The Sunday Girls (30 page)

‘Well, bring it in and just go.’ She was so rude and curt that even Doctor Little looked at her with astonishment.

As they moved into the lounge, I considered running upstairs to Mrs Barrie’s bedroom but I knew I couldn’t disturb her – not now when she was thankfully recovering. No, I thought, I’ll just have to tell Granny about the changed situation. There was no doubt she could maybe manage for one week but another week … well, that was another story.

The house at the Overgate felt cold but I thought it was just the difference from Whitegate Lodge with its cosiness in all the rooms. There was a tiny fire burning in the grate but the coal bucket was empty.

The look of delight on Granny’s face was soon replaced by a worried frown when I mentioned my bad news. ‘Och, well, Ann, it’s not your fault if Mrs Barrie is not well. I just hope she gets better soon – the poor soul.’

‘But, Granny, it’ll be the same next week as well. I didn’t tell you that I’m on a monthly wage because Mrs Barrie has been so good to me and I didn’t want to worry you.’ I told her the whole story and she was very angry.

‘I’ve a good mind to go to the Ferry and give that nasty besom a piece of my mind and then make sure she pays you every week. After all, Ann, you work damn hard for that ten shillings.’

I turned pale at the thought and, although Granny was more than a match for Miss Hood, it would most definitely mean the end of my job.

She saw my face and said, ‘Don’t worry, Ann, I’ll not take your housekeeper into the boxing ring and give her ten hard rounds – no, we’ll just sit here and call her all the evil names we can think of!’

I had to laugh but then I remembered that I would soon be back in the cosy confines of Whitegate Lodge while my grandparents and Lily would have to suffer the consequences of a cold house and no money. After all, there was never enough money for real comfort – just a bare living from hand to mouth and my grandparents deserved better than this. At that moment, I could have cheerfully have gone ten rounds with Miss Hood myself and given her a few home truths as well.

‘I’ll try and see Mrs Barrie this week, Granny, and ask for my wages.’

Then I looked around the kitchen but there was no sign of Grandad or Lily. ‘Has Grandad taken Lily for a walk?’

She shook her head. ‘No, he’s upstairs having a blether with Pete. Maddie came over and took the bairn to see Joy. She’s bringing her back at teatime because she wants to see you.’

‘Is Maddie still doing all the messages for the street?’

Granny screwed up her face. ‘For heaven’s sake, don’t mention Lipton’s to her. Danny seems to be taking an interest in some lassie that works in the shop. I wouldn’t say he’s winching – at least not yet.’

I thought about the girl with the sour lemon face. ‘Surely he’s not serious about her?’

‘Well, I don’t think he is. They go to the pictures once a week. Her name’s Minnie McFarlane and her folks live on the Hawkhill. She was in Danny’s class at school and I think they like to talk about their younger days.’

She put another two small lumps of coal on the fire and I was dismayed to see the bunker was almost as empty as the coal bucket.

‘Mind you,’ said Granny, laughing, ‘Hattie’s face is tripping her. She always thought Danny would hit it off with Maddie but now he’s seeing Minnie. The McFarlanes are just toerags, according to Hattie.’

To be quite honest I was upset too. I also thought Danny and I would be a pair – not in any romantic sense but it was just something I couldn’t put into words. Now he was growing up fast and not only leaving me behind but also Maddie – poor Maddie with her shattered dreams.

I heard Lily and Maddie long before they reached the door. Lily’s clear childish voice carried up the stair and I smiled when I heard her voice counting each step, not quite accurately, ‘One, two, seven, three.’

Maddie looked cheerful enough when she came in. The wind and the exertion of the long walk had given both of them pink cheeks and Maddie’s blonde hair was swept up under an enormous knitted tammy.

However, it was a different face I saw when I walked with her to the end of Tay Street and she started to lament about Danny’s new friend or old school friend. ‘I’ve stopped going into the shop because that Minnie is always so smug looking,’ Maddie said, sounding distressed. ‘Danny asked me out to the pictures as well but I don’t think I’ll go.’

‘For goodness’ sake, Maddie, don’t be so daft. He’s obviously not that keen on Minnie if he’s asked you out as well.’

She nodded. ‘I know I’m being daft but I wonder if he thinks I’m too young for him – just because I’m still at school.’

‘I think you’re right, Maddie, but you’ll never know if you don’t take up his offer of an innocent night at the pictures.’

‘What about a night out tomorrow with me? We can go to the King’s picture house to see that Busby Berkeley musical or maybe go to see Claude Rains in
The Invisible Man
. I think it’s on at the Plaza.’

It was an attractive notion but I had no money – not now or in the foreseeable future – but, before I could answer, Maddie said, ‘It’ll be my treat.’

When I looked at her, she said, ‘I know how you feel about people paying for you but I can’t go to the pictures on my own as my mother won’t allow it. So you see, Ann, you’ll be doing me a great favour. Please, please.’

She looked so sad that I relented but only under the promise that the next pictures treat would be mine. Hopefully I would be paid by then.

It dawned bitterly cold the next day and the pavements were white with snow. It had been falling for most of the night. As I made my way to the grocer’s shop for a loaf of bread, I had to pass a group of small children who were eagerly throwing snowballs at one another. Sometimes their aim wasn’t accurate and the snowball would strike a passerby, much to their disgust and chagrin. ‘You wee devils,’ shouted one old woman to the children as they made a quick getaway. She wiped the snow from her coat and headed on down the street, still muttering loudly.

To be truthful, most of this activity went over my head because of my money problems. I had put the fire on that morning and Granny had tried to hide the almost empty coal bunker. ‘The coalman’s late this week so you’re not to worry about it. I’ll get a bag of coal on tick – after all, I’m a good customer.’ She failed to hide the worried expression that flitted across her face and I knew this cold spell was being a big drain on the budget.

It was then that I decided to pawn my coat. It would just be for a couple of weeks until I got paid and then I would redeem it. It broke my heart to part with it, especially in this wintry weather but the money would tide Granny over for a few days at least. Later that afternoon I approached Dickson’s pawnshop on the Hilltown. His window was a kaleidoscope of objects, both domestic and valuable. Items that hadn’t been redeemed now lay in a jumbled collection behind the glass – all awaiting a sale.

The entrance to the pawnshop office lay up a very narrow close beside the shop. It was dark and dank with water running down the flagstones and the walls. It was the most depressing close I had ever seen. In fact, in a world of depressing places, this one deserved a medal for awfulness. I pushed open the swing door and entered a high-roofed cavern of an office. The counter was divided into sections with thin wooden walls that were obviously designed to offer some degree of privacy – a buffer against the entire clientele knowing their neighbours’ business. In that respect, it failed dismally.

The place was busy and I had to wait inside the door until a cubicle became vacant. A poor-looking woman with two small crying children brushed past me. Her face was full of misery and I noticed the small rumpled parcel under her arm. It looked as if the pawnbroker had rejected her meagre wares.

I waited until my turn then took the coat from my bag and placed it on the small counter, smoothing it as I laid it down. A small man with a wizened face picked up the fur-trimmed sleeve and I thought I saw a glimmer of surprise in his eyes. This glint was instantly replaced by a professional manner. ‘How much do you want for this?’ he asked, peering at me through his half-moon specs.

I hadn’t a clue about the going rate but I stammered, ‘Seven … seven and sixpence.’

He shook his head, felt the fur once more and looked at me. ‘I can let you have five shillings for it.’

I produced the shoes and bag. ‘If I add these can you make it seven and six?’

He pondered for a few moments, taking a step back and giving my beloved belongings a critical look. ‘Right, then, I’ll make it seven shillings.’

I took the money and ran like a scalded cat from this horrible close, knowing full well I was lucky – not like the poor woman before me.

Granny demanded to know where the money had come from and I told her. ‘Oh, no, not your swanky coat.’ She was dismayed.

‘Don’t worry, Granny, it’ll just be for two weeks until I get paid then I’ll redeem it.’ I handed over the seven shillings. ‘Will this be enough?’

She nodded. ‘It’ll buy a bag of coal and the messages and, next week, I can always get a few things on tick.’

I placed the pawn ticket in the vase on the mantelpiece. ‘I’ll keep the ticket here in case it gets lost.’

Granny looked worried. ‘For heaven’s sake, don’t let Hattie know about that ticket. She’s always coveted that coat and she would redeem it and not say a word.’

I assured her it was safe enough. Later that evening, I joined Maddie at the foot of the stairs and we headed happily towards the King’s picture house. I was wearing my trench coat and, although she glanced at it, she said nothing. She obviously still had Danny on her mind.

When we reached the King’s, a large queue had formed, standing hunched up and miserable on this cold night. The snow had stopped but an icy wind swirled around the feet of the waiting picture-goers. We headed towards the end of the queue and, because I had my head down, I didn’t notice Danny and his friend but Maddie did.

‘Hullo,’ he shouted cheerfully, ‘are you coming to see the picture as well?’

Maddie’s face turned chalk white. She would have walked on but I stopped.

He turned to the girl at his side. ‘This is Minnie,’ he said as he introduced us.

She was a small, very thin girl with an elfin look about her. Her very dark hair hung in a straight style and skimmed her shoulders. And she was very pretty.

Perhaps because of her name and her dark hair she reminded me of Minnehaha, the Indian maiden in
Hiawatha
. I instantly rebuked myself for putting a nickname on her because this was a trait I was using a lot and it had to stop – people were not like characters in books.

We chatted for a moment or two – at least I did – and then we made our way down the street and past the snake-like queue of people.

Maddie suddenly turned to me. ‘I don’t think I want to see this film. Let’s go and see
The Invisible Man
at the Plaza.’

Although slightly annoyed that she hadn’t asked my opinion, I stayed silent. However she didn’t want to be seen by either Danny or Minnie so we made our way along the Seagate and into the High Street before heading up the Hilltown to the Plaza, like two thieves in the night.

While Maddie was unhappy at Danny’s romance, I was feeling more optimistic. Mrs Barrie was on the mend and, although she was still weak and confined to her bed, the atmosphere in the house changed from the deathly hush to a more normal routine. For a start, the wireless was now switched on every day and, as Jean remarked, ‘I never thought I would miss all the cheery banter so much.’

In the middle of the week, one of the jobs, after my cleaning chores were finished, was to take the accumulators to be charged up. In this house of plenty, there was even a special carrier for this task – a strong wicker basket with two compartments that held the accumulators upright – and, although it was quite heavy to carry, it meant they didn’t wobble around.

Alfie Drummond owned the shop where the accumulators were taken. It was situated at the far end of Gray Street, tucked in between a cafe that catered for the summer visitors and the chemist. Nondescript in appearance, it was a Mecca for all the wireless owners in the Ferry. Alfie had fought in the Great War and he arrived back in Blighty minus half his leg. Shortly after, with a few pounds from his savings, he opened his small business. Although the world didn’t quite beat a path to his door, he still made a reasonable living with his charging services and wireless repairs. His shop always fascinated me, especially the large gramophone which took pride of place on the counter. It sported a large fluted horn and a small plaque stating ‘His Master’s Voice’ and showing a small dog listening to a similar gramophone.

The local myth was that this was a forgotten repair – the owner, having put it in to be repaired, had then somehow forgotten about it. How anyone could overlook such a large piece of musical equipment was beyond my comprehension but perhaps the truth, should it ever become known, was more mundane.

Being an astute businessman, Alfie knew it always drew comments. In fact, one customer was remarking on it as I entered. ‘I see you’ve still got the gramophone, Alfie. Is the owner still saving up for your bill?’

Alfie laughed. He was a large-built, jovial man with the deepest, loudest voice I had ever heard. I often thought he could have used this to great effect in the trenches of France. This deep, booming voice resonating over no-man’s-land would soon have sent the German soldiers running away in panic.

‘Now, young Ann, how is Mrs Barrie feeling today? Better I hope?’ He leaned over the counter and grasped the handle of the heavy basket. He took out the two accumulators and replaced them with two fully charged-up ones. Once again I was struck by what money could buy – in this case, the luxury of having entertainment every day from the airwaves. The majority of poor people in the crowded streets of Dundee were lucky if they had the price of a wireless or the few pennies it cost for the charging service.

Although the wind was still chilly with a hint of snow on its cutting edge, I was delighted to see clumps of daffodils and crocuses in the gardens. The snowdrops however were fading but they had been a brave show of flowers a few weeks ago. Spring would soon be here and, in a few months’ time, Lily would be two years old. I thought she was becoming a wee rascal with her Grandad but Granny kept her on a tight rein.