her mouth the woman looked long and hard at Kitty. Eventually she made some sucking sounds before saying, ‘“Used to say.” What do you mean by that?’
Sighing, Kitty picked up the poker and hung it back on the companion set. ‘What I mean is my mum … is in heaven … went there last week, so she did.’
‘I’m sorry, hen. Didnae mean to upset you.’ The woman went over and started to rub Kitty’s back. ‘I’m Constance Sharp, but everybody calls me Connie …’ Before Connie could go on, however, a fretful wail emanated from the bedroom. Connie’s mouth dropped. ‘Is that a baby you’ve got in there?’
Kitty shouted, ‘Aye,’ as she dashed into the bedroom, lifted the protesting Rosebud up and brought her into the living room.
Connie’s eyes bulged and her mouth gaped. ‘You have a baby?’ she exclaimed.
Kitty nodded. Unaware that Connie presumed she was Rosebud’s mother, she then spluttered, ‘Trapped with her, so I am.’
‘Where’s her father?’
‘You mean my dad? Well he’s over in the Learig but before you meet him I think you should know he takes no responsibility for Rosebud.’
Connie’s mouth gaped. She wondered if she was hearing right. Surely, she thought, this lassie is no telling me that her own father is also the father of his grandchild! She gulped and blew out her breath slowly. Things like that, she thought, might happen in Leith but never here in upmarket Restalrig. She knew she should say something of comfort to this young lassie, and in truth she wished to, but what could she say?
Rosebud was now being fed from a bottle that had been heating by the fire and as she suckled Kitty inhaled before saying, ‘My mum died last week giving birth to her and all she does is cry. Know something?’
Vigorously shaking her head, Connie relaxed as warm relief washed over her.
‘It’s me that should be doing the wailing,’ Kitty went on.
‘Am I right in understanding your dad’s not having anything to do with the poor wee mite?’
Kitty allowed her eyes to roll in exasperation but remained silent.
Connie was shocked. In truth she was finding it difficult to keep the conversation going and she was surprised when she heard herself ask, ‘Where does your dad work?’
‘Robb’s Shipyards. He’s employed as a plater and in his spare time he’s the main shop steward.’
Raucous laughter suddenly reverberated around the room. ‘Don’t tell me your pig of a father is Johnny Anderson, the bane of the yard manager’s life?’
Kitty nodded.
‘Well if this is not a turn-up for the books! My Uncle Willie, he’s one of the cops on the gates, got me a start in the stores, so he did. Good pay, better than in the canteen.’
‘Women work in the shipyard itself?’ Kitty huffed.
‘Aye, with most of the unskilled men being away at the war, women are now being employed in the stores to hand out the spare parts and so on.’
‘That must be heavy work.’
‘Aye, but it seems women can now be allowed to lift out the parts that are needed but are not deft enough to do the actual fitting. Anyway,’ Connie hesitated as she threw her cigarette stump into the fire, ‘wasn’t I on duty last week when your dad called a strike. The whole yard was out. No work being done and all for nothing really.’
‘Are you saying my dad called a strike over nothing?’
Connie nodded. ‘One of the wee engineering apprentices thought he would have a go at hammering out a bit of steel plate in the dinner break and all hell broke loose when he was caught. “Everybody out,” your dad hollered. Then he and the yard manager got into a huddle and it was agreed, yet again, that all apprentices would be given a quick lesson on industrial relations and demarcation. The result was that within five minutes we were all back to essential war work.’
Shaking her head, Kitty said, ‘Connie, if you would like a cup of tea just you make it while I put Rosebud back down.’
‘Tea? That’s no a
Sighing, Kitty picked up the poker and hung it back on the companion set. ‘What I mean is my mum … is in heaven … went there last week, so she did.’
‘I’m sorry, hen. Didnae mean to upset you.’ The woman went over and started to rub Kitty’s back. ‘I’m Constance Sharp, but everybody calls me Connie …’ Before Connie could go on, however, a fretful wail emanated from the bedroom. Connie’s mouth dropped. ‘Is that a baby you’ve got in there?’
Kitty shouted, ‘Aye,’ as she dashed into the bedroom, lifted the protesting Rosebud up and brought her into the living room.
Connie’s eyes bulged and her mouth gaped. ‘You have a baby?’ she exclaimed.
Kitty nodded. Unaware that Connie presumed she was Rosebud’s mother, she then spluttered, ‘Trapped with her, so I am.’
‘Where’s her father?’
‘You mean my dad? Well he’s over in the Learig but before you meet him I think you should know he takes no responsibility for Rosebud.’
Connie’s mouth gaped. She wondered if she was hearing right. Surely, she thought, this lassie is no telling me that her own father is also the father of his grandchild! She gulped and blew out her breath slowly. Things like that, she thought, might happen in Leith but never here in upmarket Restalrig. She knew she should say something of comfort to this young lassie, and in truth she wished to, but what could she say?
Rosebud was now being fed from a bottle that had been heating by the fire and as she suckled Kitty inhaled before saying, ‘My mum died last week giving birth to her and all she does is cry. Know something?’
Vigorously shaking her head, Connie relaxed as warm relief washed over her.
‘It’s me that should be doing the wailing,’ Kitty went on.
‘Am I right in understanding your dad’s not having anything to do with the poor wee mite?’
Kitty allowed her eyes to roll in exasperation but remained silent.
Connie was shocked. In truth she was finding it difficult to keep the conversation going and she was surprised when she heard herself ask, ‘Where does your dad work?’
‘Robb’s Shipyards. He’s employed as a plater and in his spare time he’s the main shop steward.’
Raucous laughter suddenly reverberated around the room. ‘Don’t tell me your pig of a father is Johnny Anderson, the bane of the yard manager’s life?’
Kitty nodded.
‘Well if this is not a turn-up for the books! My Uncle Willie, he’s one of the cops on the gates, got me a start in the stores, so he did. Good pay, better than in the canteen.’
‘Women work in the shipyard itself?’ Kitty huffed.
‘Aye, with most of the unskilled men being away at the war, women are now being employed in the stores to hand out the spare parts and so on.’
‘That must be heavy work.’
‘Aye, but it seems women can now be allowed to lift out the parts that are needed but are not deft enough to do the actual fitting. Anyway,’ Connie hesitated as she threw her cigarette stump into the fire, ‘wasn’t I on duty last week when your dad called a strike. The whole yard was out. No work being done and all for nothing really.’
‘Are you saying my dad called a strike over nothing?’
Connie nodded. ‘One of the wee engineering apprentices thought he would have a go at hammering out a bit of steel plate in the dinner break and all hell broke loose when he was caught. “Everybody out,” your dad hollered. Then he and the yard manager got into a huddle and it was agreed, yet again, that all apprentices would be given a quick lesson on industrial relations and demarcation. The result was that within five minutes we were all back to essential war work.’
Shaking her head, Kitty said, ‘Connie, if you would like a cup of tea just you make it while I put Rosebud back down.’
‘Tea? That’s no a
Similar Books
