Fortunes of the Heart (8 page)

“Pearce.”

Her husband now turned his fury on her, after having first,
with an odd flapping motion of his hand, banished the listening children to the
hallway beyond. He glared at his wife, who by now was standing with a
comforting arm around Granny’s bowed shoulders.

“Kate, you can stand there calling, Pearce, Pearce, from now
until Kingdom come, if it so pleases you. But I will not be swayed from my
decision. We have come here to give ourselves a lift up the social scale, not
be dragged into a slum by some filthy peasant straight from the bogs of
Ireland.”

At these words, Granny stretched out a bony claw and
clutched on to Kate for additional support. As the younger woman looked into
the rheumy old eyes, she could see at a glance how deeply hurt had been the
kindly old neighbour.

Kate knew within herself she could now have found the
strength, the impetus, and the courage with which to face up to her husband.
But knowing that any further angry exchange of words would only mean additional
hurt for Granny, she resisted the impulse.

Drawing the bent figure closer to her bosom, she stroked
down Granny’s wispy hair which had escaped the steel-pinned cage of her bun.

“Right, then, Granny, my love, let’s get you home safely to
your own fireside,” Kate said, speaking into Granny’s hair. “I’ll sit with you
a wee while. You’d like that, now, wouldn’t you dear?”

Granny’s only reply was a snuffle as she was led away.

Game to the last, Pearce shouted: “Kate. Get you back into
this kitchen. This minute, do you hear me? God Almighty woman, you’re far too
vulnerable for your own safety. Get back here now. Do you hear me?”

This latest outburst was too much for the old woman, who was
now visibly trembling. Not so, Kate, who, once her Irish temper was roused, was
a match for any man. Turning her body round to face him, she spoke clearly, but
without obvious rancour and in a cold, yet controlled fury.

“Hear you? Oh, yes, I hear you all right, Pearce Kinnon. But
heed you? Never in a million years. And while we’re at it, you can forget all
about cosy reconciliations. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve made your new
beginning. So get on with it.”

And with this parting shot, Kate led the still-trembling old
woman out of the door and back into the safety of her own humble, yet
welcoming, single-end.

A new stage in the life of Kate Kinnon had just begun. And
at least one thing was sure: she had found a new friend.

Chapter
15

It was fast approaching another
Hallowe’en
and Kate could hardly believe the year had gone so quickly. But even if a
glance at the calendar had not reassured her of the date, then the fact of
children all clamouring for odds and ends of cloth, wool, any scrap of rag with
which to dress-up would have done so. Kate had a rueful smile on her face as
the thought came to her: Poor souls. They don’t seem to realise that whatever
rags we have we’re wearing them.’

Even so, she determined that somehow or other, she and
Granny
Gorbals
would get
Hallowe’en
outfits of one sort or another
codged
up, so that the
children could then wander the gas-lit streets for the traditional guising
rites. As with everything to do with the Kinnon children, Granny threw herself
into the project with enthusiasm. She
raided
her
clothes chest and even tore up an ancient lace-trimmed petticoat, just so that
Isabella could go as a fairy, the one costume on which she had set her heart.
One way and another, by the time October 31st rolled along, each child was
suitably outfitted. Daniel as a pirate with a black rag patch over one eye,
dressed in flowing robes and a tall hat; Jenny as a witch; and Isabella, the
aforementioned fairy. Even Hannah was not left out of the excitement, but since
she, of necessity, had to travel in her go-chair, it was decided that she
should be a baby.

Daniel, being the senior, was put in charge of the
expedition, with strict instructions to keep to their own street and call only
at the doors of those neighbours known to them. The excitement was particularly
intense when, once dressed, he made them all go through their party pieces yet
again, so that they would be word perfect. He had even worked out a little
pat-a-cake routine which Isabella was to perform with Hannah.

As Kate waved them off, she tousled Isabella’s fat sausage
curls.

“Right, off you go. And mind now, be polite. Remember to say
‘Please for my
Hallowle’en
’ when you go into folks’
houses. Then, don’t stand there giggling. Get on and do your party pieces, just
the way you’ve rehearsed.”

A quiver of excitement went through the group as they looked
at each other and tried desperately to remember the words of poems and songs
and the various dance steps. The motley crew had already started on their way
to the next close when Kate’s voice halted them.

“Danny, listen, son. When you get back with your
Hallowe’en
spoils, instead of coming home, go straight into
Granny’s. All right? And you never know, there might be a wee surprise there
for you.”

Having seen the children safely off the premises, Kate raced
back up the stairs, two at a time. As she entered Granny’s single-end, she
could see the old woman was already hard at work. There in the centre of the
tiny room stood an enamel basin, which Granny was in the process of filling
with saucepans of cold water from the goose-neck tap at the sink. On the table,
waited in readiness, four rosy red apples, a large soda scone already liberally
smeared with treacle, and a hollowed-out turnip into which the features of a
face had been etched. The old woman raised her head as Kate entered the room.

“We’re nearly there, Kate. I’ve got the candle ready for the
lantern, and we’ll light that as soon as we hear them coming up the stair. You
can put the apples in the basin, then get a fork and a chair for them to kneel
on for the
dookin
’ of the apples.”

Kate nodded and bustled about the room, doing Granny’s
bidding.

With gnarled hand on the small of her back, Granny eased her
arthritic frame as upright as it would go. She surveyed her handiwork and
nodded with satisfaction.

“Right. That’s us. I’ll just get into my costume now, while
you go into your own house to get yours fixed up.”

Kate’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Oh. but, Granny, I haven’t got a fancy dress. I never
thought for myself.”

Granny, far from being put out in any way by this piece of
news, instead grinned in delight.

“Aye, I thought as much.” Here she bent down and retrieved a
newspaper-wrapped bundle which she then held out to her young neighbour. In
some wonder, Kate unwrapped the parcel. Inside was an old bit of blanket, cut
into a triangular shawl pattern, and over the rough material were several
scorch marks as if a flat iron had rested too long.

Kate, totally bemused by now, frowned.

“But ... I don’t understand, Granny ... what’s it supposed
to be? What am I to do with it?”

Hardly able to contain her mirth, Granny stood back, arms
akimbo, and cackled: “Nothing to it, lass. Just away next door for ten minutes,
brush out your hair, as if getting ready for your bed. Throw the bit blanket
round your shoulders and carry a wee candle in a candle-stick. And that’s you
dressed for
Hallowe’en
.”

Having delivered. herself of this speech, Granny started
giggling like a naughty schoolgirl to such extent that she had to hold on to
the table for support.

“But Granny ... I still don’t get it.”

Granny
Gorbals
wiped the tears of
laughter from her eyes.

“Kate. You’re not very quick on the uptake, are you? Do you
still not see what it represents?”

Again Kate shook her head.

“Kate. It’s a night with Burns. You know ... they say he was
a great one for the lassies. So ... night with Burns. Get it?’

Kate put a hand to her mouth, as if scandalised.

“Granny, I’ll wear it ... but just to please you, mind. And
for goodness sake, don’t let on to either Pearce or the bairns as to what it’s
supposed to be. Just let them think what they like.”

On a wave of laughter, Kate left Granny to get her own fancy
dress ready, whatever that might be.

On her return, Kate was surprised to see that the old woman
looked much as usual, except that she was now wearing a tall black hat.

Granny grinned.

“Ach, well. Folks hereabouts say that I look like one
anyway. So, no better time to be a witch than at
Hallowe’en
.”

When the children came back with their spoils of a few
farthings, toffee apples, and puff candy, they were already in a high old state
of excitement. But when they entered Granny’s darkened room in which the only
light came from the eyes and mouth of a turnip lantern, they really went wild
with excitement. When they saw Granny with her tall witch’s hat and even Mammy
dressed up as a rag wife, their excitement knew no bounds.

Granny leant forward and, drawing her adopted family close,
she intoned in what she fondly imagined to be a witchy voice: “Now we’re going
to
dook
for apples. Right, Daniel, you can be first.
Show the wee ones. Kneel on that chair, hold on to the back of it, hold the
fork in your mouth and when I say the magic word, abracadabra, you drop the
fork and try to spear an apple.”

By the time that each child eventually had his or her own
apple, everyone was drenched and the linoleum floor was awash with a puddle of
water.

Granny gave Kate a rag with which to mop up the floor, while
she herself watched in delight as the children devoured their hard-won apples.

There was yet one more surprise which Granny had in store,
but for added excitement, she wanted the children themselves to be the first to
discover it. As yet, not one of them had paid it a blind bit of notice.

She chuckled to herself at the thought: ‘I wonder if they
think I normally have such items hung up to air on my clothes pulley?’

Since still nobody had remarked on either the pulley or the
strange object dangling from it, Granny raised her eyes and gazed heavenwards.
As is the way with people everywhere, if one person looks up with a puzzled
frown as if trying to identify something, then others are sure to follow suit.
Soon the children and Kate were gazing upwards in stupefaction. It was left to
Hannah, always on the lookout for something to eat, to clap her hands in
delight and say: “
Jeely
piece, Granny.
Jeely
piece.”

Granny hugged Hannah, all the while telling her what a
clever wee girl she was. The old woman laughed.

“It’s not exactly jam, nor jelly either, darling. But it’s
treacle on both sides of the big soda scone. And all you have to do is jump up
and try to catch a bite out of it.”

There were whoops of delight and at once and without further
invitation, all the children, with the exception of Hannah, strapped into her
go-chair for her own safety, started jumping up and down.

Seeing this, Kate became mildly alarmed.

“Oh. Granny ... do you think this is such a good idea? What
about your poor neighbour below?”

Granny chuckled,

“Ach, let the bairns enjoy themselves. Let them jump up and
down all they like. It’s only that old misery downstairs – Emily
McAnulty
– yon dried up prune of an old maid. Honestly. she
bangs the ceiling with a broom handle every single time my pulley squeaks
whenever I raise or lower it for my wee bits of washing. So tonight, we might
as well give the old witch something to moan about. Being
Hallowe’en
she’ll maybe think it’s ghosts trying to get at her. One thing’s sure: she’ll
know it isn’t a man. For no man would be seen dead with her “

And there the matter had rested, with three exuberant
children jumping up and down, screaming loudly each time they got a belt across
the face from the swaying, treacly scone. If anything, the intermittent banging
sounds issuing from the irate downstairs neighbour only added to the general
enjoyment.

When at last Kate managed to prise her children away, one
and all agreed, treacle-covered faces and all, it was a night to remember.

Chapter
16

The excitement and promise of the forth-coming International
Exhibition of 1888 had been building up for many months past. Ten-year-old
Daniel Robert Kinnon was ecstatic. His own Primary School had organised to take
its senior pupils, of which Daniel, happily, was one, along to
Kelvingrove
Park on opening day. There, complete with Union
Jacks, they would join the many hundreds of Glaswegians lining the route
outside the
Hillhead
entrance with its triumphal
arch.

Quoting his teacher, Daniel would tell anyone who would
listen to him that Glasgow, with a population of 761,000, was now the Second
City of the Empire and was poised to stage its first major International
Exhibition. The largest in Britain since the London show of 1862. True, there
had been other smaller Exhibitions in the interim: in Edinburgh in 1886, and
the Royal Jubilee Exhibition in Manchester 1887. However, the watchword now
was: “Manchester and Edinburgh may try it, but Glasgow can do it.”1

The long-awaited eighth of May dawned at last and Daniel was
the first member of the Kinnon family to rouse from his bed, without the usual
prompting from Mammy. Still in his bare feet, he padded across to the
front-room window and looked down into the street. He smiled when he saw that instead
of the feared rain or Scotch mist, the day looked set fair for a day of bright
sunshine. Not only that, but from the scraps of newspaper blowing along the
pavements and gutters of Garth Street, it would seem that there would certainly
be breeze enough to do justice to his precious flag.