The Aul’ Man
 

"Cormac, come in and sit down. What’s wrong with you?" George McGregor, the head book-keeper, looked concerned. "That’s twice you’ve fallen out with some-one in the last month. It’s not like you. What’s up? I’ve never seen you so quiet. Everybody’s talking about it. I’m worried for you."

"Nothing’s wrong Mr. McGregor. I’m just tired. I’ve been awful busy. It’s been busy here, and I’ve been painting and papering in the house. I haven’t been sleeping well. I’m just tired. I’m sorry about the row with Mrs. Crichton. I’ll sort that out. I was going to apologise to her. I know it was my fault. Once the good weather comes in, I’ll be fine. Sometimes the winter gets to me like this. I’m sorry if I’ve upset folk. It won’t happen again."

"Why not go to the doctor? Maybe he can give you a tonic or something to pick you up."

"Aye. I think I’ll just do that. It’s probably what I need."

"Cormac, it’s not just the rows. You’ve been making mistakes as well. Twice this week, I’ve had to re-do one of your monthly statements to suppliers. And there was a couple of other things lately too. You’ve always been that good. I hardly had to check your work in the past. But, the last wee while... If it keeps on like this, I’m going to have to speak to you officially and give you a warning that I’m not satisfied with your work."

"I’ll go to the doctor like you say, and I’ll leave the painting for a couple of weeks and get to my bed early. That’s all it needs. It all just seemed to get too much all of a sudden. I’ll be as right as rain in a week or two. I’m sorry for the bother. I’ll get it sorted out."

"All right. We’ll say no more about it. You see that you take care of yourself now."

Cormac went back to work, a very thoughtful man. At home, he and Beth had been having similar confrontations. I’m going to have to get this thing sorted out, he thought. Damn Maisie. Why did I have to meet her again? What the devil am I going to do?

*****

It was nearly half past six. Cormac buttoned his overcoat up round his throat. It was bitterly cold. He had been sitting in the Abbey gardens since six o’clock. Maisie had not passed by.

I wonder where she is, he thought. Maybe she’s sick. I wonder if I dare go round to the flat and see. I’ll give her another ten minutes.

He got to his feet a quarter of an hour later. She had still not appeared. He went to the shop thinking perhaps she was working late. He peered in the window looking for any lights in the store-room at the rear. The shop was dark. There was no-one there.

Now what do I do? I’m not expected home from the Hibs match in Edinburgh till after nine, so I still have plenty of time. I’ll go and have a pint while I think about it.

There was no reply to his knocks. From the street he had seen there were no lights on in the flat. He knocked one more time, loudly. The neighbours’ door opened.

"You dirty little man. Go away. She’s not there. The police came and arrested her two weeks ago. You men disgust me. Get out, and don’t come back. This is a respectable street. We don’t need your type here. Get out and tell all the rest of them she’s not here any more." Maisie’s neighbour, a large lady in a floral smock, slammed the door.

What in the name of God.... Cormac thought. He knocked on the neighbour’s door.

"Go away or I’ll get the police," the voice came through the closed door.

"Please missus, I don’t know what this is all about. Please open the door and tell me what’s going on. I’m an old friend of Maisie’s."

The door opened. A big man stood there in his shirt-sleeves. The woman was behind him, looking round his shoulder.

"If you don’t clear off, I’ll throw you down the stairs. I’m fed up telling you people, she’s gone. Now hop it." He made a threatening move in Cormac’s direction.

Cormac stepped back, spreading his hands in a non-aggressive gesture.

"Honest, I’ve done nothing. I knew, Maisie years ago. I have no idea what you’re talking about. For God’s sake, tell me what’s going on."

The man leaned against the door-post with one hand.

"You sure you’re not one of her customers? No you’re not. We’ve not seen you before, have we Alice?"

"I’ve been in the men’s shop in Gilmour St. if that’s what you mean?"

"No my friend. I don’t mean the men’s shop in Gilmour St. I mean the knocking-shop here in Johnston St."

"Knocking-shop? What are you talking about? Maisie Wilson lives here. I’ve been here twice in the last four or five months to visit her."

"She doesn’t live here anymore. She was using it as a place to receive men. She was nothing but a common prostitute. The police took her away a week past on Thursday. And good riddance to her too."

"You mean she’s in jail?"

"That’s right. In the jail; just where she belongs."

"What about the child? Where’s the wee lassie?"

"They took her too."

"My God," Cormac groaned. "I don’t believe this."

"Neither did we mister. We always thought she was a respectable woman. Then we noticed she was having men visiting her quite a lot. So we started watching. There were two or three every week; usually on a Tuesday, a Wednesday or a Thursday, but not always. They were always very careful. That was why we never noticed anything at first. But then we watched them for a couple of months, and made a note of their comings and goings and what they looked like. There was seven or eight of them; all regulars. At the end, we could set our clock by them. So we went to the police. We don’t need that next door."

Cormac went down the stairs into the street. He walked through the rain to the police station in Bridge Street.

"Officer, I wonder if you can help me."

"I’ll do my best sir. What can I do for you?"

"A week last Thursday, a woman was arrested for prostitution at a hundred and twenty-seven Johnston Street. The neighbours told me she had been sent to prison. Could you tell me where she would be?"

"Women in this area usually get sent to Kirktonhill, in Falkirk. I couldn’t give you any personal details, even if we had them. You’d have to go to the court in St. James St. to get that information."

"Thanks. If I went to the jail at visiting-time would they let me visit her?"

"I think so, yes. As far as I know, visiting time is open to anybody."

"I don’t suppose you know when the visiting times are."

"As far as I know, they’re always on a Saturday afternoon, but again, I’m not all that sure."

Aye, they will be, he thought. I should have known. Kilmarnock’s was on a Saturday.

"Thanks officer. Good night."

He went out into the rain. "Christ, does it always rain in Paisley," he muttered.

*****

"I’ll be later home tonight."

"Oh, why’s that?"

"Jimmy Thomson’s asked me back for my tea. I meant to say to you earlier, but forgot all about it."

"Who’s Jimmy Thomson?"

"Jimmy? Jimmy’s one of the men I see most weeks. We always stand at the same place on the terrace. I’ve told you about him before. He’s the man that works in the BMK. He’s the warehouse manager."

"I don’t remember, but if you say so, I believe you." Beth turned back to the dishes she was washing up.

He put on his coat and left. At Queen St. station in Glasgow, he got on the Edinburgh train.

"How do I get to the prison?"

"That’s a ten minute walk," the porter in Falkirk told him.

Cormack followed the directions and found himself part of a small crowd at the prison gate. He followed the other visitors through the side-door, into a reception area. They all made for the receptionist in his locket at the end. He joined the queue and straggled forward.

"Name?"

"Cormac Sleanagh."

"Not yours. Who’ve you come to see?"

"Sorry. Maisie Wilson."

"She expecting you? You’re not on the list."

"No. I didn’t know I had to make an appointment"

"No, it’s all right. You don’t have to, but it’s easier for us if you do. You know her number?"

"Sorry. I don’t."

"Wait there a minute." The prison-officer turned to a book beside him. "49364."

"Can you write that down for me please?" The officer scribbled on a scrap of paper and handed it to Cormac together with a brass disc with the number 15 on it. He put both in his pocket.

"What happens now officer?"

"We’ll tell her you’re here, and you’ll be let in to see her at half past two. You get an hour."

Cormac sat with the others and waited. At twenty-five past, a bell rang and the others crowded forward towards the door. He followed. They were herded into a large, green-painted room with a bare plank floor. It stank of stale cigarettes and unwashed bodies. Some twenty tables were set apart from each-other to allow a bit of privacy. An officer took the brass disc with 15 on it and motioned him to one in a corner. He went over and sat down. The table had a brass plate in the middle with the number 15 on it. He remembered the system from his time in Kilmarnock. The bars on the windows brought back uncomfortable memories. He waited.

At exactly half past two, the other door opened and the prisoners came in. Maisie looked round the room, saw him, walked over and sat down opposite him. Her prison dress was shapeless, her hair dull though neatly brushed, her eyes lively.

"Hello Maisie."

"How did you find out I was here?"

He explained.

"Why did you come?"

"I’m not really sure. You made it clear enough that you don’t want to know me, but I had the notion that you had nobody else that would visit you. Mostly, I wanted to know what happened to Corrie. The neighbours told me the police took her away when they came to arrest you. Where is she?"

"They put her with a foster family in Greenock for the time being."

"How long are you in for?"

"Three months. I’m a good girl, so I’ll get out in two. That means I’ll be out on midsummer’s day; the twenty-first of June."

"Will they let you have Corrie back?"

"I’ve been speaking to the chaplain. He tells me that if I can get a job and keep out of trouble, They might let me have her back in six months."

"That’s scandalous. They can’t take a wean away from her own mother."

"If that mother’s been convicted of bad moral conduct they can. And there’s nobody with worse moral conduct than a prostitute."

"That’s what I don’t understand. Were you...?"

"...a prostitute? Aye, I suppose I was. I wasn’t walking the streets. I had a handful of very decent, nice, lonely men. They all told me the same story. Their wife was as cold as a fish. All they wanted was a wee bit of loving. And I gave them that. It wasn’t dirty or sordid or anything like that. I cooked them a bit of supper and we sat and talked, and then we went into the bedroom.

They usually helped make the supper and they always dried the dishes afterwards. I was a friend they could talk to and I was nice to them. You’d be amazed the number of times they gret like a bairn afterwards. And some of the things they told me. They would never ever have told anybody. They left me a wee present every time. That’s how I could afford such a nice flat. I could never have done it on the wages from the shop."

"I suppose that job’s gone."

"Gone. I’ve lost my daughter, my job and my flat, for I haven’t paid the rent these last four weeks. Not that I could’ve gone back there. The neighbours would make my life a misery. Those nosy, bloody people. What damned business was it of theirs? I was doing nobody a blind bit of harm. I could afford some wee extras, and some decent men were getting a bit of warm loving in their miserable lives. And just because of that pair of nosey-parkers, everything’s ruined."

"So, what are you going to do when you get out?"

"I haven’t thought about it much yet. I’ll find a job somewhere and start again. It won’t be in Paisley. If I could do it when she was a baby, it’ll be no bother now she’s twelve. She’ll be able to be on her own. I’ll get by."

"You’ll need some help to get back on your feet. I’d like to do that. Maybe I can make up for being the bastard I was to you."

"I don’t know. I’ll think about it."

The rest of the hour was passed in exchanging some details of their lives since they both left Girvan. Both were reserved , but as the time passed they became more comfortable with each other. Both had matured in those twelve years. Both were surprised to discover that they had a lot in common.

Before he left, Maisie warned him to empty his pockets of anything that could lead Beth to find out what he had been up to that afternoon. Her gentlemen friends had several brushes with spousal interrogations because of evidence left in pockets. Bus and train tickets were the worst, she told him.

"I’ll see you when you get out?"

"We’ll see."

"I’ll come and visit you again before you get out."

"Aye all right."

*****

Cormac slapped Jimmy Thomson on the back. The final whistle had just blown at Rugby Park, Kilmarnock’s home ground. They had beaten Hearts two-one to win the Scottish league. It was the twenty-seventh of May, 1906.

"Come and have a pint," Cormac invited. "I’m paying."

"Well, if you twist my arm, just the one," said Jimmy.

They walked in the direction of Jimmy’s home to find a quieter pub. "Here’s to the Killie." They raised their pints in salute to their club After half-an-hour discussing the game Cormac said, "Jimmy, can I ask you a favour?"

"Son, today you can ask me for the moon. You can have it. What’s on your mind?"

"It’s a wee bit private, and I’d like you to keep it to yourself."

"Aha. Don’t tell me you’ve got a fancy-bit on the side."

Cormac coloured. "Don’t be daft. Though it is to do with a woman. I knew her before I came here. It’s more than twelve years ago. I bumped into her again in Paisley just before Christmas. She’s had a bit of trouble and she needs a job. D’you think you could see about maybe getting her into the BMK."

"An old flame, eh?"

Cormac coloured even more. "Aye, something like that. I don’t want anybody to know about her, especially not the family in Kerlaw."

"Sounds serious."

"She fell on hard times and got put in jail for being on the game. She’s got a wee lassie and it was the only way she could make ends meet. She’s really an awful nice woman. She wasn’t walking the streets or anything like that. She just had a couple of regular men who weren’t happy at home, if you get my meaning. They visited her every couple of weeks or so. The neighbours stuck their noses in and put the polis onto her. She got three months and the daughter’s been fostered out. She had a job in a shop, but that’s gone now."

He paused for a moment. "Just when I think about it, I told Beth I was at your house for my tea one night when I went to see her."

"It was nothing like that," spluttered Cormac, embarrassed, when Jimmy touched the side of his nose knowingly.

"Well, if you say so," he said with a man-to-man knowing look.

"Honest, it wasn’t that. Be serious Jimmy. She needs a job. Can you help."

"I’ll ask around. You having another pint?"

"Aye. I will."

Cormac got home late, to a huffed Beth.

"Aw for God’s sake woman. We won the bloody league today. Can I not have a wee bit of celebrating without you putting on a sour face?"

He went to bed.

*****

She sat down opposite him. They had table fifteen again. She looked very tired. Her hair was a mess and her eyes lifeless.

"Jimmy Thomson’s found a job for you. It’s a mill that makes blankets. They’re always needing women to steep them after they come out of the stitching room. You’ve got to wring them out through big mangles and hang them up to dry in the big drying park at the back of the factory. It’s heavy work. That’s why they’re always looking for folk. Jimmy has found a woman who has a room to rent as well. It won’t be for long. Just till you find your feet and can get something that suits you better. It’s in Hurlford. That’s just outside Kilmarnock on the road to Dumfries. You can get a train from Glasgow, and you’ll have to change at Kilmarnock."

Maisie, due to be released the following Thursday, just looked at him.

"What’s up Maisie? I thought you’d be really pleased. You’re getting out next week. What’s the matter?" He trailed off.

"They are going to let you out on Thursday, aren’t they? You haven’t done something daft and lost your time off for good behaviour, have you? Maisie, what’s wrong?"

There was a thunderstorm going on. Outside was as dark as a tomb. Lightning flashed, making the harsh glare of the big ceiling lamps even colder.

*****

"Corrie’s dead."

There was a silence.

"How the hell can Corrie be dead?"

"Diphtheria; last Wednesday. There’s an epidemic in Greenock. There’s at least five children dead. They buried her the next day because of the danger of infection. She was in the fever hospital. She was buried before they even told me."

She stared at him. He stared back.

"I never got to see her again; not even dead."

He stood up and went to the other side of the table. He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms round her tightly. Maisie just stood in his arms, stiff, unmoving.

"No touching. Get back to the other side of the table. You. Get back to the other side of the table."

A hefty prison officer came over and pulled Cormac away from her. He allowed himself to be pushed down into the chair.

"Maisie, I’m that sorry." He reached out his hand to hers lying on the table.

"I’ll not tell you again, table fifteen. Do that again and you’ll be put out."

They sat there not looking at each other in silence. The silence lasted till the end of the hour. Tears trickled down Maisie’s face.

Now I’ll never get to know her, my wee lassie. And she was that bonny. Cormac’s thoughts flowed on in slow motion, like the tears down Maisie’s cheeks. At the bell, he left her. They had not spoken another word. Neither had they looked each-other in the eye.

"Here’s the addresses of the factory and the house where you’ve got the room. It’s a Mrs. Farquarson. She’s expecting you next weekend. I can’t give you the envelope. I’ve got to give it to the officer at the reception. There’s two pounds in it for your train-fare and to pay your first week’s rent and to keep you going till you get paid. I’ll come and see you when I get the chance. It’ll likely be the beginning of September, when the new season starts."

He gave the envelope to the supervising warder as he left.

Kilmarnock had been playing Dunfermline away. It was after nine o’clock when Cormac got home. Previously, when seeing Maisie, he had bought the late football edition of the Saturday evening paper. With his thoughts on Maisie and Corrie, he had not even thought about an evening paper.

"So, how was the match?"

"What? Aye. It was a good match."

"So why’s your face like a wet Monday in January?"

"What? Oh, I don’t know. I think I’m coming down with something. I don’t feel really all that good."

"Neither would I, if I’d been in the pub all afternoon."

"What are you talking about? I haven’t been in the pub. Well, I’ve had a couple of pints, but I’m no’ fu’."

"Well, if you’re no’ fu’ why are you telling me it was a good match, when you got beat three-nothing?"

"I meant ... I wasn’t following you. My mind’s away with the fairies today. I really feel quite funny. I think I’ll away to my bed."

Beth looked at him. He undressed, climbed into the bed-recess and pulled the curtains closed. The children were already in bed. Beth put on the kettle for a cup of tea.

What’s he up to? He’s been acting awful strange the last wee while. Maybe I’ve been pushing him too hard. He’s been doing his best. I know he had to work hard to keep up in his classes. It can’t have been easy for him. I hope he’s not going to have one of them brain-storms. I’ll have to stop pushing him. He’s done awful well.

Beth let her thoughts drift. They began to be pulled along by a very definite current. He can’t have a fancy woman. It’s not in his nature. But if he wasn’t at the football, where the devil did he go? She determined to put the thought out of her head, but it persisted.

*****

The football season had started again. Kilmarnock were playing away from home.. This was the first time he was able to visit her since she was released from prison.

"This woman Farquarson is a pain in the neck. She’s always coming into the room. Damned woman never knocks or anything. I’m really fed up with it.

I was in the wee shop on the corner at the weekend. They were telling me that there’s a place empty in Louden St. They’re asking one and six a week for the rent. It’s still empty. I can’t afford it on what I’m getting from the Mill. Do you think you could help me a wee bit, till I get something that pays a bit better."

"Aye, sure. I couldn’t give you the full one and six. How much do you think you’ll need?"

"I’m paying Mrs. Farquarson two and thruppence, and that’s including my dinner and something in the morning before I go out. I’d need at least two shillings a week for food, so I need three and six just to eat and pay the rent. I’m getting four shillings from the Mill, so if I need a pair of shoes or something, I’ve not got a lot to play with."

"How much d’you think you’d need then?"

"Could you give me sixpence a week?"

"What if I gave you two shillings a month?"

"I think I could get by on that. Can you afford that much?"

"Aye, I’ll be able to do that."

"So I can go and tell them that I’ll take it?"

"What about furniture? Have you any? That’s going to cost a bit to furnish the place."

"They took everything I had in Paisley when I went to prison, and sold it to pay the back-rent. But there’s some things in the house that I can take over for five shillings. There’s a bed and a table and a couple of chairs. It’s not going to be Buckingham Palace, but give me a couple of months, and I’ll make it nice."

"Tell them you’ll give them two and six for the lot. They’ll haggle, but don’t you go higher than four bob. I can give you that much."

"You’re great. You really are. Thanks a lot." She came over and kissed him on the cheek. It was the first time she had showed any kind of intimacy since they had met almost a year previously.

"I need to pay them two weeks rent in advance." Maisie looked at him from under lowered eyebrows. "I hate to keep asking you for money like this, but I’ve nobody else to ask. I swear I’ll pay you back, every penny, when I get on my feet." She would not meet his eyes.

Cormac handed over seven and six. "Maisie, don’t worry. I want to help. You don’t need to pay me back. It’s not that important."

The next day she rented the flat. She bought the furniture for three shillings.

*****

It was the middle of September. They were playing Celtic at Parkhead.

"For God’s sake Maisie, sit down for five minutes. I’ve been here since two o’clock and it’s nearly half past four, and you’ve been scraping at that wallpaper since I came in. Here, I’ve made you a cup of tea. Now give me that scraper."

Cormac took the scraper from her hand and pulled her towards the table. She sat down and drank the tea.

"You didn’t think to bring some biscuits, did you?"

"Never thought. I’ll bring some next time. How are you settling in? You’ve been busy. I can see that."

"What else is there to do? I don’t know anybody here. I’ve no money to go out. Go out? God knows where I would go in this place? It’s the end of the earth here. Hurlford, it could be Siberia." She finished her tea and reached for the scraper.

"For the love of God, sit and talk to me for five minutes. How’s the job? Is it as hard as Jimmy said it would be?"

"It’s a job. Aye it’s hard work. It’s not nice work. The stuff’s very rough. It’s awful sore on your hands. And the place stinks of wet wool. I stink of wet wool. It’s a terrible place. I’m that miserable. I had a nice wee life; a nice wee job; a nice wee flat, and a bonny wee daughter. And now what have I got?"

She picked up the scraper, stood up and turned to the wall. Cormac took the empty tea-cups to the scullery and rinsed them. Drying them, he looked through the doorway into the living-room. The curtainless windows stared out into the street at the front, and onto a drying-green, bare of grass, at the back. A scratched, pine table with two dining-room chairs stood on the bare floor-boards. The material on the seats of the chairs were worn to the thread and half the brass furniture-nails missing. In the corner, next to the cold fireplace, an armchair sagged through its springs; in the bed-room an iron bedstead whose spiral bed-spring sagged even further than the armchair with the weight of the thin mattress.

God help her when she’s got to sleep in that. Her backside’ll be dragging in the floor he was thinking.

"We’ll have to get you some better furniture."

"I could cry when I think of the nice things I had in Paisley."

"Now, don’t you go getting down in the mouth. You’ll be back on your feet in no time."

"I was talking to that wee woman again yesterday. The one in the shop where I get my messages. She was telling me that some old man in the town died the other week. His daughter is selling his furniture, and they’re going to throw them out, if nobody makes them an offer. They’re asking thirty shillings for them," she said."

Cormac took out his wallet. "Here’s twenty-five shillings. Offer them a pound, but don’t go over twenty-five."

She took the money. "Thanks Cormac. You’re a good man." She turned back to her scraping.

He put his coat on.

"I’ll away then. I’ll see you in a week or two."

"Aye, all right, cheerio."

"Cheerio."

The following Monday evening, after work, Maisie knocked on a door in Killoch Road. It was opened by a young woman with bleached hair and a cigarette hanging from a crimsoned bottom lip.

"Hello. Mrs. McGovern in the shop said you had some furniture. Have you still got it?"

"Aye, hen. Would like to see it? It’s in Elgin Street, just round the corner. Wait there. I’ll get the key and put my coat on." Maisie waited on the doorstep.

Elgin Street was a better quality of house than Loudon Road, where Maisie lived. Immediately Maisie recognised quality things. She moved from room to room, looking at them.

"It’s awful old-fashioned. There’s lots of scratches and stains and things. I don’t know. I was hoping for something a bit ... less heavy. This stuff’s awful big. Is this all there is?"

"’Fraid so, hen. If you don’t want it, it’s going to the coup the morn."

"What you asking for it all?"

"Well, there’s the table and four chairs; all matching. There’s the big sideboard. That was my granny’s. I never liked that myself. Them two big easy-chairs are nice and comfy. That big dresser’s got lots of room. You can get all your kitchen things in it. That’s a double bed with a feather mattress, and the down quilt goes with it, and the pillows. I’ve got enough blankets and sheets and things of my own, so if you want I can throw them in as well. Call it one pound, ten shillings for the lot. Oh, and the carpet can go as well.

‘I’m not sure. I was looking for something more ... modern. It’s awful dark and heavy."

"Suit yourself. As I said, they’re away to the coup tomorrow. Make up your mind."

"I’ll not bother thanks. It’s not what I had in mind. Thanks all the same." Maisie turned to leave.

As Maisie reached the door there was a cough.

"You can have them all for a pound."

"It’s awful good of you, but, sorry, it’s really not what I’m looking for."

"What’ll you give me for them. It’s a shame to throw them away. They were my mother’s pride and joy."

"I don’t know. It’s not really my style. I do need some furniture for I’ve just moved into the town. But ..." Maisie sighed.

"Give me fifteen shillings."

"I’m not sure ..." She hesitated.

"They’re worth at least a pound. I’ll take fifteen shillings."

Maisie walked back into the room. She looked at each piece of furniture again.

"I could give you seven and six."

"Away tae hell. I’d rather dump them on the coup than give them away for that."

"Suit yourself." Maisie turned towards the door again.

"Twelve and six."

Maisie stopped. "Look, as I said, I’ve just got a place in the town, and I need some stuff till I find something that suits me right. This could keep me going till then. I’ll give you ten shillings, including the sheets, blankets, pillows and the carpet."

"Twelve and six; otherwise they’re going to the coup. I’m not giving my faither’s things away for less than that. Take it or leave it."

"Well, all right. We’ll say twelve and six. Can you bring it round to Loudon Road?"

"Are ye bliddy mad? You’re getting ma faither’s furniture for nothing and you want me to get it delivered as well?"

"If you can’t get them brought round, It’s no good to me. I don’t know anybody in the town. You do."

"I tell you what I’ll do. I’ll get Benny Fulton to bring them round on his cart. He sells vegetables off it. But it’ll cost you half a crown."

"Aye, that’ll be fine."

The furniture was delivered on Wednesday evening at eight o’clock.

*****

"Hey, look at the new furniture. That’s really nice. I like that sideboard. That’s real mahogany. It must weigh a ton."

"It does. I had to pay the man with the cart and his brother a shilling extra to get it up the stairs. We nearly didn’t get it round the bend. It took them half an hour. They were really nice about it."

"How much did you pay for it all?"

"Twenty-two and six, but I had to pay two and six for the vegetable man to bring it round on his cart, and the extra shilling on top."

"You got a bargain. This stuff’s real quality."

"I know," she said, pleased with herself. "The table and chairs are even better than what I had in Paisley." She was quiet for a minute.

"See, I told you. You’ll be back where you were in no time."

"I’ll never get Corrie back." She went into the kitchen and put the kettle on.

Cormac cursed his tactlessness. "The wallpaper’s nice. You did a good job. You never said you could hang wallpaper."

"And who else would hang it for me? I never had a man to do it. It’s not hard."

It was October. It was his third visit. He was missing the game against the Hearts.

"What do you say, we go for a walk? It’s a nice day." They walked out along the Dumfries Road. They sat on a bench for half an hour and talked.

"You’re coming out of it," he said cautiously.

She stared out over the central Ayrshire hills, with its fields of potatoes waiting to be picked.

"Aye I am. I’ve been keeping myself busy. Getting the house painted and papered was good for me. Having something to keep my mind off things and then seeing the place getting nicer did me the world of good.

I’ve got a job in a pub; in the evenings, behind the bar. I start on Monday. The Loudon Arms, it’s just round the corner."

"That’s great," he said, surprised. "You sure you’ll not stink the place full of wet wool?"

"Oh, I’ll have a good wash before I go out." They both laughed.

As they walked back to the house, she took his arm.

*****

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