Primrose Square (12 page)

She sat, thinking, as the train began to slow down for its platform at Waverley. ‘Maybe Christmas Eve, we could meet? Miss Ainslie always closes the club on Christmas Day and Boxing Day, and we take it in turns to have Christmas Eve off. This year, I'm the lucky one.'

‘I'll say!' Stephen cried delightedly. ‘That sounds wonderful! Why didn't you tell me about it before?'

‘I've only just thought of it. Look, we're stopping. So, what time is it, Stephen?'

‘Oh, to hell with the time! Let's look forward to Christmas Eve!'

‘Our “do” first,' she reminded him. ‘And I've got to think of a way of making the wretched mince pies.'

‘One thing I needn't worry about,' he told her with a laugh, as they joined the crowds leaving the station. ‘But now I know when we're going to meet again, I don't feel so worried, anyway. Something to look forward to – that's what I like, don't you?'

She didn't reply that things to look forward to had been rather rare in her life until then, only said she'd certainly be looking forward to their next meeting, mince pies or no mince pies. At which he took her hand.

‘Elinor, if we weren't in the middle of Princes Street, I'd kiss you. In fact, I might, anyway, and to hell with anyone watching.'

Of course, he didn't, but when they reached Maule's Corner where they must part, she told him, teasingly, that if he was thinking about kissing, he'd better prepare himself for the party next Thursday. There were rumours that some of his students were bringing mistletoe.

‘Oh, no!' he groaned. ‘Maybe I should be indisposed.'

‘No, no, you're our tutor. Besides, you have to bring the lemonade.'

‘And you mustn't forget the mince pies.'

‘As though I could!'

Their banter was light-hearted, but as she moved away, waving once, Stephen's eyes were so tender on her, she knew she was looking ridiculously happy and had to straighten her smiling mouth as she went down the area steps to the kitchen.

Preparations for dinner were in full swing and Mrs Petrie was stirring pans and shouting orders like the captain of a ship, while Vera and Sal were scuttling about and Mattie and Ada were hurrying away with cutlery for the dining room, Gerda following with the glasses. Now was not the time to ask if she might have some oven space on Thursday, Elinor decided, but when
would
be the right time, she couldn't imagine. At least no one was taking particular notice of her; no one would spot the happiness she was trying to conceal.

As she ran upstairs to change into her uniform, she let herself relax, look the way she felt, and when she studied her face in the bedroom mirror, was pleased with what she saw. True, she didn't know where this special relationship with Stephen would go, but it wasn't yet time to worry about that. Even if it went nowhere, she could enjoy it for now.

Twenty-Two

On the afternoon of the class party, Elinor had a piece of luck. Mrs Petrie graciously agreed that she could have stove time to make her mince pies, as long as she told Miss Ainslie, brought her own mincemeat, and made the time up.

‘Ma's given me the mincemeat and I've already spoken to Miss Ainslie,' Elinor replied. ‘She said I needn't make the time up.'

‘Did she indeed?' Mrs Petrie's eyes snapped. ‘I don't know how you lassies do it, but anything you want, you get, eh? Talk about twisting Miss Ainslie round your little finger!'

‘Och, she's no' as easy as all that!' Mattie cried. ‘She doesn't let us just do as we like, Mrs Petrie.'

‘Lets you get away with murder, you mean.' Mrs Petrie sniffed. ‘Anyway, Elinor, you can make your pies but you'll have to manage without me. I've to be away to the doctor's about my knee, though he'll just give me more of his horrible ointment, eh?'

‘I'm sorry to hear your knee's bad again,' Elinor said with genuine sympathy, though at the same time, her heart was singing. Mrs Petrie to be out? Not hanging over her, watching her every move? That was bliss, that was.

‘Don't worry, I'll manage,' she said cheerfully. ‘And I'll clear everything up, leave it neat as a pin.'

‘You'd better, but Vera's going to keep an eye on you anyway, before she starts the afternoon teas. That right, Vera?'

‘Right, Mrs Petrie,' Vera sighed.

As soon as Mrs Petrie had departed for her afternoon appointment and Sal had washed and cleared away the lunch dishes, Elinor and Vera set to work.

‘Here's your flour and lard,' Vera announced, clearing space on the table. ‘Sugar, if you want to add a wee bit to the mix, and your ma's mincemeat. This is your bowl and rolling pin, your pastry cutters and baking tins – you'll need to grease them first. Now, which oven d'you want to use? The stove, or the gas?'

‘Oh, Lordie, which is best?'

‘Well, Mrs Petrie hates the gas, but then she's the only one knows how to get the stove just right, eh?'

‘Thought you did, Vera!' Elinor cried worriedly. ‘I'm counting on you!'

‘Afraid it's all guesswork with me. Let's go for the gas, eh? I'll light it for you.'

‘As long as you don't blow us all up!' Sal called. ‘I'm terrified o' that gas, so I am!'

‘Come on, it'll be fine.' Vera, striking a match, stooped to light the despised gas oven in the corner. ‘There, by the time that's hot, your pies'll be ready to go in, Elinor. You do know how to make pastry, eh?'

‘Sure I do!' Elinor retorted, though she wasn't in fact sure at all, not having had much practice. ‘You just rub in the fat and add some water, eh?'

‘Let's see you do it, then.'

Whether it was beginner's luck or not, Elinor's pastry turned out well. The gas cooker did its job, with Vera keeping an eye on progress, and it wasn't long before Elinor was hanging over a fine collection of cooling mince pies and feeling absurdly pleased with herself.

‘Aye, you've done a grand job,' Vera said, shaking a little sugar over the pies. ‘Mrs Petrie's eyes'd drop out if she could see these. Thinks nobody can bake but herself, you ken.'

‘Must thank you, Vera, for all your help. Couldn't have managed without you.'

‘That's all right. We'll just get Sal to do the washing-up, eh? This place looks like it's been in a snowstorm!'

Elinor, however, insisted on clearing up herself, and it was only when all was tidy enough to pass inspection by Mrs Petrie's eagle eye that the maids sank down at the kitchen table for a cup of tea. Sal had run out with the upstairs letters for posting, but would soon be back, and the others would be coming down for their break.

‘Wanting to see how you got on,' Vera said with a laugh. ‘Amazed you're baking, eh?'

‘So am I! I was regretting ever offering, but now I'm glad I did.'

‘Aye, the pies are first rate.' Vera hesitated a moment. ‘Did you make 'em to please your young man, then?'

‘My young man?' Elinor stared. ‘What young man?'

‘Why, the young man at this class you go to, of course. Everybody knows you've got one, Elinor.'

‘Well, I really don't know how!' Elinor retorted, her face glowing red. ‘I've never said I had a young man.'

‘Why, you were seen with him, eh? No point denying it.'

‘Who? Who saw me?'

‘Ada, last Saturday afternoon, at Maule's Corner. It was her time off as well as yours, remember, and she was going to meet her Donald. She said your young man looked ever so nice, quite the gentleman, and seemed so pleased to see you. Then you both ran off, she couldn't see where.'

‘Surprised she didn't follow us,' Elinor said coldly. ‘Seemingly, we're no' allowed any private life here, with folk spying on us all the time.'

‘Ada wasn't spying. She just happened to see you. And there's always somebody to see you, if you don't want to be seen, eh?'

‘I suppose so.' Elinor gave a long sigh. ‘Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called Ada a spy. But she needn't have told everybody.'

‘She didn't tell everybody. I mean, Miss Ainslie doesn't know, and neither does Mrs Petrie.' Vera grinned. ‘You'll be giving thanks for that. But you know the rest of us are interested, Elinor. We're pleased for you. It's nice for you to have a young man. Lord knows, it's what we all want, eh?'

‘It's just that  . . . well, I don't know what's going to happen. Whether there's a future for us or not. I was wanting to keep things quiet until I knew.'

‘I'm sorry, then. Maybe we shouldn't have got to know your secret. But I'm sure there's no need to worry. Ada said the nice young man looked really smitten.' Vera stood up and began to gather their tea things together. ‘I'll just get you some cake boxes to put your pies in – you can bring 'em back tomorrow.'

Twenty-Three

Knowing that all the girls she worked with now knew about Stephen made more difference to Elinor even than she might have imagined. It wasn't just meeting their excited eyes at teatime that upset her – after all, with Mrs Petrie there, going on about her new knee ointment, no one would say anything; she needn't worry about that. No, what really hurt was the fact that Stephen was no longer her special secret, but someone she shared with others. And those others would all be wondering and guessing how far her affair might go, which was the last thing she wanted when she didn't even know herself.

As she changed to go to the class, putting on her best shirtwaist blouse in honour of the party, she felt a great searing feeling of regret that this change had come, for whatever Stephen's reaction might be when she told him about it, things could never be quite the same again.

Because of his job, his responsibilities, he hadn't wanted others to know about their association any more than she had, and now that some did know, there would be extra worry for them both. After all, she hadn't yet told her folks that she was seeing her tutor out of class, and at the back of her mind, there was always anxiety over what her dad might say. He might just go back to his old ways and forbid her to see Stephen again. Might even throw her out, as he had done before. And only to think of risking that kind of trouble again made her feel surrounded by a cold, hostile wind.

I'd better tell Ma, she decided, once again hurrying to the class, this time carrying boxes of her precious mince pies under her arm. I'll ask her what she thinks Dad would say. It would be good to tell her, anyway. Never before had Elinor really had secrets from her.

As soon as she entered the high school that last evening of the Christmas term, she sensed the different atmosphere about the place. Everywhere was decorated with children's paper chains and streamers, and the students in the classrooms were all sporting paper hats and laughing and teasing, even though their tutors were desperately trying to keep order on the last festive evening. This was a time to have some fun, obviously.

It was the same in Stephen's room, of course, where Pearl was placing a paper hat on his fair head, while Tam and others, even Brenda, laughed and clapped, and his desk was already piled with a great spread of sandwiches, sausage rolls, small savouries, cakes and bottles of lemonade.

‘Heavens, I'm no' late, am I?' Elinor cried, her eyes on Stephen, who was doing his best to seem at ease.

‘No, no, come in, we're early, Miss Rae,' he answered, pulling himself away from the students around him and snatching off his paper hat. ‘We were just about to begin the lesson.'

‘Ah, have a heart, Mr Muirhead!' Tam shouted, taking Elinor's boxes from her arms and opening one to inspect the contents. ‘See these grand mince pies Elinor's brought? You canna expect us to have a lesson with all this food driving us crazy!'

‘The rule is, we do some work first,' Stephen returned firmly. ‘Don't worry, we'll have time to tuck in pretty soon, but now I want you all to take your seats. I'm going to talk more about accounting methods.'

Slowly, but obediently, the class took their places and even made a show of writing in their notebooks as Stephen doggedly continued with his instruction, but there were sighs of relief all round when he finally laid down his chalk, rubbed down the blackboard, and said, with a grin, ‘Let the festivities begin, then. Anybody got paper cups for the lemonade? And paper plates for the sandwiches? My word, this is a splendid show you've all put on!'

In dived the students and away went the party food, with everything being admired. Crackers were pulled, hats put on, small contents examined, and under the cover of so much noise and laughter, Stephen was able to approach Elinor and give her a polite smile that didn't match the look in his eyes.

‘May I taste one of your mince pies?' he asked. ‘I can see they look wonderful.'

‘Don't know how I did it, but they've turned out well.'

She picked one out and gave it to him, watching him take a bite and pretend to swoon over its taste, all the time looking at her.

‘We'll be taking the tram as usual?' he whispered.

She glanced round, before turning her gaze back to him.

‘Hope so. But the others won't be going to the café tonight after all this; they might be on the tram, too.'

‘Don't worry, they won't be going home so early.'

‘Hey, you two,' said Tam, joining them. ‘No more talking, I've got some mistletoe. Don't look like that, Mr Muirhead! What's a kiss at Christmas time?'

‘I'm not so sure the WEA plans for kisses in their classes at any time,' Stephen told him. ‘And, remember, I have to make sure you're not making a nuisance of yourself to the young women here.'

‘Me, a nuisance?' Tam asked with an injured air. ‘Why, these lassies expect to be kissed at Christmas parties, Mr Muirhead, just like when they were bairns. But in fact we're all grown-ups, remember.'

‘But I'm responsible for you,' Stephen added seriously, then suddenly relaxed and laughed. ‘Oh, go on then, take your mistletoe round, but I'll be watching, to see if anyone complains.'