The Tin-Kin (29 page)

When she’s finally stopped greeting she starts tae talk, quiet, nearly a whisper. I look up. She’s wiping her nose with the hanky, still starin out at the park.

‘I cannae see you any more. They’re sending me away, to Aberdeen.’

My arms are stretched out on the table, reaching for her, but she doesnae touch my hands. I look down intae my empty cup, and she starts greeting again.

‘Your da was at the station today,’ I say again, cause I cannae think what else tae tell her, and I’m sure he’s the reason. She doesnae say anything for ages, and it’s me lookin out the windae now. There’s a bird on the lake, ruffling its feathers against the chill.

‘Maybe I could have a word,’ I say. I ken it’s a desperate idea already, the way he was looking at me in the station, like I wasnae fit tae sell him a ticket. Lolly doesnae even bother answering. Her face crumples and I decide we have tae get outside. I make a neat pile ae coins on the tabletop and screech back in my chair, hands in my pooches. ‘Come on,’ I say. ‘I need some air.’

When we’re out the café, we walk side by side tae the edge ae the lake. There’s a film ae ice on the surface.

‘Might snow later,’ I go, as if everything was fine.

‘I should go home. I cannae stay,’ she says, and she turns away. I stop her, hoping that’s what she wants.

‘Loll!’ I cannae think how to make her change her mind so I just ask anything. ‘Did you like the photos I took?’

‘Aye, they were nice,’ she says.

This is useless. Before it’s too late, I pull her towards me and wrap my arms round her, hold on tight. She’s stiff as a post, pushing at me tae leave her alone, but she’s shivering with cold an all. When the warmth grows between us she loosens up a wee bit. I feel her start tae calm herself, and I whisper till she rests her cheek on my shoulder. The song off the jukebox is still going round my heid.

I dinnae ken what I tell her next, whatever I can think of tae make her stay. Some ae the things I blurt out make her greet even more, but this time I dinnae mind. She holds me tighter and it seems tae be working, so I keep at it.

If you would let me spend my whole life lovin’ you
Life could be a dream, sweetheart.

We start walking again. We head down by the river towards the Devil’s Hole, the way we’ve gone so many times before. I start shivering and she gies me her scarf. Keep it, she tells me, and I cannae speak for a few minutes cause I ken I’ll greet if I do.

Somewhere along the path we hear barking and Rascal tears down the bank from the top ae Hill Street. I’m more glad than ever to see him. He follows for a while, his tail wagging as he winds through the trees.

Soon we’re standing on the bridge in the gloaming, lookin
intae the hole in the river. I try kissing her on her cheeks but she pushes me off and that makes me angry. All she says again and again is no, and no, stubborn as a bloody coo. She makes me feel like a stupid wee boy. I ken I’m making an idiot ae myself but I put my arm round her. It’s my last move, and I ken already it’s useless, but it’s better than kissing her goodbye. She’ll meet some other lad at the dances, one who could marry her next week. Her father willnae be ashamed ae him.

Lolly wriggles away from my touch. I pull my hand back and clamp it round the rail ae the bridge. My knuckles go white. Maybe they’ve met already then, her and the new dreamboat. I ask her what’s wrong. It’s a stupid thing tae say cause it’s fairly obvious what’s up, the way she’s carrying on. Maybe her father has found out. Maybe he is sending her away. But she could still be with someone else already. What if he lives in Aberdeen? I clench my jaw.

If you would tell me I’m the only one that you love
Life could be a dream, sweetheart.

I snap, wanting tae ken who he is, and Lolly gets a shock. I’ve never raised my voice like that before with her. I’m sorry already.

She starts crying.

‘I’m having your baby,’ she says. ‘Father’s sending me to Aberdeen, and when it’s born they said they’ll give it away.’

The look ae her hits me like a smack. They’re giein it away! That’s the bit she greets over, like the words were biting her tongue. And then she reels away from me like she’s draggin in a net, a secret she was meant to keep. She starts buttoning her coat furiously. And before I can say anything – We were careful! – Nae careful enough, though, eh? – she’s running away down the path.

I try and go after her, but it’s dark and I cannae see where she’s gone. I close my eyes, let her go. Rascal finds me again
later, slumped against a wall like a deid man. He whines in my ear till I run my fingers through tufts ae his fur.

I ken what’ll happen. It’s nae like it is with us. We look after our babies and help each other, no matter what, like Granny did taking in Big Ellen. We used tae care for other people’s bairns an all, the unwanted ones. Some country folk would do anything tae get rid ae the poor wee souls that came before marriage. They’d swaddle them and put them on the cart with the scrap, and we’d have tae drive them round till they found a new family. That’s how the Bissaker and Jeannie’s Peter came along. Jugs remembers it all from when he was wee. Ma and Father took one or two unwanted babbies themselves. Ma let Jugs hold them in the cart. If the babies were lucky, they’d find a couple that couldnae have bairns, people who hadnae had a son, or a wifey with six boys and wanting a lassie more than anything. But more often than not it was a dour-faced farmer and his wife that needed an extra pair ae hands in the fields. Poor craiturs. But no one puts bairnies on the cart these days. They’re sending Lolly away, ashamed ae her.

I wonder about asking Ma for help. She’ll tell me tae bring the baby intae the family. She couldnae care less if me and Lolly are unmarried. She and Father never married in a church themselves. If you were together you were together, and kinchins were God’s blessing enough – that’s how they saw it. But Lolly’s father wouldnae agree. His daughter living with the likes ae us? No chance. Even if I got us a council house, he’d disown her for ever.

Wee Betsy comes along the river as I’m sitting there. She’s out late in the dark and it’s after teatime. She nearly trips over me. Any other night I’d see her in safe, but I cannae face goin back home. I shout at her and make her cry, and she runs off on her own. When she’s gone I get to my feet and I start greeting too. It stings, bloody great tears rolling down my cheeks as I walk. I’m headed up the street. I try tae hide
behind the scarf Lolly gave me. It smells sweet like her. I wrap it over my nose, pushing my fingers under my oxters and bending forward intae the wind. The scratchy wool on my face makes the stinging worse, but I dinnae mind that. I think ae Lolly so hard it hurts.

Nae much folk out tonight. It’s too cal. But I’ll not go back tae the Lane. I cannae face the chance that Ma or Jeannie’ll still be awake, and the Bissaker and Duncan could be late in the yard, wanting me tae help. Sod that. I’ll go for a drink somewhere, keep warm. Maybe some ae the lads will be in the pub, or maybe the station boys. I’ve still got the money that would ae been for the pictures, and quite a bit on top from my wages. The folk in the pictures will be coming out soon. I wonder if that film was any good.

I get tae the City Hotel around half past eight. I have tae stop twice on the way when first one shoe, then the other, falls off. It’s the ones Duncan got me after Wee Betsy and Rachel dropped my boots in the fire. I’ve nae got thick enough socks tae keep the new ones on.

I get to the hotel eventually. Tommy the Barra, an old pal, he drinks here when he’s in town. I heard he’d come round these parts again lately, biding at the Bogs ae Mayne. I let the door slam behind me and peer round the bar for him. Rascal sees him first, and I follow where he’s headed. Sure enough, there’s the Barra, sat in his favourite seat by the leaded window. His face brightens, all cheery, and he motions at me tae join him. I order us a Double Century each and find myself swallowing all mention ae my troubles with the first few sips.

‘Why the lang face?’ the Barra says. ‘Isn’t every day payday for Jocky Terns? Father tells me ye’ve a job at the station.’

The Barra gies me a wallop on the back and asks me what I’ll drink next. I shake my head but he says he’ll line up a double for me and goes off tae the bar.

It’s grand tae see the Barra again. I swallow doun a good
measure and get a rush ae hot blood through me. It’s a feeling I need tae keep hold of tonight, for as long as I can anyway. I slam my empty glass on the table and the Barra lifts his finger tae the barman for more of the same, his face cracked with laughter.

‘Jocky Terns, auld pal. Terns, eh? Remember how we aie called ye that?

My evenin with Lolly’s already fadin away, drowning in the waves of laughter that lap through the bar.

   STITCHES   

A
uld Betsy, 1955

Night fell an hour ago an ah’ve nae left ma chair tae light the lamp. Nae even tae sort the fire. Ah’m sittin in the dark, sair awa wi it, sookin oan ma pipe. It’s a song an dance, death. Been near enough five days. Five sunrises. Five sunsets. The in-atween time afore his soul can go free. But time’s as stubborn as an auld yoke. Ah’ve been oan this earth lang enough tae ken that. Ye want whit’s gone, an ye dinnae like tae imagine whit comes next, sae yer mind rocks atween the twa, like me in ma chair, this wye, that wye. If ah could dae magic, ah’d rock back an bide in the past fer ever mair. But this is ma lot, time keeps shuntin along an taks me wi it, like sittin in a rusty wheelbarra, that’s whit ah told Duncan! Dear me, it’s a funny thing, God’s will.

Affae lot ae practice ah’ve haed at this. Nae difference, though, each time ah mourn it’s like the first time. Each time it’s worse cause ah mourn the lot ae them aw at once. He’s beside me, at least, hame safe wi me now. ‘Yer ma’s here tae tak care ae ye,’ ah whisper. Whit a haundsome loun ye are in thon uniform ae yours. Light ae the candle oan yer face. Even now. Yer dreamin. Sleepin deep. Oh, me! Is that a wee smile oan yer lips? Why would ye be smilin? Curly’s makin a cloutie dumplin. Can ye smell it, ah wonder? If ainly ye could. She’s comfortin her bairnies, like ah comfort you. Cloutie dumplin. Stuff tae melt the belly ae a snowman! O ho! Ha! Ha! Here, ma Jock, let’s pull thon blanket up roun yer lugs, keep the chill awa. But oh! Yer cheeks are stane cauld! Ah almost didnae mind. Ah hae tae sit back doun an bite hard oan ma pipe. Ah’d tell ye a story but ah
cannae think ae any. Aw ah can think ae is the questions goin roun ma heid.

The weather that night wouldae put frost oan the canvas. Ah’ll nivver be able tae forget it. Hellish date. Wis the kind ae night when ye were wee ye’d cuddle doun beside me, afore it wis even dark, wi Daddy an yer brothers an sisters. Aw ae us thegither. How mony times had ah tellt ye, Jock Terns? Ye cannae gang ootby wi nae coat. Ye’ll catch a death! The bairnies cooried in cosy when it wis bad oot. Is that whit did it son, the cauld? They’re sayin it wis yer hert, and that ye must’ve got intae a fight. But that disnae seem right at aw.

We were in the hoose wiout ye. Aw in oor beds, even Wee Betsy after her night-time wanderin adventures that scared her mammy half tae death. Ainly your bed wis empty, an outside it wis jeelin. Ah couldnae sleep. A bad feelin. Whit were ye thinkin? Abroad in the toun aw alane. Worse than Duncan wi the drink is whit we hear. Ah cannae understaund it. You styterin foo in the gutter? Shaness! Nae like you, ma Jock! Ah thought ye wis a good boy. Wan wi the brain, eh? An noo? . . .
oh.

Ah let ma pipe drop fae ma mou, place it oan the side ae the coffin, an ah stamp across the boards tae the windae. Cannae look at ye lyin there aw peaceful an silent ony mair. Ma hair’s swept back, but the loose bits at the front are aw wet fae greetin, stuck tae ma face. They feel cool in the draft fae the windae. Ah tug whit there is ae the curtains ower the pane but they’re nae big enough tae keep oot the light fae the gas lamp in the street.

Room’s aw sunk in the darkness when ah turn roun so ah light another candle. Ma shadow falls tae the flair. The ootline ae ma high collar an the bun in ma hair’s creepin like ivy ontae the cupboard door. An there’s the perfect shadow ae ma Jock’s face oan the wall. Him sleepin, sound as stone, a saint oan a tomb. Ah go back ower tae him.