Fortunes of the Heart (32 page)

Beenie
, every inch the Queen of
the Close, patted Kate’s hands as if conferring a blessing or an award on her
loyal, if humble, servant. Then, standing with arms akimbo and smacking her
lips, as one about to retell a prime piece of gossip, she leant closer to Kate,
and stage-whispered for the benefit also of the bystanders: “Near another
month, you say? Aye, well, that’s as maybe, Mistress Kinnon. But we all know
fine well that Nature’s its own master; doesn’t have any truck with calendars
and the like. And of course, that accident this morning could well have hurried
things on a wee bit. I’m sure that’s what has happened.”

There was a murmur of assent from the onlookers who, it was
clear from their facial expressions, were enjoying every moment and every
nuance of the drama being played out.

All thoughts of a patiently-waiting
Shuggie
and his barrow-load of goods still at the close-mouth vanished from Kate’s
mind.

“Accident, what accident? For God’s sake, Mistress McGuire –
Beenie
, tell me.”

Obviously highly pleased with the effect that her news had
had on the now distraught woman visibly wilting before her,
Beenie
,
perhaps because she genuinely did not know as much as she had implied, or
perhaps even to prolong the dramatic effect, shrugged.

“The accident? Well, now, Mistress Kinnon – Kate, my dear,
you’ll have to ask Granny
Gorbals
about that. Seems
she was there, or thereabouts, anyway, at the time it happened.”

Kate did not wait to hear another single word but, summoning
up all her reserves of strength, she took to the stairs which she raced up two
at a time.

By the time she had reached the third flight of steep
stairs, Kate was forced to stop for breath. As she stood there, clutching on to
the banister, gasping as if her last breath had come, with the sharp and
agonising pain of a stitch in her side, it suddenly dawned on her exactly what
form the reported accident must have taken. In her bones, without any
busybodies telling her any more half details, she knew instinctively that her
wee Hannah was dead. As her frantic brain raced ahead, she could see in her
mind’s eye the scene – Granny had perhaps dozed off as she was prone to do, and
Hannah, with her fascination for fire, had somehow toppled tom her go-chair and
been burned to death.

At this point, Kate shook her head, as if not only to wipe
the mental image from her mind, but also to clarify a few points.

No, that can’t be it. Surely there would be a smell of
burning on the stairway. And wouldn’t poor old Granny have burned to death too?
Got it. Poor wee Hannah – she’s choked to death – on one of Granny’s
fresh-from-the-griddle scones. It’s been too hot for Hannah and she’s choked,
God help her.

Kate, although still painfully aware of the stitch in her
side, had one last boost of energy– sufficient to get her up the last flight of
stairs.

At last, finding herself outside Granny’s door, she at once
flung the thin plywood door wide and
breenged
in
without even the customary cry of, “Yoo-hoo. It’s only me, Granny.”

The moment she entered the single-end, the sight that met
her eyes pulled her up short, so that she had to hold on to the door-jamb for
much-needed support. As she stood there, breathing heavily and taking in the
unusual and totally unexpected scene, she felt as though she herself were far
removed from it. And it was as if the scene were being enacted on a
brightly-lit stage, the actors going about their business while she, the
audience, was somewhere beyond the footlights and beyond their ken.

It was Hannah who was spot-lighted first. She looked as
though she had been freshly washed and groomed for, with face aglow in the
firelight, and every coarse black hair firmly in place, she was at that moment
greedily and noisily sucking at a large candy-apple, the juice of which was
dribbling down her chin. Suddenly, perhaps sensing the presence of her Mammy,
she raised her eyes.

“Mammy, Mammy, Hannah a good girl. Jenny a bad girl. Jenny
screaming. Jenny shouting bad words. But Hannah good for Granny.”

Almost as an automatic reaction, Kate, with one hand still
on her throbbing side, went over to Hannah and patted the girl’s head. But all
the while her physical presence was with the self-righteous Hannah, her eyes
never left those of her other daughter, at that moment cosily tucked up in
Granny’s wall-bed. Seeing this, Jenny gave her Mammy a sweet, shy smile, after
first gazing down with wonder at the shawl-wrapped bundle in her arms.

“Mammy, what are you waiting for? Are you not going to come
over here and say hello to your first grand-bairn?”

Kate needed no second bidding. The next instant found her
perched somewhat gingerly on the edge of the bed, as she too gazed in awe at
the baby now nestling in its mother’s arms.

Kate laid a hand on her daughter’s pale cheek, and she
stroked it lovingly.

“Oh, Jenny, lass. It’s true. It’s all over. But although I’m
glad for you, dear, I’m that sorry I wasn’t here to help you in your hour of
need.”

Jenny shook her head and her eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, Mammy, Mammy. Please don’t fret yourself. The main
thing is it’s all over. And Granny there, she was a tower of strength. In fact
with her quick thinking, you could say that she saved my life.”

Kate rose to her feet and, stretching a welcoming hand to
Granny, drew her into their private group at the bedside. Then, after having
planted a kiss on her daughter’s head, Kate peered down at the bundle in
Jenny’s arms.

“You ... and the bairn, you’re both all right? You still
haven’t told me ... what is it, boy or girl?”

Granny
Gorbals
, a broad grin
splitting her face from ear to ear, and mightily pleased as if she at her great
age had given birth, at once rushed in to answer the new grandmother’s
question.

“The wee bairn is grand. As perfect a specimen of humanity
as I’ve ever seen. And don’t forget, I’ve been on nodding terms with quite a
few new-born babes. It’s got the right number of everything: ten tiny fingers,
ten twinkling wee toes, a mop of black curly hair, a wee rosebud mouth. There’s
only one thing missing ...”

Kate at once frowned in apprehension.

“Something missing? Granny, for God’s sake, what do you
mean?”

Granny gave a wicked smile and a naughty wink, as if she
knew she was about to scandalise the strait-laced Kate.

“The only thing missing? One of them funny dangly things
that
wee
boys come ready-equipped with into this
world. And damned soon learn to use, if I’m not much mistaken.”

Despite herself and probably more from a sense of relief
than from anything else, Kate burst out laughing.

“Oh, Granny, what a terrible way to talk.”

Then, as the full meaning of what Granny had just said
dawned on her, Kate stood with mouth agape, face aglow, her voice tinged with
wonder.

“Oh, Granny, Jenny. Do you mean it? I’ve got ... I’ve really
got a grand-daughter?”

The old woman nodded, her own face glowing with pride,
delight and an almost proprietorial air.

“Are you daft or something, Kate? Of course you’ve got a
grand-daughter. Is that not what I’ve been trying to tell you for the past ten
minutes? And while we’re at it, I’ll tell you something else. Blood relation or
not–and I don’t care what anybody else says or thinks – as of this minute, I’m
looking on that wee bairn as my very own great-grandchild. So there, Kate
Kinnon; you can put that in your pipe and smoke it.”

Again Kate laughed and without another word spoken, the two
women fell, half-laughing, half-weeping into each other’s arms. Friends and
neighbours for so many years, through dark days and fine, their tears now
mingled in happiness at the birth, the safe delivery and above all, the
perfection of this bastard child.

When at last they drew apart, both women dabbed at their
eyes, Granny with the edge of her best pinafore which she had obviously donned
in honour of the occasion, and Kate with a rag which she withdrew from the
sleeve of her working serge-dress.

Suddenly, with hand now lowered to replace the rag, she
stopped with a puzzled frown on her face.

“But wait a minute. Big
Beenie
down in the close she mentioned something about an accident. What was that all
about?”

Granny made a grand dismissive gesture with her work-worn
hand,

“Accident? Ach, I would not give it such a name. More like a
wee mishap, and certainly nothing for you to get your knickers in a twist
about, Kate; it was just ... well ... Pearce got his hand in the way of some
hot water that
cowped
. Nothing for you to worry
about. But you know what men are like; talk about a fuss. Anybody would have
thought that he was giving birth, instead of your brave wee Jenny there.”

Kate was still not entirely convinced.

“But, are you sure he’s all right, Granny?’

The old woman nodded.

“Fine. Grand and as happy as a pig in shit. Mind you, I made
him a wee herbal infusion. Then I got Aggie, the midwife, to take a wee look at
him for good measure. But for all that, he was making such a hullaballoo – he
was disturbing Jenny rather than the other way round – that Aggie and I brought
her in here to get on with the important job of birthing in peace and quiet and
without the so called help of any bloody man.”

As if right on cue, and as if to disturb their own peace,
Hannah having overheard the word Aggie at once thought it referred to her doll,
Raggie
-Aggie, still lying on the floor from where it
had previously been abandoned, in favour of the then greater attraction of the
toffee-apple. However, with the latter now but a sticky, glorious memory,
Hannah at once started banging the sides of her go-chair and yelling: “
Raggie
-Aggie,
Raggie
-Aggie,
Hannah wants
RaggieAggie
:”

Granny and Kate exchanged sympathetic smiles, but it was the
older woman, ever-mindful of the needs of her adopted charge, who was first on
her feet.

“Right, my lovely. In this house, whatever Wee Hannah wants,
Hannah gets.”

She bent her arthritic frame to retrieve the doll, handed it
over to the young woman, aid chucked her under the chin, which she then wiped
with a damp cloth before creaking her way back to her seat.

As she settled the cushion at her back, Granny grinned over.

“Right, that’s another crisis solved; Pearce will still be
sleeping like the big baby he is, after that herbal
mickeyfinn
I slipped him. No, my dear,” and here she leant over and patted Kate’s arm,
“no, you’ve nothing to worry about. Oh but wait a minute, I tell a lie. There
is indeed one wee worry

Kate, knowing now beyond a doubt not ally that all members
of her family were safe, but also that from what she had reported, Granny had
coped magnificently, at once thought that Granny was on the point of making one
of her rather near-the-knuckle jokes.

However, feeling that in the circumstances the least she
could do was to humour Granny, Kate at once assumed an air of the most frantic
worry, at the same time grabbing hold of the old woman’s hand.

“Oh, Granny. What now? What final worry could there possibly
be?”

Granny first cast a glance over to the wall-bed, to the
drowsy Jenny and the sleeping, and as yet un-named, new born baby.

“Well, it’s two things I’m worried about, if you must know.
One is, what are we going to call the wee darling? I know what I call her, my
own wee Rosebud. But what is to be her baptised name? And the other problem: it
seems a real shame to me, to have to bed the wee precious in a kitchen drawer.
If only we had a nice wee cradle. Ach, well, maybe
some day
...”

Kate, as if she had taken leave of her senses, leapt from
her chair.

“Oh, my God:
Shuggie
.”

Without a word of explanation to Granny, she raced to the
door, with Granny’s gob-stopper eyes following her until she disappeared from
sight and fled from the room. She raced down the stairs at a high rate of
knots, with every step of the way, the words hammering at her brain.

He’ll have disappeared. I just know it. He’ll have vanished
into thin air with my gold sovereign, the carriage built pram and that lovely
crib. How stupid of me. If only I’d waited until he had delivered the goods,
and then paid him. Oh, well, it’s done now.

Chapter 25

When Kate reached the close and peered out into the street,
her worst fears were at once confirmed. Of
Shuggie
,
his barrow, and her own bought and paid for goods, there was not a sign.
Between her disappointment at her own stupidity, her misplaced trust in
Shuggie
, and the intense emotion of all that had happened,
it was suddenly all too much for her. Great, shaking sobs convulsed her body.
At last, when the storm of weeping had somewhat abated, she straightened her
body and took stock of her situation.

Well, Kate my lass. You’ve been a bloody fool. No denying
that. But at least, even if you have lost the crib and the swanky pram you
still have that lovely wee grandchild upstairs. Aye, and now no place to bed
the wee darling. Honestly. And anyway, you’ve still got your best friend,
Granny. So, dry your eyes and stop feeling sorry for yourself.

After first checking to make sure that her purse was still
in the pocket of her work-dress and that the rest of her money had not also
been lost, she started hurrying along the street towards Mr McGregor’s wee
newsagent and sweetie shop on the corner. With head bent, looking neither to
left nor right, and intent on getting some of Granny’s favourite soft
peppermint-creams, she rushed along the deserted street. At this hour, and on
such a cold winter’s day, most people were indoors hugging their coal fires and
making preparations for meals and the return of weary workers from shipyards,
the Fruit Market or White’s Chemical Works.