The Tangling of the Web, page 13
Now Flora was different. She was just so maternal that Sally knew no matter what she could rely on her. Had she not sided with her when Harry left? Sally felt hot tears begin to burn her eyes when her thoughts strayed again to Margo. She still couldn’t believe Margo had been pregnant and had never told her – never cried out to her when her little boy was stillborn.
Sally had gone to the Eastern General Hospital Maternity Unit in Seafield and asked if she could see Margo. The duty nurse advised that that would not be possible because Margo already had three visitors at her bedside: her husband, her father and his friend. Throwing the bouquet of red roses into the bucket, Sally had just turned to leave when Johnny called out to her, ‘Mrs Stuart, wait.’
‘Why?’ replied Sally.
‘It’s just that perhaps this is not the time for you and Margo to make up. I know you’re sorry for all you didn’t do for her … ’
‘Didn’t do for her?’ Sally cried. ‘Now what else could I have done other than breathe for her?’
Johnny looked abashed. ‘You know what Margo’s like. If she has a mind to she could convince you the Crucifixion was just.’
Sally put her hand out to Johnny and he accepted it. He wasn’t the lad she would have chosen for Margo. A bit on the glaikit side he was, but now she felt sorry for him. His life was difficult now. He was intelligent enough to work out the truth in everything, but he was unable to stand up to his domineering wife. ‘If ever I can help you,’ Sally managed to utter through her sobs, ‘just come to either of my two pubs. You won’t have to explain, but I will give you all the help you need. By the way, only in the Four Marys and the Royal Stuart pubs, where I will soon be the landlady, am I still known as Mrs Stuart; everywhere else, and especially with family and friends, like you, it’s plain Sally Mack.’
Margo knocked loudly on the door of the house her father now shared with Maggie, but there was no reply. It was true her father had distanced himself from her since she had announced that she was pregnant.
‘Pregnant,’ he had shrieked, putting up his hands as if to ward off an evil spell. ‘Hey, don’t you realise that will make me a granddad, and I’m much too young to be labelled that.’
This reaction had stumped Margo, who up till then had believed she was the light of her dad’s life and anything she did would be welcomed by him. But now he was saying he didn’t wish to be grandfather to his first grandchild – her first child. Why? But he had come to hold her hand when her baby had died.
Maggie, she remembered, had been delighted about the baby, and within days she was knitting matinee coats and bootees. It was while she was clicking away with the needles one evening that she timidly asked Margo what her mother, Sally, had said about becoming a granny? Margo just shrugged her shoulders and coldly replied, ‘Don’t know. You see, I haven’t bothered to tell her.’
Rapping hard on the door again, Margo wondered where Maggie could be. She had called in at the Co-op where she worked but no one seemed to know where she was today. The noise of Margo’s knocking brought Maggie’s neighbour, Mrs Tyree, to her door.
‘Oh, it’s you, Margo. You’re wasting your time banging away there. Police called in last night and locked up the door. Seems Maggie was taken ill up the town and they carted her off to the hospital, or maybe the morgue. Wouldn’t tell me what exactly had happened to her. But then that’s the polis for you.’
Calling back a hasty thanks to Mrs Tyree, Margo sped out on to East Thomas Street and hailed a taxi. ‘Royal Infirmary, driver,’ she exclaimed and then sank back on the seat to relax.
At the hospital, Margo called at the Porter’s Lodge and enquired after Maggie. The porter, dressed in his smart uniform, which assisted in buoying up his over-inflated ego, consulted his lists before informing Margo of the ward number, but before she could go into the main corridor he quickly added, ‘Just hold on. That is a locked ward and I have to ring to see if you will be allowed entrance.’
‘But,’ spluttered Margo, ‘it’s my…’ she hesitated before saying, ‘… my stepmother to be that I’ve come to see. She has no one but my dad and me.’
After consulting with the ward again, the porter nodded, ‘It’s okay. They’ve checked with Miss … your stepmother to be and you can go on up.’ He went on to give her directions to the ward and then cautioned, ‘Wait by the entrance until someone comes to take you through.’
On arrival at the ward door, Margo was alarmed to see through the glass door that a male nurse was approaching with a bunch of keys. Selecting one, he unlocked the door and with a jerk of his head he indicated to Margo to come in, and he walked with her to Maggie’s bed.
Margo just couldn’t believe the frail, aged woman lying in the bed was Maggie. She was paler than death, and a bruise on her cheek along with several scratches on her forehead were quite alarming.
‘What on earth happened?’ Margo managed to splutter.
Wearily raising her hand, Maggie replied, ‘Dinnae fret. I’d just had enough.’
‘What? But you love my dad. And the ink is no quite dry on his divorce from my mum and when it does you and he will get married.’
‘Don’t you understand your dad’s dumped me for one of your auld classmates so I felt … there was nothing left for me. Decided, I did, I’d be better out of it. Cannae stand being the laughing stock who got her comeuppance.’
‘My dad’s left you for one of my chums? Don’t be daft, Maggie,’ Margo cackled.
‘But he has. And you know weeks ago, someone at work, who I was telling what I was going to wear at our wedding, told me he was singing duets with a young lassie. But I didn’t believe her. Then your dad didn’t come home two nights ago. So the following night I went up to that new club in Tollcross where he has been singing and . . ’ Maggie started to sob quietly. ‘And then I saw it for myself. Cuddling and fondling a lassie the same age as you. Brazen he was when I asked him to consider what he was doing. “Just come to my senses. I’m leaving you,” was his quick reply.’ Maggie was now crying uncontrollably. ‘Even had … the cheek … to say I was past it and he wanted to spend the rest of his life waking up beside young Felicity . . ’
‘Felicity. Oh no, not Felicity, behind the bike sheds at school, Gibson?’
‘None other. So that’s why I climbed the Scott Monument. Don’t survive if you jump from there, you don’t. But … as luck would have it a young bobby came up to rescue me … Wish he hadn’t bothered.’
‘Oh Maggie, this cannot be true. My dad wouldn’t make a fool of himself with someone like Felicity. No. Not my dad.’ Margo stopped and leant over to hug Maggie.
Sally had given a lot of thought to the present she would like to give Ginny as a token of her gratitude. She would have liked to have presented her with another diamond ring, but that she could not afford. But what she could afford was a bottle of Chanel No. 5 – the expensive preferred fragrance of both Marilyn Monroe and Ginny. Whenever Sally was in Ginny’s presence, she would inhale deeply and enjoy the wafting bouquet before promising herself that one day she too would smell sweet like Ginny.
The best place to purchase a bottle of Chanel was Jenners, the prestigious, world-famous department store on Princes Street, so Sally took herself there and asked the charming sales assistant for not one but two bottles of the fragrance. This was because she had decided that now she was a business lady she would have to give the right impression. At this moment in time she couldn’t afford the mandatory mink jacket, but she could stretch to the aroma.
The perfume was also purchased because she had a date with David Stock and she wished to smell fragrant and not like an overflowing ashtray.
Funny, she thought, that since going to work in the Four Marys I’ve got used to my clothes and hair stinking of smoke and alcohol, unlike Ginny, who always smells so sweet. But then Ginny has time to change her clothes twice daily, and her hair is washed and styled by the young up-and-coming hair stylist Charlie Miller at least three times every week. Wonder how much he charges? Sally mused. Could be, she thought, as he’s just starting out and building up a clientele, not too much. She then shook her head and her shoulders drooped as she pictured Ginny’s new hairstyle. That man is a genius and if I want to portray the right image I’ll just have to afford him.
Sally was surprised to find that the Charles Aznavour concert had not attracted a large audience. When it had been brought to the council’s attention that only a few tickets had been sold, they decided to try and fill the theatre by offering free tickets to their staff and also included the police and fire service in the giveaway.
When Sally had taken her seat beside David, she was surprised to find that even the council’s generosity had not resulted in anything like a full house. Charles was only into his first rendition when she appreciated why. By the third offering, David turned to her and said, ‘Sorry about this. Do you fancy a drink in the Shakespeare bar across the road?’
‘To be truthful, I don’t normally drink alcohol,’ was Sally’s whispered response, ‘but I could be persuaded to say yes – because I’ve been driven to it tonight.’
Sally had just got herself seated at a table when David returned from the bar with a large brandy for himself and an orange juice for her. Sitting down opposite her, he smiled before saying, ‘Oh, by the way, did you change your mind and go up to the infirmary to see your …’
‘No,’ was Sally’s abrupt reply. ‘And I wish everyone would stop making me feel guilty – after all, she was the one who slapped me in the face.’
‘Oh, oh,’ was David’s response. ‘Didn’t realise you held grudges.’
‘Hold grudges?’ Sally loudly exploded, causing other nearby customers to look towards her. ‘Let me tell you, I don’t stick pins in wax effigies or keep shrunken heads …’ jumping to her feet she continued, ‘… but, believe me, I’m not stupid enough to put my head on the block again. So could I bid you goodnight.’ With that, she flounced out the door and hailed a taxi.
‘Where to, lady?’ the cab driver asked.
Sally hesitated. ‘Suppose if I am to get some peace in this world it had better be the Royal Infirmary.’
The taxi drew to a halt at the main entrance to the 1920s upgraded Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh and Sally alighted.
After paying the taxi fare, she looked up at the world-famous clock tower that dominated the centre of the sprawling building and was surprised to see it was already ten o’clock. Well past visiting hours, she reminded herself. Her eyes were then drawn to the stones on either side of the clock face and she noted that the inscription on the left read, ‘I WAS A STRANGER AND YE TOOK ME IN’, and on the right, ‘I WAS SICK AND YE VISITED ME’. ‘Right enough.’ Sally paused to have a little laugh before going on to whisper audibly, ‘Could have been written for my pal and me these comforting words because, like it says, she was a stranger and I took her in and befriended her, but my reward was not gratitude … Regrettably it was betrayal that made me sick. And sick as I was, she never visited me. And as to the second dedication, that fits too, because am I not here to visit her?’ Sally hesitated before acknowledging that she was indeed calling in on her – but regrettably with no Christian charity in her heart.
Without any further deliberation, she proceeded up the steps, which took her into the main corridor. Immediately she was confronted with two large panels bearing the names of those who had donated to the upgrade of this medical institution in 1920. She noted they were mostly from the Scottish nobility, business owners and those wealthy people who valued having their names promoted.
Turning to glance at another panel in the hope that it would give her directions to the ward, she was pleased to see that it did.
The sudden appearance of a creaking trolley caused her to turn with a start, and she gasped when she found herself face to face with a porter who was pushing a shroud-covered portable table. ‘No need to be feart, missus,’ the man lisped. ‘Sure, it’s no the dead you hae to fear, it’s the twisted living.’
Sally nodded in agreement before starting towards the stairs to the upper wards. The loud clicking of her heels on the stone steps, however, seemed to her, who was trying to sneak into a ward unnoticed, to be heralding her arrival.
The door to the ward she sought was locked, but as luck would have it, John Thomson, the constable on the opposite shift from Luke, was emerging. ‘Well, hello,’ he exclaimed when faced with Sally. ‘What are you doing here at this time of night?’
Sally gave a nervous little laugh. She liked John Thomson and it was evident he liked Josie, Luke and herself, always stopping them to ask how they were doing and how they were getting on. ‘Visiting a friend,’ Sally managed to mumble when she stopped her deliberations. However, before going on she placed a hand intimately on his arm. ‘You see, I explained,’ she lied, ‘to the duty staff I couldn’t make the normal visiting hour tonight – you know, John, how I have to keep the punters from dying of thirst – so they said I could have a few minutes now – provided, that is, she’s not asleep.’
John stood aside and allowed Sally to enter. ‘Aye, well, I would have waited for you and given you a lift hame, but we’re busy tonight and I’m only up here because a punter decided to go for a swim in the docks.’ He chuckled before continuing, ‘Cannae get any help from the other divisions; they’re all hard-pressed too. And into the bargain we had to police a big concert in the Usher Hall. That French bloke … ye ken the singer Charlie something or other.’
‘Aznavour, or as we say in Leith, Asnovoice,’ was Sally’s response as she removed her shoes so she could tiptoe into the ward.
‘Listen, Sally, for a long time now I’ve been thinking of bringing in my dad to meet you. Knew your mother, he did, and he was wondering if you or anybody in your family had taken after her.’
Hope not, Sally thought before looking up into John’s eyes and replying, ‘I would love to meet your dad so bring him in any time you like.’
* * *
In the second bed on the right, quite a distance from the nurses’ station, which indicated that the person in the bed was no longer critical, Sally found her quarry. She was awake.
‘Is that really you?’ was the patient’s hoarse, whispered question to Sally, who took up a position at the foot of the bed.
‘Yes, Maggie, it’s me. And what I want to know is why have you been upsetting my apple cart again?’ hissed Sally.
‘Oh Sally, he left me. Can you believe after all I did for him that he could throw me over for a bimbo?’ Maggie began to sob quietly.
Sally, her head spinning, didn’t reply because she was thinking, But Maggie, you were only with him for three years – how do you think I felt that after twenty plus years looking after him and bearing him three bairns that he waltzed off with you, a has-been that never was?
Sensing, as she thought, Sally’s grief, Maggie broke the silence. With great sympathy, she mumbled, ‘Sally, I’m sorry I hurt you … I’ve missed you so much … Especially now I’m all alone. I am truly, truly sorry I stole Harry from you.’
Lifting Maggie’s right hand into hers, Sally squeezed it hard. ‘No. No. You should have no regrets about taking Harry from me.’
Pulling her hand from Sally’s so she could struggle up in bed, Maggie leant closer to Sally. ‘I just know,’ she confided quietly, ‘he’ll come to his senses and he’ll leave her and come back – and if he wants to go to you then that will be okay by me.’
Having become a tough woman over the last three years, Sally knew she had to respond forcibly to Maggie’s statement so, having no regard for the other sleeping patients, she announced in a loud voice, ‘I don’t think you understand, Maggie, that I’m here not to try and get Harry back but to thank you most sincerely for having taken him off my hands. You see, him going liberated me, and now I wouldn’t take him back even if he came with his backside studded in diamonds.’
Sally could go on no further with her tirade, as the duty nurse had flown like a ghost silently down the ward. Grabbing Sally by the arm, she demanded, ‘Who on earth are you? And what are you doing here?’
‘It’s alright, nurse,’ Maggie croaked. ‘She’s my best friend and she has just told me that she’s going to look after me.’
‘Is that right?’ the nurse asked.
‘No. Not really. I just came by to say to Maggie not to worry. Plus, I think you should get her some treatment for her delusions.’
‘But Sally, you will say that you’ll take me out of here or I won’t get out.’
Sally turned on her heel and headed for the door. The nurse unlocked it and before closing it on Sally she said, ‘She’s being transferred to the Andrew Duncan Clinic.’
Sighing and sobbing gently, the supposedly tough Sally sagged against the wall. Am I hearing right? she wondered. Did that nurse, in a coded form, say that Maggie has been sectioned for her own protection and now she is being transferred to the Royal Edinburgh psychiatric hospital? Oh, Sally thought, Why, Harry, do you and your blasted daughter Margo think you have the right to drive other people insane?
* * *
It was going on eleven when Sally emerged from the hospital, and when a spectral male figure emerged from the shadows she became alarmed. What could she do? Her first thought was to run towards the front street, where she reckoned there would be someone to assist her. She was just on the verge of bolting when the man said, ‘Somehow I knew you would come here.’
She stopped abruptly and turned to face him. ‘And how did you know, for definite, I would be here, David?’
‘The taxi driver returned to his rank too soon to have dropped you in Leith, so I asked him where he had put you down.’
‘And he told you,’ Sally exclaimed.
‘To be truthful, he wouldn’t have, but a flash of a warrant card loosened his tongue. So now may I drive you home?’
Sally was tempted to say ‘no’ but thought better of it, and soon they were making their way to her home.
