Love & Sorrow by Jenny Telfer Chaplin

guid neebor for tae realise it’s no up tae me tae dictate tae ony
auld widow woman, far less the Widow Wilson upsterrs, hoo tae spend her
precious bawbees. Believe me, that same Aggie Wilson would right soon gie me
the edge o her tongue for interferin wi her business. Aye! She can be a right
nippy sweetie that auld woman.”
    Becky opened her mouth to protest but her mammy wasn’t
finished yet. “Listen, Becky, Ah micht no hae aw the airs and graces o yer
beloved Aunty Meg, but even Ah ken one important fact o life – ye jist hae tae
learn tae live and let live. And if truth be telt, Ah’ll bet ye a silver
sixpence that the Raffertys below us, they–”
    Becky broke in: “You mean that couple downstairs with
the six children?”
    “The very ones. Weel, Ah’m certain sure that mony a
time they could see us far enough. Especially when mibbe they’ve jist got their
squad o weans aff tae sleep and they’re hopin for a bit o peace and quiet, then
oor Erchie gets sterted wi his daft cantrips. Reelin in drunk as a lord,
singing his herrt oot about his Granny’s Hielan Hame, fallin ower the creepie
stool to collapse intae the chair, and droppin his boots fae a great height
ontae the flair. Dae ye no think that the Raffertys can hear aw that stramash?
Aye, we must be a real trial tae the Rafferty clan, but guid neebors that they
are Ah don’t recall them iver complainin tae me or iver wance bangin a broom
handle on the ceilin neither.”

 
    As Becky was finally drifting off to sleep later that
evening she smiled to herself. On reflection, between the sounds of screaming
children, mewling cats, fighting dogs, scrabbling rats in the back-court
middens, the rushing of many waters from the stair-head cludgies, perhaps one
squeaking pulley wheel was not after all such a trial. Live and let live.

 
    ***

 
 
 
    Chapter 5

 
    As the weeks passed the two new gophers settled into
the job at the carpet factory. The friendship between the girls slowly ripened
to the point where not only would they help each other through the hazards,
trials and tribulations of each working day, but they would exchange
confidences.
    Becky raised her head from the task in hand, that of
again sweeping a vast expanse of the floor of the mill, to see Caz approaching
her with arms over-loaded with heavy bales and her eyes brimming with tears.
Close to Becky she indicated a man standing at the far end of the enormous
looms by a backward nod of her head.
    “Watch oot for that new gaffer. Whitever he tells ye
tae dae, dae it bluidy quick. A holy terror that man and English tae boot. Ye
can hardly mak oot a word he says.”
    With that hastily delivered warning Caz hurried on her
way leaving Becky in a state of nerves at this new, as yet ill-defined, menace.
    When she could not prolong the sweeping of the floor
any longer, Becky reluctantly headed towards the end of the room to replace the
massive broom in the store cupboard. As she passed the new English gaffer she
kept her head down and her eyes averted hoping thus to make herself as
inconspicuous as possible.
    After all, she thought, no point in looking for extra
work or trouble when it can be avoided.
    She turned away from the cupboard and thought she had
safely negotiated her way past the gaffer when a shout behind her meant her
sigh of relief was premature.
    “You girl! Yes, you. A word.”
    Becky looked round and seeing that all other girls
within earshot were busy at the gigantic looms with a sinking heart realised
the raucous summons must be for her. She trailed her way back to stand in a
state of fear and trembling before the giant of a man.
    He thrust a paper bag into her hands and barked out the
words: “Eat my pie.” Then he turned on his heel and marched back to the small
enclosure that served as his work area.
    Thoroughly bemused by this strange order Becky set off
in search of her friend.
    If anyone would know what to do it would be streetwise
Caz.
    But luck wasn’t with