tae Bessie.”
“Well, ah hope ye know that she wid be made very welcome here as well,” Betty graciously replied, already knowing his response and relieved at his anticipated refusal.
“Ah’m sure of that Betty, but aw the same.” He stopped, knowing Bessie’s status with the women of the close and understanding why it was so. On his way out he stopped for a quiet word of encouragement to Willie.
That’s how they started out to wait through the long night - most of the close’s inhabitants around the fire in the Gillies’ kitchen, Murdo and Bessie quietly by themselves. They dozed off and started, too nervous to go to their beds but too tired to be properly awake. In their wakeful moments they tried to distract themselves with tea or conversation or the newspaper, one ear on the alert for any intimation that the distant noise was coming any closer. Except for Willie, who spent the time in silence, alone with his thoughts.
For a time they were relieved that Scotstoun was being spared, although they knew that could change in an instant - their lives pulverized by an unlucky chance, a stray accident. So suddenly did their luck change that it took them long seconds of disorientation and disbelief before they were brought completely awake by the scream of bombs.
The noise was so loud that everyone in the tenement felt sure that the bombs were aimed right at the room in which they were sitting. Betty sat in her chair and screamed, immobilized in her panic. Alec grabbed her and threw her under the table so abruptly that her head banged into the leg. Everyone dived to the floor, except Willie, who sat immobile in his chair, seemingly oblivious or uncaring about the imminent peril.
The few seconds of the bombs’ flight seemed endless, the noise growing to a terrifying pitch. They felt rather than heard the force of the explosions. The building expanded and contracted as though it had given out a great sigh of relief at its close escape. The wally dugs on the mantelpiece smashed onto the fender. Pictures flew horizontally off the walls before gravity brought them arcing to the linoleum. The glass smashed, shards flying into every corner of the room.
They lay still for many long minutes until the silence seductively drew them out. Except for Betty, who had to be physically brought out from below the table. Alec gently pried her hands away from her face. “Are ye aw right, Betty? Let me take a look at ye.” She was on the verge of hysteria. Alec shook her gently. “Come on now, Betty, we’re all right.” He put his arms around her and held her to him, her small frame wrapped in his muscular arms. With gentle words he coaxed her back to herself.
They dozed no more that night, wondering what in Scotstoun had been hit. It had to be nearby. They waited out the few remaining hours until dawn, shaken and uneasy. In the morning, red-eyed and weary, they huddled around the kitchen table trying to liven themselves with cigarettes and Betty’s strong, hot tea. Revived a little, Willie once more was determined to set off for Clydebank. “Bugger work, ah have tae get down there.”
“Ye’ve nae need tae worry aboot work,” Wattie Mckay said with determination. “Ah’ll straighten that oot wi’ the foreman masel’. Naebody could expect ye tae go tae work at a time like this.” Willie knew he was right. But even now it was hard for a man who hadn’t missed a day in ten years, and hardly at all in a lifetime, not to feel uneasy about missing work. The hard, uncaring times of the thirties had left their mark.
Willie rose from the table. “Now Willie,” Wattie began, “might it no’ make sense tae wait a wee while and see if Ella disnae turn up here. If ye gang doon there the noo wi’ everything aw at six and sevens yer shair tae miss her.”
Willie was insistent. “But Wattie, it’s no’ just Ella, its May and Tam and the bairn an aw.”
“Ah know, ah know," Wattie said
“Well, ah hope ye know that she wid be made very welcome here as well,” Betty graciously replied, already knowing his response and relieved at his anticipated refusal.
“Ah’m sure of that Betty, but aw the same.” He stopped, knowing Bessie’s status with the women of the close and understanding why it was so. On his way out he stopped for a quiet word of encouragement to Willie.
That’s how they started out to wait through the long night - most of the close’s inhabitants around the fire in the Gillies’ kitchen, Murdo and Bessie quietly by themselves. They dozed off and started, too nervous to go to their beds but too tired to be properly awake. In their wakeful moments they tried to distract themselves with tea or conversation or the newspaper, one ear on the alert for any intimation that the distant noise was coming any closer. Except for Willie, who spent the time in silence, alone with his thoughts.
For a time they were relieved that Scotstoun was being spared, although they knew that could change in an instant - their lives pulverized by an unlucky chance, a stray accident. So suddenly did their luck change that it took them long seconds of disorientation and disbelief before they were brought completely awake by the scream of bombs.
The noise was so loud that everyone in the tenement felt sure that the bombs were aimed right at the room in which they were sitting. Betty sat in her chair and screamed, immobilized in her panic. Alec grabbed her and threw her under the table so abruptly that her head banged into the leg. Everyone dived to the floor, except Willie, who sat immobile in his chair, seemingly oblivious or uncaring about the imminent peril.
The few seconds of the bombs’ flight seemed endless, the noise growing to a terrifying pitch. They felt rather than heard the force of the explosions. The building expanded and contracted as though it had given out a great sigh of relief at its close escape. The wally dugs on the mantelpiece smashed onto the fender. Pictures flew horizontally off the walls before gravity brought them arcing to the linoleum. The glass smashed, shards flying into every corner of the room.
They lay still for many long minutes until the silence seductively drew them out. Except for Betty, who had to be physically brought out from below the table. Alec gently pried her hands away from her face. “Are ye aw right, Betty? Let me take a look at ye.” She was on the verge of hysteria. Alec shook her gently. “Come on now, Betty, we’re all right.” He put his arms around her and held her to him, her small frame wrapped in his muscular arms. With gentle words he coaxed her back to herself.
They dozed no more that night, wondering what in Scotstoun had been hit. It had to be nearby. They waited out the few remaining hours until dawn, shaken and uneasy. In the morning, red-eyed and weary, they huddled around the kitchen table trying to liven themselves with cigarettes and Betty’s strong, hot tea. Revived a little, Willie once more was determined to set off for Clydebank. “Bugger work, ah have tae get down there.”
“Ye’ve nae need tae worry aboot work,” Wattie Mckay said with determination. “Ah’ll straighten that oot wi’ the foreman masel’. Naebody could expect ye tae go tae work at a time like this.” Willie knew he was right. But even now it was hard for a man who hadn’t missed a day in ten years, and hardly at all in a lifetime, not to feel uneasy about missing work. The hard, uncaring times of the thirties had left their mark.
Willie rose from the table. “Now Willie,” Wattie began, “might it no’ make sense tae wait a wee while and see if Ella disnae turn up here. If ye gang doon there the noo wi’ everything aw at six and sevens yer shair tae miss her.”
Willie was insistent. “But Wattie, it’s no’ just Ella, its May and Tam and the bairn an aw.”
“Ah know, ah know," Wattie said
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