a part of our lives.

Then there was the thought: maybe Mum was right. Maybe he wasn’t dead but would someday walk back into our lives.

Years afterwards I was to recall that week with my mother and aunt. I remembered the sun glinting off the sea, the lovely sunsets and the comfortable hotel, but most of all it was the last time I saw Mum looking happy and carefree.

Within a few days of arriving back home, Margaret had to leave to join her husband. Mum and I went to the railway station with her to say goodbye. As usual, Margaret was practical and down to earth as we stood on the platform.

‘I’ll be in touch soon, Beth, so I want you to promise to look after yourself.’

I thought Mum would burst into tears, but she managed to smile as the train drew into the station.

Margaret gave us both a tight hug and smiled. ‘I’ll write soon and give you all my news, and when Gerald retires we will be home again.’

‘Please send me postcards for my collection, Aunt Margaret,’ I said.

She smiled. ‘I’ll send you loads and loads, Lizzie, and Uncle Gerald has bought himself a new camera so I’ll send photographs as well.’

With a flurry of activity in putting her luggage on board before climbing into the carriage, we said our goodbyes as the train pulled away from the platform. We were left with the remnants of sooty steam and a small group of people who, like us, were seeing loved ones going on a journey.

Mum was crying but trying to hide the fact from me, and although I was dry-eyed, I was crying inwardly.

After Margaret’s departure, Mum seemed to perk up. Granny noticed the change and remarked on it to Mrs Mulholland.

‘The holiday has done the world of good for Beth, thank goodness.’

Mrs Mulholland said that this was a blessing and hoped it would continue. ‘The poor lass has been through so much, with her husband missing.’

Granny didn’t know I was listening, so I crept back to my bedroom and prayed with all my heart that Mum was finally getting better.

She still went out once or twice a week to visit Milly, but she said she didn’t go back to the spiritualist meetings, although Milly’s mother continued to go to try to get a message from her dead son.

After a few weeks, Mum became quiet and dispirited. Granny asked her if she was ill, but she just said everything was all right except she was worried about her job in the hat shop.

‘Every day when I go into the town there are meetings of unemployed people gathering in the city centre, and it’s getting worse. Cox’s mill has laid off hundreds of workers and people are becoming angry that there is no work. I worry that DM Brown’s will also lay off staff, and Milly says it’s a possibility.’

Granny knew all about this unrest, as the newspapers were printing stories of the crowds of angry and hungry people.

‘This government should be getting people back into jobs instead of sitting on their fat backsides,’ she said one night as we sat down to our tea.

‘There’s been riots on some streets and shop windows broken and goods stolen,’ said Mum. ‘We could hear the noise from the store’s windows and customers are keeping well away from the city centre. I honestly don’t know where it’s all going to end.’ This was worrying news for me because Mum looked so pale and ill and all this uncertainty wasn’t helping her. ‘There are crowds of ex-soldiers joining in the protest, I heard. They’re saying they fought a war to make a better world, but they’ve come back to starvation and no chance of any work. No wonder they are all so angry and bitter.’

We finished our meal in silence, then Granny said we were lucky to have food to eat, but Mum didn’t answer. She got up and carried the empty plates into the sink, where she tackled the washing-up with a fierce expression in her eyes.

Margaret was reunited with Gerald, and she wrote long letters to Mum and sent postcards to me. I loved looking at the views of Lisbon and rushed through to my bedroom to put them in my box under the bed.

One day, Mum read out a letter from her and told me Margaret wanted to pay for my school fees at the Harris Academy, should I pass my qualifying exam. ‘Would you like to go to the Harris Academy, Lizzie?’

Quite honestly I didn’t care one way or another. My plan when I left school was to travel the world, and I didn’t need good school marks to do that. However, I said I wouldn’t mind.

My time at Rosebank School would soon be over and I felt sad about leaving it to go on to pastures new. Emily had been put back a year, which meant she wouldn’t be leaving with me, and that was something else for me to miss, as we had been pals since our primary one days.

She said she would miss me as well, but she seemed happy enough to be staying on. One evening Mum said to meet her at dinnertime in the town and we would go to buy my new outfit. I waited outside the DM Brown’s front door until Mum came hurrying out.

‘We’ll have to hurry, Lizzie, as I’ve only got an hour before I have to go back to work.’ We headed for Reform Street and Caird’s outfitter’s store, where Margaret had deposited a cheque to cover the cost of my new uniform.

‘We’re very lucky to have your aunt pay for this,’ said Mum, as we hurried along the pavement.

Inside the store we were served by an elderly, white-haired woman who quickly showed us the school blazer, the navy gym tunic with the gold and brown Harris school braid around the neckline, and a pair of black shoes.

‘You must write to Margaret to thank her for her generosity, as it’s not every girl who gets the opportunity to go to a prestigious school,’ said Mum, who seemed quite out of breath with all the hurrying.

When I arrived home with my packages, Granny wanted to see what I had bought. She inspected the material of the blazer and gym tunic before nodding her appreciation. ‘It’s good quality, so mind you look after it,’ she warned.

I couldn’t believe how quickly my last term at school had gone, and I was ready to face this new chapter in my life. Because it would soon be my 12th birthday, I felt really grown up. In a few more years the world would be my oyster and I would be free to travel to exotic shores and realise my dreams.

I was busy doing my homework the day before my birthday, with my head full of far-off places instead of sums and spelling, when Granny announced she had to go to a meeting at the church with Mrs Mulholland.

‘You’ll be all right on your own until your mum gets home, Lizzie. Tell her I won’t be long.’

I barely looked up as she put on her coat and hat before hurrying out the door. Later, when my homework was finished, I settled down with my library book, which was the tale of a couple of adventurous schoolgirls at a boarding school who were always getting into dangerous situations. I was so engrossed in the story that I didn’t hear the front door open, but when I heard Mum crying, I quickly stood up in alarm and was standing nervously when she came in. Her face was pale and she was shaking as the tears ran down her cheeks.

I ran forward, as I thought she was going to faint, but she managed to sit on the chair. ‘Mum, what’s wrong?’ The words came out like a whisper, as if I was afraid of the answer.

‘Milly’s mother died today.’

I was shocked, as Mum wiped her eyes with a handkerchief that lay like a sodden lump in her hand.

‘A neighbour came to the store this afternoon and Milly had to go home. She was in a dreadful state, so I’ll have to go and see her.’ Mum stopped and looked around the room. ‘Where’s Granny?’

I mentioned the church meeting.

‘Well, you’ll have to go up to Mrs Mulholland’s house and ask if she can look after you till your granny gets home.’

‘Mrs Mulholland has gone to the meeting as well,’ I said.

Mum looked confused and seemed undecided what to do. Suddenly she stood up. ‘Get your coat, Lizzie, you’ll have to come with me.’

I looked longingly at my book before hurrying to get my coat from the lobby cupboard.

As we made our way down the stairs, Mum took her powder compact from her bag and looked critically in the tiny mirror. ‘Goodness, I look a right mess,’ she said as she dabbed powder over her cheeks.

We quickly made our way to Dudhope Crescent Road. Milly lived with her mother in a flat on the second floor in the close next to the church. It was then I noticed with dismay that her window overlooked the old graveyard that Emily and I often dared one another to go into to hide behind a headstone. As I recalled, neither of us had done this, as the place had an overgrown appearance, with many of the gravestones covered with moss.

It was a stranger who answered the door and we could hear the voices of many people in the small flat.

Mum said, ‘I work with Milly. How is she?’

The tall, thin elderly woman, who turned out to a neighbour, whispered, ‘She’s in a terrible state, poor lass. Her mother seemed fine when Milly left for work this morning, but just after dinnertime she was climbing the stairs after going down to the shop when she suddenly collapsed and died. It was terrible, because none of us could do anything for her.’ She leant forward towards Mum, as if she wanted to whisper in her ear. ‘If you ask me, she died of a broken heart because she never got over the death of her son and, of course, Milly’s lad as well. That bloody war has a lot to answer for.’

I saw Mum’s face grow pale and I was afraid she would collapse as well, but she walked resolutely towards Milly, who was sitting by the fireside and refusing the offer of more hot, sweet tea.

When she spotted us, she quickly stood up, and Mum hugged her as she began to cry again.

‘Oh Milly, I’m so very sorry,’ said Mum. ‘What a terrible shock for you.’

I went and stood beside the window that overlooked the graveyard, and even though I was young, with little experience of life, I did recognise how terrible it must have been for the two women to have this reminder of death every time they left the house or looked out the window. Perhaps if the two dead men had been buried there, Milly and her mother could have comforted themselves by visiting the graves with flowers, but a son and a fiancé were now lying in another country and far from home.

The room had become unbearably hot, which was made worse by the kettle boiling on the stove and another teapot being filled from it. One elderly plump woman came and opened the window before sitting down on an empty chair beside me. She began wiping her face with a large red handkerchief. She turned to her neighbour and sighed.

‘Aye, it’s a sad day for the close. I was just speaking to Bella this morning and it’s hard to believe she’s dead.’

Her companion just nodded wordlessly and went to refill her cup from the teapot before retaking her seat on the wooden kitchen chair. ‘I don’t know what Milly will do now that she’s on her own without any family left,’ she said.

I noticed Mum coming towards me and I felt relieved that we would soon be leaving. She spoke to the plump women.

‘I’ve asked Milly to come and stay with us for a few days, but she says she wants to stay here.’

The woman said that the neighbours would all look after her and Mum said, ‘Thank you.’

As we went out the door, I glanced back at the scene of mourning. It was difficult to see Milly because of the crowd.

When we got back to Victoria Road, we saw Granny looking out the window, and when we reached the house she rushed to open the door. ‘I’ve been so worried about you. Where have you been?’

Mum explained the sad news and Granny was shocked. ‘That’s terrible. How is Milly?’

‘She has all the neighbours in with her, so they will be a great help to her, but later, when the news sinks in, I don’t know how she’ll cope. I did ask her to come here for a wee while, but she wanted to stay. She could have slept in my bed and I could have shared with Lizzie.’