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Authors: Doris Davidson

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Monday Girl (29 page)

BOOK: Monday Girl
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‘An’ what aboot yersel’? Is there a nice man in your life?’

‘Not at the moment, but I’m living in hope.’

‘Is Father still keeping well?’ Anne asked.

Maggie frowned. ‘Nae that great. He’s got a real bad cough, but he winna gi’e up the pipe . . . mind you, I like the smell o’ his Bogey Roll.’

‘Make him see the doctor if it doesn’t clear up,’ Anne advised. ‘He shouldn’t let a cough run on.’

‘Och, I’d be as weel speakin’ to that table there as tell yer father to go to the doctor.’ Maggie laughed and the talk reverted to the usual catechism about Anne’s boarders, past and present.

Jack Thomson’s next visit made Renee resolve to stop considering him as anything more than a very good friend. She felt her heart stir at the sight of him and his dear ‘cow’s lick’, but, if he cared for her at all – only a tenderness she caught in his eyes once or twice suggested that he did – he would try to spend more time with her, not just a couple of hours on his way to Peterhead.

Anne, eternally hopeful, left them alone while she prepared the tea, but Jack spoke only of episodes in North-umberland, where he was stationed now.

At the table, Kitty Miller showed him her engagement ring. ‘I was hooked first, lover-boy,’ she laughed. ‘Though I can’t understand why you’re still footloose and fancy free.’ Jack grinned and tapped his nose with his forefinger. ‘I have my moments, but I haven’t been caught yet.’ Although she laughed along with the others, Renee wasn’t at all amused. This must be his way of letting her know that he was no longer interested in her, and it hurt. He helped to clear the table and dried the dishes for her, while Anne went through to the living room, shutting the scullery door behind her. Renee thought, wistfully, that her mother had more faith than she had, and a small vestige of hope flickered in her heart. Doing her best to sound casual, she asked, ‘Do you have any girlfriends just now?’

‘A few.’ He was smiling, but his eyes seemed to be riveted on the plate he was drying. ‘It’s great to be free to have a good time with whoever you like, isn’t it?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Renee said, quickly. ‘I feel just the same.’

A full minute passed before he said, quietly, his head still averted, ‘You’ll be keeping yourself for Fergus, of course.’

This enraged her, and her dashed hopes made her snap.

‘For God’s sake, Jack, how often do I have to tell you? It was all over between Fergus and me nearly two years ago. I’ve never seen him since, and I don’t want to ever see him again.’

‘Where is he just now?’ he asked, softly.

‘He was in the Middle East the last I knew, but I don’t care. The further away, the better.’

‘Yes?’ Jack’s scepticism was so evident that she could have slapped him. ‘He must have written to you if you know where he is.’

‘It’s no good speaking to you, Jack Thomson,’ she said, hotly. ‘You don’t believe me, whatever I say.’ What was the point of explaining to him that it had been Jeanette Morrison who had found out where he was, and that Jeanette had borne his child? Jack was just as obsessed by the certainty that Renee still loved Fergus, as she’d been by the certainty that Fergus loved her – until he proved that he didn’t. The air was alive with tension, and she set each dish on the draining board with a thump, which did nothing to ease either her feelings or the situation.

After a few minutes, Jack said lightly, ‘I must tell you this, Renee, you’ll have a good laugh. I was on late duty one night about three weeks ago, and when I went back to the billets there was a cake of chocolate lying on my bed. The lad next to me said the girl in the shop had sent it over for me, so I ate it all – it wasn’t very big.’

In spite of her anger, Renee wanted to hear why this had proved so funny. ‘Was it meant for somebody else?’ Even if it had been, she thought, it wouldn’t be all that funny.

His mouth twisted to the side. ‘No, it was meant for me, right enough, but it was Ex-Lax, not chocolate. One of the lads had taken off the paper for a lark. But I bet you can imagine what happened to me after.’

Understanding now, Renee burst out laughing. Jack had eaten a whole cake of laxative chocolate, and she had no difficulty in guessing what had happened after that.

‘I was on the trot for about a day and a half, and the pains in my stomach . . . Oooh!’ He shuddered at the memory.

Her face sobered. ‘It wasn’t really funny, though. It was kind of cruel, really. Why did the girl do it?’

Jack lifted his shoulders. ‘Oh, I used to tease her a bit, and she meant it as a joke. She didn’t think I’d eat it. She was really upset when she found out what happened, and, of course, the rest of the lads didn’t let me forget about it for ages.’

When Renee saw him out, later, he shook hands and said gravely, ‘So remember, don’t accept chocolate from boyfriends, for you never know what it could lead to.’ He walked down the path, chuckling, and she smiled as she went in to relate the incident to her mother. In bed, she reflected that it had been good to be laughing with him again. She didn’t want to lose his friendship. After the war, he would come back, and who knew what could develop?

 

 
Chapter Nineteen

 

After breakfast one Sunday morning just before Christmas 1941, Anne said, ‘Fred’s bringing another sergeant with him this afternoon. He’s had a ‘‘Dear John’’ letter from his girl, and he’s feeling pretty low.’

Renee frowned. She hoped they weren’t expecting her to cheer up this disappointed Romeo. ‘And whose brilliant idea was it to ask him here?’

‘I felt sorry for him.’

When Fred came in, he was accompanied by a tall, dark-haired man, a good bit younger than himself, with high cheekbones and a chiselled nose. ‘Glynn, this is Mrs Gordon and her daughter, Renee. Ladies, I’d like you to meet Glynn Williams.’

‘How do you do?’ the other sergeant murmured shyly.

‘Sit down, Glynn.’ Anne motioned to the settee, where Renee was now sitting sedately having been sprawled out on it before they arrived.

As she shook hands with the stranger, the girl looked up into the most gorgeous blue eyes she’d ever seen – fathomless pools of sadness, gleaming now with . . . could it be admiration? Her heart leapt so madly that she couldn’t speak. Glynn also remained silent while Anne and Fred chatted to each other, until Renee pulled herself together and turned to him. ‘How do you like Aberdeen?’

‘It’s a beautiful city, so clean and sparkling.’

His lilting Welsh accent made her wish he would carry on speaking. She could listen to him for ever. ‘Are you regular army, too?’

‘No. I was in the Territorials before the war, but I like army life.’

‘What part of Wales do you come from?’

‘It’s a little place you’ll never have heard of, in Carmarthen. Porthcross, it is, between Llanelli and Llandeilo.’ Renee clapped her hands in delight. ‘Say that again, please.’

He wrinkled his brow. ‘Porthcross, between Llanelli and Llandeilo? Is that what you mean?’

‘Yes. It’s really lovely.’ She attempted to say the last two musical Welsh names, and he laughed at her mispronunciation.

‘No, it’s more like your Scottish ‘‘ch’’ sound in ‘‘loch’’. Not exactly, but it’s the nearest. Listen. Llanelli and Llandeilo.’ She tried again. ‘Chlanechly and Chlandylo.’

‘Not bad.’

‘Listen, Mum.’ Renee repeated the names with gusto, and Glynn nodded when she got it almost right.

Anne looked mystified. ‘What’s that?’

‘It’s where Glynn belongs. A little place called Porthcross, between . . .’ She took a deep breath and repeated the names once more. ‘Chlanechly and Chlandylo. It’s like a stream running over stones, isn’t it? Really beautiful.’ She sat back, pleased that she had mastered the words.

Glynn was applauding her, and they all laughed, but she caught Fred giving her mother a meaningful wink. They were definitely trying to matchmake, but it was Glynn Williams they would have to work on. Renee Gordon was already hooked.

‘I still don’t know where any of these places are,’ she told him. ‘What’s the nearest big town?’

‘Llanelli’s a fair old size, but Swansea’s the nearest large city.’ His eyes held more than admiration now. Attraction, perhaps? They were completely at ease with each other now, and exchanged information about themselves until it was time to go through to the dining room, Anne and Fred having already attended to the dishing up and carrying in.

Flora and Kitty had been invited out to tea by a girl they’d made friends with at the skating rink, so only Hilda and Nora sat down with the Gordons and their two guests. Fred, of course, knew them already, and chatted to them companionably, but Glynn seemed uncomfortable in the presence of so many strangers.

At the end of the meal, Anne said, ‘Are you two going out tonight?’

It was Hilda who answered. ‘No, it’s snowing, so we’re going to have a quiet evening in. We’ll stay in our own room, though.’

‘Don’t let yourselves be cold,’ Anne told her. ‘Use the electric fire, that’s what it’s there for.’

‘We will, Mrs G., thanks.’ Hilda poked her room-mate.

‘Are you finished, Titch? Come on, then, upstairs – at the double.’

Fred and Glynn insisted on washing up, so Anne and Renee went to sit by the coal fire in the living room.

‘What do you think of him?’ Anne spoke in a soft whisper, in case he would overhear.

‘He’s gorgeous,’ Renee whispered back. ‘If you and Fred are trying to pair us off, I’m more than willing.’

Anne giggled. ‘He does look very nice, and you seemed to get on well. I’m going to ask him to come back with Fred on Tuesday night, so I hope you’ll stay in.’

‘Wild horses wouldn’t drag me out.’ Something that her grandmother had once said, ages ago, came into Renee’s mind. ‘You’ll know your Mr Right when he comes along.’ Granny, as usual, had known what she was speaking about. Renee did know that her Mr Right had come along. Mr Glynn Williams Right. She only hoped that he would recognise the fact, too. Although she was sure, beyond all doubt, that Glynn was the man who was meant for her, Renee told no one how she felt. She somehow believed that it would bring bad luck to talk about it.

Anne had no such qualms. As soon as they went into Maggie’s house the following Saturday, she said, ‘I think Renee’s smitten with Fred’s friend, Glynn Williams. Remember, I told you he was coming to tea last Sunday?’

The old lady’s eyes lit up. ‘A new romance, eh, Renee?’

‘He’s quite nice,’ the girl admitted, wishing that her mother wouldn’t interfere.

Anne laughed derisively. ‘
Quite
nice? The understatement of the year. You should have seen them, Mother, sitting looking at each other like dying ducks.’ Maggie had recognised that this Glynn meant something to Renee. The girl usually babbled on about her boyfriends, and her reluctance to discuss him was significant.

‘I invited him back on Tuesday along with Fred,’ Anne went on, insensitive to her daughter’s reserve. ‘He asked Renee to go out with him on Wednesday, and they went out on Thursday and Friday, as well.’ She looked archly at Renee, but the girl kept her head down.

‘Aye, it’s grand to be young,’ Maggie remarked. ‘An’

how’s yer ain romance comin’ on, Annie?’

‘There’s no romance between Fred and me,’ Anne said frostily.

‘Oh, I thought ye were goin’ steady wi’ him?’ Maggie’s expression was innocent enough, but her eyes held a message.

Anne laughed as she realised that her mother was really telling her to go easy on Renee. ‘We’re just good friends, Mother.’

Peter McIntosh came home before Anne and Renee left, his face grey but his manner quite cheerful. ‘How’s my two favourite lassies?’ he joked, laying the heavy shopping bags on the floor.

‘Just fine, Father.’ Anne studied him as he unpacked each item. ‘These bags must have been heavy for you?’

‘They’re nae aye so heavy,’ he wheezed, ‘but yer mother was needin’ a lot o’ extra things in for the New Year. Nae that we’ll ha’e crowds o’ folk comin’ in, jist a few of the neighbours, but ye ken what she’s like.’

‘I could go to the shops for you on Saturday afternoons,’ Renee offered. ‘I’d quite like to do it. You could tell me which are the best shops to go to,’ she added, hopefully.

He screwed up his face, then said, to the amazement of the three women, ‘Weel, I think I’ll tak’ ye up on that, lassie. I’m fair forfochen the day.’

In spite of her concern for him, Renee spluttered with laughter. ‘Forfochen? What on earth does that mean?’

Maggie smiled at her perplexed face. ‘He means he’s jist dead beat,’ she explained.

‘Exhausted,’ Anne put in, to make quite sure that Renee understood.

‘Oh.’ The girl’s face cleared. ‘OK. I’ll start next week.’

‘We’ll nae be needin’ muckle next week.’ The old man glanced fondly at his wife. ‘This woman’s made me get in such a lot the day, it’ll be weeks afore it’s a’ used up.’

‘Nothin’ o’ the kind,’ Maggie said drily.

When they rose to go, Peter went to the door with Anne, but Maggie put her hand out to detain Renee. ‘I’d like fine to meet this Glynn, lassie, if ye want to bring him sometime.’ Her smile was gently loving.

‘I don’t know yet if there’s anything in it, Granny, but I’ll take him to see you as soon as I’m sure.’

‘Aye. Awa’ ye go, then, or yer mother’ll be wonderin’

what we’re gettin’ up to.’

That night, Renee asked Glynn to take her to the ice rink.

‘I can’t skate,’ he protested.

‘It’s great fun, Glynn. Please?’

He gave in, and soon she was laughing at him each time he landed on his bottom on the ice. ‘Dry off on the radiators,’ she told him, as he was gingerly pulling his soaking trousers away from his skin. ‘And don’t worry about it. I was the same when I came here first with Sheila Daun, but it doesn’t take long to learn how to keep your feet.’

Sheepishly, he dragged himself along the rail, then stood to let the heat penetrate to his frozen buttocks, and by the end of their session, he had mastered the art of putting one foot past the other and still remaining upright, although he didn’t venture far from the rail.

On the way home, he kissed her for the first time, and Renee knew for certain that she had not been mistaken. This was the man for her. But, one swallow didn’t make a summer, as they said, and that one kiss was not sufficient to let her know if Glynn felt the same. He was probably still grieving for the girl he’d lost, so it was up to Renee to make him forget, and to make him love her.

BOOK: Monday Girl
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