Tears for a Tinker (36 page)

YELLOW IN THE BROOM

I
want to go back now to my own childhood, to a time when we were living in our bus. Daddy was away at Kinloch Rannach getting rid of a
farmer’s vermin. Mammy, I and my sisters were to face several nights alone. Travelling women don’t like the night, especially when the campsite is surrounded by thick broom. Come with
me, folks, and I’ll tell you about one such night.

We were at Braidhaugh in Crieff, down by the low Comrie road. I may have been only nine at the time, but every single moment of that night I can remember vividly. As I said, Daddy had plenty of
fields to clear of moles and rabbits. It didn’t make sense driving from Crieff to Rannoch each day, so he took a bothy for the duration. It was early spring and the clocks still had their
winter faces on them, but it was a rare opportunity for Mammy to get spring-cleaning our bus home. Hearing a grand wind getting up in the night, she rose early that morning and took down her winter
curtains for laundering. ‘Lassies,’ she announced to all her brood—Mona, Chrissie, Shirley, Janey, Mary, Renie, Babsy and me, ‘we’ve a guid going wind blowing the day,
so I want all the curtains washed and out on the rope. And this bus needs a guid clean, so there’s plenty tae dae.’ She looked at me and said with a pointed finger, ‘You, ma lass,
can never mind trailing through the broom or skimming stanes at the river. I want those hands daeing woman’s work now, dae ye hear me?’

‘Aye, Mammy, but can I go and rake the midden later on?’

‘You bide away frae the coup! My God, I canna take ye ony place but folks wonder if I batter ye, wi’ the cuts and bruises ye get raking among splinter wood and broken
bottles.’

‘No use bothering her this day,’ I thought, because the rest of my sisters threatened to chuck me in the River Earn if I shirked my duties.

By midday each one of those heavy tartan curtains was blowing briskly from a rope tied between two beech trees. Shirley had climbed to quite a height, and after we’d pegged all the
curtains on, she tightened the rope to raise it so that the washing would get a braw blaw. Chrissie sponged the windows and Shirley polished them up. Mona went through all the dishes and discarded
any chipped cups or cracked plates. We were never allowed to eat or drink from chipped or cracked dishes, for fear of harboured germs. Later on, with all our chores completed, we giggled and
laughed, eating beef and mustard sandwiches while Mammy began putting up the lightweight summer curtains which she’d made that winter from blue and white gingham material. She’d enough
left over for tie-backs; man, how bonny they were, she could fairly work a needle, my Mammy. If she saw a hole in a sock or elbow, it got darned with a weave of the prettiest pattern. No hem or
cuff was left to tatter if she spotted it. Sometimes she’d attack a garment with her needle and by the time she was finished there wasn’t a single thread that had been original. Just a
great wee seamstress, was my Ma.

It was late in the day when Mammy let out a scream, ‘Bloody blue bleezes, it’s pourin doon!’ We all dropped what we were doing to see that indeed the blue sky which dominated
the morning had given way to heavy grey clouds, dropping buckets and soaking the curtains which had probably been bone dry. ‘Och, I wanted them in and folded before tea-time—now
I’ll have to leave them out all night.’ She wasn’t pleased, but much to her relief however the clouds soon dispersed and the wind got up again. ‘They might dry before then,
though,’ she said as we settled back, all doing our own thing.

I might tell you now, folks, that because of the earliness of the season there were no other travellers on the site, only us. As I mentioned in my other books, this site was once a P.O.W. camp.
German and Italian prisoners had been held there during the war. The Nissan huts were dismantled, leaving concrete bases which made grand solid stances for caravans and our bus. Tents fared best,
because they stayed dry when the weather was bad. For years the site was also used by Boy Scouts, who came annually to do their dib-dibbing.

We thought when we heard a service bus stopping at the road end and the sound of lots of male voices that the Scouts had come early that year. I wandered up to have a nosey. It certainly
wasn’t boys, in fact it was loads of men. I ran back to tell my sisters, who never failed to check out any talent that came into their vicinity. Shirley and Janey ran out to see about twenty
Teddy Boys, decked out in their drainpipe trousers, knee-length jackets, beetle-crusher shoes and pipe-cleaner ties. They all had those classic sideburns and the slicked-back hair styles which were
known as D.A.s (from duck’s arse).

The moment they saw my pretty sisters they started wolf-whistling and calling them over to join them, but Mammy could whistle with more power than a group of mere wolves.

‘You stupid buggers, Daddy‘s away and we’re alone. Those laddies nae doubt will fill themselves wi’ peeve. By the way, I canna see a single yin that’s younger than
twenty one. They’re big men, far too auld for you, so bide here and no’ go near them.’

Our mother’s tone and instructions were meant for my four older sisters. I was far too young to bother about men—it was the midden-raking that I missed that day, and I wouldn’t
have minded skimming flat stones down at the river.

So that was that, back to quiet reading in the safety of the bus. We watched those Teddy Boys erecting tents and wee haps in the broom, which prompted Mammy to call them stupid scaldies. Every
traveller knows that the broom is filled with insects of every description, most enjoying tasty flesh—especially the human kind. She smiled, thinking of them trying to sleep, then said,
‘even if they dinnae get bit, they’ll surely find a branch or twa either up their nose or their arse.’

We laughed so loud we failed to hear a knocking at the door, ‘Missus, kin ye dae us a favour?’ It was three of the men, one holding a knife like one that Davy Crockett might have
used to skin a buffalo when out on the wild frontier.

Mona opened the door and asked what they wanted.

‘We was wandering if we could use they tartan rags scattered around your bus, we need something to sleep on the night!’

Mammy ran outside and was horrified to see her lovely freshly laundered curtains thrown over the broom, and when she saw that knife it didn’t take much to know who had cut the rope.

‘You shit-pots, just wait until my man and sons come home, they’ll knock the living daylights oot o’ ye.’

‘Never mind waiting on Daddy and pretending you have sons, Mammy, I’ll sort them oot,’ Shirley breenged at them with arms outstretched, took two off balance and put an
upper-cut under the third. ‘You reekit faces think you can come here and wreck ma Mammy’s washing, well, think again.’ By now her eyes were out on stalks as venomous curses few
from her mouth. Mona and Chrissie intervened, dragging her off them. The cowards got to their feet and ran off, saying it would be a long night. We watched as they joined their mates who were
heading along the Comrie road, no doubt for a night in the nearest pub.

Suddenly something dawned on us—we were under threat. How often had danger come from strangers? More times than was comfortable to mention, but before Daddy was always with us. If the
danger was menacing he just positioned himself behind the steering wheel and left, going to a safer place where there was no threat; but now he wasn’t with us. Mammy, only five feet tall, had
the full weight of responsibility on her narrow shoulders. Oh yes, her older girls were strong and with weapons could hold their own against the best of men, but not against drunk men. This
frightening problem was taxing to say the least.

‘What time does a pub chuck oot?’ she asked. Her girls never went near pubs, but at least if she had an idea when they’d be back we could all be in bed, lights out and with
doors and windows locked.

‘Ten, most drunks are seen swaying hame after then,’ Chrissie told her.

So after we’d gathered in the dirtied curtains, we quickly took some supper and then went to bed. I say bed in the singular, because all eight of us were piled onto Mammy’s
courie-doon at the rear of the bus. My younger sisters began to whinge, even although we pretended there was nothing wrong, so Mammy told stories and the girls sung ballads. I can still recall how
nervous Chrissie’s voice sounded as she sang ‘Fair Rosie Ann’.

Shirley was in the middle of ‘Flooers o’ the Forest’ when there was a deafening thud against the side of the bus, which stunned us into a shivering silence. Waiting through the
next minutes, I can only describe them as some of the most terrifying in my life, it was awful. I thought I had swallowed my tongue, such was the thump in my throat, so God knows what my younger
sisters, who were eight, six and four, went through. They sat staring like a bagful of kittens about to be drowned, with round innocent eyes. Shirley, fiery warrior that she was, was also afraid,
but we all knew that in her case it was the dark that caused her fear, and not what lingered in its shadows. She began mumbling; Mammy touched her arm and said she had to be strong.

Mona said we should have escaped while the louts were away, but Janey said if we’d left our home it would have been torched. ‘I’ll sneak oot,’ whispered Shirley,
‘and slit each and every one o’ them reekit buggers’ throats.’

This remark, gruesome though it was, made us start giggling at the thought it conjured up—our sister wriggling about through the broom with a dagger clenched between teeth covered in blood
and booze—a top soldier of the SAS or an ancient warrior queen.

Mammy brought us back to reality. ‘Listen, Boudi-bloody-cea, so far all we’ve heard is some daft drunk thumping the bus. The rest o’ the fear is coming frae inside this bus.
Now calm doon and listen.’ Our mother had spoken; Shirley sat down, slipping her hands under her shaking knees.

It may have been a minute or an hour later when cries came from the broom, drawn out as if the Teddy Boys were imitating ghost calls. ‘O-o-ohh see them in the broom, the lights are coming
tae get ye, watch how the lights glo-o-ow.’

We peered out of slits in the curtains to see, to our utter terror, yellow eyes staring at us. Some turned to orange, others to deep red. What was out there hiding in the broom? Were they
vampires who had heard Daddy was at Kinloch Rannoch, and thought with him away we’d be easy meat?

Mammy, more concerned about our safety than our sanity, took control. ‘Now, I smoke fags and I know what they look like in the dark—the same as yon ghost eyes. Don’t be feared.
As long as we’re in here they can’t get at us. Now take the seat cushions, pile them against the door and windows. Chrissie, put the carpet runner over the windscreen; if they throw
stones that will stop glass hitting us.’ Mammy then took a paper bag from her handbag where it lay hidden under her bed, and gave us each a peppermint. For ages the only sound to be heard was
us sooking nervously on those sweeties, then Renie and Babsy began snoring, having fallen asleep, exhausted. Mona covered their shoulders with a blanket, saying their prayers for them.

Shirley asked for another sookie and said, ‘if the Teddy Boys get in, yon two wee yins will be nane the wiser, the poor wee craturs are done in.’

Outside the yellow lights still shone from the broom; we could plainly see them, but there was no attempt to attack our bus despite our fears. Shirley was still ranting about taking them on
single-handed, when suddenly a piercing noise rent the dark night.

‘Help! For God sake, ye daft bugger! Look whit’s ye’ve done. Get water, hurry, and get water!’

Cushions went in every direction as we clambered over each other, pulling back the curtains to see what commotion was taking place. We could hardly believe the scene—the broom was alight,
it was on fire; great spirals of flames mingled with choking reek and millions of sparks. There were screams from the men darting back and forth, flames scooting from their bums as they rushed down
to where they hoped they’d find the river. The threat was over: we knew that by the time those menacing Teddy Boys sorted themselves out it would be morning. So to bed we went, not the least
bit afraid. In the morning there was no sign of our night tormentors. All that was left were a few empty beer bottles and several scorched broom tops.

There was no time to gloat—Mammy had a wheen of tartan curtains needing to be rewashed, but she did relent and I was allowed to visit and rake my midden. Do you know what I found? A big
suede size ten beetle-crusher! Aye, only the one. Later I filled it with sand and sank it in the Earn, and as far as I know it’s still there on the river’s bottom.

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