The Baker's Daughter (6 page)

‘No,' he said. ‘I don't. You do a good job there, and your father relies on you. I think you're being hasty and you'll be sorry later on.'

‘Oh, I'll be sorry, will I?' Rona glared at him.

‘Come on, Rona,' he said. ‘This isn't like you. Usually you're good-tempered. Is there something else the matter, not just Aunt
Lizzie?'

She stepped back, bumping into a man who was coming out of the town hall. ‘Watch it, miss,' he said.

‘So what's wrong?' Callum asked in a gentle tone.

Rona suddenly burst into tears. ‘I'm miserable. I've got toothache, and I'm wet and cold and I hate the job.'

‘Oh, you poor thing.' Callum put his arms round her, and they both ignored the people who were going in and out of the town hall, and glancing at the couple who were standing there, oblivious.

‘You poor wee soul,' Callum said as he held her close.

Rona raised her head. ‘I've made your shirt all damp,' she sniffed.

‘Never mind that. Here, I insist that you can have my jacket, and I'll walk back with you to the shop.' He draped his jacket over her shoulders. ‘Come on, the rain isn't as heavy now.'

‘But . . .' she began to protest.

‘Look,' he said. ‘This is what I think you should do. You go back to work, tell your father and Aunt Lizzie you've got toothache and go straight along to the dentist and tell them it's an emergency. If it's Mr Anderson—he's your dentist, isn't he? He'll see you right away. And don't think any more for the moment about leaving the job. Wait till you're
a
bit calmer, and then decide.'

Rona sniffed again. ‘All right.' She managed a faint smile. ‘If I hadn't met you, I'd probably have been at the station catching the next train to Edinburgh or Dundee or anywhere.'

‘Then it's a good thing we met,' he said, smiling at her. ‘Come on, let's hurry.'

When they reached the shop, Rona handed back his jacket. By now the rain had almost stopped.

‘Will you come in?' she said.

‘No thanks, I'd better get back to work. And besides, you know I'm scared of your aunt.' He grinned. ‘I'll be seeing you.' He gave her a quick hug and disappeared.

Rona pushed open the door, and drew a deep breath. Aunt Lizzie was sure to be angry with her.

Yet Aunt Lizzie hardly looked up from the invoices she was checking. ‘Oh, there you are. A bit late, aren't you? Where did you get to? Did you get caught in the rain?' she said a little absently.

‘Oh, I just popped out for my lunch break,' said Rona. ‘I'm back again.'

TROUBLE FOR DOUG

‘Well, here's a pretty kettle of fish!' Aunt Lizzie laid down the letter she had been
reading.

‘What's the matter?' Rona was just about to leave for work.

‘It's that sister-in-law of mine.'

‘Maisie?'

‘Her. In Glencraig,' said Aunt Lizzie in a tone of voice which seemed to indicate that Maisie had no business in Glencraig or anywhere else. ‘Typical!'

Rona swallowed a last piece of toast.

‘What's she done? Only gone into hospital.'

Rona paused, ‘Oh, I'm sorry.' She had met Maisie only once, and found her a gentle soul, no match for Aunt Lizzie's powerful personality.

‘What's wrong with her?'

‘It's her insides,' said Lizzie delicately. There were some things not to be spoken of in front of a girl Rona's age.

‘Anyway,' she went on, ‘she's coming out of hospital Friday and wants me to go up to help out in the house.'

Rona remembered the house, a low rambling cottage on the outskirts of Glencraig.

‘And will you?'

‘Go up there? There's no-one else to cope, I suppose I'll have to. She's a fushionless one,' she dismissed her sister-in-law. ‘But I was fond of George.'

Rona had heard often about George, Lizzie's brother, and the bright one of the family. Dux at the school, training to be a
lawyer,
and then the War came. He was badly injured at Dunkirk and never recovered his health.

He had slipped out of life, quietly, leaving his widow, Maisie, alone with no family—except for Lizzie. ‘She's feckless,' said Aunt Lizzie bracingly, ‘depended on him for everything.'

‘So will you go?' A wild hope seized Rona. She was sorry for Maisie, of course she was, but might Aunt Lizzie actually hurry to take charge of the house in Glencraig?

Might she leave Father and Doug and Rona to shift for themselves? It was a wild, improbable hope.

This thought had clearly occurred to Aunt Lizzie. ‘I'll have to go, of course,' she said, ‘but what's going to happen here while I'm away?'

‘We'll manage.' Rona tried to sound as if she were going to cope bravely ‘We'll do our best.'

After all, she was nearly 21 now. And look at the responsibilities some carried—some only a few years older. She thought of the new young Queen, only 26, and soon to be crowned.

‘Aye,' said Aunt Lizzie doubtfully. ‘Aye, well . . .' Already her thoughts were some distance away ‘I could get the bus to Dunfermline, then the train—there's one goes through Kinross and Glenfarg to Perth. If I got off at Glenfarg . . . I'll write to her today—say I'll be up on
Friday.'

‘I'd better be off,' said Rona hurriedly. ‘I'll tell Father.'

She tried not to skip as she went down the path. All on their own without Aunt Lizzie disapproving of everything. Then she slowed down. Poor Maisie. It was hard on her, but all the same every cloud has a silver lining, she told herself.

In the past few weeks, Rona had decided not to let herself be upset by Aunt Lizzie.

She would not fly off the handle again, but would try to be calm and cheerful and ignore her aunt's sarcastic remarks—after all, she thought, Aunt Lizzie wasn't going to change, so I might as well accept her ways.

Callum had been right. There was no point in walking out in a temper. Much better to wait until she had a definite plan for the future.

For Rona had not given up the idea of becoming a model. She studied the fashion magazines and in the privacy of her bedroom practised walking with a copy of
Familiar Quotations
—a heavy tome, balanced on her head.

And she hugged to herself, her big idea. The Coronation of Queen Elizabeth the Second was to be in June. A special window? Maybe she should persuade Father? After all, it would bring more business into the shop.

*        *        *

Angus
was taking a tray of new baked rolls from the oven.

‘I'll be off on the deliveries then,' he said. ‘Seeing you're here. Where's your aunt?'

Rona explained.

‘You can tell me later,' he said. ‘Folk will be wanting their rolls for their breakfast.'

He looked at her doubtfully. ‘You'll have to manage the till today—just until we get someone else. Ah, well, we'll have to cope. See and keep the shop tidy, and don't drop anything.'

And with that, he was off on the first delivery to the big hotel overlooking the sea.

The day was busy as usual. Rona was kept hard at work, explaining that her aunt was leaving for Glencraig the next day. ‘I'll not be in the shop today,' Aunt Lizzie had announced. ‘You'll have to shift without me. This place is like a midden.' She had glanced round at the kitchen.

To Rona, it seemed immaculate, the wooden draining board scrubbed white, pots and pans neatly arranged on a shelf, taps polished.

When Angus returned from his rounds, he noticed approvingly that Rona had swept the floor of the shop and tidied the shelves.

‘Aye,' he said, ‘not bad. Now you think you can manage the till, for a day or so, till I see about things. We'll need to get someone in
to
help. I'll go along to the Labour Exchange if I've time. Or I could put an advert in the paper.'

‘No bother,' said Rona airily. ‘Father, can I do a window for the Coronation?'

‘Don't bother me just now, there's a good girl,' said Angus.

‘Later,' said Rona to herself, ‘I'll ask again!'

Back home, Aunt Lizzie had already packed her suitcase, and now she was scouring the kitchen. She'd drawn up a list of meals for the next few days.

‘You can have mince tomorrow,' she told Rona. ‘And tell the butcher I always have the best quality mince. There's plenty of potatoes and carrots. And I've made a blancmange for your pudding. Oh, and there's enough soup to do you two or three days!' She sighed. ‘How you're going to manage, I've no idea.'

‘Don't you fret yourself,' said Angus. ‘We'll shift fine. Rona here's a good little housewife already.'

Aunt Lizzie sniffed. ‘Well, she'll have to learn.'

She left the next day with a large leather suitcase and a grim expression. Rona couldn't help feeling a little sorry for Maisie—she was sure there would not be much sympathy from Aunt Lizzie.

But as soon as she had gone the air somehow seemed lighter. Aunt Lizzie had left stew to be heated up. ‘There's just the potatoes
to
peel,' she had told Rona. ‘You can manage that all right, can't you?'

*        *        *

Callum called in at the shop.

‘I'm just in the town to collect an order at the ironmonger's,' he said. ‘What about the pictures or the dancing, maybe tomorrow night?'

‘Oh, Callum,' she said, disappointed, ‘I can't—not this week.' She explained about Aunt Lizzie's departure. ‘And I've got to make the dinner for Father and Doug.'

‘Maybe Saturday, just a walk along the front? Pity to waste these fine evenings.'

‘All right. I'm sure I can manage.'

‘Great. I'll wait for you outside your house—say six o'clock.'

Rona's spirits lifted. With Aunt Lizzie away there would be more freedom. She would be able to go out with Callum, she'd have a free hand with the meals, and at the shop, she would be in charge—well, not quite, but at least she would be supervising the new girl when they found someone. Rona knew exactly the sort of person she wanted.

Someone who never said a word, but was obliging and what's more, would do as Rona told her.

*        *        *

Later
that evening, Angus lit his pipe and settled back in his armchair with the evening paper.

‘Grand dinner.'

‘Aunt Lizzie left it,' said Rona. ‘It's me cooking from now on.'

His eyes twinkled as he looked at her over his glasses. ‘Well, we'll need to stock up on the indigestion tablets, won't we?'

‘Oh, you . . .' she said, pretending to be offended.

‘By the way,' said Angus, ‘where's your brother? He's not been in for his meal.'

‘I don't know.' Rona and Doug had barely spoken since their row over the car.'

‘He'll be out somewhere.'

But she was worried—what had happened to Doug?

It was much later, when Angus had gone to bed, that Doug stumbled through the door.

‘Where have you been?' Rona spoke sharply, trying not to show how anxious she was. ‘Your dinner's in the oven, but it'll be dried up by now.'

‘I don't want any dinner.'

‘Doug! What's happened? What's the matter?'

‘Oh, nothing.' He tried to sound off-hand.

‘Don't be stupid. Tell me.'

‘Keep your voice down. You'll waken Father.'

‘What
has happened?' said Rona in a loud whisper.

‘Oh, well, if you must know, the car crashed into a ditch.'

‘Oh, no!'

‘Oh, yes,' he said, mocking her.

‘But I thought you were a good driver.'

‘I wasn't driving. Neela was. Or rather I was teaching her to drive.'

‘And?' Rona was nearly speechless. ‘Whose car was it? Oh, Doug, you didn't borrow it, you didn't—steal it?'

‘What do you take me for?' His voice rose again. ‘I'm not a thief.'

‘Then where did you get it?'

‘It was Neela's brother's car. He's away abroad for a couple of months. He said I could drive it—if I was careful. But she insisted she wanted to learn to drive. And now, well it's in a ditch up the Bridge Road. I wish,' he added bitterly, ‘I had never set eyes on that stupid woman.'

ANGUS DESPAIRS

‘You're a fool, Doug.'Angus was really angry. It took a lot to rile him for he was generally a placid man. ‘What on earth possessed you to take up with a girl like that?'

He sighed and rubbed his brow. ‘As if there
weren't
enough nice lassies around.'

There had been no keeping from Angus the whole business of the car, and it came out too, that he knew of Neela and her reputation in the town as something of a party girl. ‘She's been nothing but trouble, that girl,' he went on rubbing salt into the wound. ‘And you'll have to pay for any repairs—and face up to her brother.'

It was then he felt he had said plenty. Doug, sitting at the kitchen table, looked miserable enough, but a moment later Angus couldn't resist adding, ‘If your mother had lived to see the day . . . and it's maybe just as well your aunt Lizzie's not here.'

Doug roused himself to say, ‘The garage got the car out of the ditch and it's not badly damaged. Just a headlamp dented.'

‘Aye well,' said Angus.

‘And she, Neela, said she'll pay for the damage,' Doug went on.

‘Aye, well. You've learned your lesson and you'll stay away from her in future. She's nothing but trouble, and you're not the first one to find out either apparently.'

‘I'm away out.' Doug got up and Rona followed him out of the door.

She hadn't the heart to say, ‘You might at least help with the dishes.'

She had never seen Doug, her cheerful, good-natured brother, look so woebegone.