The Back of Beyond

By Doris Davidson

Two men seeking their fortunes in London cannot escape their Scottish village roots in a novel by the author of The Brow of the Gallowgate.
 
Alistair Ritchie and Dougal Finnie have grown up in one of the most scenic villages in Scotland, but as they now have a desire to see the world, there is nothing to keep them there; not even Lexie Fraser, who's been chasing Ally since they were fourteen. Lexie has troubles of her own: a sick mother and a missing father, his disappearance a complete mystery. She'd like nothing better than to cling to Ally, which just makes him more determined to break free.
 
Though they embark for far off London, the lads are not destined to stay away forever. As their lives evolve through marriage, fatherhood and war, they discover that London is no place for young wives and children. Where in the world could be safer than the north of Scotland, the Back of Beyond? And what will their city-raised families make of their humble new home; and the past that still lingers?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Apr 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9780857907011

Doris Davidson

Doris Davidson was born in Aberdeen in 1922, the daughter of a master butcher and country lass. In 1967 she became a primary school teacher, and subsequently taught in schools in Aberdeen until she retired in 1982 to become a writer, publishing her first work in 1990. Thirteen novels, one collection of short stories and an acclaimed autobiography – A Gift from the Gallowgate – later she was firmly established as one of the country's best-loved romantic novelists. Doris died in June 2012.

Book preview

Chapter 1

‘You’ll have to tell her the night, Ally – we’re leaving first thing in the morning.’

Alistair Ritchie gave a rueful sigh. ‘I suppose I will, Dougal, but I’m dreading it.’

‘You should have let her see ages ago she was wasting her time.’

‘I did try, but she’s got it in her head I’m the only one for her, and nothing’ll shift it.’

Dougal Finnie gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘I’m right sorry for you. It must be terrible to be that irresistible to women.’

Annoyed by his pal’s smirking sarcasm, Alistair burst out, ‘You wouldna think it was funny if it was you.’

Having arrived outside the Finnies’ house, Dougal turned in at the gate, still laughing, and Alistair swung his leg over the bar of his bicycle to continue on his way home from work, his mind going over what had led to the momentous step he was to take the following day. He had made the decision when he and Dougal were propped against the back wall of the kirkyard a week and a half ago – a secluded corner where they told each other things they wouldn’t, couldn’t, tell anyone else – and he’d been complaining as he so often did nowadays about Lexie Fraser pestering him. ‘She’s been after me since we were still at school, but it’s got worse since …’

‘Some lads wouldna mind that,’ Dougal had grinned. ‘She’s a real bonnie lassie.’

‘Oh, she’s bonnie enough, but since her father walked out on them, there’s been something … off-putting about her, like she’d smother me wi’ love if she got half a chance.’ He paused, then said reflectively, ‘That was a funny business, wasn’t it? I’d have said Alec and Carrie Fraser were a real devoted couple, and I can hardly believe what folk’s saying about him, and yet …’

Dougal screwed up his nose. ‘My Mam says there’s nae smoke withoot fire. Dinna forget Nancy Lawrie left just the day afore him, and she’s never come back, either. They musta been meeting someplace else to keep it secret, but folk’s nae daft.’

‘I canna help feeling sorry for Lexie, for she doted on her father, but it looks like she’s trying to get me to make up for what he did. Every time I go out a walk wi’ her, she’s all over me like a rash you’ve just got to scratch, and I’m feared I’ll give in some night and do something I shouldna.’

The twinkle in Dougal’s eyes had deepened at that. ‘I’m surprised you havena done it already.’

‘Have you done it wi’ somebody?’

‘Dozens o’ times. You dinna ken what you’re missing, Ally, I bet Lexie’s hot stuff.’

‘I wouldna mind trying it, but nae wi’ her. I feel like running the other way every time she comes near me.’ He had hesitated briefly, then added, ‘To be fair, though, I think she just needs … somebody to … Her Mam canna be much company.’

After a moment’s silence, Dougal had looked at his friend thoughtfully. ‘How would you like to be rid o’ her … for good?’

‘I’m desperate to get rid o’ her, for she clings to me like a blooming leech, but I draw the line at murder. You should ken me better than that, Dougal Finnie!’

‘I didna say get rid o’ her, you gowk! I said be rid o’ her. You see, Ally, I’m sick fed up o’ working for Bill Rettie in the garage, aye clarted wi’ oil and grease, and nae chance o’ promotion. Any road, what he pays me hardly buys a packet o’ fags, so I’ve made up my mind to go to London and look for a better job. What about coming wi’ me?’

His first reaction, Alistair recalled, had been to say no. After two years of being delivery boy and general sweeper-up for the butcher in Bankside, the village four miles west of Forvit, he had recently been taken on as an apprentice to learn the trade. It would be a few years before he got a decent wage, but it was a steady job and he wasn’t keen to give that up. On the other hand … he’d be well away from Lexie in London. ‘When was you thinking on going?’

‘As soon as you like. I could go to Aberdeen on Saturday and book our passages – the boat’s a lot cheaper than the train. Are you on?’

‘Um … um …’ Deciding that the pros more than outweighed the cons, Alistair had given a decisive nod. ‘Aye, I’m on – if my dad’ll stump up the money for my fare.’

His mother hadn’t been too pleased about it, though. It wasn’t the money, just the fact that he was going so far away from home. ‘You’re only new sixteen,’ she had said, sadly, ‘ower young to be on your own in a place the size o’ London.’

‘I’ll nae be on my own, Mam, I’ll be wi’ Dougal.’

She had shaken her head at this. ‘He’s never been a good example to you, aye getting you in some kind o’ mischief.’

His father had come to his defence here. ‘Ach, Bella, leave the laddie be! It’s time he was taking a bit o’ responsibility for himsel’, showed some independence … and Dougal’ll keep him right.’

Alistair smiled at the memory of this contradictory statement. Dougal had always told him what to do, not that he was a bully. Far from it. He was the best friend a boy – or man, come to that – could ever have, though he was inclined to jump first and think after. Anyway, his father had given him his fare money, and in the morning, his mother had pressed two pound notes into his hand to keep him, hopefully, till he found a job.

But he still had one thing to do before he left Forvit.

Alistair’s steps were slow and reluctant as he went to meet Lexie Fraser for the last time. He dreaded the scene there was bound to be, and was afraid he might say something she could take the wrong way. If she thought for a minute that he felt something for her, she would spread it about that she was his girl, and if he did something he shouldn’t, she might say he’d put her in the family way and he’d have to marry her. Aye, he’d have to watch his step tonight.

With Benview three miles from the village and the Frasers’ house half a mile this side of it, they’d never walked in the woods between Forvit and Bankside like the other courting couples. Their trysting place was midway between their homes, where a footpath from the road led up to a tower which had been built as a look-out post during the Napoleonic Wars by the then Earl of Forvit. It was here that Alistair meant to break the news.

Although there was a track from his house diagonally up to the tower itself, he always went down to the road to meet her, and she was there first, as she always was. She hadn’t heard him coming, and he wondered for the umpteenth time why he felt as he did about her. She was a bonnie lassie, fair-haired like himself but maybe about five feet two to his five ten, with rosy cheeks and blue eyes a shade lighter than his. She had a good figure for sixteen, her bust not too big nor yet too small, her middle nipped in by the belt of her navy trench coat, the one she had worn to school. She had once made him span her waist, and he’d nearly been able to make the tips of his fingers meet. She thought her bottom was too big, but to his mind it wasn’t all that bad … quite neat, really.

She turned at the sound of his footsteps and tucked her arm through his when they got on to the stony track. Her chattering didn’t annoy him as much as it normally did – in fact, he was glad that she didn’t expect him to do any of the talking – but when they came nearer to the tower his stomach started to churn at the prospect of what he had to do.

They sat down in the small niche she had recently begun referring to as ‘our special place’, and when she came to the end of a long, involved story about something that had happened in the general store which she helped her mother to run since her father left, he cleared his throat nervously. ‘I’ve something to tell you, Lexie.’ His heart sank at the way her eyes lit up, and what he had planned to say died on his lips.

‘Go on,’ she urged. ‘Say it, Al … darling.’

It was far worse than he had imagined – she must think he was going to say he loved her – but it had to be done. ‘I … that is, me and Dougal …’ Her horrified expression made him race on. ‘… we’re going to Aberdeen first thing in the morning.’

The renewed hope in her eyes told that she had jumped to the wrong conclusion. She must think he was taking his friend with him for advice on buying something for her, an engagement ring, maybe. ‘I’m sorry, Lexie,’ he said quietly, ‘we’ve booked our passages on the London boat.’

‘You’re going to London?’ she gasped. ‘What for?’

‘To look for decent jobs. We’ll never make anything of ourselves here.’

‘But Al … you and me … what about us?’

Her blue eyes had dimmed, practically brimming with tears, but he had to be brutal. ‘I’ve tried telling you before, Lexie. There’s no us, not the way you’d like. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is.’

‘But, Al … I thought … you felt the same about me …’

‘I’ve never felt that way about you, Lexie. I like you, but that’s all.’

The tears flooded out now, and he sat uneasily silent while she sobbed, ‘You do love me, Al, I know you do!’

He hated her calling him Al, it reminded him of that awful gangster Capone he’d read about, but he also hated to see her crying. ‘Aw, Lexie,’ he muttered, sliding his arm awkwardly round her shoulders, ‘you’ll find somebody else.’

‘I don’t want anybody else!’ Turning to him, she laid her head against his chest. ‘I love you! I’ve always loved you and I always will!’ Her mood changed like quicksilver, and she looked up at him accusingly. ‘You’re just like my father, you’re deserting me and all, and you don’t care what happens to me.’

He was outraged by this. ‘That’s not fair! I never pretended to be anything more than a friend, and at least I’ve told you I’m going away. Any road, it’s not up to me to look after you, that’s your mother’s responsibility, and your father’ll likely come back once he’s … Please try to understand, Lexie. I need to get away. I want to make something of my life, and even if I don’t, I won’t come back here. I don’t like hurting you, Lexie, but that’s the way it is.’

Her eyes were beseeching now, her words a mere whisper. ‘You’ll surely give me a goodbye kiss?’

Feeling a proper heel, he bent his head to her upturned mouth and was immediately engulfed in a suffocating embrace. Frantically, he tried to think how to extricate himself without physically hurting her, for her passionate kisses were making an unwanted desire start in him, a desire he had no wish to fulfil.

‘Stop it!’ he shouted, shoving her roughly away and scrambling to his feet. ‘I know what you’re trying to do, but it won’t work! I’ve told you – I don’t love you and I’m leaving wi’ Dougal in the morning.’

She looked at him pathetically now. ‘But … you’ll come back to me?’

‘If I come back, it’ll only be for a visit, to see my mother and father. Now, get up and I’ll see you home.’

‘Damn you, Alistair Ritchie!’ she shouted. ‘You’ve just been amusing yourself wi’ me and you’re abandoning me like my father, and I never want to see you again! Go away and leave me alone!’

‘I can’t leave you up here by yourself in the dark. Come on, Lexie, be sensible.’

‘Sensible?’ Her voice had risen several tones. ‘How can I be sensible when you’ve just said you don’t love me any more? You led me on, and I’ll never forgive you!’

‘I didna lead you on, Lexie,’ Alistair said, desperately, ‘I never said I loved you … it was all in your mind. Come on now, stand up and I’ll take you back.’

She got to her feet slowly, refusing the hand he held out although she stumbled over the stones in their path when they made their way down the hill. They had almost reached the road when she murmured, with a little hiccup, ‘What would you think if I killed myself? That’s what I feel like doing.’

Sure that this was an attempt at moral blackmail, he snapped, ‘I’d say you were mad!’

‘I am mad … mad about you,’ she whispered, stopping to look at him with her blue eyes wide and pleading.

‘You’ll soon forget me. Look, Lexie, you’re just making things worse. Even if I wasn’t going away, there’d never be anything between us, not on my side, any road.’ In an effort to coax her out of her self-inflicted misery, he took her hand. ‘Give’s a smile, Lexie. I don’t want us to part on bad terms.’

‘But you still want us to part?’

‘It’s best.’

‘For you, maybe, not for me.’ She yanked her hand out of his. ‘But have it your own way, Alistair Ritchie! Go to London and do what you like!’

‘I will, then, and you can see yourself home from here!’ He turned and strode back towards the track that led to his house, seething at her for being difficult yet feeling guilty for hurting her. Not that he should feel guilty, for she had done all the chasing, made all the advances. Of course, once he realized what was in her mind, he should have let her know he wasn’t interested, but she likely wouldn’t have listened.

Having watched Alistair stamping out of sight, Lexie walked on down to the road. She had felt suicidal a few minutes ago, but not any longer; she needed a man to depend on more than ever. She had often heard that jobs weren’t so easy to come by in London, and he’d be back in a few months with his tail between his legs.

Her mother looked up in surprise when she went into the house. ‘You havena bidden long wi’ Alistair the night.’

Lexie flung her coat on a chair. ‘We’d a row! Him and Dougal Finnie’s going away to London in the morning.’

‘That’s funny. Meg Finnie was in the shop yesterday and she said her Dougal was leaving, but she never said Alistair Ritchie was going wi’ him.’

‘Dougal had forced him. He wouldn’t have wanted to go.’

Although Carrie Fraser’s interest in other people had dimmed since her husband had walked out on her, her judgement of character was still as shrewd as ever. ‘I aye thought he wasna as keen on you as you was on him,’ she observed.

‘He was so! Dougal had got round him … like he’s aye done.’

‘If you’d had ony sense, Lexie, you’d have gone for Dougal. He’s more spunk in him than Alistair, and he’ll do well wherever he is. Besides, Joe Finnie’s a lot better off than Willie Ritchie.’

‘But it’s Alistair I love, Mam, and I know he’ll come back to me.’

‘I wouldna count my chickens if I was you, lass.’

Carrie turned things over in her mind for some time after her daughter flounced off to bed. Something worried her about Lexie these days. Of course, her father going off without a word like that was enough to knock any girl off balance, but she should be getting over it a bit – it was three months now. He must have known how badly Lexie would take it, for she’d always been a daddy’s girl – and she, his wife, could still hardly believe it. What bothered her was why? If only Alec had considered them before …

Carrie shook her greying head despairingly. There had been a rumour – she’d just heard snatches of whispers, for folk shut up when they realized she was listening – but Alec would never have … he hadn’t been a demanding man, not even when they were first wed. He’d never have needed another woman, but that’s what they were saying. Of course, Nancy Lawrie had gone away just the day before him and never come back, and her mother had said she’d no idea where she was. That was why folk were sure she’d been expecting his bairn and he’d left to be with her – what else would they think? But Alec would never have touched a young lassie. He was a decent man, and Nancy Lawrie wasn’t much older than Lexie.

Her sorrow and sense of betrayal still too raw for her to cope with, Carrie heaved a shuddering sigh. She didn’t think she’d ever get over it, so why should she expect Lexie to forget? Poor lass! Alistair Ritchie could have helped her, but maybe he could see there was something not right about her nowadays. It wasn’t anything her mother could put a finger on, but she was definitely different, more serious … over-serious, that was it … intense. She was young, and should be enjoying herself more, but she had likely heard what they were saying, and all, though a true family man doesn’t up tail and leave his wife and daughter without a word, no matter what sort of trouble he finds himself in. He buckles to and faces up to whatever it is, but … fathering a bairn on a woman that wasn’t his wife, a girl, really, twenty years younger than himself? In a place like Forvit, he’d have been the butt of the filthiest of crude jokes, and he wouldn’t have liked that.

Running the general store and sub-post office, as well as being an elder in the kirk, he’d always held his head up, taken a pride in not going drinking with the other men, and especially not playing around with loose women, for there was a few of that kind about, even in this wee village. His interest lay in music. His father had taught him how to play their little harmonium, and he had played the pipe organ in the kirk since he was fifteen. He took the choir practice every Wednesday, the only night of the week he ever went out, and that was where he’d got friendly with Nancy Lawrie, for she was one of the sopranos.

But bad blood will out, though there had been no hint of it before! And Lexie was his daughter, so maybe there was something unnatural in her, as well? It wasn’t noticeable, thank heaven, but the shock could have been enough to bring it to the surface – for just a wee while, please God! One good thing, she was coping all right in the shop, learning the postal work and all, and that could take her mind off things. And she’d find another lad. Of course she would!

*    *    *

Lying on top of the bedcovers, Lexie was angry at her mother for being so perceptive, but whatever she said or thought, the girl was certain that absence would make Alistair’s heart grow fonder, and she was prepared to wait for months, even years, for him to come back to her. But suppose he kept his threat and didn’t come near her when he came back to visit his mother and father? What then?

She contemplated this awful thought for some time, then decided that it would be up to her to seek him out and make him admit he loved her, as she was sure he did … deep down. He was the only man she’d ever want, and even if it took until they were middle-aged, till they were both grey-haired, she would get him in the end.

Chapter 2

While the Aberdeen Steam Navigation Company’s ‘Lochnagar’ was docked at Leith, the two youths stood at the rail to watch the activity involved in the taking aboard of some twenty or so new passengers and their baggage, a welcome break from the long hours of having only seagulls and water to look at, their faces spattered by the spray sent up as the ship’s prow cleaved through the angry waves.

The lengthy interlude over and on their way once more, Alistair cast a sour glance at his friend, to whom he felt somewhat less than friendly at that precise moment. ‘Could you nae have got a better place for us than right up at the sharp end?’

Dougal seemed rather put out. ‘What did you expect for fifteen bob? A luxury cabin? Second class return was two pounds, but single was one pound, seven and six, meals included. I ken’t my mother would gi’e me enough to feed the five thousand, so I said we wouldna need meals. I saved you twelve and a tanner, and that’s the thanks I get.’

‘Aye, well, but I thought I’d get to London dry.’

‘Ach, stop your girnin’. Tell yoursel’ Lexie Fraser’s getting further and further awa’ every minute. Does that nae cheer you up?’

They ate their second ‘meal’ now, rationing their pooled resources – a crusty loaf, a hunk of cheese and a pound of cold sausages from Alistair’s mother, a large meat roll, a jar of her rhubarb chutney and six hard boiled eggs from Dougal’s. Meg Finnie had also packed into the small canvas bag a flagon of home-made ginger beer to wash down the dry fare. Not long after they had packed away their remaining food, the sun peeped uncertainly through the clouds, and the sky slowly came ablaze with light.

‘This is more like it,’ Alistair observed, as the heat penetrated his damp clothes.

‘Aye, thank goodness,’ Dougal muttered. ‘Maybe you’ll be happy now.’

At Newcastle, while the new passengers came up the gangway, Dougal invented some reasons for their making the journey. ‘See that woman wi’ the red hat? I bet she’s a Russian spy going to London to report to her bosses, and that man wi’ the mouser’s a forger, wi’ his attache case full o’ counterfeit notes.’

Alistair had found a new worry. ‘What if the boat sinks wi’ the extra weight …?’

‘Ach, Ally,’ Dougal exploded, ‘would you stop imagining things?’

Anchors up and in motion again, they decided it was time to settle for the night. The covered-in sleeping area, roughly triangular, could only be described as steerage class, but no one else was there, so it was with relief that they unfolded the bedding and made up two of the six bunk beds.

Finding it difficult to get comfortable on the lumpy mattresses and pillows, Alistair suddenly sat bolt upright. ‘Did you get some place for us to bide in London?’

‘We’ll easy find a place.’ Dougal looked sheepish for not having thought of this.

When a stocky, middle-aged member of the crew looked in some time later to check on how many had taken advantage of this basic accommodation, they were still sitting brooding, shoulders hunched, fair and dark heads bowed, blue eyes and brown staring dejectedly at the rough, grey blankets. A flat cap sitting at a rakish angle on his straggly white hair, the man regarded them speculatively. ‘I hope you two aint expecting to find the streets of London paved with gold? All you Scotch laddies seem to think …’

‘We’re not as daft as that,’ Dougal objected, offended by the implied slight.

‘Just as well, then.’ The man hesitated, then asked, ‘Have you jobs to go to?’

Dougal’s frown deepened to a scowl. ‘Aye, we’re all fixed up.’

The seaman walked away with disbelief written all over his weather-beaten face.

‘Why did you tell him that?’ Alistair wanted to know. ‘It’s a downright lie, and he didna believe you, any road.’

‘He can believe what he likes. We’ll easy find jobs, I can feel it in my bones.’

Alistair still wasn’t convinced, but, giving his chum the benefit of the doubt, he kept quiet. Dougal had said he’d been thinking of going to London for a while, and he must have found out how the land lay as far as getting work was concerned. He would realize they couldn’t live on nothing. Of course, the Finnies were well off. Joe, Dougal’s father, had his own farm, and even if it wasn’t the biggest in the Forvit area, it certainly wasn’t the smallest, so he’d likely given Dougal a fiver at least, maybe even a tenner, to keep him going till he was earning for himself, whereas all he’d got was a measly two pounds, which wouldn’t last long when they’d to pay for board and lodgings … if they ever found a place, that was.

But the Finnies’ money and the Ritchies’ lack of it wasn’t the only difference between him and Dougal, he reflected. He was inclined to be a bit of a pessimist, whereas Dougal always found something bright about every situation, and managed to wriggle out of all the trouble he got them into with his mischievous ways.

In the morning, they made a breakfast of bread, cheese and chutney, washed down with the last of the ginger beer. The day passed uneventfully, eating when they felt the need of sustenance with only water to wash things down, taking a stroll now and then to save their legs stiffening up.

Thirty-five and a half hours after they had left Aberdeen, a movement of the other passengers told them they were nearing their destination, and they joined the line waiting to disembark, taking the opportunity to drink in the sights – the dirty buildings, the bustle of sea traffic as the boat made its way through the docks. At long last, however, they stepped shakily onto dry land, still feeling as if they were rising and falling with the tide.

‘Which way do we go, then?’ Alistair wanted to know, but Dougal’s non-committal grimace made him burst out, ‘You mean you havena found out anything aboot anything?’

‘I thought … I thought …’

Seeing Dougal so obviously at a loss for words or action of any kind made Alistair more than a little frightened, as if a crutch he depended on had been taken away, but anger soon took over. ‘How are we supposed to find a bed for the night, then? Or were you hoping somebody would throw a blanket over us if we lay down here?’

A heavy hand on Dougal’s shoulder saved him from trying to justify himself, and he looked up into the kindly grey eyes of the seaman who had spoken to them the night before. ‘I can tell by your miserable faces you’re worrying about something. You said you had jobs, but it wasn’t true, was it? And you’ve nowhere to live either, right?’

‘That’s about it,’ Dougal muttered.

‘If you wait till I get finished, I’ll try to figure out something for you. I shouldn’t be more than ’arf an hour, and there’s plenty to see here in Limehouse.’

Trying to show that he was in no way daunted by their homeless predicament, Dougal pointed along the quay to where a few of their fellow passengers were standing. ‘What are they waiting for? Are they taking another boat to somewhere else?’

‘They’ll be going upriver to the Houses of Parliament. Sightseers. Now, just stand there and don’t wander off. I’ll be back as soon as I can!’

Their waiting was lightened by the activity around them although Dougal seemed a bit preoccupied, and it didn’t feel like half an hour to either of them before the seaman was with them again. He swung his seabag from his shoulder down to the ground, but before he had time to say anything, Dougal put forward the idea which had occurred to him. ‘Look, we’ll be OK. If you just tell us where to find the YMCA, we’ll …’

The man’s bellowing laugh stopped him. ‘It don’t allus do to be so independent. My trouble-and-strife’s been speaking about taking in lodgers to make some extra cash, and you look like real decent boys, so why don’t you come home with me? She was going to put a card in the grocer’s window, but you could save her the bother, and I can guarantee she won’t fleece you like some landladies.’

Alistair glanced at his pal then said firmly, ‘We won’t be able to pay her much … not till we find work.’

‘My Ivy’s a trusting soul. Me name’s Len Crocker, by the way, and we’ve a two up, two down in Hackney. Oh, there’s a bloke I want a word with. Hang on a minute.’

‘That’s a bit of luck,’ Dougal smiled, when the stocky little man moved away.

‘Aye, he seems real nice, but his wife mightna like us.’

‘We can look for somewhere else, and the same goes if we dinna like her.’

Alistair pursed his mouth. ‘You ken, Dougal, I’m having second thoughts about this.’

‘We’ll be fine. There’s plenty of jobs in London if we look in the right places.’

‘Maybe, but how’ll we ken where the right places are?’

Dougal sighed and waved his hands airily. ‘We’ll find them.’ He looked pensive for a moment, then added, ‘I tell you this, if Ivy’s anything like her man, we’ll be in clover.’

‘If she takes to us.’

‘Ach, Ally, stop looking on the black side. If you turn up there wi’ a sour face like that, she’ll definitely nae take to you.’

Back with them, Len hoisted his seabag on to his shoulder again and boomed, ‘Right, me hearties! Best foot forrard. Home James, and don’t spare the horses, as they say.’

Each carrying a cardboard suitcase – containing two changes of underwear, shirts, flannels, jerseys, several pairs of hand-knitted socks, plus their Sunday suits and shoes and half a dozen well-laundered handkerchiefs – the boys had difficulty in keeping up with him as he strode out briskly to where they would get a bus to Hackney. Once seated in the double-decker, he kept up a running commentary on everything they passed, and in no time, it seemed, he said that this was where they got off. ‘Just a step or two now,’ he assured them, but they went through a veritable maze of identical streets before he announced, with some pride, ‘This is it! Home sweet home and the fire black out.’

Alistair and Dougal exchanged alarmed glances, but his throaty chuckle let them know he was only joking. He opened the immaculately painted green door and shouted, ‘I’ve brung two young gentlemen to see you, Ivy, love!’

They were ushered into a small sitting room and had only time to notice the brightly burning fire when a buxom woman with very blonde hair, probably in her forties, bustled in. Her slight frown vanished when she saw them. ‘Well,’ she simpered, ‘this is a naice surprise. When you said young gentlemen, Len, I didn’t expect them to be this young.’ She shot her husband an enquiring look.

‘That’s not me usual welcome,’ he grinned, grabbing her round the waist and planting a kiss on her full mouth before explaining, ‘They’re from Aberdeen, and they’ve nowhere to live, so I said you might …’

She jumped in quickly, addressing Alistair as she straightened her skirt. ‘Ai suppose Ai could take you, if you’re willing to share?’

At this point, Dougal thought it expedient to acquaint her with all the facts. ‘We can’t pay much till we’re earning.’

‘That’s quate all right,’ she smiled, not taking her eyes off Alistair, ‘we can arrange all that later. Ai suppose Len told you Ai’m Ivy, so what’s your name, dearie?’

‘I’m Alistair Ritchie, and he’s Dougal Finnie.’ He felt most uncomfortable under her intense stare.

‘Alistair?’ she beamed, and, obviously finding the effort too much, she stopped trying to sound more refined than she was. ‘I like that, so Scotch, but I expect you’re hungry after coming all the way from Aberdeen. Five hundred miles anyway, isn’t it? Show them up to the spare room, Len, love, and I’ll rustle up something for them to eat.’ She had turned briefly to her husband but directed her last words once more at Alistair. ‘Just come down when you’re ready, dearie.’

The upstairs room was large and airy, with a wide double bed, a wardrobe, a tallboy, a basket chair and a wooden-armed chair. Dougal grimaced. ‘Nae exactly the best of hotels, is it, but it’s clean, so I suppose it’ll be OK.’

‘There’s just one bed,’ Alistair pointed out. ‘I’ve never had to share a bed before.’

‘Neither have I, but ach, we’ll manage. It’s that big we’ll have to look for each other in the mornings.’

The window, Alistair discovered when he went across to it, looked down on a small, well-tended garden at the rear of the house, a neat little patch of lawn surrounded by several flower beds which had the promise of being colourful in spring and summer. ‘One of the Crockers must be keen on gardening,’ he observed. ‘Ivy, likely, for Len’s job must take him away a lot.’

Coming up behind him, Dougal nudged his arm in a knowing way. ‘She’s taken a right fancy to you … dearie.’

‘Oh, I hope no’,’ Alistair groaned. ‘She’s as old as my mother.’

‘She could teach you a thing or two if you let her, you lucky devil.’

‘Nae fears! I dinna want her near me, and I’m nae sure if we shoulda come here.’

‘Like I said, if we dinna like it, we can look for somewhere else. Hurry up and put your things past, for my belly thinks my throat’s cut.’

Agreeing that Dougal should have the top two drawers of the tallboy and Alistair the other two, they didn’t take long to stow their few belongings away. Dougal was all set to go downstairs as soon as they put their empty cases on top of the wardrobe, but Alistair insisted that they should at least was their hands before eating their meal. Luckily, Len had pointed out the doors to the lavatory and the separate bathroom, so they didn’t have to ask, and some minutes later, hair slicked down with water, boyish faces shining, fingernails spotless, they went out on to the landing, where their appetites were whetted by the delicious smell wafting up from downstairs.

‘Oh boy,’ Dougal whispered, ‘I’m going to enjoy this, whatever it is.’

They were rather taken aback by the huge amount on their plates as they sat down at the table, and they couldn’t help noticing that, although they had a pork chop along with the sausages, eggs, beans, fried bread and chips, their host and hostess had not. Dougal opened his mouth to say something about this, but Alistair gave his shin a surreptitious kick under the table. It was obvious to him that the chops had been cooked for Ivy and Len’s supper, and the sausages had probably been intended for their next day’s dinner, but it would have been bad manners to draw attention to it.

Ivy took the opportunity now to find out more about them, her peroxided head nodding at Dougal’s replies but her lipsticked mouth smiling at Alistair. She showed great surprise when she learned that Forvit village consisted of only about twenty houses, a general store which was also a sub-post office, and that butcher meat was bought from a van that came from Bankside, four and a half miles away, three times a week.

‘Well!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’re going to know a big difference here.’

‘There’s a kirk … a church, of course,’ Alistair volunteered, ‘and a doctor, though the chemist’s in Bankside, and all, and the garage.’

‘Wot about a police station?’ Len put in. ‘There must be police in Forvit.’

Dougal grinned now. ‘There’s no crime, so … no police. The nearest bobby’s at the far end of Bankside.’

Len pursued the subject. ‘Wot if ’e couldn’t handle something that happened? A big robbery, say, or an assault, or … a murder?’

Stumped, Dougal looked at Alistair then said, uncertainly, ‘I suppose he’d have to get help … from Huntly, that’s ten mile away, and they’d likely send a squad from Aberdeen if it was a murder, but … that’s twenty mile the other way.’

Ivy gave an exaggerated shiver. ‘Stop speaking about murder, you’re giving me the collywobbles.’

Laughing, Len pushed back his chair with a satisfied sigh. ‘I’ll soon sort you out, love. I’m off to me Uncle Ned now, so don’t be long. See you in the morning, boys.’

It was only a little after nine o’clock, and Ivy giggled at the surprise on the two young faces when she explained the rhyming slang. ‘My Len loves his bed, though he likes it best when I’m in there with him.’ She gave a lewd cackle and dug Alistair playfully in the ribs as she stood up to clear the table.

Embarrassed, he said, ‘Dougal and me’ll do the dishes for you if you want to go up …’

She found this highly amusing. ‘He can wait for it, the randy blighter.’

‘We don’t mind helping, honest.’

‘Tell you what, then. If Dougal puts a few lumps of coal on the fire, and lays the cork mats in the left-hand drawer of the sideboard and the tablecloth, neatly folded, in the right-hand drawer, you can come and dry for me. How does that sound?’

‘Suits me!’ Dougal smirked wickedly, ignoring his friend’s look of desperate appeal.

Trapped, Alistair helped to load the tray with dirty dishes, and carried it through to the small scullery where Ivy turned on one of the taps in the slightly chipped earthenware sink and left it running until steam billowed up from the enamelled basin nestling inside. Then she rolled up her sleeves, turned on the other tap and let the cold water run in until she could comfortably hold her hand in it.

Watching her, Alistair said, admiringly, ‘You’re lucky having a tap with hot water. My mother has to boil kettles on the range for everything.’

‘She should get in a back-burner. That heats the tank, and in winter, when the fire’s on all day, the water’s still hot enough to wash next day’s breakfast dishes, and once the fire’s going proper, the water heats again to near boiling. In summer, of course, I don’t light it at all, except on Mondays and Fridays, that’s wash-day and bath night for Len and me, and I light the gas boiler for the dishes and washing faces and hands and so on.’ She pointed vaguely in its direction, then picked up the bar of yellow soap sitting in a dish between the taps and swished it around in the water to get a lather.

‘You’re a good-looking boy,’ she observed, as she wielded her dish mop. ‘Do you have a steady girl back home?’

He shook his head, thankful that he could answer honestly. ‘Not now.’

‘I bet she didn’t know the best ways to please a man, like I do.’

The colour raced up Alistair’s neck. ‘I wouldn’t know about that … we never did …’

Ivy’s smile broadened. ‘Don’t tell me you’re a virgin, Al? I can’t believe it.’

He wanted to throw the dish towel at her painted face and run out. She was being far too suggestive for his liking, and she was calling him Al, the hated name Lexie had used.

Patently enjoying his discomfiture, Ivy went on, ‘I’d like to get you on your own, some time, to show you what I can do.’ She fell silent, quite possibly picturing in her mind exactly what she would show him, and when she finished washing up, she squeezed past him to dry her hands on the roller towel fixed to the wall beside the pantry.

Her next move terrified him. He could feel her breasts pressing into his back, her pelvis rubbing against his backside, but he endured the unwanted, and unsettling, contact until he had dried the last plate and could sidestep away from her. At a safe distance, he turned to look at her and was disconcerted to see her eyes going straight to his crotch.

‘Yes, you’ll do me,’ she murmured seductively, ‘and you won’t be shy with me for long, I swear.’

‘I’m not shy,’ he protested, ‘but I don’t think …’

‘No, deaire, you’re right. We’ve plenty time ahead of us and we’d better leave it for now and get back to Dougal before he starts imagining things.’

He followed her into the sitting room where Dougal looked up from the well-worn, moquette-covered armchair where he was reading the newspaper. ‘All done?’ he leered.

Hoping that his pal hadn’t heard anything, Alistair sat down on the other easy chair, avoiding the settee where their landlady had placed herself. She embarrassed him no further, however, but kept them laughing over the next hour with stories about her neighbours and the people she met when she went shopping.

At half past ten, she suddenly said, ‘Oh my Gawd, look at the time.’ She stood up and stretched her arms. ‘You must’ve been wondering if I was ever going to shut up. Len says I forget to stop once I get started, but I’m sorry for keeping you up so late, I expect you’re tired out. By the way, Al, dearie, make sure all the lights are off down here when you come up. Nightie night, both.’

‘Good night,’ they chorused, and when the door closed behind her, Dougal looked slyly at Alistair then burst out laughing. ‘I told you she fancied you.’

‘Stop being so daft!’

‘The walls here are paper thin, so I heard what she was saying ben there. You’re in for some good times with Ivy Dearie, Ally boy.’

‘Not me!’ Alistair snapped. ‘If you want her, you can have her with pleasure.’

‘It likely would be a pleasure, and all, for I’d say she’s all set for a fling, but it’s not me she wants, worse luck. Now, would you say she was out of the lavvy yet?’

The two boys spent most of the following day looking for work, and returned to Victoria Park at ten past five exhausted, ravenous, and very despondent. Luckily, Ivy had a huge hotpot waiting for them, and while they ate, Len regaled them with humorous anecdotes about his time in the Royal Navy during the war. Afterwards, Dougal volunteered to help with the dishes this time, but it was Len who replied, ‘Thanks, it’s my turn tonight, mate, and I could do with an ’and.’

Alistair’s heart sank at the prospect of being left alone with Ivy, but she said nothing outrageous, probably because Len was within earshot. Nevertheless, he still felt really uncomfortable with her.

The dishwashers completed their task in record time, and the next two hours passed with the youths answering more questions about their homes and families. Both said they had a sister, but whereas Flora Finnie, six years older than Dougal, had gone to-America the year before, Alice Ritchie, three years younger than Alistair, was still at school. The evening ended with them discussing the kind of jobs they had hoped to find, but after that day’s fruitless search, were far less confident of ever finding now.

Ivy commiserated profusely with them over this, but Len said, as he got to his feet, ‘Ne’er mind, boys, I put word about you round the pub at lunch time, so something’s bound to turn up. Me mates are a good bunch.’

In bed, ten minutes later, Dougal observed, ‘We’re going to be all right here, Ally. Ivy’s a great cook, and that’s the main thing, isn’t it?’

Convinced that he had nothing more to fear from her, that she had just been testing him before, Alistair agreed. ‘I just wish we could be bringing in a wage, though. She mightn’t feed us so well if we can’t pay our way.’

As luck would have it, he was in the lavatory the following evening when one of Len’s ‘mates’ came to say there was a job going in the factory where he worked as an electrician. ‘They’re looking for a youngster to train as a clerk in the Counting House,’ he told Dougal, ‘and when I said I knew of a couple of sixteen-year-old Scots boys looking for work, they said to tell one of you to call first thing tomorrow.’

‘That’s great!’ Dougal exclaimed. ‘I’ve never worked in an office, but I always got top marks for handwriting at school.’

‘There you are then,’ beamed Ivy, ‘it’s just the job for you.’

When he came back, Alistair was honestly pleased for his friend, but found himself wishing that his bowels hadn’t needed emptying at the crucial time.

Sensing his disappointment, Ivy gave his head a motherly pat. ‘Don’t you fret, Al, dearie, your turn’ll come.’

Having to report for work the next morning, Len was up well before dawn, and Dougal also left early to find the factory and make sure he wasn’t late for his interview, leaving Alistair hurrying to get out in order not to be left on his own with Ivy. She, however, had other ideas. ‘There’s no rush, dearie,’ she purred, her hand fixing on his sleeve as he tried to take his jacket down from the peg on the hallstand in the narrow hallway. ‘It’s time we got better acquainted, ain’t it?’

‘I have to go out,’ he protested. ‘If I don’t find work, I’ll not be able to pay anything for my board.’ This wasn’t strictly true, but she wasn’t to know that.

Her plucked eyebrows lifted. ‘Haven’t you never heard of payment in kind?’

‘No,’ he answered, puzzled. ‘What’s that?’

‘You see me all right and I’ll see you all right, savvy?’ She came closer and put her hands up his pullover. ‘I’m going to be ever so lonely till Len comes home again.’

Comprehending now what she was up to, he said, hastily, ‘No … Mrs Crocker …’

‘You’ll like it, Al, I promise you.’ Her hands ran over his chest, but didn’t stop there, and as they continued down, he burst out, ‘No, no! I can’t let you …’

‘Yes, you can, you’re a big boy now.’ She made a grab at him and laughed with delight. ‘Yes, Al, a big boy and getting bigger by the minute.’

He’d been praying that someone would come to the door, or that there would be some kind of interruption that would let him make his escape, but he could stand no more of her caressing. ‘That’s it!’ he shouted, shoving her away and almost knocking her off her feet. ‘I’m going to look for other digs, I can’t stay here! You’re man mad!’

Clearly gathering that she had gone too far, Ivy stepped back. ‘OK, OK, dearie, I know when I’m beat. I thought you were the answer to this maiden’s prayer … but it seems I made a mistake. I’m ever so sorry for trying it on with you.’

She pulled such a repentant face that he had to laugh. The only way he could see of dealing with a woman like this was to make fun of her. ‘A maiden?’ he gurgled. ‘You? It must be twenty years since you were a maiden.’

He held his breath, but she wasn’t at all put out. ‘Cheeky beggar,’ she grinned, ‘but you’re right. I’d the first bite at my cherry when I was twelve … that’s twenty years ago almost to the day.’ His patent disbelief made her give a loud screech of laughter. ‘No fooling you, is there, Al? All right, I’ll come clean – twenty-four years ago, for I was thirty-six last month … and that’s the Gawd’s honest truth.’

He felt a sudden rush of pity for her. At first sight, he had thought she was about forty, but looking at her in the cold light of this October morning he could see the crow’s feet round her eyes, the slackness of her mouth without its thick coating of lipstick, the dark roots of her bleached hair. She was fifty if she was a day, and she was likely trying to prove, to herself as