Roses of Winter (50 page)

Jimmie had resigned himself to getting nowhere with Pearl on the subject of her working. He had tried all the arguments he could think of without success. To go further would result in serious harm to their relationship and he had no wish to be at odds with her. After, the war’s over, he thought, it will be a different story. And that day could not be far off.
 

Jimmie hated to see how tired Pearl looked every night. He had been brought up in a home where men went to work and women took care of the house. But his love for Pearl compelled him to advance into foreign territory.

At first Pearl’s pride was hurt. “Dae ye no’ like the way ah’m taking care of the house?” she demanded to know.

“It’s nothing o’ the kind,” Jimmie protested. “Ah think you have mair tae dae than is humanly possible. Besides, ah want tae help.”

Pearl had relented out of acceptance of the truth of his statement. Jimmie, for his part, confined his efforts to tasks that would not attract public attention or draw the scorn of his pals.
 

Pearl taught Jimmie the rudiments of cooking. Jimmie made the surprising discovery that he enjoyed the task and soon took over the role as his own. But it was in the exacting art of baking that Jimmie found his true passion. Perhaps the precision so vital in his job had honed the attention to the detail needed to produce successful results. Jimmie’s first effort produced a very acceptable Victoria Sponge Cake that Pearl complimented without any need for prevarication.

“Jimmie, this is really marvelous,” she told him.

“Are ye sure?” he asked.

“Try it yersel’ if ye don’t believe me.”

Jimmie bit into a slice. “It’s no’ bad,” he said, his mouth losing crumbs.

“It’s better than no’ bad,” Pearl reassured him. “Ah think ye must have hidden talent. Well, they say the best bakers are men and maybe they’re right.”

“Aye, well, ye better no’ say that in front o’ mah Ma,” he joked. But he was pleased with what Pearl had said.

Jimmie went on to scones and a host of other items that were so good that Pearl felt guilty when praised by her women friends, who assumed that she was their source. Jimmie had sworn her to strict secrecy. She had reluctantly agreed.

“Ah don’t feel right taking all the credit,” Pearl protested.

But Jimmie was not ready for his foray into what was almost universally seen as female territory to become widely known.
 

Pearl washed up their few dishes and settled down by the fire with Jimmie, happy to rest her feet. It was only Monday, she thought. A long week stretched ahead.

“Jimmie, wid ye turn on the wireless?” she asked.

He turned the dial and stopped when he found music. Pearl picked up one of Jimmie’s socks that needed darning. Jimmie opened the evening paper but soon started to nod off in the heat from the grate. The music stopped and was replaced with the chimes of Big Ben. A woman’s voice announced,
We are interrupting our programs to bring you a news flash
.

Pearl reached across and poked Jimmie in the knee. He stirred and came awake. She pointed to the radio, which was now sending out the sound of church bells. A man’s voice came on.
This is London calling. Here is a news flash. The German Radio has just announced that Hitler is dead
. In the flat unemotional manner of the BBC, Hitler’s demise was made to sound no more significant than the cricket scores.
 

“Jimmie, the war must be nearly over if he’s dead,” Pearl said.

Jimmie was not convinced. “How do we know it isnae some kind o’ trick?”

“Why would the Germans say that if it wisnae true?” Pearl replied.

But news items over the next few days overturned Jimmie’s skepticism. The important announcement came within the week. This time the BBC buried the information deep in the item, as if they themselves could not believe what they were reading.

This is the BBC Home Service. We are interrupting programs to make the following announcement. It is understood that, in accordance with arrangements between the three great powers, an official announcement will be broadcast by the Prime Minister at 3 o’clock tomorrow, Tuesday afternoon, the 8
^th
of May. In view of the fact, tomorrow, Tuesday, will be treated as Victory In Europe day, and will be regarded as a holiday.
 

The unconditional surrender had been signed in the early hours of the morning of May 7
^th
. Some were annoyed that the announcement had been delayed but most didn’t care.
 
People thronged the streets and filled George Square. Pearl, freed from work, felt drawn to the celebration. Jimmie, who didn’t like crowds was less enthusiastic but bent to Pearl’s persuasion.

“It’s history you’ll be missing and you’ll be sorry if you don’t go.”

They tried unsuccessfully to persuade Peggy. “Ah’m glad it’s over,” she told them, “but ah wid rather sit here and listen tae it on the wireless.”

They walked down Maryhill Road and through the Cowcaddens to the heart of the city. This was a Glasgow they had never seen before. The city thrummed with activity. They passed through crowds of people singing and dancing in the streets. George Square was like a living creature with a pulse. Different groups broke into song simultaneously, each adding to the cacophony that reverberated off the buildings surrounding the square.

Pearl smiled at Jimmie who grinned in amazement at the enthusiastic frenzy of the crowd. A passing stranger thrust a small flag into his hand. Jimmie bent down to hand it to Patrick then hoisted the little lad on to his shoulders. Patrick waved the flag, both hands above his head.

“Ah hope he remembers this,” Pearl said to Jimmie through the sudden tears that signaled her happiness that the long terrible war in Europe was over.

The struggle in the Pacific that continued seemed so far away compared with this fight, so much of which had occurred in the backyards of their city and many other communities throughout Britain.

Not everyone was joining in the celebrations. For many who had lost loved ones it was a day that brought sadness to overshadow the good news. The religious headed for places of worship, others sat quietly at home.
 

❅❅❅❅❅

Ellen cared little that the war in Europe was over. She could think only of the personal consequences for her. The conflict with Germany had been merely an inconvenience that thwarted her desires. Now Jim would be coming back to Britain and she would be forced finally to confront her true feelings.
 

The inevitable letter came. Ellen showed it to her mother.

“He’s in hospital, but it doesnae say why,” Mary observed. “Ye
are
going tae go and see him, aren’t you? It’s the decent thing tae do. Surely you owe him that much at least,” Mary told her.

Ellen nodded. She had resigned herself to that.

“Do you want me tae come with you?” Mary asked. Neither of them had been further than Campbelltown and the thought of going to London was intimidating.

“Ah was hoping you would,” Ellen replied, her gratitude plain.

“Aye, well, that’s settled then,” Mary told her.
 

Hang the expense of the extra ticket
, Mary thought. She could not see sending Ellen to London by herself. She would have been worried sick, never mind the situation with Jim.

“Aye, yer daeing the right thing,” Charlie agreed when she broached the subject with him that night. “Ye cannae send the lassie down there by hersel’.” He handed Mary some money. “Ye better get yersel’s something new tae wear for the trip.” Mary hugged him.

Mary sent a telegram to Elizabeth Dennis to let her know they were coming. Jim’s mother replied the next day with an offer to stay with her and to meet them at the station. Mary was grateful for this kindness shown by a woman who probably had good reason to doubt the wisdom of Jim being reunited with Ellen. She saw it as a gift of understanding from one mother to another.
 

The experience of going to London for Mary and her daughter was something akin to journeying to another planet. They had thought of Glasgow as a large city but were unprepared for the scale and bustle of London when they emerged from the station with Elizabeth Dennis. Mrs. Dennis looked older and more drawn than Mary recalled from their last meeting. She inquired politely about their trip. Mary said it had been fine and an interesting experience. In this she lied. The train had been crowded and hot, crammed with servicemen and the smaller number of civilians who had been lucky to find a place. Mary was glad to be released from that claustrophobic nightmare.
 

They clambered into a taxi, found for them by the surprisingly capable Mrs. Dennis. Mary felt uncomfortable at the anticipated expense. She had computed each penny spent on this trip and was already shocked at the outlay. The offer of shelter from Mrs. Dennis had helped but Mary had felt obliged to bring her a gift. She agonized now over who was to pay for the ride. Mary had never been in a taxi and watched the meter discreetly, her anxiety increasing with the fare.
 
Mary felt it was only proper to offer to pay while fearing that her offer would be accepted.

Elizabeth Dennis had said nothing regarding her son’s condition. She lapsed into silence after a few pleasantries. Mary was uncertain what this might mean but feared it meant the postponement of bad news. Without diverting her gaze from the passing scene, Mrs. Dennis broke the uncomfortable silence. “I am afraid that you will find Jim quite changed.”

Ellen and her mother looked at each other. “What do you mean, changed?” Mary asked.

“He’s very, very ill,” Mrs. Dennis said, turning to look at them. “I just want to prepare you for that.”

Mary looked at Ellen to gauge her reaction. Her daughter’s expression was hard to read. Mary thought that it must be hard for Ellen to know what she felt after their long separation and the emotional confusion that did not leave with Robbie.
 

“It must be hard for you to know quite what your feelings are Ellen, given the circumstances,” Mrs. Dennis said, making Mary wonder whether she could read minds. “Ellen, I hope you don’t mind me being frank with you. I have tried to advise Jim that he must be realistic about the difficulties you will both face in this meeting.” She hesitated, choosing her words. “This is very difficult to talk about but I must. I don’t want you to feel bound to my son by any sense of obligation or duty. You knew each other only for a very short time before Jim went off to war. He pressed the idea of becoming engaged against my advice. I thought it premature and ill advised, not to mention placing an unfair burden on you. You have avoided making any firm commitment to such an arrangement, and wisely so. Before you are reunited with Jim, I want you to know that he does not expect you be influenced by your previous attachment to each other. I thought it important for you to hear that.” After a moment’s pause, she added, “It’s only right to tell you that I agree with him.”

Mary marveled at the self-assurance of Elizabeth Dennis. She had just uttered the most personal sentiments in a manner that defused resentment. The suspicion that Mrs. Dennis was happy to see the idea of marriage fade did not prevent Mary from admiring the artistry of the woman. Then the thought occurred to her that Jim’s situation must indeed be serious and she regretted the uncharitable thought.
 

Ellen was not sure what to say in response. Mary broke the silence. “It’s very kind o’ you to say that, Mrs. Dennis, and I thank you for it. We should let Jim and Ellen work this out for themselves. Nothing needs to be decided until Jim is back on his feet and they get a chance to get to know each other again.”

Elizabeth Dennis turned to look at Mary who blanched at the expression on her face. “And I thank you for your kindness, Mrs. Burns, but I think there is little chance of Jim getting back on his feet.”
 

They said nothing more until the taxi pulled into the entrance to the hospital. “I suggest that we all go in to see Jim together at first,” Mrs. Dennis said. “After that, if he and Ellen wish it, we can leave them together by themselves.”

Mrs. Dennis slipped the cabbie the fare so discreetly that it was done before Mary could utter a word. Mrs. Dennis waved aside her protest. “You are my guests, I wouldn’t hear of it,” she told a relieved Mary.

They were allowed to see Jim by a stern faced sister who admonished them that they might stay for only a short time despite Mrs. Dennis’s protests that his fiancée had come directly all the way from Scotland.

“What a pompous dragon that woman is,” Elizabeth Dennis muttered to Mary, clearly annoyed. “They treat everyone like children. Let me just go in and see how he is before I bring you in,” Mrs. Dennis told them.

Mary heard the muffled sounds of a brief conversation through the door. A few moments later it opened and Mrs. Dennis was beckoning them to come in. She looked paler and more drawn, Mary thought.
 

Mary looked at the man lying in the bed and recognized him as Jim only after a careful examination of his features. Jim’s once jet hair was now heavily frosted with gray. He looked much older than the man who had sat by her fire five years before. His face was pale in the manner of one seen in moonlight. The pallor held a bluish cast as though painted by an artist seeking to depict the sheen of ice under a threatening sky. Jim was thin to the point of appearing gaunt. The sight of him broke Mary’s heart.