nightcap; how about I go and get the leftover Christmas sherry and we have a tot?’
‘Oh no. You see, I don’t drink,’ Kitty blustered.
‘Right wee Rechabite, so you are,’ Connie chortled as she playfully elbowed Kitty. ‘Tell you what, you put your sister down and I’ll go back ben the house and get myself a sherry then I’ll make you some tea.’
Kitty had just lifted the teacup to her mouth when her dad arrived back from the pub. ‘What’s going on here?’ he demanded.
‘Dinnae fash yourself, son,’ Connie said, before throwing the last of her sherry down her throat. ‘The lassie and me were just getting acquainted.’ She now began to sashay sensuously over to Johnny. ‘And you never know your luck, big boy, I could maybe take a shine to you too.’
Johnny jumped back as fear and indignation overwhelmed him. It would have been bad enough to have been compromised by a fast piece like Connie in the yard canteen, but in your own home, that was just not on!
JOHNNY’S STORY
Johnny snorted and his thoughts strayed to his own conduct when dealing with the opposite sex. Pursing his lips and cocking his head, he reassured himself that always he treated women, no matter whom, with the utmost respect. This behaviour had been instilled into him by his mother, Jenny, from when he had been just a greenstick teenager.
His meanderings now drifted back, as they always did lately, to when he had first fancied Sandra. He was just a gawky fourteen-year-old laddie then but as he partnered her in a Strip the Willow at the church’s Saturday night youth club she awakened troublesome longings within him. He grinned as he remembered how she seemed to flirt with him as she twisted and turned her way up the male line of dancers, but always coming back to swing him, until he was dizzy with lust for her.
The dance wasn’t to finish until ten o’clock so Johnny had hopes of being danced off his feet several times by Sandra. His hopes, however, were dashed at nine when Sandra donned her coat. At just thirteen she was a ‘stand-in mother’ and therefore responsible for her two younger brothers, whom she had warned to be indoors by nine o’clock. When Johnny realised that Sandra was leaving, he ran up to her and offered to walk her home.
As they dillied and dallied along the road they spoke about this and that and nothing in particular. They had just turned into Sandra’s street when Johnny pulled up abruptly and, seeking Sandra’s hand, he stuttered, ‘Would you like to go to the pictures with me? What I mean is, I might be able to scrape up enough to treat us both during the week.’
Pulling her hand from his grasp, Sandra teased, ‘Oh, so I’m not good enough for the extra you have to pay on a Saturday?’
‘Yes. Yes. You are,’ he blustered in reply, ‘but it’s quieter in the flicks during the week so you have more chance of getting a chummy seat.’
‘A chummy seat? Oh you are a gallus one, Johnny Anderson,’ she chortled, giving him a playful poke.
To add to Johnny’s discomfiture his face fired.
Laughing, Sandra said, ‘But ken something, Johnny, Monday is a good night for me. My aunty comes and looks after the boys then and I get to have a wee bit of time to myself.’
‘Monday?’ Johnny became flustered and stuttered in reply, ‘Look, could you no make it any day but Monday?’
‘Why?’
‘Monday night’s the night I go to the union meeting.’
‘Oh well, if the union meeting is more important than going out with me, let’s just forget it.’ Sandra then tossed her head before flouncing away from him.
‘Look,’ Johnny hollered after her. ‘The union meeting is not more important than you and it never will be. But if we are ever going to be anything to each other then we will need the union.’
‘Need a trade union! And what would they be able to do for me?’
‘Everything. You see, the unions will fight for better rights for the workers, like me and all the lads in the
‘Oh no. You see, I don’t drink,’ Kitty blustered.
‘Right wee Rechabite, so you are,’ Connie chortled as she playfully elbowed Kitty. ‘Tell you what, you put your sister down and I’ll go back ben the house and get myself a sherry then I’ll make you some tea.’
Kitty had just lifted the teacup to her mouth when her dad arrived back from the pub. ‘What’s going on here?’ he demanded.
‘Dinnae fash yourself, son,’ Connie said, before throwing the last of her sherry down her throat. ‘The lassie and me were just getting acquainted.’ She now began to sashay sensuously over to Johnny. ‘And you never know your luck, big boy, I could maybe take a shine to you too.’
Johnny jumped back as fear and indignation overwhelmed him. It would have been bad enough to have been compromised by a fast piece like Connie in the yard canteen, but in your own home, that was just not on!
JOHNNY’S STORY
Johnny snorted and his thoughts strayed to his own conduct when dealing with the opposite sex. Pursing his lips and cocking his head, he reassured himself that always he treated women, no matter whom, with the utmost respect. This behaviour had been instilled into him by his mother, Jenny, from when he had been just a greenstick teenager.
His meanderings now drifted back, as they always did lately, to when he had first fancied Sandra. He was just a gawky fourteen-year-old laddie then but as he partnered her in a Strip the Willow at the church’s Saturday night youth club she awakened troublesome longings within him. He grinned as he remembered how she seemed to flirt with him as she twisted and turned her way up the male line of dancers, but always coming back to swing him, until he was dizzy with lust for her.
The dance wasn’t to finish until ten o’clock so Johnny had hopes of being danced off his feet several times by Sandra. His hopes, however, were dashed at nine when Sandra donned her coat. At just thirteen she was a ‘stand-in mother’ and therefore responsible for her two younger brothers, whom she had warned to be indoors by nine o’clock. When Johnny realised that Sandra was leaving, he ran up to her and offered to walk her home.
As they dillied and dallied along the road they spoke about this and that and nothing in particular. They had just turned into Sandra’s street when Johnny pulled up abruptly and, seeking Sandra’s hand, he stuttered, ‘Would you like to go to the pictures with me? What I mean is, I might be able to scrape up enough to treat us both during the week.’
Pulling her hand from his grasp, Sandra teased, ‘Oh, so I’m not good enough for the extra you have to pay on a Saturday?’
‘Yes. Yes. You are,’ he blustered in reply, ‘but it’s quieter in the flicks during the week so you have more chance of getting a chummy seat.’
‘A chummy seat? Oh you are a gallus one, Johnny Anderson,’ she chortled, giving him a playful poke.
To add to Johnny’s discomfiture his face fired.
Laughing, Sandra said, ‘But ken something, Johnny, Monday is a good night for me. My aunty comes and looks after the boys then and I get to have a wee bit of time to myself.’
‘Monday?’ Johnny became flustered and stuttered in reply, ‘Look, could you no make it any day but Monday?’
‘Why?’
‘Monday night’s the night I go to the union meeting.’
‘Oh well, if the union meeting is more important than going out with me, let’s just forget it.’ Sandra then tossed her head before flouncing away from him.
‘Look,’ Johnny hollered after her. ‘The union meeting is not more important than you and it never will be. But if we are ever going to be anything to each other then we will need the union.’
‘Need a trade union! And what would they be able to do for me?’
‘Everything. You see, the unions will fight for better rights for the workers, like me and all the lads in the
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