Crystal's Song by Millie Gray

was navy issue, marked, “Fifty Capstan Navy Strength Cigarettes”. “And how did you come by them?”
    “Got them off a sailor.”
    “Did he come on your bus like?”
    “Naw. Naw. I met him in the servicemen’s canteen up the East End o’ Princes Street.”
    Etta nodded before taking another cigarette from the tin. “Good we’ve got Phyllis bedded down for the night and it’ll be a wee while afore Tess gets back from the pictures.” She paused and gave a slight cough as the smoke haze surrounded the two women. “But, ken something? I find it awfy quiet without aw the others.”
    “Aye, oor blessed Saint Patsy, saviour of my bairns as she sees herself, should be back ony time now from Linlithgow. Look, afore the auld battleaxe gets in, how about you and me having a bit toasted cheese and a cup of tea wi’ twa sugars!”
    The mention of toasted cheese had a bad effect on Etta and she started to boak. “You still throwing up?” Dinah asked, screwing up her face in disgust. Etta nodded. “Must be something wrang wi’ ye …”
    Etta lifted the poker and began stirring the last embers of the fire back into life. “Dinah,” she said slowly without looking up. “The one good point your mammy says you have is …” Etta hesitated before whispering, “… is that you can keep a secret.”
    “Oh, Etta, ye’re … no? But here ye are. I mean are ye really saying … you’re on the road?” stammered Dinah as she bent over and rubbed Etta’s knee.
    Etta nodded.
    “You mean you’ve actually missed? How long?”
    “Three weeks.”
    “Och, is that no just wonderful? And it’s what you’ve always wanted. See when you get over the morning sickness you’ll feel just great.”
    Etta continued to poke the fire while sighing deeply.
    “And how does Harry feel about it? Bet he’s cock-a-hoop?”
    Etta stopped annoying the fire and just sat staring into space as big silent tears ran down her face.
    “I ken ye’re getting on a fair bit for your first bairn – but you’ll be fine,” Dinah said reassuringly. However, when Etta slumped even further down in the chair, Dinah realised there was something far wrong. It was not as simple as Etta being worried about becoming an older mother. It was something that Dinah should be seeing. But something she wasn’t seeing. Then it slowly dawned on her that she’d never seen Harry, not once, in the last six months! “Wh – wh – when was Harry last home on leave?” she spiered.
    Etta shook her head, “That’s the trouble … he’s no been home.”
    “Oh,” was all Dinah could mutter.
    “Aye. Oh.”
    “Are you sure you’re away then?”
    Etta nodded. “Aye, and Harry’s no going to be pleased because – he’s – well he’s no …”
    “Don’t mean to pry but, well – who is to blame then?”
    “The Germans,” blurted out Etta as sobs racked her body.
    Dinah shook her head. “But we’ve no been invaded by the Germans. Do you no mean they randy Poles that are squatting down in the Craigentinny Army Camp?”
    “No. The Germans are to blame. All four hundred of them!”
    Dinah was speechless at first but when she finally managed to utter some words all she could say was, “Etta, are you saying that the fact you’re expecting is down to four hundred Germans taking advantage o’ you?”
    “No. They didn’t take advantage of me. Frightened the living daylights out of me, so they did.”
    “They frightened you? But getting a fright doesn’t …” Dinah didn’t continue as Etta went on to explain.
    “Remember last month – the thirteenth and fourteenth of March – when all these German bombers flew over us on their way to blitz poor Clydebank to smithereens?” Dinah nodded. “Aye, well, on the first night I was asleep when the siren went and Jacob Simpson woke me up telling me to go with him to the shelter. But I heard all the din, saw all the flashes of the searchlights.” Etta put her hands over her ears. “Those guns. Oh, Dinah! I was