The Green Years, Day Eight

Chrissie linked her arm into Maisie’s as they quickened their walk, but a strong hand gripped Maisie’s arm.

“What’s the hurry, girls?” Ronnie said turning Maisie towards him. Maisie could smell the drink on his breath and shook her arm free.

“No hurry,” she said, faking a bravado she didn’t feel. “So just beetle off, we’re busy OK.

“No need to be like that hen,” he retorted, “me an’ the brother were just admirin’ two bonnie lassies.” Ronnie raised his shoulders and spread his arms. “That no’ right Johnny?” he asked his brother, who was blocking any further progress down the path.

“Right enough,” Johnny agreed, fingering the toggle on Chrissie’s coat. Chrissie slapped his hand away, “Get off me,” she said loudly, sounding braver than she felt, “and get out o’ my way.”

The two girls made to push free but they were no match for the brothers. Maisie felt panic rising in her throat. This was ‘Jack Carter’ all over again! She began to struggle and tears blurred her eyes as she felt Ronnie Reid’s hand touch her.

Pushed

Suddenly, the sound of a dog barking and the deep voice of a man met her ears. “Hey, you two,” the voice shouted, “Clear off now or I’ll set the dog on the pair or you!”

Maisie felt herself being pushed roughly into the bushes and could hear footsteps running away. Chrissie was beside her in a heap, her face scarlet and a toggle missing from her duffle coat.

“Are you lassies all right?” asked the dog owner anxiously, helping them to their feet.

“We’re fine,” Maisie nodded shakily, “they came from nowhere,” she explained. “We were just heading home when they came up behind us.”

Maisie was taking deep breaths, trying to calm down and Chrissie was still too shaken to move. Irrationally, she was trying to understand how she’d explain the missing toggle to her mother.

“Do you live nearby?” asked their rescuer. Maisie indicated Fintry. “C’mon then,” came the reply. “Me and the dog’ll see you both safely home.”

The liquid brown eyes of the Alsatian dog watched the scene. He’d never know his role in the rescue but Maisie would never forget him or, for that matter, his master.

When they got back to the safety of Fintry and ‘civilisation’, Ian Brown introduced himself. “And this is Rebel,” he said, proudly. “Now, shake hands with the nice ladies,” he instructed the dog who duly stretched out a paw for the girls to shake.

“We can’t thank you enough,” Maisie said, “and Rebel,” she added, truly grateful. “No bother,” said Ian Brown, his eyes locking on to Maisie’s. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

“Maybe,” Maisie replied, sensing something a bit different about the man with the dog called Rebel.

“Well,” said Chrissie, after Ian Brown had gone, “next time you want some fresh air, count me OUT.”

Maisie agreed. “Is there nowhere safe?” she wondered aloud. “Doesn’t look like it,” Chrissie said, linking into Maisie again.

“How about coming to us for Sunday tea,” she added. “Mum’s making her famous shepherd’s pie and then there’s apple tart with custard?”

“How can I refuse?” Maisie replied, a smile beginning to return to her lips, “but only if you’re sure there’ll be enough?”

Generous

Chrissie tutted. “Have you ever known my mother not making enough to feed a regiment?”

Chrissie’s mother, Grace, was the most generous woman Maisie had ever met. Her door was always open and her cooker never without something boiling or stewing away on it.

And if laughter was something you could order, Grace Dalton had it in bucket loads.

A seat at her table was just what Maisie needed to cheer her up and to wipe out the memory of the louts in the Den o’ Mains.

“Let’s go, then,” she said, “Your mum’s shepherd’s pie is just what I need.”

Any thoughts of going to the Monkey Parade later that Sunday were discarded, both girls just wanting a quiet night in to recover from their ordeal.

“Any idea who they were?” asked Chrissie, after they’d polished off their meal and adjourned to her bedroom for a cigarette.

Maisie shook her head. “Not a clue,” she said, “and I never want to see either of them again.” She rolled on to her back and gazed at the ceiling. “Is there not a man out there we can trust Chrissie, I mean really believe in?”

“I’ve something to tell you,” Chrissie suddenly announced, rummaging through the drawer of her bedside table and producing a small handful of cream-coloured envelopes.

She’d been hoping for ages for an opportunity to tell Maisie all about Tommy Murphy, but none had arisen so she decided now was as good a time as any to spill the beans.

“Do you remember the sailor who took us home that night from the Empress, Tommy Murphy?”

Maisie nodded, her lips tightening as she again remembered Jack Carter’s unwanted advances. “What about him?”

Chrissie handed her friend the bundle of envelopes. “Well, he’s been writing to me for weeks now and he says he loves me.”

Alone

Maisie turned the envelopes over in her hand in silence. Sensing the change in atmosphere, Chrissie hurried on, “I didn’t like to mention him before, in case it got you upset, with that Jack Carter an’ all, but we seem to be getting on really well and...”

Maisie held up her hand. “It’s OK,” she said, quietly, “I understand. I just wish I could meet someone,” she sighed, feeling more alone than ever “and be able to trust them like you have, but everyone I meet turns out to be a bad lot.”

First, there was the hideous Shug Reilly, peering at her at Keiller’s dance, then there was smug Kenny Wilson who had laughed at her embarrassment on the dance floor.

But worst of all, Jack Carter, who she had felt could have been ‘the one’ but who had made her totally doubt herself and her judgement of men.

The two ‘chancers’ at the Den o’ Mains were at least obvious, Maisie thought, not pretending to be something they weren’t.

She shivered at the memory of the close encounter and, once more, felt grateful to Rebel and Ian Brown for their rescue.

Chrissie had been feeling a bit guilty about keeping secrets from her very best friend and was glad Tommy Murphy was now out in the open.

“C’mon,” said Maisie, “let’s have one more cig then I’ll be off home to bed. Work tomorrow,” she added, relieved that the day was almost over and tomorrow would bring back some normality into her life.

More tomorrow.

“Maisie was taking deep breaths, trying to calm down and Chrissie was still too shaken to move