Fortunes of the Heart Read online

  Her monologue over, Granny then sat, hands folded in her lap and looked expectantly first at Pearce and then at his wife. If the expression on Pearce’s face was anything to go by, it would be a cold day in Hell before he, like the ‘so-good Monaghans’, extended a similar invitation to the almost toothless crone whose sour breath could have felled a weaker man than Pearce.

  Kate bent forward, and smiled.

  “Well, Granny, I can’t see any great difficulty. Seems to me as if you could find your way into this house in the dark. So, just you keep to your usual routine, my dear. No need to change it on account of us.”

  By way of reply, the old woman, with tears in her eyes, reached up and kissed Kate on the cheek. Kate caught Granny’s withered hand between her own, and in that moment, it was as if a bond of friendship had been forged between them. Again Kate smiled.

  “Thanks again, Granny, for that lovely surprise tea and baking. Don’t you trouble yourself about the tray. One of the children will bring it through to you later.”

  Accepting that she might just possibly be on the point of overstaying her welcome, Granny rose to her feet, all the while her arthritic knees sounding their clicking castanets.

  “Thank you kindly, Kate and you too, sir, for your offer of help. And it’s been just grand meeting your lovely wee family. Yes. I’ve really enjoyed my visit.”

  The old woman was dragging her twisted, bent body through the kitchen doorway when the sound of Pearce’s voice stopped her.

  His voice rang out like a pistol shot.

  “Mistress McGarrity. I am so glad that you enjoyed your visit – for it will be your last.”

  Kate drew in her breath, her face ashen, almost as if she had received a physical blow.

  “Pearce.”

  With a wave of his hand, he dismissed that one shocked word from his wife.

  “No, I will not be stopped. I will have my say, Kate. We have moved here to better ourselves. And if that includes having our own exclusive water-closet, then that’s our good luck. We are not running a public lavatory here ... and most certainly not for such as you, Madam.”

  The previously garrulous old woman was, for once, struck dumb, but the offended look on her care-worn face spoke volumes, and none of it complimentary to her new neighbour. Kate was ashamed, appalled, and bitterly hurt on the kindly old woman’s behalf. Too stunned by emotion to speak, she could yet again utter only that single word.

  “Pearce.”

  Her husband now turned his fury on her, after having first, with an odd flapping motion of his hand, banished the listening children to the hallway beyond. He glared at his wife, who by now was standing with a comforting arm around Granny’s bowed shoulders.

  “Kate, you can stand there calling, Pearce, Pearce, from now until Kingdom come, if it so pleases you. But I will not be swayed from my decision. We have come here to give ourselves a lift up the social scale, not be dragged into a slum by some filthy peasant straight from the bogs of Ireland.”

  At these words, Granny stretched out a bony claw and clutched on to Kate for additional support. As the younger woman looked into the rheumy old eyes, she could see at a glance how deeply hurt had been the kindly old neighbour.

  Kate knew within herself she could now have found the strength, the impetus, and the courage with which to face up to her husband. But knowing that any further angry exchange of words would only mean additional hurt for Granny, she resisted the impulse.

  Drawing the bent figure closer to her bosom, she stroked down Granny’s wispy hair which had escaped the steel-pinned cage of her bun.

  “Right, then, Granny, my love, let’s get you home safely to your own fireside,” Kate said, speaking into Granny’s hair. “I’ll sit with you a wee while. You’d like that, now, wouldn’t you dear?”

  Granny’s only reply was a snuffle as she was led away.

  Game to the last, Pearce shouted: “Kate. Get you back into this kitchen. This minute, do you hear me? God Almighty woman, you’re far too vulnerable for your own safety. Get back here now. Do you hear me?”

  This latest outburst was too much for the old woman, who was now visibly trembling. Not so, Kate, who, once her Irish temper was roused, was a match for any man. Turning her body round to face him, she spoke clearly, but without obvious rancour and in a cold, yet controlled fury.

  “Hear you? Oh, yes, I hear you all right, Pearce Kinnon. But heed you? Never in a million years. And while we’re at it, you can forget all about cosy reconciliations. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve made your new beginning. So get on with it.”

  And with this parting shot, Kate led the still-trembling old woman out of the door and back into the safety of her own humble, yet welcoming, single-end.

  A new stage in the life of Kate Kinnon had just begun. And at least one thing was sure: she had found a new friend.

  Chapter 15

  It was fast approaching another Hallowe’en and Kate could hardly believe the year had gone so quickly. But even if a glance at the calendar had not reassured her of the date, then the fact of children all clamouring for odds and ends of cloth, wool, any scrap of rag with which to dress-up would have done so. Kate had a rueful smile on her face as the thought came to her: Poor souls. They don’t seem to realise that whatever rags we have we’re wearing them.’

  Even so, she determined that somehow or other, she and Granny Gorbals would get Hallowe’en outfits of one sort or another codged up, so that the children could then wander the gas-lit streets for the traditional guising rites. As with everything to do with the Kinnon children, Granny threw herself into the project with enthusiasm. She raided her clothes chest and even tore up an ancient lace-trimmed petticoat, just so that Isabella could go as a fairy, the one costume on which she had set her heart. One way and another, by the time October 31st rolled along, each child was suitably outfitted. Daniel as a pirate with a black rag patch over one eye, dressed in flowing robes and a tall hat; Jenny as a witch; and Isabella, the aforementioned fairy. Even Hannah was not left out of the excitement, but since she, of necessity, had to travel in her go-chair, it was decided that she should be a baby.

  Daniel, being the senior, was put in charge of the expedition, with strict instructions to keep to their own street and call only at the doors of those neighbours known to them. The excitement was particularly intense when, once dressed, he made them all go through their party pieces yet again, so that they would be word perfect. He had even worked out a little pat-a-cake routine which Isabella was to perform with Hannah.

  As Kate waved them off, she tousled Isabella’s fat sausage curls.

  “Right, off you go. And mind now, be polite. Remember to say ‘Please for my Hallowle’en’ when you go into folks’ houses. Then, don’t stand there giggling. Get on and do your party pieces, just the way you’ve rehearsed.”

  A quiver of excitement went through the group as they looked at each other and tried desperately to remember the words of poems and songs and the various dance steps. The motley crew had already started on their way to the next close when Kate’s voice halted them.

  “Danny, listen, son. When you get back with your Hallowe’en spoils, instead of coming home, go straight into Granny’s. All right? And you never know, there might be a wee surprise there for you.”

  Having seen the children safely off the premises, Kate raced back up the stairs, two at a time. As she entered Granny’s single-end, she could see the old woman was already hard at work. There in the centre of the tiny room stood an enamel basin, which Granny was in the process of filling with saucepans of cold water from the goose-neck tap at the sink. On the table, waited in readiness, four rosy red apples, a large soda scone already liberally smeared with treacle, and a hollowed-out turnip into which the features of a face had been etched. The old woman raised her head as Kate entered the room.

  “We’re nearly there, Kate. I’ve got the candle ready for the lantern, and we’ll light that as soon as we hear them coming up the stair. You can pu
t the apples in the basin, then get a fork and a chair for them to kneel on for the dookin’ of the apples.”

  Kate nodded and bustled about the room, doing Granny’s bidding.

  With gnarled hand on the small of her back, Granny eased her arthritic frame as upright as it would go. She surveyed her handiwork and nodded with satisfaction.

  “Right. That’s us. I’ll just get into my costume now, while you go into your own house to get yours fixed up.”

  Kate’s eyes widened in alarm.

  “Oh. but, Granny, I haven’t got a fancy dress. I never thought for myself.”

  Granny, far from being put out in any way by this piece of news, instead grinned in delight.

  “Aye, I thought as much.” Here she bent down and retrieved a newspaper-wrapped bundle which she then held out to her young neighbour. In some wonder, Kate unwrapped the parcel. Inside was an old bit of blanket, cut into a triangular shawl pattern, and over the rough material were several scorch marks as if a flat iron had rested too long.

  Kate, totally bemused by now, frowned.

  “But ... I don’t understand, Granny ... what’s it supposed to be? What am I to do with it?”

  Hardly able to contain her mirth, Granny stood back, arms akimbo, and cackled: “Nothing to it, lass. Just away next door for ten minutes, brush out your hair, as if getting ready for your bed. Throw the bit blanket round your shoulders and carry a wee candle in a candle-stick. And that’s you dressed for Hallowe’en.”

  Having delivered. herself of this speech, Granny started giggling like a naughty schoolgirl to such extent that she had to hold on to the table for support.

  “But Granny ... I still don’t get it.”

  Granny Gorbals wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes.

  “Kate. You’re not very quick on the uptake, are you? Do you still not see what it represents?”

  Again Kate shook her head.

  “Kate. It’s a night with Burns. You know ... they say he was a great one for the lassies. So ... night with Burns. Get it?’

  Kate put a hand to her mouth, as if scandalised.

  “Granny, I’ll wear it ... but just to please you, mind. And for goodness sake, don’t let on to either Pearce or the bairns as to what it’s supposed to be. Just let them think what they like.”

  On a wave of laughter, Kate left Granny to get her own fancy dress ready, whatever that might be.

  On her return, Kate was surprised to see that the old woman looked much as usual, except that she was now wearing a tall black hat.

  Granny grinned.

  “Ach, well. Folks hereabouts say that I look like one anyway. So, no better time to be a witch than at Hallowe’en.”

  When the children came back with their spoils of a few farthings, toffee apples, and puff candy, they were already in a high old state of excitement. But when they entered Granny’s darkened room in which the only light came from the eyes and mouth of a turnip lantern, they really went wild with excitement. When they saw Granny with her tall witch’s hat and even Mammy dressed up as a rag wife, their excitement knew no bounds.

  Granny leant forward and, drawing her adopted family close, she intoned in what she fondly imagined to be a witchy voice: “Now we’re going to dook for apples. Right, Daniel, you can be first. Show the wee ones. Kneel on that chair, hold on to the back of it, hold the fork in your mouth and when I say the magic word, abracadabra, you drop the fork and try to spear an apple.”

  By the time that each child eventually had his or her own apple, everyone was drenched and the linoleum floor was awash with a puddle of water.

  Granny gave Kate a rag with which to mop up the floor, while she herself watched in delight as the children devoured their hard-won apples.

  There was yet one more surprise which Granny had in store, but for added excitement, she wanted the children themselves to be the first to discover it. As yet, not one of them had paid it a blind bit of notice.

  She chuckled to herself at the thought: ‘I wonder if they think I normally have such items hung up to air on my clothes pulley?’

  Since still nobody had remarked on either the pulley or the strange object dangling from it, Granny raised her eyes and gazed heavenwards. As is the way with people everywhere, if one person looks up with a puzzled frown as if trying to identify something, then others are sure to follow suit. Soon the children and Kate were gazing upwards in stupefaction. It was left to Hannah, always on the lookout for something to eat, to clap her hands in delight and say: “Jeely piece, Granny. Jeely piece.”

  Granny hugged Hannah, all the while telling her what a clever wee girl she was. The old woman laughed.

  “It’s not exactly jam, nor jelly either, darling. But it’s treacle on both sides of the big soda scone. And all you have to do is jump up and try to catch a bite out of it.”

  There were whoops of delight and at once and without further invitation, all the children, with the exception of Hannah, strapped into her go-chair for her own safety, started jumping up and down.

  Seeing this, Kate became mildly alarmed.

  “Oh. Granny ... do you think this is such a good idea? What about your poor neighbour below?”

  Granny chuckled,

  “Ach, let the bairns enjoy themselves. Let them jump up and down all they like. It’s only that old misery downstairs – Emily McAnulty – yon dried up prune of an old maid. Honestly. she bangs the ceiling with a broom handle every single time my pulley squeaks whenever I raise or lower it for my wee bits of washing. So tonight, we might as well give the old witch something to moan about. Being Hallowe’en she’ll maybe think it’s ghosts trying to get at her. One thing’s sure: she’ll know it isn’t a man. For no man would be seen dead with her “

  And there the matter had rested, with three exuberant children jumping up and down, screaming loudly each time they got a belt across the face from the swaying, treacly scone. If anything, the intermittent banging sounds issuing from the irate downstairs neighbour only added to the general enjoyment.

  When at last Kate managed to prise her children away, one and all agreed, treacle-covered faces and all, it was a night to remember.

  Chapter 16

  The excitement and promise of the forth-coming International Exhibition of 1888 had been building up for many months past. Ten-year-old Daniel Robert Kinnon was ecstatic. His own Primary School had organised to take its senior pupils, of which Daniel, happily, was one, along to Kelvingrove Park on opening day. There, complete with Union Jacks, they would join the many hundreds of Glaswegians lining the route outside the Hillhead entrance with its triumphal arch.

  Quoting his teacher, Daniel would tell anyone who would listen to him that Glasgow, with a population of 761,000, was now the Second City of the Empire and was poised to stage its first major International Exhibition. The largest in Britain since the London show of 1862. True, there had been other smaller Exhibitions in the interim: in Edinburgh in 1886, and the Royal Jubilee Exhibition in Manchester 1887. However, the watchword now was: “Manchester and Edinburgh may try it, but Glasgow can do it.”1

  The long-awaited eighth of May dawned at last and Daniel was the first member of the Kinnon family to rouse from his bed, without the usual prompting from Mammy. Still in his bare feet, he padded across to the front-room window and looked down into the street. He smiled when he saw that instead of the feared rain or Scotch mist, the day looked set fair for a day of bright sunshine. Not only that, but from the scraps of newspaper blowing along the pavements and gutters of Garth Street, it would seem that there would certainly be breeze enough to do justice to his precious flag.

  Some half-hour or so later, as Daniel spooned his porridge, Mammy grinned across at him.

  “’Tis a grand day you’re getting for your outing, Danny. So, you be sure to sup up all that porridge – give you strength to cheer the Queen and wave your flag for her.”

  Daniel, never sure when Mammy was being serious or just trying to wind him up, put down his spoon with a s
igh. Then with all the superiority of his school-learned knowledge and the confidence of his ten years, said: “Mammy, it isn’t the Queen herself who’s coming. It’s the Prince and Princess of Wales. And he’s to open the Eastern Palace with a gold key.”

  At this nugget of information, Kate shook her head in wonder.

  “A gold key, indeed. My, my, and I wonder where they get the money for such extravagant frivolities? ‘Twould be more like the City Fathers to provide decent houses for its workers. But there, ’tis the way of the world. And nothing the commonality – and Irish scum at that – can do about it.”

  Since young Daniel had no answer to this complex problem of the hated, wild Irish in overcrowded Glasgow he instead concentrated on finishing his bowl of porridge. That done, he asked: “Please may I leave the table, Mammy?”

  Permission graciously given by a slight nod from Mammy’s head, Daniel then went over to the cupboard by the sink. He bent down and, after extracting the old tomato box of shoe cleaning materials, he got down to business. A supply of old newspapers was also kept in the box, for quite apart from its use as protector of Mammy’s clean linoleum, odd bits of newspapers were used to stuff the toes of thin and shoddy footwear soaked in any one of Glasgow’s famous downpours.

  By the time that not only his boots were mirror-image clean, but also his unruly mop of hair had been slicked down, and even the back of his neck washed in honour of the great Royal occasion, Daniel Robert Kinnon was a joy to behold.

  Mammy, one hand on hip, an appraising look in her green eyes, looked him over from top to toe.

  “Yes, Danny Boy, you’ll do. In fact, if the Prince of Wales himself looks any more handsome ... well, I’m the one that will be fair cheated.”