Page 38

Chapter 38

May 1931

‘I think you should offer Keith a room here.’ Isobel poured flour onto the scales from the mouse-proof tin in which it was kept.

‘In this house?’ Ann leaned back in the kitchen chair and studied her friend.

‘Yes.’

‘And turn it into a lodging house instead of a family home?’

Isobel sighed.

‘There may be a possibility of it being a family home again one day. But at the moment it’s just you and me and we only use the downstairs and often not even all of that.

This kitchen is the warmest place so that’s where we sit, and let’s face it, the drawing room needs attention.

’

‘My father would turn in his grave.’

‘That may be true.’

‘And I don’t know what Ursula would think.

’

Isobel concentrated on weighing the flour for the pastry.

Half Allinson’s wholemeal, half white.

She sifted them together, high above the bowl to aerate the flour, and then tossed the bran which was left in the wire sieve back into the bowl.

‘Well, that’s the thing.

’

‘What thing?’

‘Pass me the butter, please.’

Ann lifted the lid off the butter dish and pushed it across the table.

Isobel eyeballed two ounces of butter and chopped it against her fingers with the back of a knife and started to rub the fat into the flour so it looked like breadcrumbs.

When she was happy with the fineness of the mixture, she added cold water, a dribble at a time.

‘What would she think, really and truly?’ She gathered it into a dough with her hands and looked up at the clock.

‘There isn’t time to let this rest, I’m running late.

I think I’ll just roll it out now.

’ She paused. ‘This is important, Miss Ann.’ She only used this title when she was being serious about something and wanted to be listened to.

‘What would Ursula Black do if she were here now?’

‘I don’t know.

But why is it my place to bail him out?

Why can’t his family help?

’

Isobel was ready for her.

‘There isn’t anyone.

His father is dead, his mother is unwell and she lives with his aunt in Dundee.

There’s no room for him there, and it’s too far away.

And anyway, he isn’t a child.

’

‘How do you know all this?’

‘I asked. You know, like you do when you have a conversation with someone?’ She finished shaping the pastry into a ball.

‘There’s no need to look so scandalised.

I’m surprised you haven’t discovered all this yourself, but I suppose the two of you are always too busy putting the world to rights to worry about the really important things in life.

’

Ann was defensive.

‘That’s not fair. And what about brothers or sisters?

’

‘Some men don’t want to bring up the past, even when they are asked.

It hurts too much.’ Isobel lowered her voice a little.

‘He did have brothers. Two of them.’

Ann knew what was coming.

She couldn’t believe how insensitive she had been, or how foolish.

What must he think of her?

‘Tell me.’

‘They were both killed on the first day at the Somme. They were never found. He’s always wanted to go to Picardy and pay his respects, but never had the money to make the trip.

’

‘Their poor mother.’

Neither of them spoke for more than a minute.

Ann leaned her elbows on the table.

‘Something else we have in common. There’s no proper grave to visit, so you always wonder.

’ She rubbed her face.

‘And you always hope, even when it makes no sense.’

‘I know.’

‘Finlay hasn’t gone, you know?

’ Ann pointed at the scullery.

‘I still want to believe that he’s going to walk right through that door one day.

He’ll say, “Long time, no see, any stories, Annie Bee?” in that sing-song way, just like he used to when he came home on leave.

’ She stared at the door between the scullery and the kitchen, willing it to open.

‘It’s been fifteen years and I still miss him so much.

’

The kitchen was quiet, apart from the tick of the clock on the mantelpiece, and the occasional coal spark.

It was Isobel who broke the silence.

‘Are you going to do it, then? You could start with Keith and see how it goes.’

‘I don’t know.

I’m not sure I could have a man in the house.

’

‘We would get used to it. And he’s here almost every day now anyway.

’ Isobel chanced a wink.

‘I can’t imagine why that would be.

’

‘Yes, but men are so big , even when they aren’t.

Their voices are huge and they take up so much space .

They leave the lavatory seat up, and there will be arms and legs and muscles everywhere.

’

Isobel didn’t respond.

She scattered flour onto the table and rolled the pastry out with the rolling pin.

A quarter-turn and a few rolls backwards and forwards and then the same again.

She opened the door to the pantry and brought out a jar of crimson fruit.

‘This is the last of the plums. Until September anyway.’

‘The trouble with spiced plums,’ replied Ann, attempting to change the subject, ‘is that they are altogether too good. Every year I think I have bottled enough from Finlay’s tree and every year I am wrong.

’

The smell of cinnamon and cloves escaped from the jar as it was opened and they both breathed it in.

Isobel spooned the fruit into a white enamel pie dish.

‘If I save the juice and add a little more sugar, it would make a syrup, and we could have it poured over something else later in the week. Keith likes a pudding.’

‘Oh, do stop it. I get the message.’

Isobel lifted the pastry onto the rolling pin carefully, and flopped the sheet neatly onto the dish before trimming off the extra pieces with a knife and crimping the edges deftly between finger and thumb.

Two slashes in the top and it was ready for the oven.

‘Right.’ Ann folded her arms. ‘You’ve obviously made your mind up about this already.

’

Isobel rolled the cut-off strips of pastry into a ball and held it out on the palm of her hand.

‘Jam tarts? Or do you want to eat it raw, like you did before you were all grown up?’

Ann took the lump of dough.

‘You are avoiding giving me an answer.’ She pulled a small piece off and popped it into her mouth.

‘In most things, I do share what I think, and I’m grateful that you listen to my opinion.

But in this situation we aren’t equal.

It’s your house. And that means it’s your decision.

’ She rubbed her hands together to dislodge the scraps of dough from between her fingers.

‘And a little bit of you thinks he isn’t good enough.

’

Ann didn’t speak until she had eaten the rest of the pastry, one small torn piece after another.

‘Alright. I give up. I was wrong and I know that now, but you really aren’t helping.

’

Instead of starting to clear up, Isobel sat down at the table, her hands clasped in front of her.

‘Very well, Miss Ann, you really want to know?’

‘I do, and less of the Miss, please; I am not a child any more.’

‘I think that this is a man who is struggling. He had started his own business and was doing alright until this awful depression came along and knocked him, and thousands of others all over the world, off their perches. He soon won’t have anywhere to live and his landlord isn’t willing to negotiate on the rent.

We , on the other hand, live in your very large house.

We don’t use the upstairs at all.

Your bedroom was redecorated after the theatre fire, remember?

’

‘I do.’

‘And you wouldn’t let it be touched again when the rest of the place was done later on.

Let’s face it, most of the house hasn’t seen more than a dab of paint in years.

’ Isobel reached out to touch the wall with floury fingers.

‘I remember coming here for my interview before you moved from Bruntsfield. The walls were just bare plaster and it all had to dry out before it could be wallpapered. And your mother was ill, so everything was done in a rush. It wasn’t looked at properly again until after the war.

’

Ann was briefly transported back to a time when not knowing was worse than certainty.

‘Even then it just got a lick and a promise. We were all still wondering what had happened to Finlay, and none of us were in the slightest interested in wallpaper.’

Isobel left Ann with her thoughts and gathered together the mixing bowl, the knife and the rolling pin, and carried them through to the sink in the scullery.

She came back, rubbing her hands on her apron, and dragged the conversation back to the present.

‘Perhaps it’s time to give the place a new life?

I mean, in spite of the fact that we have electricity now, the soot from the fires has dulled all the colours.

No amount of me brushing the walls down will change that.

’

‘I suppose you’re right.

’

Isobel took a saucepan down from a shelf.

She pushed a bit further.

‘You’ll think I’m being cheeky but if you wanted to invest in a proper gas cooker instead of just that single burner, it would be an improvement.

’ She checked inside the pan to make sure it was clean.

‘If you offered Keith a room, he could pay the rent with his time and his skill. You would end up with a nicely decorated house to sell or keep or whatever you want, and he would have a roof over his head.’ It was rare for Isobel to offer such a complete case for anything.

‘You have thought about all this in considerable detail,’ said Ann.

‘It’s true, I have.’

‘If we were to do it, where would he sleep? Which room would he have?’

‘I have some ideas about that.’

‘Why am I not surprised?’

‘He can sleep upstairs, it doesn’t matter which room.

He could have any one of them.

’

‘Not Finlay’s room.

’

‘Alright. Not Finlay’s room.

’

Ann seized the opportunity.

‘He could have your room above the scullery that you refuse to move out of, and you could have a nice room upstairs .?.?.’

‘I suppose I could. But then you and he would be sharing a bathroom and you might not want that.’ Isobel picked up the open jar of plum juice and poured the deep crimson liquid into the saucepan.

Tiny splatters of red landed on the tabletop and seeped into the wood.

‘My head hurts. There are so many problems with this.’

‘List them, then.’

‘Meat. Would he want to eat meat?’

‘He can eat meat away from here if he wants, just not in the house. Not cooked in our pans.’

‘What about rent? Although I can see your point about getting the walls painted and everything tidied up, it’s all a bit tired now.

’

‘You don’t have to decide about that just yet.

After the place is painted, you could charge some rent.

’

‘How much?’

‘I don’t know, do I?

’ Irritation crept into Isobel’s voice momentarily.

‘How much do you want to charge?’

‘I have no idea. And I’m not sure that he would be able to do the work on his own.

The ceilings are high and I don’t think the staircase could possibly be a one-man job.

’

Isobel began to patiently tick off the objections on her fingers, one by one.

‘See if he has a friend; he surely must know someone who would give their best shirt for some work at the moment.’

Ann’s eyes widened at Isobel’s suggestion.

‘Wait a minute, are you saying that we ask not one, but two strange men to live in the house?’

‘I don’t know, but you are making obstacles where there are none.

What I do know is that he seems decent and quietly spoken and needs a place to live.

You have that place.

’ She paused before pulling out her trump card.

‘And I think Ursula would approve. She would have done anything to have Finlay back. Think of it as Finlay’s legacy, helping other people when he isn’t here to do it himself.

’

Wisely, Isobel left the idea to percolate, while she added sugar to the plum juice in the pan and put it on the hotplate.

Ann watched her as she worked.

‘If we offered Keith a room, how long would he stay? I don’t want him to move in and live here for a few weeks while he does some painting and then move out again.

I mean, it might be awful and I might want him to leave,’ she paused, ‘but if we did this and it worked then maybe .?.?.’

‘Maybe what?’

‘There might be other folk who need a room. There’s far more space than we need, even with Keith staying.

’

Isobel concentrated on stirring the plum sauce.

‘I don’t think either of us would want it to be like a tram ride with people only stopping for a week or two.

’

‘Definitely not.’

‘You could tell people you expect them to stay for a year. Or perhaps two years would be better. Time to get settled and be part of the family, if you know what I mean.’ Isobel couldn’t help smiling.

‘But of course, you might want a different rule for Keith?’

Ann ignored the loaded question.

‘What about the rent?’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, will you stop worrying about the rent!

’

‘But people will want to know what the arrangements are.’

Isobel could see that her suggestion had subtly moved from if to when.

‘A quarter.’

‘I don’t understand.

’

‘A quarter of whatever they earn. If they earn a pound in a week, they pay five shillings, and if they earn a hundred guineas then they pay twenty-five.’

Ann put her head in her hands.

‘But that feels wrong. I don’t need the money.

I have all the investments from when Father’s company was sold last year.

I don’t even touch the capital; I can live off the interest with quite a bit left over.

’

‘Give it back, then. Tell whatever lodgers you have that you expect them to stay for two years and give all the money back at the end.’ Isobel moved the saucepan to a cooler spot on the hotplate to stop the sugary mixture sticking and continued to stir.

‘Don’t tell them what you’re planning, just do it when they leave.

’

‘I could.’ Ann’s mind whirred.

‘A quarter is twenty-five per cent, and this is 25 Library Terrace. It fits together quite nicely.’

‘Miss Ann, I pay no rent here. I earn a little from working in the greengrocer in Morningside but they can’t give me more hours, and you still don’t charge me anything.

I don’t think worrying about the rent is really what all this is about.

If it makes you feel better, I’ll pay a quarter too.

’

‘Absolutely not.’ Ann put her hands on her hips and smiled.

‘But would you really move out of that little room? It would be worth doing this just to get you out of there!’

‘I could move upstairs, into your old bedroom if you like,’ Isobel conceded.

‘If that’s what will persuade you.

I don’t mind sharing a bathroom.

’

Ann reached for her diary.

‘I need to think, and I need a pencil and paper to help me do it.’