Double Danger (2 page)

‘My mother and father bought the flat with money they earned at their stall.’

‘Oh, so they were market people?’

‘Yes, and I used to help them when I was wee. I ran around collecting the money and handing it up to them.’

‘What did you sell?’

‘Oh, lots of different things over the years. Dolls, handbags, canteens of cutlery, tea sets, jewellery. For a while, they went in for curtains and my father was called the curtain man. But I remember the dolls best. He’d pay about 25 shillings each for dolls and then sell them for £3, even £5 for a bigger doll.’

‘You’re not old enough to remember shillings and pence.’

They left the flat and she turned the key in the lock.

‘As I said, I was just a wee girl when I worked for them but my mother used to tell me things. We had many a good laugh, my mother and me.’

Out on the street, Jessica said, ‘Will we start here – I mean, will I tell you something about how the market started?’

Already she was beginning to feel a bit disturbed and fluttery. It was the way he was looking at her. It was difficult to concentrate on ancient history when the present was so close and pulsatingly vivid.

‘It was started in the early twenties by a woman called Maggie McIver. At thirteen, she was asked to look after a Parkhead vendor’s barrow and found that she was more successful than he was.’

‘At thirteen?’ Brian said. ‘That’s amazing.’

‘Within the year, she had a barrow of her own. Soon she married a fellow barrow trader called Samuel McIver and bought land and created a permanent market site. A folk singer called Matt McGinn belonged around here and knew the Barras well.’ She giggled and burst into one of his humorous songs.

Brian laughed and suddenly tucked her arm through his. ‘A good singer as well. Is there no end to your talents?’

She felt herself blush but pushed on.

‘There’s what was once the Barrowland Ballroom. Maggie McIver used to give all the hawkers a free meal with a drink and a dance at Christmas, but one year she couldn’t get the hall she wanted. So she built her own and called it the Barrowland Dance Hall.’

‘Quite a woman.’

‘Oh definitely.’

‘I wonder if Charles Dickens met her. Maybe his visit would be too early but he must have met people like her. He was so enthusiastic about the place. He said of his visit to Glasgow, “I have never been more heartily received anywhere or enjoyed myself more completely.” ’

‘That’s the best of having been to university,’ Jessica said. ‘You learn things like that.’

‘Oh, believe me, you’re exceptionally knowledgeable, Jessica, without any university education.’

‘I know a lot about Glasgow, right enough. I don’t think there’s a corner of it I don’t know about and haven’t been to. And of course they all know me at the library. I read every book I can find about Glasgow. The librarians keep aside any new books for me and let me have them when I go in. I spend a lot of my free time in the library. Or just wandering around all the streets.’

‘Well, I’ve been really lucky meeting you, Jessica. I couldn’t have found a better guide.’

He squeezed her arm against his chest and smiled down at her. She prayed he wouldn’t feel her fast-racing pulse. To help ignore the turmoil of her emotions, she burst into speech again.

‘Talking of Dickens, or at least of his time, the Saracen Head pub, or the Sarry Heid as it’s best known, dates back to the eighteenth century. It’s all dark and wood-panelled inside, and Black Angus – I think he’s still the owner – gives out whisky for next to nothing from a studio round the corner to tramps, thieves, hawkers, writers, poets and artists. Robert Burns visited Bridgeton and stayed at the Saracen Head Inn. So did Bothwell and Johnson on their way back from their Hebridean tour.’

‘How fascinating!’

‘Back that way is Parkhead, where Celtic football team play. This is a great Celtic area. I suppose you’ll know all about the terrible rivalry between Rangers and Celtic.’ She giggled. ‘There’s an old Glasgow joke about a Rangers supporter who was having a terrible argument with his wife and she accused him of loving Rangers more than he loved her. “Rangers?” the man bawled. “I love Celtic more than I love you!” ’

Brian gave a roar of laughter. ‘I must remember that one for the lads back at the compound.’

‘My boss, Margaret Mellors, is unusual. She likes both Celtic and Rangers. She goes to lots of their matches.’

‘My God – at her age?’

‘I don’t know what age she is. She’s widowed with a son and three grandchildren, right enough. She loves them to bits and her son, of course. She’s lucky there. He’s a nice man. He makes a good living and would never see her short of a bob or two. But she’s very independent. “I make my own good living,” she always says. “I don’t need any handouts.” But she tells me that her family are planning to emigrate to Australia soon and they’re trying to persuade her to go with them. There’s a great opportunity to expand his business out there apparently. Mrs Mellors is trying to persuade them to go without her. She’s promised she’ll join them later – I hope she means much, much later.’

‘She sounds a real feisty old girl. Is her flat in the same building as yours?’

‘Oh no. Like a lot of people who work in Glasgow, she lives in one of the villages in the Campsie Hills area. She took me out to her nice wee cottage one day during the week for tea and brought me all the way back home again. Of course, it’s only about half an hour or so from Glasgow to lots of country areas. Glasgow’s very well placed that way. Her family live near her out there and her son visits her nearly every day. The way she talks about that son of hers, you’d think he was a saint.’

‘You’re quite happy in your flat above the market, though?’

‘Oh yes, I love it. All the bustle and noise and so many people crowding about. I’d be bored to tears and restless out in Vale of Lennox. That’s the village where Mrs Mellors lives. It’s a nice wee cottage she’s got, though, and she likes it. Lots of her Glasgow friends live there, as well as her son.’

‘Well, of course, if her friends and family are nearby.’

‘Will we go up the High Street?’ Jessica asked. ‘And then on to Castle Street? That’s the oldest part of the city. There’s the Cathedral and the Necropolis and the Royal Infirmary, and across the road, the oldest house in the city. It’s called Provand’s Lordship. A lot of famous people stayed there, including Mary Queen of Scots.’

‘As long as you’re not getting too tired.’

‘No, I’m OK.’

‘We’ll stop for lunch soon.’

‘Yes, OK. The first thing I think about Provand’s Lordship is that at different times, it was an ale house, a sweet shop and a cabinet maker’s place. Now it’s a museum.’

‘Will we be able to go in and have a look around?’

‘Oh yes. By the way, there’s a bronze statue of a horse on top of an eight-foot plinth in a wee park between the church and the High Street and it’s the only bronze statue in the world with a movable plinth. In a strong wind, the horse wags its tail.’

Brian laughed. ‘You’re joking!’

‘No, honestly. Its tail really does move. I’ve seen it.’

‘I’ll believe that when I see it.’

‘The High Court is up there. That’s where the last public hanging was done. He was an English doctor called Pritchard. A huge crowd apparently came to see him being hanged for poisoning his wife and his mother-in-law.’

When they reached the Trongate and Argyle Street, Brian suggested relaxing over a meal before they walked any further.

They found a restaurant and settled together in a quiet corner. For a moment, he stared at her and when she was about to burst into speech again, he placed a gentle finger on her mouth.

‘Ssh. I just want to look at you for a minute.’

After he took his hand away, she said miserably,

‘I’ve been talking far too much. I’ve been a right bore.’

‘No, you have not. You definitely have not been boring me. I’m loving every minute of your company. You’re a fascinating person to be with – full of energy, and knowledge, and passion.’

Well, he was right about the passion, she thought. But she had never felt passionate before she’d met him.

She tried to keep quiet over the meal and he did not speak much either. He smiled at her, though, and when his dark eyes met hers, the feelings she thought she saw in them made her cheeks burn.

She remembered the warning Mrs Mellors had given her.

‘He’s a man of the world and you’re just a wee lassie.’

She had a moment’s panic. She even wished Mrs Mellors was there with her, by her side now, making her feel protected and safe, as she always did. Mrs Mellors had been like a mother to her since her own mother had died.

But the moment passed and they began to talk again and she felt lucky and happy and excited again. Lucky to have such a handsome man of the world interested in her and admiring her. Excited to think of what might happen between them.

Jessica was engulfed in a dark strength. His weight was on top of her. His electricity was inside her. She felt dizzy. She trembled violently. She had never felt so wildly happy. Eventually he rolled away from her.

‘There’s someone at your door,’ he said.

She’d never heard a sound.

Hastily she scrambled up. She was still fully dressed except for her knickers. He got up too as she made her way from the bedroom door and then out to the lobby.

Mrs Mellors stood on the doorstep.

‘Are you all right, Jessie?’

‘Yes, fine thanks.’

‘You’re all red and trembling. You don’t look all right. Can I come in?’

Reluctantly Jessica stood aside and allowed the older woman to enter. They arrived in the kitchen to find Brian Anderson switching on the electric kettle.

‘I thought a cup of tea was in order.’

‘Oh yes, thanks,’ Jessica said. ‘I could do with one.’

‘Why? What have you been up to?’ Mrs Mellors asked.

But Brian answered, ‘She’s a big girl now.’

‘No, she is not. She’s just an innocent wee lassie.’

‘I’m fine. Honestly. Are you staying for a cup of tea?’

‘Aye, just to make sure.’

‘Make sure of what?’

‘I’d better go,’ Brian said.

‘Oh!’ Jessica was deflated. She knew it couldn’t last. ‘Right. I’ll see you to the door.’

At the outside door, he gathered her into his arms, kissed her gently, then said, ‘I’ll pick you up tomorrow at the same time.’

She immediately brightened.

‘OK, great!’

Back in the kitchen, Mrs Mellors was filling the teapot. Jessica danced around the table, her long mop of hair bouncing and jazzing about.

‘Sit down,’ Mrs Mellors commanded. ‘I knew that fella wouldn’t do you any good.’

Jessica burst into song. ‘I feel happy, oh so happy …’

‘I don’t suppose it has occurred to you for one second that after he got his wicked way with you, he’d disappear off to Saudi Arabia and that’s the last you’d ever see of him. He just wants to pass his time with somebody while he’s here. Make use of them like he’s making use of you.’

‘Och, Mrs Mellors, there’s no harm done.’

‘You think so? Did either of you use contraceptives?’

Jessica fell silent. In all the excitement, she hadn’t remembered about that.

‘I thought not. Now you could be left on your own and pregnant.’

Jessica thanked God for Mrs Mellors. She’d never be alone as long as she had her.

‘He’s coming for me tomorrow again. I expect he’ll see me all the time he’s here on leave. We didn’t get time to go up the High Street and Castle Street yesterday.’ She sighed with pleasure. ‘We got talking. Oh, Mrs Mellors, he’s really an awful nice man. I don’t believe he’d want to do me any harm.’

‘You wouldn’t believe anything bad about anybody. You’re a right wee softie. And he’s seen that. He’s no’ daft.’ She poured the tea. ‘Drink that. It’ll calm you down.’

‘Is it so wrong to feel happy?’

‘No, Jessie, it’s no’ wrong to feel happy.’

‘Well then.’

‘Just don’t expect too much and don’t expect it to last forever.’

‘No, I won’t. I promise.’

But she secretly wanted it to last forever. She prayed, fervently prayed, that it would last forever. She wanted to dance madly around the room again but managed to control the urge for Mrs Mellors’ sake. With an almost superhuman effort, she remained sitting, eyes lowered, sipping tea.

Next day, at nine o’clock on the dot, the doorbell rang and as soon as she opened the door, Brian took her in his arms and gave her a long kiss.

‘I’m all ready to go,’ she said eventually, breathlessly. ‘I see you’ve got your man bag ready too.’

She didn’t ask him in and they proceeded arm-in-arm down the stairs. This time they strode along at a good pace, and this time didn’t stop so early for lunch. They turned up the High Street and went into the oldest house in Glasgow, Provand’s Lordship.

‘Look at how tiny the rooms are,’ Jessica said. ‘Isn’t it amazing to think that anyone, far less Mary Queen of Scots, could stay in a wee place like this?’

Soon they were standing back from the road gazing at the gothic Cathedral.

‘It gives me the shivers,’ Jessica said, ‘when I think of all the poor people burned in front of that place. By one of the bishops, too. It’s enough to put you off religion.’

‘I know. There’s been so much death and cruelty and wars all down through the ages in the name of religion.’

‘What has it all got to do with gentle Jesus who preached turn the other cheek and love your neighbour?’

‘I’ve often asked myself that.’

Next to the Cathedral but fronting the street was the huge Royal Infirmary.

Brian said, ‘Now, I know about what happened in there. That’s one bit of Glasgow history I did learn at university. Joseph Lister introduced an antiseptic system that revolutionised surgery. The United States ambassador to Britain said at the time, “My Lord, it is not a profession, it is not a nation, it is humanity itself which, with uncovered head, salutes you.” ’

‘That’s right. I read that in one of the books about Glasgow I got in the library,’ Jessica said.

‘Good for you. You see, you didn’t need to go to any university. You’ve had an excellent education and you did it all by yourself.’