The Serial: The Green Years, Day 36

Rab froze in his tracks. The man seemed very friendly with Chrissie’s mother, he thought

Grace Dalton looked at the man. “Yes?” she said, quizzically. “I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs Green, but I was wondering if Maisie was home?”

“Maisie?”

“Yes, your daughter.”

“I have a daughter,” Grace said, “but she’s not called Maisie, nor is she called Green.”

Ian looked confused. “But this is where I picked her up last night,” he said, showing Grace Dalton the slip of paper. It began to dawn on Grace who this young man might be.

“And your name is?”

“Brown,” he said, “Ian Brown.”

“And you picked Maisie up here last night?”

“I did,” Ian said, looking puzzled.

“I think you’d better come in,” Grace said, “I think there may have been a bit of a misunderstanding.”

She stood aside and Ian entered the hallway. “Over there,” she said, “into the kitchen.”

She put on the kettle and glanced at the unhappy young man at her table. So, this was who Maisie had run away from last night and why she came back to seek Chrissie out for comfort.

“Tea all right?” she asked. Ian Brown nodded.

Upbringing

Grace Dalton had some explaining to do and on Maisie’s behalf. She told Ian of Maisie’s upbringing and her pride in getting promoted, but most of all, for her efforts in trying to make something of her life instead of just drifting like so many others had done.

Ian listened intently. “How old are you?” Grace finally asked. “Twenty two,” came the reply.

“Maisie’s 17 years old,” Grace said, “just turned. Can you imagine how daunting it must have been for her to cope with dinner in the Angus Hotel, no matter how well intentioned you were?”

Ian grimaced. “I need to talk to her,” he said determinedly, ” and make her understand, it’s her that I love – not her job or her school, or anything else for that matter.”

Grace Dalton smiled. She liked Ian Brown and could see why Maisie did too, but she could also see why she felt she wasn’t good enough for this handsome young man.

Grace stood up and began clearing away the tea things. “Maisie will be here on Christmas Day,” she said. “She always comes for her dinner with us.”

She levelled her eyes with Ian Brown’s. “If you’re really serious about Maisie,” she said, “then come back on Sunday around six o’clock. We’ll be finished eating and those chocolates will be appreciated.”

Grace was aware that she was match-making but she also knew instinctively that this was Maisie’s best chance of making a good marriage for herself.

“Christmas Day it is,” Ian said, handing Grace the box of chocolates, “and thanks for understanding.”

Grace looked at the proffered box. “I’ll bring some more on Sunday,” Ian said smiling. “You deserve these for being so kind.”

Overdrive

Rab was just coming up the street to Chrissie’s door when it opened and a man stepped out on to the path. He shook hands with Mrs Dalton and walked to his car.

Rab could see a dog on the back seat that jumped up at the window when the man opened the car door, got in and drove away.

Rab froze in his tracks. The man seemed very friendly with Chrissie’s mother, he thought, his mind going into overdrive.

Was this the sailor who’d left Chrissie and gone back to sea? Rab had heard the rumours and felt sick. All that T.A. training and Chrissie had already got someone else. She couldn’t even wait a week!

So much for impressing Chrissie in his T.A. uniform at New Year. It wasn’t even Christmas and he’d been upstaged already by a seaman. He had to see Kenny. He’d know what to do.

Rab looked even more desolate when he turned up at Kenny’s house. “What’s up, mate?” Kenny asked. “Changed your mind?”

Rab shook his head, “Can I come in?” he asked, “it’s about Chrissie.” “‘Nuff said.” Kenny stood back and watched Rab as he sidled past him and into the kitchen. “Sorry, there’s no drink,” Kenny said, “unless you want tea.”

“No thanks,” Rab said, sitting down. “I’ve just seen him.” Kenny frowned. “Seen who?” “The sailor.”

Kenny poured himself a tea and sat down opposite Rab. “What are you talking about, big man?”

“I was on my way to see Chrissie, about not being in the T.A. any more and I saw him.” Rab gathered his overheated thoughts. “He was coming out o’ her house and shaking hands with her mum as well!”

Kenny waited. “And he had a car, Kenny,” he added dismally. “How can I compete wi’ a man and a car?” Kenny digested the information.

“And how do you know he was that sailor boy Chrissie fancied?” Rab’s eyes blurred. “Well, who else could it have been?”

Kenny shrugged. “Could’ve been the insurance man, a man from the council, Mcgills man...” Kenny was running out of options. “C’mon, Rab,” he said, “it could have been anybody.”

“It was him,” Rab stated defiantly. “He looked like a sailor.”

“What, like wi’ a sailor hat on or a kitbag slung over his shoulder.”

But Rab wasn’t to be placated. “I know, Kenny, a’right,” he said. “I just know.”

“Well, if you’re right, Rab,” counselled his pal, “then you’ve two choices.” Rab brightened. There were choices?

“You can either find another lassie, or you can knock his block off the next time you see him.”

“Gee, thanks pal,” Rab said, even more dejected than ever.

He didn’t want another lassie, he wanted Chrissie and as for knocking the sailor’s block off, he’d probably set that dog on him if he tried.

Thoughtful

Kenny tried another tack. “It’s Christmas this weekend,” he said. “Let’s hit the town and paint it red,” he suggested, “and forget about all women until the New Year.

“Then we’ll see who Maisie and Chrissie fancy.” He nudged Rab suggestively. “And no prizes for guessing Maisie’s preference.”

Maisie was in thoughtful mood when Chrissie called in on Christmas Eve. “Mum asked if you’re coming for Christmas Dinner, as usual?

“Of course, I am,” Maisie responded. “It’s the best dinner in the world.”

Chrissie beamed. She did have a lovely mum, but she didn’t know that she had been match-making Maisie and Ian Brown.

“What a mess I’ve made of things,” Maisie said absently, fluffing up the blond curls round the back of her neck.

Chrissie raised her eyebrows questioningly. “You’ve got Kenny Wilson falling at your feet, Maisie Green, so how messy do you think things are?”

“I’m not talking about Kenny,” Maisie said, wistfully. “I’m talking about running away from Ian Brown. So much for being grown up and sophisticated.”

More on Monday

Sandra Savage