A Dutiful Daughter – Evelyn Hood

‘It’ll be wonderful… They have streamers, and a punchbowl, and every kind of dance from the Dashing White Sergeant to the foxtrot. And at midnight when the bells start ringin’ in the New Year, everyone goes round kissin’ everyone.’ Ella winked. ‘If ye’re lucky ye can manage tae get more than one kiss from the lad ye might fancy.

Ye’d enjoy it. And it’s time ye’d a treat.’ ‘How can I leave my mother?’ ‘She’d surely not begrudge ye a wee bit of pleasure on Hogmanay,’ Ruby protested. ‘No, of course not, but it would be no pleasure for me thinking of her on her own at a time like that.’ The other two looked at each other, then Ella suggested, ‘Tell one of yer brothers that it’s his turn this year.’ ‘Logan and Belle are always expected to see the New Year in with her father, and Robbie should be free to go out with his friends.

One of us has to be with Mother when the bells ring.’ ‘I don’t see why it always has tae be you,’ Ella grumbled. Secretly, Mirren was quite relieved to stay at home, for she was worn out. It was the custom for every corner of a Scottish house to be scrubbed clean on Hogmanay so that it was in pristine condition for the start of the New Year.

Mirren well remembered the resentment she had felt year after year because, even from the days when she was a tiny child scarcely able to toddle across the front room unaided, she was expected to help her mother with the Hogmanay cleaning while her brothers were sent outside, supposedly to get from under their mother’s feet, but in actual fact to enjoy themselves while she, as a female, was expected to work.

Now she had it all to do on her own, and as the hands of the front-room clock inched towards midnight and she went into the kitchen to fetch the tray bearing shortbread and to add three filled glasses – sherry for herself and Mrs White, who always came in to listen for the bells ringing, and tonic wine for Helen – she briefly massaged her aching back and looked longingly at the curtains hiding her bed from view.

She herself envied the English their Christmas celebrations, for Hogmanay and Ne’erday could be sad occasions, with older folk tending to look back rather than forward, thinking of happier days and of friends and family long gone.

Blue and yellow gas jets flickered beneath the great vats of spitting fat as the door burst open. The April evening had turned wet and squally and the draught that caused the flames to dip and dance cooled Mirren’s swollen, aching ankles pleasantly. The crowd of noisy youths who had caused the sudden cool gust surged in, each dangling a girl from one arm as though she was a trophy. ‘Someone shut that door,’ Vanni Perrini protested from the vats as the gas flames flickered again and threatened to go out entirely.

He was answered with a chorus of insults, some friendly and others not, as the lads crowded the few customers already waiting at the counter. ‘You heard the man!’ Vanni’s wife Maria had been working beside the vats, scooping the finished chips and pieces of battered fish out of the sizzling liquid fat.

Now, as a handful of rain was tossed in through the doorway to spatter over the floor, she swung round. ‘Born in a back-court midden, were ye? Shut that door afore my floor gets soaked,’ she barked, impaling the newcomers on the honed points of her cold blue eyes. ‘And mind yer manners if ye want tae be served in this shop.’

The youths cowered, their bravado suddenly gone. The door was closed and their girlfriends hastily tugged them into an orderly queue while the dancing gas flames settled down again. ‘Aw, c’mon, Maria,’ someone tried to protest, but in a half-hearted way, while Vanni, turning from his work, said placatingly to his wife, ‘No harm done.’ ‘Riff-raff,’ Maria snapped, ‘can find another chip shop, for they’ll no’ be served in this one!’

She gave the newcomers another icy look and most of them let their eyes flicker uneasily about the shop, while a few – the boldest – made a feeble, and futile, attempt to return her stare. Maria waited for a moment to see if anyone dared to pick up the gauntlet she had just thrown down, then, deciding that her customers had been suitably brought to heel, she ordered her staff, ‘Get them served and get them out before they give the place a bad name!’

Ella Caldwell muttered something uncomplimentary beneath her breath as she swiftly folded and tucked a sheet of newspaper over a fish supper. She handed the neat bundle over to the waiting customer before turning her tireless, wide-mouthed smile to the young people and saying cheerfully, ‘Yes, lads, what’ll it be?’ Warmed by her friendliness and emboldened now that Maria had gone back to her work, they lined the counter, spreading their elbows out to mark their territories and giving their orders in a great clutter of words piled one on top of another.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: 0b7674195d146a73
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 5,616,454 bytes (5.356 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 394
• Language: English (en)

Reading & Word Statistics

• Estimated Reading Time: 580.76 minutes
• Total Words: 116,152
• Total Characters: 633,566
• Average Words per Page: 294.8
• Average Characters per Page: 1608.04

Most Frequent Words

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