usually do. That way you can continue to say honestly that alcohol never touches your mouth!” I then threatened to tell the minister his secret and suddenly he was adamant that coming down here was the right thing for me to do. He was so pleased to let me catch the early train he even accompanied me to Inverness.’
Harry was still grieving the loss of his father when he went into the bakers at the end of Halmyre Street to buy a Scotch pie. The young lassie behind the counter smiled warmly to him before saying, ‘Sorry about your dad. Nice man he was.’
Nodding, Harry felt his eyes well with tears, which spilled over when she added, ‘No need to pay for the pie. Eat it right away because it’s warm and it might … well, it just might help.’
Immediately Harry started to devour the warm delicacy, and when he had finished eating he lingered on in the shop so he could get a better look at Sally. He liked the way she had tied her light-brown hair, her best feature, up in a red ribbon that matched her rosy cheeks. Although she was not as beautiful as some other lassies he had fancied, he did like the fact that she was always smiling and that the smile seemed to reach her twinkling crystal-blue eyes. All in all, she had a captivating inner loveliness.
Every day after that Harry called in for a pie, and every day the lassie smiled at him. After the first day he asked her what she was called, and after a week he got up the courage to invite Sally Mack to go to the pictures with him.
Sally knew that Lorna Doone starring Margaret Lockwood was showing in the Laurie Street Picture House and she was dying to see the film. She was also desperate to be asked by handsome Harry, but she was only fifteen, and what if he discovered that she was two inches smaller when she took off her high-heeled shoes? Throwing caution to the wind, she just nodded in agreement.
Harry had laughed to himself as he conceded that his mother taking Sally in when her mother had put her and her brother Peter out had ended up more to her advantage than to his. True, he had two clucking women looking after him, but they also had what they had both been lacking: a woman companion, and a strong, bonded mother-and-daughter relationship.
Harry vividly recalled standing in the Waverley Station on a sunny April day in 1940 hugging pregnant Sally. When he jumped aboard his mother called out, ‘Off you go, son. And do your duty, and see Sally here …’ She stopped, linked her arm through Sally’s and continued, ‘… I’ll look after her. No way would I let the lassie have her first bairn, my first grandchild, without me being with her every step of the road.’
The army had been good for Harry. It was there that his being able to sing had become an advantage: instead of being put on the front line he was seconded to kitchen duties and in his spare time he was expected to join the troupe that entertained the bored troops who were waiting to be sent overseas.
By the end of the war, Harry found settling down to civilian life difficult. He missed the camaraderie of the men and the dalliances with the pretty women. He always sighed and smiled when he thought of these flirtatious affairs. These women were so different to Sally. Sally was not as attractive, but she was safe. He always knew she would be there for him. Build his home. Have his children. Welcome his mother into their lives. And never would she complain. There was one problem though: Maggie. Maggie had become Sally’s pal when Sally had gone to work in the Cooperative when Margo was a year old. Being five years older than Sally, Maggie had been a good help in settling Sally into the work routine. So it was only natural that they slipped into being pals who went to the pictures together. Before long, Maggie, who made Sally look beautiful, became part of the Stuart household.
Maggie had even been in the house the night Harry had come home to say he was now a fully trained train driver. And not only
Harry was still grieving the loss of his father when he went into the bakers at the end of Halmyre Street to buy a Scotch pie. The young lassie behind the counter smiled warmly to him before saying, ‘Sorry about your dad. Nice man he was.’
Nodding, Harry felt his eyes well with tears, which spilled over when she added, ‘No need to pay for the pie. Eat it right away because it’s warm and it might … well, it just might help.’
Immediately Harry started to devour the warm delicacy, and when he had finished eating he lingered on in the shop so he could get a better look at Sally. He liked the way she had tied her light-brown hair, her best feature, up in a red ribbon that matched her rosy cheeks. Although she was not as beautiful as some other lassies he had fancied, he did like the fact that she was always smiling and that the smile seemed to reach her twinkling crystal-blue eyes. All in all, she had a captivating inner loveliness.
Every day after that Harry called in for a pie, and every day the lassie smiled at him. After the first day he asked her what she was called, and after a week he got up the courage to invite Sally Mack to go to the pictures with him.
Sally knew that Lorna Doone starring Margaret Lockwood was showing in the Laurie Street Picture House and she was dying to see the film. She was also desperate to be asked by handsome Harry, but she was only fifteen, and what if he discovered that she was two inches smaller when she took off her high-heeled shoes? Throwing caution to the wind, she just nodded in agreement.
Harry had laughed to himself as he conceded that his mother taking Sally in when her mother had put her and her brother Peter out had ended up more to her advantage than to his. True, he had two clucking women looking after him, but they also had what they had both been lacking: a woman companion, and a strong, bonded mother-and-daughter relationship.
Harry vividly recalled standing in the Waverley Station on a sunny April day in 1940 hugging pregnant Sally. When he jumped aboard his mother called out, ‘Off you go, son. And do your duty, and see Sally here …’ She stopped, linked her arm through Sally’s and continued, ‘… I’ll look after her. No way would I let the lassie have her first bairn, my first grandchild, without me being with her every step of the road.’
The army had been good for Harry. It was there that his being able to sing had become an advantage: instead of being put on the front line he was seconded to kitchen duties and in his spare time he was expected to join the troupe that entertained the bored troops who were waiting to be sent overseas.
By the end of the war, Harry found settling down to civilian life difficult. He missed the camaraderie of the men and the dalliances with the pretty women. He always sighed and smiled when he thought of these flirtatious affairs. These women were so different to Sally. Sally was not as attractive, but she was safe. He always knew she would be there for him. Build his home. Have his children. Welcome his mother into their lives. And never would she complain. There was one problem though: Maggie. Maggie had become Sally’s pal when Sally had gone to work in the Cooperative when Margo was a year old. Being five years older than Sally, Maggie had been a good help in settling Sally into the work routine. So it was only natural that they slipped into being pals who went to the pictures together. Before long, Maggie, who made Sally look beautiful, became part of the Stuart household.
Maggie had even been in the house the night Harry had come home to say he was now a fully trained train driver. And not only
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