The Butlin’s holiday had been an outstanding success according to Aggie. She sat in the chair, twice as voluble as normal, with a huge pile of photographs in her hand. ‘You’ve no idea what a lot of entertainment that’s put on for the campers. That’s what we were called. There was dancing and shows and competitions. You name it, it was put on.’
Mum and I sat in silence and looked at Aggie’s black-and-white photographs while she provided the running commentary. ‘That’s me in the singing talent contest.’
Mum looked surprised.
‘Eh bet you didn’t think your pal had any talent but Eh came tenth in the singing contest!’ As if anticipating Mum’s next question, she gushed on regardless, ‘Well, maybe there was just twelve of us in it but Eh didn’t come last, did Eh? Now this one is meh man winning the knobbly knees competition.’
She passed over a hilarious snapshot of Mr Robb with his trousers rolled up to expose the aforementioned knees, his huge feet encased in a pair of leather sandals that resembled miniature canoes. It took all our self-control to stop the laughter which threatened to explode and Mum had to go to the kitchen on the pretext of putting the kettle on for another cup of tea. She left me alone with Aggie but I could hear the suppressed snuffles of laughter as she ran the cold water tap at full force in an effort to cover them up.
‘Now this one, Maureen, is Ron. Taken as soon as he came out of the swimming pool. He looks really cold but it was an outdoor pool and the water was freezing but Ron managed to swim a couple of lengths which was a damn sight more than any of the other campers.’
This was the first time I had seen Ron the spiv and he looked innocuous enough, standing in a pair of baggy swimming trunks, his hair plastered wetly to his scalp like a skullcap. The goose pimples were clearly visible on his thin hairless arms and he looked so cold that I could almost hear his teeth chattering.
‘Our chalet was pretty basic but it was comfy enough,’ said Aggie, getting back to full throttle with her reminiscences. ‘Every morning, the bell would sound for your breakfast and you would go to the dining hall and it was the same with the rest of your meals.’
Mum, who was a very slow eater, didn’t like this arrangement at all. ‘Oh, Eh wouldn’t like to set my holiday around a bell, Aggie.’
Her friend pooh-poohed this scurrilous suggestion. ‘Naw, naw, naw, Molly, you’re getting the wrong idea. That was all part of the fun. All us campers together and the Redcoats saying, “Good morning, campers.” Eh think you should consider a holiday there yourself. You can put down a deposit and pay a bittie every week at yon post office in Victoria Road. It’s called Hunts and they’re agents for Butlin’s.’
She sat back in her chair with her second cup of tea and another ginger nut biscuit. She looked like a steam train that had finally ran out of power, her face taking on a crestfallen look.
‘There’s just the one thing that meh man and me are no happy about. Babs and Ron are getting married.’
Mum looked pleased. ‘But surely that’s good news, Aggie.’
‘Well, it would be if they planned to have a big swanky wedding and reception but Ron’s persuaded Babs to have a wee ceremony at the Registrar’s Office and maybe a wee buffet at the prefab.’ She pronounced ‘buffet’ as in buffeted by the wind.
‘Ron says, what’s the sense in spending money on a big wedding when there’s more important things to spend your cash on? Well, the wedding’s to be next month so Eh suppose Eh’ll have to get cracking and write to Senga and Marvin. After all, Babs can hardly get married without having Senga as her matron of honour, can she?’
As Mum said later, there was no way poor Babs could have her special day without the royal presence lording it over the entire scene. No show without Punch.
Aggie was clearly unhappy about the marriage and she obviously didn’t relish a son-in-law like Ron the spiv. In her opinion, he didn’t measure up to Marvin the magnificent. Because of this unhappy end to the wonderful holiday, Mum almost forgot to produce her own trump card. I kept making faces at her and staring into the far corner of the living room where an object was standing, covered with a tablecloth.
‘Oh, Eh almost forgot! Before you go, Aggie,’ said Mum, trying to look innocent, as if she had just this minute stumbled over this mysterious object. ‘Eh’d like you to be the first to see this.’
She swept the cloth away with a glorious flourish that would have done justice to a magician on a stage, to reveal our very own television set.
Aggie opened her mouth so wide that her National Health teeth almost fell out and, before she could recover her composure, Mum burst forth with her own financial journey around the new acquisition. ‘As you know, George has left the school and got an apprenticeship with the DECS bakery in Clepington Road, so Maureen and him are going halfers with the seven-and-six weekly payment. We thought we would treat ourselves.’
Aggie looked quite put out but managed to say, faintly, ‘Well, Eh always told you to get one, didn’t Eh?’
‘That’s right, you did, Aggie. And do mind yon accident Eh had with my hand? Well, Eh got some compensation money for that so Eh put down a deposit and, as Eh said, the kids are paying it up for me.’
Then Mum, the horror that she was, even rubbed some salt in Aggie’s gaping wound by switching the set on. The Amos and Andy Show appeared on screen, complete with guffaws of laughter from the audience, which in Aggie’s case, was the last straw. Gathering up her handbag and photographs and calling for her fur coat, she left in a fit of pique which she tried hard to hide but which left a deep and smouldering atmosphere long after she left.
Mum was immediately contrite. ‘Maybe Eh should have been less cock-a-hoop. Especially with Aggie worried about Babs and Ron. Eh only hope the lassie knows what she’s letting herself in for.’
George, who had been sitting quietly while all the gossip was going on, got ready for his bed. He had an early morning start at the bakery, a job I suspected was becoming more like my time at Keillor’s. His post may have been advertised as an apprentice baker but the job description should have read ‘Chief Pot-scrubber’ because this was his daily lot.
Ally, on the other hand, was learning all about the baking trade due to being in a small, family-run bakery in Kirkton. We had been going out together for over a year and it had been a fun-packed time of dancing, going to the pictures or just enjoying each other’s company. He lived with his parents and a younger sister, Ann, who was still at school while two older sisters, Jessie and Betty, were married.
His mum was lovely and homely, forever cooking large meals for her family and baking huge mounds of pancakes and scones. His dad, Alick, was a police sergeant in the Dundee force and in the beginning I was a bit afraid of him. It all stemmed from my initial meeting with him. We had been at a late-night dance and were meandering along the High Street on our way home when this huge, burly looking policeman approached and literally towered over me. I thought he was as broad as he was tall.
‘It’s time you were home, lad. Get your skates on,’ he said and, for a brief moment, I thought we were about to be arrested.
But Ally took it all calmly. ‘Aye, Eh’m just on my way.’ As we walked away, he said, ‘That was my father.’
I almost fainted. ‘You’re joking!’ But he wasn’t.
Later on, when I got to know the family, he wasn’t really frightening. In fact, he was a bit of a practical joker. One story he loved to tell concerned a tramp who would not stay away from the city coup at Riverside. He would regularly sleep in an old shed in the midst of all the rotting rubbish, which was not only dangerous to himself but was a serious health hazard. In spite of repeated warnings from the police and the council, the tramp wouldn’t move away until Ally’s dad gave it a try. Chipperfield’s Circus was in town and the Big Top was erected at Riverside. One night, while the two policemen were patrolling the area, Ally’s dad called out in a loud voice, ‘My lion, my lion! Has anybody seen the escaped lion?’
Whereupon, the poor tramp leapt out of the shed and was last seen running towards Invergowrie. He obviously found a safer place to bunk down and everyone was happy.
Meanwhile, Mum was looking for a wedding gift for Babs and Ron. Now that rationing was well and truly over, it was proving to be a lot easier than during the wartime shortages. She decided on a pair of towels, marked with ‘His’ and ‘Hers’ on the borders. The assistant in McGill’s store said they were the best-selling line that year.
Mum asked me to go with her to the Blackshade prefab and we set off a week before the wedding. Aggie had regained her good humour, mainly because Senga and Marvin were home. They were all in the house when we arrived, apart from the bridegroom, who was on one of his rounds, said Aggie. ‘He’s a commercial traveller as Eh told you in one of my letters, Senga, and his round takes him all over the place from Dundee to Aberdeen.’
Babs accepted the present with great pleasure and grace and set it beside a pile of other presents which were placed in her tiny bedroom. She lifted each card as she showed us the gifts and Mum made all the suitable noises that one makes on these occasions.
‘Eh didn’t know what to get you, Babs, but Eh aye say you can never have enough towels,’ explained Mum as we admired the collection of toast racks, tea towels, ornaments and clocks, sheets and blankets and a beautiful dinner service which was the gift choice from her sister.
‘Oh Babs, what a lovely looking dinner service!’ said Mum, quite overcome with the grandeur of the gift which stood like a sore thumb amongst the more mundane items. ‘You’ll have to watch you don’t break any of it.’
Back in the living room, Aggie was telling the assembled audience about the intended buffet. ‘We’re having a platter of boiled ham with lettuce, tomatoes and hard-boiled eggs, boiled tatties and peas. Then for pudding we’re having trifle. Eh’ve also ordered a wee one-tier wedding cake from Rough and Fraser’s bakery and some wee sausage rolls. That was Senga’s suggestion. Then Eh thought at night, if folk were still hungry, Eh could make fish and chips and have a high tea with scones and bread and butter.’
‘Over in the States, we call chips French fries,’ said Senga, in a queer mixture of Dundee dialect and a transatlantic drawl. ‘When people come around, we have a barbecue on the lawn. Isn’t that so, Marvin?’
Marvin and Mr Robb were sitting together, discussing something masculine and were obviously fed up with all this talk of weddings and boiled ham platters. He looked up, surprised at hearing his name. ‘Yes, honey, that’s right,’ he said, coming out with his standard phrase which clearly covered every situation. To everything Senga said, that was his stock reply, ‘Yes honey, no honey, three pots full of honey, honey.’
Meanwhile, the bride-to-be sat quietly beside her father as if she didn’t belong in this wedding scene, almost as if she were some outsider on the fringe of this important occasion.
Mum decided to bring her into the conversation. ‘Have you got your wedding dress, Babs?’
Before she could answer, Aggie butted in. ‘Aye, she has but what a job that was getting something to suit her colouring. It’s no every colour that suits her,’ said her mother, repeating herself in case Babs hadn’t got the message about her difficult colouring.
When we arrived home, Mum commented on the evening. ‘Eh think Aggie’s getting worse! Eh just hope Babs is no getting married to get away from her mother.’
Then, two days before the wedding, the news broke and took us all by surprise. Aggie and Senga arrived at the door. Aggie looked terrible, her face all puffy and blotchy as if she had been crying, and Senga, in spite of her Californian sophistication, didn’t look much better. Poor Babs had been jilted – or perhaps scuttled was a better description.
‘Do you mind me telling you at the time that we wondered if he was married?’ Aggie sobbed, wiping her eyes on a large handkerchief. ‘Eh said that, didn’t Eh, Molly?’
Mum, who wasn’t sure what was going on, looked at Senga. ‘What on earth’s happened?’
Senga, who was upset but not so distraught as her mother, explained. ‘Oh it was awfy. We were in the house last night when this stranger came to the door. A woman who had come all the way from Glasgow cornered Babs and told her she was stealing her husband. He wasn’t divorced and now here he was, planning to get married again. And it was all Babs’s fault. Of course, Ron was out but when he came in, he almost fainted. Eh’m telling you she fair wiped the smarmy smile off his face.’
I was agog at this news and fascinated by Senga’s accent which seemed to keep slipping back to her Dundee roots the more upset she became.
Mum was really upset as well. ‘Where is Babs now?’
‘Dad and Marvin have taken her to my auntie’s house in Strathmartine Road.’
Aggie was still sobbing and rubbing the hankie viciously over her eyes.
‘Aye, this woman from Glasgow said that Ron stayed at her house every month when he finished his rounds. The rest of the time she thought he was staying in hotels or guest houses. Mind you, the only good thing about this whole stramash is the fact that it was to be a quiet wedding so hardly anybody knows about it, thank goodness! Then there’s poor Senga.’ She stopped to view her daughter with a fond look. ‘Well, Senga brought over a bonny frock from California to wear as matron of honour. A lovely coffee and cream, flocked nylon one with a ballerina skirt and a dinkie wee hat to match. It must have cost a bomb, Senga, and now it’s wasted!’
There was a fresh burst of tears. Senga was genuinely fond of her sister and she waved this expense away with a wry smile. ‘That’s the least of our worries. We have to think about Babs now.’
I noticed the transatlantic drawl was back. Aggie then began to harp on about the wasted food and wasted expense. ‘Eh’ve no idea what Eh’ll do with my boiled ham and twa dozen sausage rolls and a one-tier wedding cake. If Eh had my way Eh’d push Ron’s face into the ruddy icing, smarmy wee toerag that he is!’
‘Well, Aggie, Senga, Eh don’t really know what to say,’ said Mum sympathetically.
Aggie produced a brown-paper parcel from her voluminous message bag and handed it to Mum. ‘Eh’ve brought your present back, Molly. Now that the wedding is off, Babs said to give everybody their gifts back and say a big thank you as well.’
Mum was puzzled. ‘Eh wonder how Ron’s wife found out about the wedding. Still, Eh expect you’ll never find out.’
‘Oh, we know how,’ said Senga. ‘Seemingly, one of his contacts has a shop in Aberdeen. One day a customer was in this shop and overheard the owner congratulating Ron on his forthcoming wedding. He must have mentioned it to her and it seems this customer was a neighbour of Ron’s wife’s cousin and she thought she recognised him. It’s a long story.’
Aggie and Senga stood up to leave and, at the door, Aggie turned to Mum. ‘Eh always said he was a spiv.’
‘At least the wedding was stopped in time,’ said Senga. ‘If it had gone ahead it would have been bigamy.’
Aggie was dumbfounded. ‘Eh never thought of that. It was just that Eh was looking forward to the wedding. Meh man offered to buy me a new fur coat but thank heavens he only put a wee deposit down and the shop has offered to cancel the deal. He might lose his deposit of course.’
‘You’ll have to excuse Mom babbling on and on but she really is upset.’ Senga was now in full control of herself, determined that the well-rehearsed American drawl wasn’t going to slip again.
‘Eh understand, Senga, and we are really sorry about Babs. And, as you say, it would be bigamy,’ said Mum, helping Aggie on with her old fur coat. If Ron the spiv’s wife hadn’t intervened it would have soon been replaced with a brand new one.
Mum looked ruefully at the wedding present still lying pristinely folded in the cellophane-wrapped box. ‘Och well, Eh expect Eh’ll find this will come in handy for another present.’
Then, this shock news was pushed out of our minds by our burglary. I discovered it on a Sunday, although the crime had taken place a few days earlier. I went to put the week’s supply of shillings into the gas meter, which was situated on a high shelf in the kitchen and required one to stand on a chair to feed it with money. Because of this awkward position we only filled it once a week, and it was for the same reason that we never noticed that a thief had prised the padlock off and the money container was empty. To make matters worse, it was due to be emptied that week and had been almost full.
Mum was just in from her work at the dairy and she panicked at the thought of the burglar still lying low in the house. Then George mentioned nonchalantly that he had picked up a small padlock from the kitchen floor on the Friday afternoon but had not connected this with the meter.
I was sent to fetch a policeman from the police box at the top of the Hilltown and, within an hour, two policemen arrived to investigate the dastardly crime. I was glad that Ally’s dad wasn’t one of them, mainly because of the farce that had taken place while I was out of the house.
Faced with the empty money container, Mum ran through to Mrs Miller’s house, clutching it in her hand. Up to this point, the box had only been handled by Mum, George and myself but it was now turning into a ‘pass the gas box’ situation.
Mrs Miller was aghast as she held the container.
‘Heavens! It fair makes you afraid to leave your house,’ she said, passing it on to her husband. Naturally Betty wanted to hold it, then Mrs Ferrie and Mrs Duff, our upstairs neighbours, who were coming along the close. They all wanted to be in on the action. They peered inside the container as if an odd shilling or two was perhaps still lurking in one corner.
Then Mum took control of it. That is, until Ally appeared on the scene, which was fast becoming a comical farce. Of course, Mum handed it to him and he had a good look inside it. I think George had another look followed by a second peep from Betty.
The police, when they arrived, stood in the middle of the kitchen and had a good look at the meter. ‘There’s an awfy lot of these kind of burglaries going about,’ said one policeman, sagely.
‘Aye, folk are having their gas meters broken into daily,’ said policeman number two, shaking his head. ‘There’s no much we can do but take the box away for fingerprinting.’
On hearing this, Mum let out a loud wail. ‘Eh’ve handled the thing and so have my children and there’s Mr and Mrs Miller and Betty – then there was Mrs Ferrie and Mrs Duff and Ally.’
The policeman looked like he had been struck by lightning and his expression was priceless. ‘Wait a minute, missus. Let me get this straight …’ He held up his hand and counted all the names off. ‘Eh make that nine folk who have handled this container. Do you mean to tell me you let everybody handle the evidence?’ He emphasised the word ‘evidence’ and we all gazed at the two policemen and nodded.
‘Well, looking for a crook’s fingerprints on this will be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Your best bet, missus, is to let the Corporation Office know about this and have them come up with a new padlock. Mind you, you will have to pay back all the missing money.’
Mum was furious. ‘What do you mean, pay it back? Do Eh have to pay back everything the burglar stole? Surely that’s no fair!’
‘Well that’s the way it is, missus. The Corporation think some of the meters are broken into by the tenants. You know, somebody in the house is hard up so they break open the meter and get some ready cash.’
‘That’s stupid! Would Eh send for the police and get half the ruddy close to handle the evidence if Eh had pinched my own money?’ Mum was now wild at this suggestion of self-robbery.
He held up a large hairy hand. ‘Now wait a minute, Eh never said that. Eh just said that a fraction of folk do it but the biggest majority are victims, just like yourself. You are just victims of the rising crime rate amongst meter raiders and, like most victims, you are the losers.’
This explanation, which was handled a bit more sympathetically than his earlier manner, pacified Mum a bit but she was still miffed. ‘In my last house, which Eh lived in for years and years, we never had to lock our doors and windows. Never once did Eh get burgled, and here Eh am in a new house with a Yale lock on the door and snibs on the windows and Eh still get burgled.’
After the commotion died down and the policemen had disappeared back to their police box, Mum suddenly had a thought. ‘Eh’ve just remembered. When Eh came home last week from seeing Nellie, Betty was standing with a young lad at her door. He was a stranger to me and he saw me open the door. Eh wonder if it was him that robbed the meter?’
It was a good thing the door had been open all the time the police had been in the house because they would have had a fit if they had seen our front-door key hanging behind the door on a long piece of string. We only had the one key and this was used by the three of us to get into the house. Mum’s grand speech about Yale locks and snibs were no use against this easy access to the key.
Mum was suddenly serious. ‘Now, you’re no to mention this lad to the neighbours, especially the Millers. After all, Eh could be wrong and Eh wouldn’t want to get Betty into trouble, especially now that she’s getting out and about again.’
Betty was going to some sort of work course and although her breathing wasn’t getting any better at least it wasn’t worse. I was perplexed by the mention of this lad. Betty hadn’t said anything but maybe she would on my next visit. Anyway, the key was taken down and Mum said she would get two other copies made and we had to be doubly sure that the house was to locked up and well snibbed. Otherwise we could all be murdered in our beds, said Mum.
Mum had to pay just under two pounds for the missing money and seven and sixpence for a new padlock which greatly annoyed us all, even the neighbours. ‘It looks like we have to subsidise the crooks now,’ said Mum in disgust. ‘It doesn’t pay you to work hard for your money these days. You should just go out robbing meters.’
There were two bits of good news in the midst of this chaos. Babs and Aggie were going to California for a holiday. Seemingly, Senga and Marvin had paid for a return ticket for her unhappy sister while Aggie, instead of getting her new fur coat, got the chance of her fare being paid by Mr Robb. She jumped at this offer.
Another bit of mixed news was Ally and I had become engaged. Mum was thoroughly put out, as were my future in-laws. ‘You’re both far too young,’ was the universal comment. ‘And don’t forget that Ally has to do his National Service when he finishes his time.’
The only person apart from ourselves who was thrilled was Betty, who being a young romantic said, ‘Can Eh be your bridesmaid?’
‘Of course you can, Betty, but the wedding’s no to be for another two or three years. When Ally’s National Service is over we’ll plan it. Now what about yourself? Did Eh hear Mum say she saw you with a lad the other week?’
I knew Mum had said I wasn’t to mention this but I wasn’t caring about the robbery. I just wanted to hear if Betty had found herself a boyfriend.
‘He’s just someone who’s in the same course as me. Eh’ve no idea where he lives or anything. Sometimes he’ll walk back with me and we have a great chat but it’s nothing serious.’ She sounded disappointed and I noticed her lips looked bluer.
Meanwhile, although my news didn’t please Mum, she dug out the box with the His and Hers towels and handed them over. ‘Well, Eh expect you’ll be starting your bottom drawer and this can be your first item.’
I put the box in the dressing table drawer and wondered what had become of Ron the spiv. Was he back with his wife or was he still chatting up some unsuspecting girl on one of his rounds?