Sister's Trio Squad

Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Home. Nancy glanced around the sparsely furnished room and, for the first time since she'd left Ireland, she felt home-sick. Home-sick and lonely. She reflected again on the fact that she didn't even have any friends, for she was too fiercely competitive to be liked by the other girls she came into contact with. She remained aloof, viewing them all with suspicion, always asking herself the same question. 'Is she better than me?' She kicked off her shoes and massaged her aching feet

with her thumbs. She'd have to decide what to do about her future. 'Are you there, Nancy?'

Oh, Holy Saint Patrick, not her! Not now, I couldn't stand it! she thought as she heard Mrs Weston's voice. The rent was due, Edward hadn't needed to remind her, and she'd spent some of it on a length of turquoise taffeta that she intended to have made up to increase her wardrobe. Maybe if she kept very still and quiet her landlady would go away.

'Nancy, there's two letters for you here.' She kept quiet. Mrs Weston had used that excuse before to gain entry, her eyes darting about the room for any sign of anything she considered 'improper', and the 'letters' had proved only to be notes from Edward.

Nancy heard the rustling of paper and watched as two envelopes were slid under the door, but only when the slow footsteps had died away did she get up and creep to the door. One was postmarked 'Liverpool' and the other 'Glasgow'. She ripped Lisa's letter open and took it over to the window. It wasn't quite dark and the street light provided ample light. Maybe Lisa had come to her senses and got herself a decent job. Maybe she'd stopped living with Bernie O'Hagan.

But she hadn't and her letter said that she was still working in that awful garment place. The way she went on about Bernie, Archie and this Eileen person and some boy called Andy, you'd think they were all one big family. Nancy threw the letter on the bed and opened Margaret's. It wasn't much better and full of trivia, nearly all of which Nancy considered boring. She was still housekeeping for Lewis Vannin, still doing the books. Margaret would never get herself a husband like that and to get married had been the sum of Margaret's ambition.

'Oh, hell and damnation!' Nancy cursed aloud. Why couldn't they write with something exciting; saying they were at least getting somewhere. She leaned her fore head against the window pane. And she'd walked out on Edward. Just where would that get her? Exactly nowhere, if she were to be brutally honest with herself. She needed him more than he needed her. Her damned temper again. Well, she wasn't going to let her dream slip away like the other two seemed to be doing. She'd go back to Edward. It would hurt. It would wound her pride terribly and she'd never forget the humiliation.

Her eyes narrowed, she could almost taste the bitter gall in her throat. Oh, she'd remember all the slights and insults, she'd store them all up until the day she I could throw them back in the faces of the people who had thwarted her. But she couldn't allow herself that luxury until she was successful, until they needed her. Then she'd laugh in their faces and walk out! She'd show them she no longer needed or cared about them. Especially Charlie Grayson and Edward Vinetti!

Nancy switched on the light if Mrs Weston came back up, she'd pretend she'd been asleep. She opened the drawer of the chest and drew out the turquoise taffeta and held it against her. It was a lovely, glowing colour and suited her pale skin and flaming hair. She'd have it made up in the latest style with a dropped waist and an even shorter skirt than her other dresses, and, if she could afford it, she'd have a headband with plumes dyed to match, and if she couldn't ... well, she'd cajole Edward into buying them for her. He was always saying she was his 'investment', he could invest in dressing her in a more stylish way! She smiled at her reflection, self-confidence restored, and all thoughts of home-sickness banished, along with the plight of both her sisters.

The sky was leaden and a steely wind was blowing in from the Clyde, threatening rain. Lisa wrapped her scarf more tightly around her neck, then shifted the bun dle she was carrying into a more comfortable position. Eileen kept silent pace beside her as they turned into Warwick Street.

It had become a Thursday night ritual, taking the wash ing down to the 'Steamy', a department of the Public Baths. It was a ritual Lisa hated, but it had to be done and true to her promise, after she'd watched Eileen struggle home with the washing, she'd offered to help.

The cavernous room was always filled with clouds of steam that rose from the rows of copper boilers; a twilight world where dim figures humped and heaved piles of wet washing from boiler to buckets to mangles. Eileen refused to hang it out in the court at the back of their tenement, even in summer, because of the soot-laden air, and so it was hung from a rack suspended from the kitchen ceiling, operated by a pulley system that Archie had rigged up. Consequently, for the whole of the weekend the place

smelled damp and fusty. Despite the elements and the ritual, Lisa smiled to herself as she caught sight of a tall figure outlined under the sickly yellow glow of the street lamp. He was waiting for her.

The night Andy had taken her dancing at the Locarno had been the start of their relationship. After the first half hour she'd felt so at ease with him that she'd felt she'd known him all her life. He was amusing and attentive and made sure she'd danced every dance with him. But she'd seen the other side of his nature too, when a young man - obviously very much the worse for drink - had asked her to dance. He'd refused to take no for an answer and had become abusive. Andy hadn't argued, he'd simply lifted the drunk bodily off his feet by the collar of his jacket and frog-marched him to the two burly doormen, or 'Bouncers' as he'd called them.

It had caused a minor incide that had embarrassed her until she'd overheard two girls wishing they had a man like that. After that she'd felt totally safe with him and on the way home, when he'd put his arm around her shoulder and kissed her gently on the forehead, she'd felt a strange sensation creeping over her. As she'd lain in bed that night, she realized with a feeling of detached amazement and pure happiness that she was in love. It had been a glorious summer.

They'd gone out to the 'country' at Newton Mearns where the villas of the rich were just beginning to encroach on the countryside. They'd often walked the vast, verdant acres of Glasgow Green, a huge park on the north bank of the river, and he'd even taken her to Sauchiehall Street where she had to admit the shops were finer than those in Liverpool. They'd stood on the corner outside the windows of Copeland and Lye and had imagined what they would buy if they had all the money in the world to spend, and on the way back on the tram she'd nestled close to him and whispered that she'd sooner be broke with him, than be wildly rich and be without him.

He'd never met a girl like her before. She was warm and generous - still a little timid- not coarse or forward like most of the other girls he'd known. For the first time he'd had his s****l advances curtailed, but that had only made him want her more. At Newton Mearns they had wandered up Lang Byre Brig until the heat of the sun had forced them to seek shade. They'd sat in the long grass at the foot of a horse chestnut whose leaves rustled and whispered in the slight breeze, and he'd taken her in his arms and kissed her. Her arms had locked behind his head and she had clung to his lips, but when his hand had moved down her back, around her waist and across her thighs, she had stiffened and pulled away from him. I'm not a girl like that, Andy! I can't! It's wrong!' What's wrong with it, Lisa? You love me don't

you?' She had nodded emphatically but had refused to allow him to do any more than kiss her. He'd been moody and frustrated on the way back, but she had pretended not to notice and to his own surprise he found that he treated her far more protectively, and it had been that way ever since.

Lisa had found time to discover her adopted city as she had been laid off from the factory in June. She'd managed to save some money whilst she was in work and so things hadn't been too bad, although she hadn't been able to find another job. Her presence at home had allowed Eileen to get to know her better and a friendship was growing between them. Then in August she'd been sent for by MacFarlane's again and was taken back as the orders for autumn stocks had rolled in. But all her earnings had been added to Eileen's and Bernie's to buy new sheets and blankets for the coming winter.

'Andy's waiting for you.' Eileen, too, had seen the shad owy figure. All her earlier suspicion and resentment had gone and she had become fond of Lisa. Lisa had quietly helped her with the household chores and had filled in the gaps in her elementary education. Eileen had been promoted to working behind the counter at the bakery because of it. 'Will you be going out tonight?' 'If it doesn't rain. Will you be all right with the

washing?' Och, I did it all by myself before you came to live with us, I should be able to manage now, shouldn't I?' Andy walked the last few steps to meet them and she reached up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. 'Will we go for a walk or do you think it'll rain?' 'It might hold off.'

'Come on up, I'll get my umbrella.' Only when they were in the hallway did he take the heavy bundles from them both. That was something else she'd learned. Here the men were the bread-winners and that was all that was expected of them. They did nothing that could remotely be called 'women's work', and that included carrying shopping or bundles of washing, no matter how heavy they were.

After a few quick words to Bernie as she brushed her hair and jammed on her tam-o'-shanter and found her umbrella, they went back outside into the dark, windy street. Andy put his arm around her shoulder, drawing her close and she nestled into his side, drawing warmth from his body. They walked towards Glasgow Bridge, along Carlton Place, and the wind coming off the river cut through her coat and made her shiver.

'If it does rain you'll never keep that umbrella up." She smiled up at him. Then we'll have to find some where to shelter or get the tram back.' These few, precious hours she had alone with him were all she existed for. They made everything bearable and as the flying needle of her machine became only a blurr, she would dispel the boredom by thinking of these moments. 'Will we go over the bridge on Saturday?' she asked.

'If you like.' 'I thought we'd look in the shops and then have some

thing to eat in one of those nice Tea Rooms?' He stopped walking and looked down at her. 'Tea Rooms? A right Jessie I'd look in one of those places! I'll take you for a drink.'

She was disappointed. The Tea Rooms looked so smart and so warm and inviting, but then she sighed. He'd never live it down if any of his friends saw him. That was a side of him she hated. The rough, cocky, devil-may-care attitude that he displayed when in the company of his cronies. Only she knew that he could be kind and gentle.

A figure was coming towards them, head bowed and shoulders hunched against the icy blasts, but as they drew near Lisa recognized Maggie Baird, one of the girls she worked with. A loud, blowsy piece with a none too savoury reputation. They couldn't avoid her and she had noticed them.