The school was abuzz with plans for the forthcoming coronation. There was to be a school holiday in June to commemorate the glorious occasion. Most of the girls looked on the crowning of a new, young Queen as the beginning of new horizons and their feeling was that the world was their oyster.
On the other hand, most of the boys seemed only interested in the gift each child was to receive as a memento. A list was passed around each class and we had to choose between a propelling pencil and a souvenir mug. A bar of chocolate would be given to each child as well.
The Labour government had been defeated in the last election and Clement Attlee, Nye Bevan and company, who had done so much to alleviate the poverty, hardship and ill health that existed in the country, were now out of power. Winston Churchill was back at 10 Downing Street. He announced that a special allowance of an extra pound of sugar and a quarter-pound of margarine was to be allocated to enable people to put on a street party. I could well imagine Mrs Doyle organising such an event in her new street at Dronley Avenue in Beechwood and I quietly wished that George and I could maybe be invited, because it didn’t look as if any events were being planned in Moncur Crescent.
According to Churchill, the world now had enough food to end all the rationing but Britain didn’t have enough dollars to purchase the necessities. Aggie wasn’t impressed by this statement. ‘Well, Eh’ve heard some excuses in my life but that one takes the biscuit. Heavens! You would think we lost the war instead of winning it.’
Nevertheless, everything in the Robb household seemed to be rosy, as she was about to inform us. As always, her musquash fur coat was duly and carefully taken care of. (Mum always said after one of her visits, ‘Eh don’t think Aggie trusts you with her coat.’) Then she sat down, a smug smile on her face. ‘What do you think we’re getting?’ she enquired, waiting with a pregnant pause while Mum and I looked dumb. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘meh man has gone out and bought a television set. For the coronation in June, you ken.’
Her superior tone suggested that we didn’t know the date of the forthcoming Royal attraction and Mum said afterwards that she had to bite her tongue. After all, we would have had to be living on the moon to escape all the hype of pomp and pageantry. Still, Aggie was determined to tell the world about her new acquisition and she didn’t notice the curtness of Mum’s manner.
‘We got it out of Watts in the Wellgate. It’s just a table-top model with a fifteen-inch screen and it cost meh man sixty-six pounds, five shillings. We’ve put down a deposit and we’ll pay the rest back over the next few months. It’s the only way you can get anything for your house, to pay it on the never-never.’
Mum was trying hard not to be envious because she too would have loved a television. She cheerfully agreed. ‘Aye, it’s well named the never-never. Eh feel like it’s never-ending when Eh’m paying the tickie man every week.’
‘That’s what Eh feel as well, Molly, but meh man says that we would never have furnished our new prefab if we had to pay the money all at once. We wanted everything new so we got a dining-room suite out of Hendersons in the Wellgate.’ She stopped as if struck by a thought. ‘Eh’ve just noticed that we seem to spend all our money in the Wellgate. But never mind, where was Eh? Oh aye, my new suite. Well, it cost us twenty-eight guineas but you put down two bob in the pound deposit and pay the rest over easy weekly terms. When Eh finish paying the television set, Eh’m getting a new bedroom suite and a carpet square.’
She gave a loud sigh, as if exhausted by all this mathematical and financial talk. She finished off the dregs of tea from her cup, swallowing in the process all the residual tea leaves. This habit of hers always made me shudder.
Mum, who was also totally drained by Aggie’s calculations, decided to change the subject. ‘How is Babs’ romance going then?’
Aggie smacked her lips and ran her tongue over the surface of her teeth, obviously thinking hard before answering this loaded question. It was clear that she didn’t approve of Ron the spiv but, to be truthful, following in Marvin’s footsteps would have been hard for anyone. ‘Well Babs seems happy enough but then her lad’s away a lot, him being a commercial traveller.’
Obviously Mum wasn’t going to get any more information from her and as Aggie had run out of new possessions or the benefits of various easy terms it was time for her make her way home on the 1A bus back to Blackshade. Before departing, however, she did invite us up to view the coronation on the television and, although I would have loved to have seen it, Mum was working that day.
She was back in the dairy, now on the inspection side of the milk-bottling plant. It was a task that didn’t require her to use her ‘gammy hand’ as she now referred to it. Because the dairy opened every day including weekends, the workers were on a three-week rota with a different day off through the week and Mum loved this variety. Still, as she confessed after Aggie’s departure, even had she been off on 2 June, she would never have made the bus trip to the prefab, for the simple reason that by the time she made the conducted tour round the house and Hendersons furniture, the coronation could be over and the Queen tucked up in bed.
Meanwhile, back on the school front, the arguments over the commemorative souvenirs was still raging. I was now in the final few weeks of school and as we were studying for our leaving certificates, our noses were to the proverbial grind-stone. Should we be lucky enough to win this prized certificate, we could then burst forth on a surprised world as accomplished French-speaking shorthand typists/book-keepers. Or maybe emerge as scientists destined to find an epoch-making cure for humanity’s ills. That was the teachers’ hope and it was what they had striven for over three long, gruelling years.
As for the souvenirs, the headteachers had ordered these gifts according to the lists from each classroom but there was going to be a spanner in the works. Suddenly and prior to the distribution of the mementoes, a wild rumour swept the school that those who had ordered a propelling pencil did not qualify for a free bar of chocolate. This turned out to be totally unfounded but that didn’t stop the majority of the boys suddenly shifting their allegiance to a coronation mug. All previous thoughts of this being a cissy gift were now forgotten in the anticipation of chocolate.
This anarchy threw all the careful calculations out of the window and would even have taxed the dexterous mind of Aggie. In a state of extreme annoyance, the headmaster ordered the return of all gifts. The next morning, at assembly, he appeared almost foaming at the mouth. While trying to keep his temper in check, he announced through clenched teeth, ‘Last month I sent the monitors round with a list. At that time we had 500 pencils and 200 mugs. It now seems as if we have 100 pencils and 600 mugs in the school.’
He was obviously so incensed by the entire farce of the situation that he hadn’t realised how funny he sounded. Meanwhile, the whole school, standing in dutiful silence, were trying desperately to suppress the laughter which threatened to erupt at any moment.
He resumed his speech. ‘Right then, I want all the original names for pencils to come forward today and claim them and we will deal with the mugs tomorrow.’
As we trooped out of the hall, Sheila and I overheard one wag exclaiming, ‘Only 600 mugs in the school, did he say? Here’s me thinking we’re all mugs!’
Thankfully, by coronation day, the situation was sorted out. As soon as the pupils realised that a bar of chocolate went with each gift, calm reigned once more. This may have seemed a big deal about the chocolate, especially in today’s world where shops like Woolworths have confectionery stacked up to the roof, but back in 1953 sweets hadn’t been off the ration for very long.
Dundee, like many other cities, had a full programme for the big day and the city planners were hoping for good weather. Unfortunately, although the rain stayed off, it was cold and blustery with the temperature well below the seasonal average. In fact, the previous week had seen one of the worst thunderstorms for thirty years. This caused widespread havoc over the Scottish Highlands while the gate at the Western Cemetery was hit by lightning and lots of low-lying streets in the Dock area suffered from flooding.
Betty and I went down the town to see some of the jollities. The town centre had a festive air and there was a feeling of renewed optimism on the faces of the waiting crowds. A thirty-foot-high red, white and blue floral display in the shape of a coronation arch dominated the City Square while another eye-catching sign was mounted above the frontage of Phins’ ironmonger shop in the Nethergate.
Although we didn’t go there, Riverside Drive was the main showcase for a massed bands display, a twenty-one-gun salute and bonfire, with fireworks planned for later. As we stood on the edge of the crowds in the High Street to see the parade of the Black Watch, Territorial Army cadets and military vehicles, the news reached us that the mighty peak of Mount Everest had finally been conquered by Edmund Hillary and Sherpa Tenzing. While the flags waved in the stiff breeze, I could well imagine Miss Calvert likening these two modern-day heroes to the likes of Drake and Raleigh and it did seem as if we were entering a true golden Elizabethan age. On a more mundane level, G. B. Forbes, who owned the pram arcade in King Street, was donating a free pram for every baby born on coronation day.
Later in the week, Mum and I saw an hour-long film at the Odeon, entitled Elizabeth is Queen. Out of the entire footage of this historic film, the one person Mum loved was Queen Salote of Tonga who braved the wet and windy London weather with a smile that had all the warmth of a South Sea island.
Some housing schemes had organised bonfires and outside dancing but if Moncur Crescent had any jollities then I must have missed them. However, the main topic was the televising of the coronation. Aggie would have been miffed to know that the Caird Hall had installed twenty sets to let an invited populace watch the whole pomp and pageant. It was reckoned that thousands of people saw the crowning of the Queen at first hand, but not us.
Grand as all this pageantry was, it was the following Saturday that produced the biggest and best surprise. Many years before in McDonald Street, we had, for a very short time, a neighbour in the empty flat across the lobby. Her name was Katie and she was engaged to be married. She was young, pretty and had a bubbling vivacity. I thought she was wonderful. Every weekend the flat was full to overflowing with a multitude of her friends, all laughing, singing and dancing. Mum said she made the close cheery and I would lie awake in bed and listen to all the latest tunes on her wireless.
To start with, she always invited Mum into the party but Mum, being the way she was, much preferred to curl up in bed with her latest detective novel from the library. ‘Eh’m no unsociable, Katie, but Eh just like lying here listening to your young voices and you’ve fair cheered up the place.’
Meanwhile, Katie, happy in the knowledge that the noise wasn’t causing a nuisance, sailed off in full flow to join her guests while I lay in bed wishing she had asked me to the party. This lasted for two months or so before Katie disappeared. One day another couple turned up and moved in. They were Irish and the husband worked on the Tummel-Garry hydroelectric scheme. He was away from home all week and Vi, his wife, told Mum that they had bought the key to the flat along with all the lovely furniture.
They had met Katie at a party and during the conversation had mentioned how desperate they were for a house. Katie had wanted to move away to another town and a new job and Vi was overjoyed when offered this golden opportunity. Mum, however, was worried about Katie. For weeks after she confided her worries to Lizzie. ‘It’s no like her to go and no say cheerio to us. Eh mean, we got on so well and Eh just hope nothing’s happened to her.’
Lizzie was reassuring. ‘Och, Eh expect she’s moved away to be nearer her boyfriend. He’s in the army, isn’t he?’
Mum was still worried. ‘There was always so many people in that house and it makes me wonder. Eh mind one day there was this huge white chalk cross on her door and I gave Maureen a right telling-off, thinking she had done it. Well, Eh had just sent her to wash the door with a bucket and cloth when Katie came up the stairs. She nearly had a fit. “Oh no, don’t wash off any crosses on the door, Molly,” she said. “Eh put them there to warn my friends no to come partying when my lad’s on leave!”.’
I remembered that incident and how strongly I had protested my innocence, not that I got an apology from Mum. The weeks and months went on and we became friendly with our new neighbours and we never set eyes on Katie again. That is until the Saturday after the coronation. We saw this couple arrive at the close entrance and we were struck by their hesitation. The bell sounded, that unlovely, twisty bell with the sound of a chicken being garrotted. And there stood Katie, looking just as I remembered her.
She was wearing a lovely yellow suit with an elaborate orchid buttonhole and a tiny yellow straw hat with a creamy, spotted veil. Standing beside her was the best-looking man I had ever seen, tall and deeply tanned with bright blue eyes and gorgeous white teeth which flashed every time he smiled. He was also wearing a buttonhole, a carnation, on the lapel of a very expensive-looking suit. Mum was completely astonished. She invited them in but not before shoving me ahead of her to hide all the clutter under the velvet seat cushions.
‘Eh’ve been looking all over for you, Molly,’ said Katie, as if she had seen us ten minutes before instead of almost five or six years. ‘Ricky and me are getting married this morning and Eh wondered if you’d be my witness at the registry office.’
While speaking, she swept a hand in the direction of the Gary Cooper lookalike at her side. Mum was so surprised she had to sit down. And for once she didn’t tell me off for staring with my mouth open at this gorgeous guy.
‘Oh, Eh can’t do that Katie. What would Eh wear for starters?’
‘Well it’s like this,’ explained the radiant bride-to-be, ‘Ricky is on leave from Burma and he’s got a special licence for the registry office. The wedding is …’ she looked at a lovely gold watch on her slim wrist, ‘in an hour.’
While all this chatter was going on, Ricky sat gazing at his beloved while I sat gazing at him.
‘You were my first choice, Molly, when we made our plans but Eh thought you were still living in the same street. What a shock Eh got when Eh saw it was knocked down but lucky for me Eh met that pal of yours from Norrie’s Pend – the big woman – and she gave me this address. Now hurry and put something on because the taxi’s waiting.’
Mum almost choked. ‘What do you mean, the taxi’s waiting? Where is it?’
‘Never mind about that. Just get ready. Ricky’s got oodles of money, haven’t you darling?’
Mum hurried to put on her old plum-coloured costume and a bashed-looking hat that resided at the back of the wardrobe and was the mainstay of my playing at dressing up – when I was younger of course. I was certainly not owning up to any childish pastimes with a film star in our living room. I took my eyes off Ricky for a moment to look at Katie and she caught my eye.
‘Maybe you would like to come as well, Maureen.’
Wouldn’t I just, I thought, leaping out of my chair to get my coat from the pegs in the lobby.
‘You’ll have to wait outside because we’ve got our two witnesses, your mum and Sam. He’s Ricky’s friend.’
Although I didn’t say it, I would gladly have parked myself on Mars in order to go to this grand romantic affair. Mum arrived from the bedroom, looking quite nice I thought. She had put on her pretty blouse and some lipstick.
‘This is the best Eh can do for you, Katie,’ she said apologetically.
‘You look smashing,’ said Katie, ushering us out into the close, towards the waiting taxi. We passed Betty, who stopped in amazement, her eyebrows nearly disappearing into her hairline. She opened her mouth but I just said a quick hello before whispering that I would tell her everything later that night.
The taxi was lovely. I sat on a small fold-down seat with my back to the driver and we made a speedy progress down the Hilltown towards the City Square. I felt like a queen. At the registry office we were joined by another well-tanned man who looked as if could have come from Burma as well. After the ceremony, Ricky and Katie took us to the Café Val D’Or for our dinner, or lunch as Ricky called it. It was a really swanky-looking place and I wished I was as well dressed as the bride, but at least I wasn’t looking like a tink for once in my life.
‘When are you going back to Burma?’ Mum asked, between spoonfuls of lovely hot, green pea soup.
It was Ricky who answered. ‘We’re going away tonight to London then we fly out on Sunday night. I’m on leave from my rubber plantation and the plan was to stay in London until after the coronation.’ He stopped and smiled at the man who was the other witness. ‘But Sam persuaded me to come to Dundee to see his parents and while I was here I met Katie.’ He looked tenderly into her eyes while I almost swooned with the sheer romance of it all.
Sam nodded cheerfully. ‘That’ll be a couple of hundred pounds for the marriage introduction, Katie,’ he said and we all laughed.
Later, when the two men went to the toilet, Katie explained her sudden departure. ‘Eh tried to make a go of my engagement but we were two different kinds of people and it didn’t work out. Eh’ve been working in a hotel so Eh didn’t need the house, but Eh was really sorry no to say cheerio to you all. It all happened so sudden. Vi and her man would have been good neighbours.’
‘Well, Katie, Eh was really worried about you. After all, you could have been murdered or something equally gruesome,’ said Mum, with a shudder.
‘Och, away you go, Molly!’ said Katie, laughing. ‘You read too many murder stories for your own good.’
The two men returned. Ricky settled the bill and this wonderful, unexpected day was over. Mum declined the offer of a taxi home, much to my dismay, saying the tramcar was handy. We said goodbye to the newly-weds and Sam, and watched them go off in a cloud of bliss. When we arrived home, Mum still wasn’t over the shock and all she could say was, ‘What if it hadn’t been my day off? Katie would have had to get someone else.’
I almost passed out at the horrible thought of this. That would have been terrible, I thought, until the idea crossed my mind that perhaps I could have been Katie’s bridesmaid.
Later, Betty listened to all the glorious happenings with a wide-eyed look and open mouth.
‘This has been one of the best days of my life, Betty.’
While Betty agreed with me, she quickly poured cold water over my dream of maybe having been a bridesmaid.
‘You wouldn’t have been allowed,’ she said. ‘Eh think you have to be sixteen so you are too young.’
I almost said that if the occasion had arisen I would have cheerfully admitted to being a hundred and six.