The Tangling of the Web (5 page)

The plea, however, only resulted in Josie shrugging her shoulders again. After a long, uncomfortable pause, Mrs Coggins lifted a handbell from her desk and rang it vigorously. The summons was answered by a young pregnant woman, who was then instructed by Mrs Coggins to take Josie to dormitory five and to allocate her a bed.

The months she had to endure in the hostel without the support of Sally or any of her friends from home dragged for Josie. Every day for the first three months she would go out for a walk and post a letter to Roy. Never in the letters did she say anything other than how she was and where she was staying. She had hoped he would come and rescue her, but by the fifth month of her pregnancy she concluded he had abandoned her. For the next month, every night she cried herself to sleep, vowing she would get vengeance for herself by treating every other man that came into her life with the contempt he deserved.

November’s chill winds were blowing when Josie’s labour started. Their howling reminded her of their presence in February when she had willingly allowed Roy to get her into the mess she was in. Six hours later, the winds had ebbed to a breeze and Josie’s agony came to an end. ‘A beautiful little girl you have,’ the midwife crooned. ‘Look.’ Now the nurse brought the swaddled child close to Josie’s face. She found it difficult not to look. And it was true she longed to take the child in her arms, but she knew if she did that she would be unable to stick to her resolve.

To the midwife’s astonishment, Josie turned her head away. ‘Look. I have said, more than once, she must be adopted, so just take her now.’

‘But surely you would like one little … ?’ protested the nurse.

Josie felt her determination waning, so to bolster herself she screamed, ‘Just take her away!’

Two weeks later Josie left the hostel, but she didn’t return to Edinburgh. For the next three years she worked in English hotels as a live-in chambermaid. During all of that time she had wanted to contact Sally and go home. She was always deterred by fact she would have to explain to the family why she had run away: to tell them the truth, which she certainly wasn’t prepared to do.

Josie was working as a chambermaid in a hotel in Manchester. Her partnering workmate, Emma, had a habit of annoying her by always spouting rubbish that Josie didn’t wish to hear. To cope with this annoyance, Josie would just turn herself off. That was until the day she heard Emma utter, ‘And the hotels up in Blackpool, now they have the illuminations up and running again, are crying out for staff. Wages are better than here; only drawback is it’s seasonal. But see they Scots people, you know them that talk like you, they don’t half tip well.’

‘Scots folk?’ queried Josie. ‘But what have they to do with Blackpool?’

‘Go for the September weekend so they do. Come down from Glasgow, Dundee and Edinburgh by the bus loads just to see the lights.’ Emma paused and put a clean pillowslip on a pillow, and as she pulled it straight she licked her lips and muttered, ‘So it’s so long to here and hello Blackpool for me.’

‘When are you going?’

‘Put my week’s notice in yesterday.’

Before Emma could go on, Josie sped from the room and up to the manager’s office.

Blackpool seemed to Josie to be just magical. Not only were the illuminations just fantastic but so were the fairgrounds, the theatre shows and of course the gypsy who told you your fortune once you had crossed her hand with silver – which had to be no less than two half-crowns.

Both she and Emma were employed in the same hotel. Not any hotel would have done: Josie she insisted that she would only work where people from Edinburgh had booked in for the autumn weekend. True, it was just July, but she was sure her plan would work. And didn’t she now have the word of the gypsy who had read her hand. Oh yes, Gypsy Rose Lee had assured her everything would work out as she had planned. The only problem she could see for Josie was that of a man, not British, who had a grudge against her and would make trouble for her in the future if she riled him further. So she was cautioned to be careful.

When the buses arrived from Edinburgh in September, Josie was poorly with a cold. The hotel manager suggested that she should take some time off to nurse her affliction but she refused. As soon as the guests disembarked, she was down on the pavement asking if she could assist anyone with their cases.

She couldn’t believe her luck when Flora Stuart replied, ‘That would–’ However, Flora, her mouth agape, broke off abruptly. ‘Oh dear God in heaven please tell me I’m no dreaming,’ she exclaimed. ‘It is you, Josie, isn’t it?’ she hollered, holding Josie by the shoulders. ‘But of course it’s you. Nobody else could have such a bonny, bonny face.’

Josie wriggled herself free. ‘Oh Flora, please don’t tell anyone you found me,’ she lied.

‘That’ll be right.’ She stopped to ponder before adding, ‘No, I won’t tell them, because when I leave on Monday morning you’ll be on the bus with me.’

During the whole journey from Blackpool back to Elgin Terrace, Josie rehearsed again and again what she was going to say about her disappearance. The only way she could justify her vanishing without telling anyone was to lie. This would pose no problem to Josie because it was an art she was now an expert at. To be truthful, she had told so many lies that she herself wasn’t quite sure what the truth was about anything now.

So when Sally asked for an explanation, Josie was ready with her pat answer. Hanging her head, she began, ‘Oh Sally, I have missed you so. B-b-b-but you have to try and understand why I couldn’t tell you …’ She paused to ensure she was having the right effect on her sister and, satisfying herself that she was, she drew in two deep breaths before hesitantly continuing through gushing tears, ‘A man, who I thought was our friend, our friend, Sally … tried it on with me and when I refused to be sullied by him he threatened to tell you all I had led him on!’ She stopped again to wipe the tears from her eyes, then sighing loudly she slowly continued, ‘You see … he said that if ever I should tell anyone … about his advances he would give me … such a doing that nobody …’ she stopped to run her hand over her face, ‘… would ever think me beautiful again!’

‘And I bet I know who you’re talking about. None other than that despot Paddy,’ Sally hissed.

The words had just left Sally’s mouth when Josie was gripped by terror. She had never meant to identify anyone, least of all Paddy, so quickly. Without a sign of a tear or a sigh, she added, ‘No. No, it wasn’t him.’

No matter how much she tried to convince Sally that in no way was Paddy to blame for her disappearance, Sally just wouldn’t budge from her interpretation of Josie’s story because that was what she wanted to believe.

* * *

Frustrated by Sally’s reluctance to give her an answer as to whether she could move in or not, Josie suddenly lifted her suitcase up and banged it down on the table.

Sally, however, was completely oblivious to Josie’s action. She was too busy thinking that there had never been any problem in the past with Josie moving in because Sally would have bedded her down with her two daughters. But Margo was now fifteen and working and was quite happy to share her bed with her nine-year-old sister Helen but would not be willing to do so with Josie, who reeked of cigarette smoke. But what really made things awkward now was that eight-year-old Bobby had problems with his legs and Sally always insisted he had a bed to himself.

Suddenly Josie broke into Sally’s thoughts when she thrust a carrier bag into Sally’s hand. ‘What’s this?’ she asked, peering into the bag.

‘Things of Mammy’s. Dear Paddy,’ she spat through gritted teeth, ‘thought now that Mum was gone they really belonged to us. Tossed them out the door after me when he threw me out for no
good reason
other than …’ Josie allowed her voice to trail off and she had the grace to blush slightly when she acknowledged she was not telling Sally the truth. No way could she bring herself to say,
Look Sally, he evicted me because he said he only put up with me squatting at Iona Street because Mammy was dying. But now she is gone he wished me to know that he knew all about the slur I had put on his reputation. He even added that he knew the truth about me and if I wasn’t careful to stay out of his sight he would tell everyone that I was nothing other than a lying, conniving slut.

‘Oh look, Josie, here in the bag is a bundle of letters addressed to you.’ Sally flicked through the bundle to make sure they were all for Josie and halfway through she gasped. ‘And most are from America.’

Wrenching the bundle from Sally’s hand, Josie sat down and opened the first letter. ‘Dear Josie,’ it read, ‘I know that, like me, your heart will be broken today. How cruel it was that my lovely son was killed in an automobile accident on the day he landed in France.’

Josie, her breath coming in short pants, rose up and, clutching the letters close to her bosom, ran from the room and into the bathroom. Sally immediately followed her but found that the bathroom door was firmly shut and locked. ‘What’s wrong, Josie?’ she pleaded, banging on the door. ‘Let me in. You know you can tell me anything.’ But the door stayed firmly closed.

Sitting on the lavatory seat, Josie first put the letters from Roy’s mother into date order and only then did she begin to read them. The first letter had shaken her and she wished she had confided her pregnancy to Sally. Had she done that she knew she would not be in the position today where she regretted her hasty and unnatural behaviour. The second letter only added to her distress in that Roy’s mother had written that only now, some four months on, had she received her son’s belongings and in it were Josie letters. She wished Josie to know that she was thrilled to learn her son would live on through a grandchild. Mrs Yorkston wrote that she would be delighted if Josie would travel to America, where she would be cherished and looked after, as would the child when he or she arrived. The third letter was pointedly critical of Josie’s actions. Mrs Yorkston wrote that she had been in touch with the home in Morecambe and that Mrs Coggins, the matron, had advised her that Josie had given birth to her granddaughter. And for some reason that was beyond her comprehension, Josie had chosen not to keep the child and had handed her over for adoption, which was to take place very soon. ‘Why could you not have trusted me?’ the letter chided. ‘All I want is to be able to love my son’s child and be part of her life.’

Josie was now consumed with regrets and guilt.
Trusted you, Mrs Yorkston? I was fifteen, terrified and alone. You say that you wish you could have been part of Roy’s child’s life. Do you think I don’t? Don’t you realise that never does a day go by that I don’t think of her? Worry about her? Wonder if she’s having a happy childhood? Pray that it’s not like mine was? No love. No laughter. All I ever knew were tears and abuse.

Sally’s insistent banging on the door again and demanding to be let in brought an end to Josie berating herself. Reluctantly, she rose up and unlocked the door.

‘Look, Josie,’ Sally began as she dragged Josie into an embrace. ‘I’ve just been talking to Flora and she says it’s natural you’re upset, very upset, about Mammy dying. I didn’t realise that, even for us, that it would be such a sad day when you lost your mother. Okay, she wasn’t the best, but she was all we had.’

Josie began sobbing again.
Mother,
she thought.
That bitch that we call mother got my precious letters ten years ago. She opened them. Read them. Could have given me peace and joy and yet she let me suffer. Prolonged my agony, she did. Why? Dear God, please tell me why?

By sheer force Sally had dragged Josie into the living room, and sitting her down on a chair and massaging her hands, she confided, ‘Look, Flora and I didn’t say, but Sweet William is leaving in a fortnight. His dad has died and he’s going back to Smithton to run the croft for his mother.’ What Flora and Sally had never told Josie was that William’s father had turned him out of Smithton when he discovered that William was homosexual, but now he was gone William could go back to where his heart had ever been.

‘But what has William leaving to do with me?’ speered Josie.

‘Just that Flora and I think that you should take over the wee basement flat when he vacates it. But no running backwards and forwards and leaving me with no rent while you do another season. You’re twenty-five now. It’s time to put down roots. You need to get a permanent job and make a life for yourself.’

Josie nodded.

‘Just one thing more.’ Sally hummed and hawed before adding, ‘And no men staying the night. This is a respectable home. Oh, look at the time, Harry will be home soon and he’s out singing tonight.’

When Harry was just a wee lad of seven, he couldn’t believe that at last it was holiday time from Lorne Street primary school.

This meant that sharp at six o’clock tomorrow morning he and his mother would be travelling on the train from Edinburgh to Inverness and then on to Smithton, Culloden. The journey to Smithton would be by pony and trap, an extravagance according to his mother, but as Granny had ordered the coachman to pick them up she had to thole it. Once they arrived at Granny’s croft house, he knew his mother would moan about having to pay for the last leg of their journey. ‘Mother,’ she would exclaim, ‘we have travelled all the way from Edinburgh to Inverness and not a penny has it cost us …’

‘Aye,’ Granny would butt in, ‘because with your Colin working on the railway you get free passes for the trains, which are paid for by fare-paying customers like me.’

Flora wouldn’t respond to her mother’s gripe except to say, ‘And with what that highwayman charged me I wish to goodness the train lines extended to here.’

The other bonus with not having to pay for the train was when they boarded at Edinburgh, Harry’s mother, wishing to appear prosperous, would proceed to the dining car and order breakfast. This was the place those who were considered to be doing ‘better’ dined. The tables were adorned with white starched table linen and brightly polished silver knives and forks. The menu was good and varied, but all Mum ever ordered for both of them was
one
plate of bacon and eggs with plenty of bread and tea.