The Tangling of the Web, page 3
Josie was just fourteen years old and about to leave school when George Grant told her she was the most beautiful woman he had seen in whole wide world. She was just so flattered she didn’t take into consideration that thirteen-year-old George hadn’t seen much of the world, as he had never ventured any further than the top of Easter Road. George then confided he was so in love with her that he would be treating her to the pictures with a coconut slice added in. ‘You will?’ exclaimed Josie, who just loved going to see all the films. That was where she could escape into her make-believe world where she was tall and willowy as well as beautiful. She also knew that if ever she did get to Hollywood in no time at all she would make a name for herself. ‘But just a minute,’ Josie added when reality returned, ‘where will you get the money?’
‘Easy-peasy,’ replied George. ‘See the fish shop down in the Kirkgate? Well, he also sells pigeons, and see me …’ He now stuck his fingers through his braces as he swaggered in front of Josie. ‘Haven’t I just asked him if he would be interested in getting his hands on a dozen freshly killed birds, and he’s up for it.’
‘He is?’ crooned Josie.
‘Aye,’ replied George, nudging Josie with his elbow, ‘and he will pay enough for the two of us to get chummy in the cuddly seats.’ He paused to savour the moment before adding, ‘And if you are really nice to me I’ll throw in …’
‘A wee box of Cadbury’s Milk Tray?’
‘Naw. A couple o’ penny dainties because I cannae even afford the coconut ice I promised you.’
Of course, George was not too bright and didn’t realise that the pigeons in the fish shop were wood pigeons – a delicacy when cooked – and the pigeons that roosted in the railway yard were feral or, as the fish-shop owner put it, ‘Rats with wings.’ Naturally George was disappointed about the unreasonable conditions the fish-shop owner had laid down about the birds he sold. However, he was not as piqued as Josie, who, instead of being treated to a night of romantic entertainment, found herself reduced to licking a penny toffee cup while George tried to put his hand up her jumper.
In the summer of 1944 Josie began working in Crawford’s Biscuit Factory in Elbe Street. There her horizons widened, and before she had said a final goodbye to George, Steve, the store-man in the factory, whose job it was to keep her supplied with biscuit tins, had fallen madly in love with her. Steve was so besotted with her that he even carried the tins straight to her station. The only problem was that he was supposed to do that anyway and his dilly-dallying at her station meant the other women workers had to go and fetch their own tins.
Fed up with the situation, the older women quickly told Josie that Steve was married and was the father of seven children – and not all by his wife, because he was known to have an eye for young, gullible lassies – and if she didn’t mind could she give him the bum’s rush before he was the father of eight. After much deliberation, Josie resolved to do just that and then vowed that in future she would only encourage well-heeled older men.
Three months later, Josie was counting the days until she would be fifteen. It was about that time that news was being filtered out that now America had joined in the Second World War, Britain might emerge triumphant. This news excited
Josie especially, as the bulletin said that they still required as many women who could be spared to join in the battle. Josie decided there and then that what the country needed was her. So she marched into the recruiting office, where she was disappointed to find out that she was too young for the battle zones but that they could use her on the farms howking tatties.
Peggy made no comment on Josie’s news that she would be leaving to go down to live and work on a farm in East Lothian. She was, however, put out because since she had had Luke, who was now nine, and Daisy, now five, she had relied on Josie to watch over them when she was out gallivanting with Paddy. Paddy, unlike Peggy, did comment on Josie’s leaving. She was surprised and tears bubbled up in her when he said, ‘Now remember you are my little princess. I’m your daddy and I’ll kill any man who doesn’t do right by you.’
* * *
Two weeks later, Josie joined the team on a Tranent farm. Three of the lassies were young, though not as young as Josie, who had advised them she was seventeen but was small for her age. Her short stature, she confided to them, was because she had been born three months premature when her mother had been frightened by a bogeyman. Feeling sorry for her, the girls immediately welcomed her into their circle.
Time off for the girls was usually at the weekend. ‘How would you like to go up to Edinburgh with us on Saturday?’ enquired Senga, who had appointed herself leader of the pack.
Noting that Josie seemed wary, Hetty quickly added, ‘We don’t go drinking and whooping it up. Oh no, we go to the canteen at the east end of Princes Street.’ Hetty stopped to ensure she had Josie’s full attention before disclosing, ‘That’s where all the soldiers, airmen and navy boys, who are mostly on embarkation leave, go to for a sandwich, a cup of tea and a wee birl around the dance floor with any of us lassies that turn up.’
‘Hetty’s right there,’ Julie butted in, before adding, ‘and just think, Josie, ours might be the last lassies’ faces they’ll see before they … are … no more.’
On entering the canteen, Josie could see that the main room was packed with young men representing all the branches of the forces and nationalities engaged in the conflict.
‘Good to see you,’ the canteen manageress said to Hetty.
‘Just love to come and help you, Mrs Duff,’ Hetty replied, grabbing Josie by the arm. ‘And this here is Josie, our new pal, and she wants to help too.’
Mrs Duff’s smile radiated towards Josie. ‘And what would you like to do, dear?’
Josie shifted uneasily. ‘Wash dishes or I could sweep up.’
Mrs Duff, Hetty and Senga laughed in unison. ‘No, my dear,’ chuckled Mrs Duff. ‘Someone as pretty as you we need to entertain the boys.’ Josie was surprised when she then bent her head towards her to whisper, ‘Now some of our lads are not able to read or write very well, so you could help there by reading or writing their letters for them.’
Eyes widening in alarm, Josie shook her head vigorously. Truth was, not only were some of the men not as literate as they should be, but neither was she. Noting her unease, Mrs Duff quickly asked, ‘Could you take on changing the records on the gramophone then?’
Looking over towards Julie, who was jiving with an airman, Josie nodded enthusiastically before responding, ‘Yes, and I can dance too!’ Then, to Mrs Duff and Hetty’s amusement, she sashayed across the floor in time to Glenn Miller’s ‘In the Mood’.
The winding up of the gramophone and the changing of the records, however, couldn’t be done by Josie because she was just too busy dancing with her many admirers.
During a short interval, a fair-haired man sidled up to her. Josie was delighted to see him because, like herself, he was on the short side. Staring long and hard at him, she noted that he was at least half a foot taller than she was. Sniffing, she thought, Aye, he’s the right height for me, right enough, but measuring a mere five and a half feet he would be considered by most to be on the small side for a man.
Roy Yorkston was obviously short in stature; however, he did not see this as a disadvantage and he pushed aside the other men who were anxious to attract Josie’s attention. Then, with a disarming smile, he asked in an American drawl, ‘Care to dance the night away with me, babe?’
How could she refuse? Her throat was dry. Her knees wobbled. Surely, she thought, I am Cinderella and he is Prince Charming. From that moment on, no matter who asked her to dance, she was only available to Roy. Staring into his deep blue eyes, she thought, Oh, surely he and I were fated to meet. Losing all sense of reason, she went on to suggest to herself that somehow the war had been deliberately contrived by the gods so they could meet!
Mrs Duff was a bit concerned. This wee lassie, she was sure, was not as old as she claimed to be – or even worse, she was completely naïve and unaware of the dangers of the real world. Risking being told to mind her own business, she meandered over to Josie, who was being pinned against the wall by Roy, who was sensuously licking her lips, nose and eyelids.
Hauling Roy away from Josie, Mrs Duff hissed, ‘Look, son, I don’t know how they do things back in your country, but here when a lassie needs her face washed she goes over to the sink and douses it with some clean water.’
‘No need to rescue me, Mrs Duff. You see, I prefer him licking my face to him pushing his tongue down my throat,’ Josie murmured whilst giving Roy a beaming smile.
‘And there’ll be no more of his putting his tongue down your throat either,’ gasped Mrs Duff, her cheeks now burning with embarrassment. ‘This here is a Christian establishment where we’re not into cannibalism.’ Being in need of reassurance, she stopped to brush her hands over her ample bosom before adding in a voice racked with sobs, ‘Supported by the Salvation Army we are.’
Roy put out his hand to touch Mrs Duff’s arm, but she pulled back from him. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I know you think I’ve just met Josie and that I’m chancing my mitt. But believe me when I say that I know she is the girl I’m going to marry.’
‘What?’ shrieked Mrs Duff.
While Josie thought, Oh, yes please.
Pretending not to have heard Mrs Duff’s exclamation, Roy continued, ‘And right now I’m going to walk her home and speak to her parents so that they know my intentions towards their daughter are honourable.’
‘Huh,’ was Mrs Duff’s first response before adding gleefully, ‘And how long do you think it’ll take you to walk to Tranent?’ Roy shrugged, so she continued, ‘Don’t you realise that, unless you are a crow, it is at least a seventeen-mile trek!’
Instantly Roy’s enthusiasm seemed to wane, until Josie said, ‘But tomorrow’s Sunday, my day off, so I won’t be going back to Tranent tonight by bus or walking.’ Linking her arm through Roy’s, she looked up into his eyes and simpered, ‘I’ll be going down to Elgin Terrace to stay with my sister Sally.’
Passion appeared to have been given the kiss of life and Roy bent down to brush her lips with his as he enquired, ‘And where is Elgin Terrace?’
‘Just a ten-minute walk away,’ was Josie’s jubilant reply as she steered him towards the exit.
In the initial three months of the courtship, the romance gained momentum. Josie was completely under Roy’s spell. The power of his stories, which were always about what her life would be like in America when she arrived there after the war, were spellbinding. The bewitchment even had her forget the warning of her stepfather, Paddy, that she should always keep her hand on her ha’penny. She didn’t of course know what he meant by that. It was like the warning that Flora Stuart always gave her in that she should not bring any disgrace down on Sally. She never said what the disgrace was, and if Josie asked her she would reply, ‘Never you mind what it is. Just you don’t bring it to this door.’ The other problem with this warning was that whenever Flora had to talk about the facts of life she would sniff long and loud before picking up a duster and begin vigorously attacking the furniture. Facing the wall, she would then splutter, ‘Don’t you bother yourself about the facts of life. All you need to know is that every man from the age of thirteen dreams night and day about nothing else.’ Treating Josie to a half-turn, she would quickly expand, ‘And missy, now you have been brought up staunch Protestant since you came here last year, it is your solemn Christian duty to make sure their dreams never come true.’
These warnings she did try to adhere to, but as Roy was showering her with presents of fabulous nylons, chocolate and chewing gum, Josie had a dilemma. What beautiful and precious gift could she bestow on him? As per usual she was hard up, and in addition to that, war-ravaged Britain was putting all her productive efforts into creating ammunitions to annihilate the Germans and very little effort was going into the manufacture of quality gifts for the likes of Roy.
Slowly she realised that it was a losing battle for her to keep her virginity – or that was what she tried to convince herself once she had made up her mind. As both Roy and she were now so sexually frustrated, what would be wrong with surrendering the most precious of gifts? After all, Roy was her life’s true love and there would never be another man in her life after him.
However, in her mind there still lingered the nagging warnings that she thought meant that you should never get so infatuated with any man that you would forget to keep yourself pure! But do they? she argued. These warnings, she concluded, were always couched in a language she didn’t fully understand. Ambiguity was always there, so did she need to give them a second thought?
All her life she would remember Roy and herself climbing up Arthur’s Seat as twilight shrouded them. It was one of those times in the middle of winter that was called a Buchan warm spell, when you were duped into believing spring had come early. Usually a three-day warm spell would arrive at the beginning of December, but here was another one in February. Holding Josie’s hand firmly in his, Roy climbed up from the shore of the loch towards the ruin of St Anthony’s Chapel. Once he was satisfied they were alone and hidden from view, he took off his overcoat and threw it down on the ground. It didn’t seem to matter to them that night in February 1945 that the moon was casting fleeting, ghostly, ominous shadows around the broken walls of the chapel and over them. All that concerned and consumed them was their impatient and ardent love-making.
Six weeks later they were again up on the historic hill and they made love just as passionately as before but now with added tenderness. Afterwards, he gently stroked her face and whispered, ‘Oh, my little angel, you will have to be brave.’
She nodded. ‘I know, but I didn’t think you had guessed.’
Sitting up abruptly, he challenged, ‘But how could you know? It’s top secret that my platoon is being sent off to the front tomorrow.’
Without warning, Josie began thumping Roy on the chest. ‘No. No,’ she pleaded. ‘I won’t let you go. Oh Roy, you’re needed here. We are to be married.’
‘And we will be,’ he reassured her, ‘just as soon as I get back.’
‘No! We need to marry before you go tomorrow,’ Josie protested.
‘Why? You know I will come back for you.’
‘But what will I do if you take too long?’
Roy looked into her face and he could see the panic in her eyes. ‘Are you saying … ?’
She nodded as sobs racked her.
‘But it’s only six weeks since we started … well, you know, what we’ve …’
‘Maybe so,’ shrieked Josie. ‘But I know I’m away with the goalie because I’ve … missed. Three weeks late I am and spewing up every morning.’
‘Oh God, what am I going to do? If I don’t turn up tomorrow I could be shot for desertion.’
‘And if you don’t do right by me you’ll be kicked to death by my stepfather, Paddy.’
‘Look, little one, the war in Europe is nearly over. There’s just mopping up to be done now. So I’ll be back in a few weeks’ time.’ Josie rocked from side to side and he drew her in close to murmur, ‘You must be patient and wait till then.’
Trembling all over, Josie mumbled, ‘You should also know I’ve just turned fifteen!’
‘What does that mean?’
‘That I’m a minor and I could have you arrested for doing what you did to me. And I will be believed when I tell them how much it hurt.’
Roy gulped. ‘But it was your idea. And tonight you said it was lovely.’
‘Yes. Now it’s lovely.’ Josie began crying profusely. ‘But at first it hurt so badly – I bled real blood.’
Roy got to his feet and starting pacing about while Josie continued, ‘Look, love, why don’t you just forget about the army and stay with me. Then next year,’ she babbled on as she clasped him around the knees, ‘when I’ll be sixteen we can get married.’
Struggling to be free of Josie’s hold, Roy spluttered, ‘Just a minute. First of all you demand that I marry you straight away. Then you tell me you’re not old enough to take your vows.’ Sheer desperation caused him to wave his hands in the air. ‘You were even too young to have led me on the way you did.’
Josie sank to the ground again and began to sob, this time uncontrollably. Roy, not knowing what to do, knelt down beside her. He acknowledged that he did love her and in reality she was just a child who needed his protection. Drawing her into his arms, he murmured, ‘There there, my darling. I’ll stand by you and put everything right, but … I have to report for duty in the morning.’
He stayed with her until the sun came up. The beautiful sun that signalled it was time for him to report for duty.
Roy had just left for his combat calling when Josie decided that before he could return to her the mess she was in would soon be evident for all to see.
So who could she turn to? No use approaching her mother, who never had been really interested in her or what she was doing. As for Paddy, he would be so disappointed that he would just wash his hands of her. Josie sighed before acknowledging the only person who’d ever shown her any kindness and understanding was Sally. She could turn to her. However, there was just no way Sally would be able to solve this problem for her. Josie reluctantly accepted that the only person who could help her was herself. Which meant all she could do now was to run away. Put miles between herself and her family. If she didn’t, not only would she be the laughing stock of the whole community, but people would also say she was like her mother – a slut!
Even if her life had depended on it, Josie could not remember why she decided to go or how she got herself to Morecambe. It was true that Josie was not very bright, but what she did have was animal cunning, the most valuable of all the instincts, and this attribute meant she had the desire to survive at all costs.
