Forty-Five

Hessie had been right about the neighbours. Every day, people came over from the tenements, bringing what they could – soup, or pieces of ham, shortbread, if they could afford the butter to make it, scones, jars of pickle, or jam.

‘Will you look at this place?’ Hessie cried. ‘It’s like a shop, eh? Still, it’ll all come in handy for the funeral tea.’

All arrangements to do with Walter’s death had been completed, with Elinor, who had been given some time off, doing most of the work, and now all they had to do was get through the funeral which was to be held at their nearest kirk. The next day, of course, was the day of Corrie’s departure, but they were trying not to think of that.

One piece of good luck had relieved the family’s minds, for Hessie’s future in the flat over the cobbler’s shop was assured. The landlord had let the shop to a widow from Nicholson Street, who wanted premises for her dressmaking and alterations business, and did not require the rooms upstairs.

‘Oh, what a relief!’ Elinor remarked to Corrie. ‘That’s a huge worry out of the way, especially as he’s taken a shilling off the rent, seeing as Ma’s a widow now. You’ll feel better, eh?’

‘Aye, I will. I’ve been lying awake at nights, wondering what we could do.’

‘Me, too,’ said Elinor. ‘I sometimes wonder if things will ever get back to normal.’

Then she stopped, biting her lip, for things for Corrie were not going to be normal in any foreseeable future.

Still, the funeral went off well, with a good crowd to mourn Walter, and a fine spread laid out afterwards in the cobbler’s shop, as Mrs Elder, the dressmaker, had not yet moved in. With enemy ships blockading British shipping, food was in short supply, but it was hard to imagine it, seeing all that the neighbours had managed to find for Hessie, and everyone was very cheerful and full of chat, as was usual at funerals.

How can they seem so happy? Elinor wondered, standing aside from the throng, slim and pale in her black dress. Yet a moment’s thought told her that no one was really happy, no one had any reason to seem cheerful except that they wanted to appear so. Many of the young men from the tenements were already away to the front, leaving those at home to the kind of anxiety Elinor and Hessie were already feeling over Corrie. And then there was the continued anxiety over money, for if some war work was well paid, most jobs were not, and there was always the rent to find, eh? And boots for the bairns?

She shouldn’t be critical, Elinor told herself. At this time, everybody had something to worry over. Even the well-to-do had to fear the ring of the doorbell, the sight of the telegram. How long did a young officer last at the front? Three weeks, was it? The thought crossed her mind  . . . was Stephen Muirhead an officer? She’d never thought to ask Brenda, and didn’t in any case want to show the interest in him that was fast occupying her heart.

After Walter’s burial in a Newington cemetery, she and Hessie spent a quiet evening with Corrie, their last for some time, trying like the mourners to appear cheerful, but with less success. It was a relief, really, when they could go to bed early and make the morning come more quickly, get the parting over, as Corrie put it. Soon, it was indeed over, the hugs and brief kisses given, the promises made to write, and he was away, walking down Friar’s Wynd with a canvas bag on his back and a last wave to the two women waving back.

‘That’s him, then,’ Hessie sighed, turning in to the cobbler’s shop, where no Walt bent now over his customers’ shoes. ‘Now, there’s just you and me, Elinor, and you’ll be gone soon, eh?’

‘I’ll be back tonight, Ma. I’m sorry to leave you, but they’ve been so good at the Primrose, letting me have the time off, and I know I’m needed.’

‘Aye, you get back, pet. I’ll be all right, I’ve plenty to do. And you’ve your friend to see, eh? She must’ve started work by now.’

‘Brenda, yes, that’s true,’ said Elinor. ‘I wonder how she’s been getting on.’

‘Very well!’ cried Brenda, when Elinor arrived back at the Primrose. ‘Wonderfully well. At one time, I’d never have thought I could do something like this, but I love it. I think of Tam and remember I’m doing my bit and then I’m really happy.’ She took Elinor’s hand. ‘But never mind me. How have you been managing? I was so sorry to hear about your father.’

‘Thank you. I must admit, it’s no’ been easy – was such a shock, you see. And then we had to say goodbye to Corrie, my brother, as well. He’s joined the Royal Scots.’

‘Oh, your poor mother! To lose your dad and then to have your brother going to war. But she still has you, that’s something. My dad died years ago and there’s just my mother and me at home, so I know how things are.’

‘I’ll do all I can for Ma. I promised Corrie when he left, I’d see she was all right.’ Elinor gave a faint smile. ‘But your mother will be gaining a son soon, eh? When you’re married to Tam?’

‘Yes, when. Oh, I just hope he can get the leave some time. He thinks maybe July, but nothing’s sure. You’ll come to the wedding, Elinor?’

‘Need you ask? There’s no’ much to look forward to these days, but I’m looking forward to that!’

Who had liked something to look forward to? Elinor’s smile faded, as she remembered. Stephen, of course. ‘Something to look forward to, that’s what I like,’ he’d once said, and what he’d been looking forward to was another meeting with her. But there would be no more of those.

‘I’d best get on,’ she said quietly. ‘Always so much to do.’

Good news came at last for Brenda, when Tam’s letter arrived giving the dates of his leave in July. Barely a week, but it would be enough for their wedding and time away on honeymoon. He’d have to leave all the planning to her, but who was more efficient than his dear Brenda? ‘Yours,’ he’d ended, ‘with love and desperation to see you again, your own troublemaker, Tam.’

Brenda, in seventh heaven, read the letter to Elinor, whose day was brightened by such hope of happiness. It was like a ray of sunshine in the darkness, but darkness was to descend again when an event occurred that no one could have foreseen.