The boredom of Sunday had brought the young and foolish out in their droves

Maisie opened her birthday gift. A box of 20 assorted eye shadows, ranging from smoky brown to lurid blue, looked back. Chrissie was her best friend and she almost cried with gratitude.

Of all the people in the world who could have given her a birthday present, Chrissie was the only one.

“Thanks, Chrissie,” she said simply. “It’s the best present I’ve ever had.”

Chrissie beamed. “I’m glad you like it,” she said, “and I thought you needed a bit of ‘colour’ in your life after that dreary play.”

Maisie put the present aside. “You know it wasn’t the dreary play that upset me, don’t you.” Chrissie nodded. “I thought he liked you,” she said, “Ian Brown, I mean.”

“I know who you mean Chrissie,” Maisie said. “It just goes to show how wrong we were.”

“Does that mean we won’t be going back to the badminton?”

“Don’t know,” said Maisie, shrugging. “I don’t think so,” she added, feeling her dreams for the future disappear from her heart. “Join the club,” said Chrissie, wistfully, “Tommy hasn’t written, either, so I guess we’re going to be ‘on the shelf’ forever.”

Crestfallen

Maisie gazed into the middle distance. She had been so keen to better herself, she hadn’t thought things through. She may have a nicer bedroom and a new job as a bonus checker, she may have changed her looks and tried to like the theatre and badminton, but underneath it all, she still felt like Maisie Green from Fintry.

“Plenty more where you’ve come from”, Shug Reilly had said at Keiller’s dance and Maisie felt he was right. She wasn’t special at all, she thought to herself. She wasn’t a Fiona Campbell, she was just another girl from “Wintry Fintry”.

Chrissie watched as her friend gradually became more crestfallen. “Hey,” she said gently. “A penny for your thoughts.”

Maisie looked at her. “I’m thinking,” she said, “that I’m just a big, fat failure.”

Chrissie looked shocked, as Maisie’s eyes glistened with tears. “No you’re not,” she said stoutly. “Why, you’re the bestest friend anyone could have and you’re the prettiest girl in Keiller’s and Ian Brown must be plain daft if he likes Fiona Campbell more than you.”

Maisie responded with a mix of tears and laughter. “Oh, Chrissie,” she said. “I’m so glad we’re friends. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Chrissie pulled a handkerchief from her coat pocket. “Here,” she said softly. “Dry them eyes, Maisie Green, and get some of that birthday eye shadow on. Tonight we’re going back to the Monkey Parade to find some more frogs to kiss and Tommy Murphy and Ian Brown and all the rest of them can just go jump in the Swannie Ponds.”

Troubled

Ian Brown was woken up on Sunday morning by Rebel whining at his bedroom door. He looked at the clock. Eight thirty, well past his usual time for getting up and for Rebel’s walk.

He threw back the covers and opened the bedroom door. Rebel bounced in, his tail wagging furiously.

“I’m glad someone likes me,” he told his dog, as thoughts of being seen out with Fiona, by Maisie of all people, filled his troubled mind. He knew what she must have thought and was sure that Fiona would have lost no time in convincing Maisie that they were an item.

“C’mon, boy,” he said to Rebel. “Let’s have a walk and a think.”

Ian pulled on his jeans and a thick jumper, work boots and a hooded parka. As soon as he stepped outside, he was glad that he had. A heavy frost had settled overnight and the air was freezing.

Master and dog turned into Caird Park where Rebel was released from his lead and Ian watched as his animal companion quickly ran off in a cloud of frosted breath.

Ian began his walk around the perimeter of the park, the only sound being the frosty grass crunching beneath his feet. How simple it must be if you’re a dog, he thought.

They don’t have a care in the world while people – well, he found no answer for the hurt inside and he had no one to blame but himself.

What had possessed him to agree to Fiona’s invite? He knew she would read more into it than he intended her to and now, well, it looked as if now he’d really blown it with Maisie.

He whistled for Rebel, who came bounding towards him, full of the joys of spring despite it being winter. He fastened the chain round his neck and headed home to the emptiness of his flat and his heart.

True to her word, Chrissie called in at Maisie’s that evening, determined they would both have some fun. Maisie, too, had decided it was no use crying over spilt milk. Ian Brown had made his choice and she just had to accept it. Maisie thought her 16th had been a tough year and it looked like 17 wasn’t going to be any better, but she decided to put the theatre and badminton behind her and face the future boldly, with Chrissie by her side.

“You’d better wrap up,” Chrissie said, a pair of pink fur earmuffs balanced on her head and an enormous scarf wrapped around her neck.

A pair of sheepskin mitts and suede ankle boots completed her ensemble. “It’s bitter out there,” she shivered as she moved into the welcome warmth of the Green’s lobby.

Foolish

Maisie donned her only winter coat, accompanied by a woollen Arran hat, scarf and mitts. She had considered wearing her stiletto heels but the thought of an ungainly tumble at the Monkey Parade changed her mind and she, too, pulled on her winter boots.

“Not exactly dolly birds, are we?” Maisie giggled, looking at herself in the dressing-table mirror. “I think the only thing we’ll pull dressed like this is the abominable snowman!”

It had been dark outside since about half past three and now the black sky was ablaze with twinkling stars and a frosty crescent moon hung almost directly above them as they waited for their bus into town.

“Do you think anyone will be there tonight” Chrissie asked. “Anyone different, that is?”

“You never know,” said Maisie, “but anyway, different or not, we’re not going to be fooled again by any man. Right?” “Right,” came the emphatic response. But, despite the cold weather, the boredom of Sunday had brought the young and foolish out in their droves and Maisie and Chrissie joined in the Monkey Parade with all the rest.

Kenny Wilson nudged Rab Skelly. “Look who’s just turned up,” he said, a tinge of excitement in his voice despite his outward show of indifference. More tomorrow.

Sandra Savage