The Blackbird's Tale

by Emma Blair

Genres: General Fiction; Sagas

Synopsis

From Glasgow on the brink of the Great War to the cut-throat world of London publishing - the spellbinding saga of three remarkable generations.

Cathy: a Glasgow factory-girl who experiences love, its loss and a kind of victory in the space of two turbulent wartime years . . .

Hannah: the daughter whose marriage enjoys the fruits of undreamt prosperity. But her love must learn to endure the turmoil of a very personal hurt . . .

Robyn: the product of her generation. Modern, extrovert and vivacious, her heart is broken by the only man she'll ever love. Yet she finally comes to control her destiny - and that of the lover she never really lost...

This is the unforgettable story of three women united in their love for books, for life, and for their men. A story which began with the little bookshop that Cathy fell in love with thirty years before. The Blackbird . . .

Praise for Emma Blair:

'An engaging novel and the characters are endearing - a good holiday read' Historical Novels Review

'All the tragedy and passion you could hope for . . . Brilliant' The Bookseller

'Romantic fiction pure and simple and the best sort - direct, warm and hugely readable. Women's fiction at an excellent level' Publishing News

'Emma Blair explores the complex and difficult nature of human emotions in this passionately written novel' Edinburgh Evening News

'Entertaining romantic fiction' Historical Novels Review

'[Emma Blair] is well worth recommending' The Bookseller

Release date: October 20, 2016

Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group

Print pages: 576

Sample

‘Will you marry me?’

The suddenness of the question, coming as it did right out of the blue, brought a lump to Cathy’s throat, and made her heart swell within her.

Bobby glanced away, his face now filled with the flush of embarrassment. ‘I do love you you know,’ he added in a low, husky voice.

It was the first time he’d told her that, though she’d known it for some while. But then Glasgow men rarely confessed to strong emotions, believing any such utterances to be signs of weakness, to be avoided at all costs.

Cathy sucked in a deep breath. How she loved and adored Bobby McCracken, so much so it almost hurt. She would have walked over broken glass for the bugger.

‘I was beginning to think you’d never ask,’ she replied.

‘You knew I would then?’ he queried gruffly.

How silly men could be, she thought. ‘Of course I did. What I didn’t know was when. And now you have, you’ve succeeded in catching me completely off-guard. Since picking me up at home you haven’t given the slightest indication that today was the day you were going to pop the question.’

His face brightened to hear that and, unconsciously, he puffed out his chest. ‘Aye well, there you are then.’

She didn’t quite know what he meant by that, but he was clearly chuffed he had caught her by surprise.

She looked up at the sky, bright beyond the grey pall of chimney smoke that hung lowering over the city, and made a mental note of the date, Sunday the 6th of July, 1913, the day Bobby McCracken had finally proposed to her. Her heart swelled again while her stomach seemed to dissolve into a mass of gooey, squidgy jelly.

While Cathy was looking at the sky Bobby was looking at her, drinking her in. He remembered the night they’d met and how he’d been bowled over by her. She was a bit thin with hardly a brilliant figure it was true, but there was something about her, her personality if you like, that was just right for him, that clicked. Her best feature was her eyes, a hazelnut colour that he found totally beguiling. If she would have let him he would have sat for hours gazing into them, quite content to do that and that alone.

‘Well?’ he prompted. ‘What’s your answer?’

‘Yes, of course. What else did you imagine it would be?’

His expression became sheepish. ‘I didn’t know. I mean, I wasn’t sure.’

‘You’re a daftie!’ she chided gently, and reaching out took his hand in hers: a hand that was hard and calloused from his work as a coalman delivering bags of coal round the streets of Partick where they both lived. He worked from the same horse and cart as his father, who was also a coalman.

Cathy’s eyes flicked to the left, then the right. Turning her head she glanced behind her. ‘Why don’t you kiss me?’ she said to Bobby.

The sheepish expression changed to one of alarm. ‘What! Where folk can see?’

‘We’re all alone. Look for yourself.’

He did, and she was right. There were bound to be other people in Thornwood Park but wherever they were, there weren’t any at that moment round about them.

She pulled him to her till his face was only inches away. ‘It’s not every day a lassie gets engaged,’ she smiled.

The scent of her was strong in his nostrils now, and had the same effect on him as it always had. It was as if his strength drained right out of him.

‘Oh, Cathy!’ he croaked.

She waited with eyes closed, refusing to kiss him, insisting he kiss her. His lips pressed against hers, hesitantly to begin with, then with force and passion. His tongue crept into her mouth to twine round hers. With a grunt at the back of his throat he pulled her tightly to him.

They continued kissing, the seconds turning into a minute, the minute into two. Finally she pushed him from her.

‘I’ll say this for you Bobby McCracken, you’re a smashing kisser. I have no complaints in that department.’

‘Oh! Is there a department you do have complaints in?’

Using the tip of her finger she traced an imaginary line down his cheek. ‘Not one.’

‘That’s good then.’

‘Nor do I imagine I ever will have a complaint. If you take my meaning.’ She was referring to the fact they’d never been to bed together. It would never have entered her mind to get married other than what she was, a virgin. As indeed was Bobby. Kissing was as far as she’d allowed him to go. He’d attempted to touch her once, and got his face slapped as a result. She wasn’t ‘that sort of lassie’ she’d rebuked him, and if it was ‘that sort of lassie’ he was looking for then he’d better look elsewhere. He’d apologised, secretly pleased that she’d rebuffed his advance as she had, for she would have gone down in his estimation if she hadn’t – at the same time thinking a chap had to have a go, it was only manly after all! – and that had been that.

Another couple strolled into view, they too dressed in their Sunday best as were Cathy and Bobby, and Cathy, on spying them, immediately pulled herself away from Bobby and straightened her hat which had become slightly skew-whiff. While she was doing this, Bobby, without realising he was doing so, straightened his red tie which didn’t need straightening.

Engaged, Cathy thought, and went prickly all over. She couldn’t wait to tell . . . ‘What about the engagement ring?’ she queried.

‘I thought we might go into Sauchiehall Street next Saturday and buy it then,’ he replied.

She nodded her approval. The best jewellers’ shops were in the town, and there were four in Sauchiehall Street, Glasgow’s best known and arguably most popular street. ‘Right, that’s what we’ll do. But listen Bobby, I want us to keep our engagement secret for the now, until we get that ring, that is. We’ll only let on to our immediate families.’

‘Aye, sure. If that’s what you want, Cathy.’

She could see he was puzzled. ‘Och, I don’t want to be saying I’m engaged with no ring to swank as proof. When I tell the girls at work and others, I want to show them the ring as evidence.’ She laughed. ‘That might not make sense to you but it does to me.’

It did make sense to him, now that she’d explained. Wee matters like that were important to women.

She grasped his hand again. ‘I’m so happy I could burst, Bobby.’

‘So am I.’

Realising she hadn’t repeated to him what he’d said to her, she whispered, ‘And I love you. I think I’ve loved you right from the very beginning.’

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple slowly going up and down.

‘You know something,’ she went on, this time in her normal voice, ‘I’m so excited I can hardly think. Whose parents shall we tell first, yours or mine?’

‘Yours, they live closest.’

‘Then mine it is.’ Letting go of his hand she jumped to her feet and quickly smoothed down the front of her dress. When he stood up she linked an arm through his, as he crooked his arm to accommodate hers.

Mrs McCracken, she thought as they made for the park gates, Mrs Bobby McCracken. What a lovely sound that had to it. A lovely sound indeed!

Tears burst from Winnie Ford’s eyes as she took in the news that Cathy had just announced. Her elder daughter could do a lot worse than Bobby McCracken, an awful lot worse. He was a good man, and a kind one. He’d make a grand husband and father.

John Ford swept Cathy into his arms and squeezed her close. Just for the moment, he couldn’t trust himself to speak.

Lily, Cathy’s young sister, stood a little apart beaming broadly. This had certainly livened up a dreary Sunday afternoon and no mistake.

Letting Cathy go John turned to an embarrassed Bobby and stuck out his hand. ‘Congratulations son,’ he said in a tight voice as the two men shook.

Cathy quickly explained about them wanting to keep their engagement secret, except from their immediate families, until they’d bought the ring. ‘So you just mind and keep your mouth shut!’ she warned Lily.

‘No need to worry, sis. If your secret does get out during the coming week it won’t be from me. I promise.’

‘I wish we had some bevy in the house to celebrate with, but there’s not a drop I’m afraid,’ John apologised to Bobby and Cathy. There had been nearly a full half-bottle in the press but he’d drunk that the night before as his Saturday night tipple.

‘That’s all right, Mr Ford,’ Bobby replied.

‘I think it had better be John from here on in, don’t you?’

Bobby gave a swift sideways glance at a smiling Cathy, then brought his attention back to her father. ‘Right you are then . . . John.’

‘That’s the ticket.’

‘And you had better call me Winnie,’ Winnie said.

‘Fine then . . . Winnie.’

‘Engaged to get married, eh!’ John muttered, shaking his head. And thinking, not before time. Cathy was twenty-two after all: most lassies her age had been wed a year or two by then. He’d been beginning to get worried she was destined to be left on the shelf. Not that she’d lacked for boyfriends, she’d never that. It had been her keeping them that had been the problem. She was such a strong willed lassie which, combined with a terrible stubborn streak, had contrived to put the lads off. Except for Bobby McCracken, that was, it didn’t seem to bother him. But then Bobby was deceptive. On the surface he appeared quiet and shy, and so he was, but underneath there was an enormous amount of mental strength and self-confidence. Bobby was able to handle Cathy all right, which was just what she needed.

Winnie stopped dabbing her face with the end of her pinny and, with a sniff, rose from the old settee where she’d been sitting. Going to Cathy, it was now her turn to take Cathy into her arms. In her mind she was seeing Cathy as a baby, changing the wean’s nappies. That and a thousand other memories that made her choke inside.

‘You’ll be happy the pair of you, I know you will,’ Winnie said.

‘We’re that already, Ma.’

Winnie kissed Cathy on the forehead. ‘I’ll tell you what, how about I put the kettle on and we celebrate with a nice cup of tea?’

‘That would be the very dab, Ma.’

Releasing Cathy, Winnie grasped hold of Bobby and pecked his cheek which caused his face to flame.

‘Here, what about me! Don’t I get to kiss my brother-in-law to be?’ Lily declared loudly, coming over to stand beside Winnie.

‘Watch it, you!’ Cathy said, wagging a finger at Lily. But it was good natured fun between them; they were the best of pals.

‘Scared of the competition, eh?’ Lily retorted with a salacious wink.

‘That’ll be the day!’

Lily stared Bobby up and down. ‘He is very . . . Hmmh!’ And with that she sort of waggled her hips. If Bobby’s face had been red before it was positively scarlet now.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t eat you.’ Lily teased him, and with that grabbed his head and planted a big smacker full on his lips.

‘Cheeky monkey!’ John exclaimed, laughing, he too aware that this was only a bit of fun on Lily’s part. His younger daughter – there were six years between her and Cathy – could be a right case when she took the notion.

‘That’s enough now!’ Cathy said, tapping Lily on the shoulder.

Bobby looked at Cathy and made funny poached egg eyes which made Cathy laugh. Then, with a stiffened finger, he jabbed Lily in the ribs which caused her to break off the kiss with a yelp.

‘Much more of that and I’d have died of suffocation,’ he joked.

‘I’ll bet you don’t say that to Cathy.’

‘He’d better not let on what he does say to me, That’s strictly private,’ Cathy said. This time they all laughed together.

‘All the best, sis. You know I mean that,’ Lily said quietly to Cathy when the laughter had died away.

‘I know,’ Cathy acknowledged. The sisters embraced, a sheen creeping over Lily’s eyes as they did.

Winnie filled the kettle and placed it on the black-leaded range. Luckily she’d made some griddle scones earlier which she’d serve with a pot of last year’s Victoria plum jam. They would go down a treat with the tea.

‘So when is the wedding going to be?’ John queried.

‘And I hope I’m going to be a bridesmaid?’ Lily added.

‘Chief bridesmaid. I’ll be relying on you,’ Cathy answered her sister with a smile. Then to John she replied, ‘We haven’t discussed a date yet.’

‘No, I’m afraid we haven’t,’ Bobby confirmed.

John was thinking how much the wedding was going to cost him – a fair old packet if it was going to be done properly. And done properly it would be, from hired cars to champagne at the reception. There would be no stinting on his Cathy’s big day. Fortunately he had a good whack put by in the bank which should cover most, if not all, of the expense. And just to be on the safe side he’d start putting in some overtime, of which there was a lot going begging at Thompson’s Yard (Tommy’s the men called it) where he was employed as a patternmaker.

John glanced over at Lily. Once Cathy’s wedding was out of the way he’d have to begin putting away for her. A couple of years yet before that though, he reassured himself.

‘So many things to think of from here on in,’ Winnie said from where she was laying out scones on a plate. ‘So many things.’

‘When we’ve had our tea we must away over and tell Mr and Mrs McCracken,’ Cathy said.

‘Aye, you must,’ John agreed.

‘Well I hope you get married as soon as possible,’ Lily declared with a twinkle in her eye.

‘Why’s that?’ Cathy inquired, falling right into the trap that Lily had set for her.

‘Because the sooner you do the sooner I can have our bed to myself,’ Lily retorted quickly. She and Cathy shared a double bed, which they’d done since Lily had grown too big for a cot.

Cathy laughed. ‘Oh, see you!’ she said.

‘And see you too!’

It was a Glasgow expression, indefinable to anyone not of the city.

For the second time they all laughed together.

Cathy and Bobby came to a stop outside her front door, he having escorted her home from his house where they’d broken the news to a delighted Rob and Ina McCracken.

Darkness had fallen about an hour previously which meant that the close gas mantles were lit, the flickering yellow flame from the one situated at the centre of the landing where they were standing casting weird and wonderful shapes on the walls around them. The gas jet itself hissed and occasionally sputtered; a comforting sound Cathy had always thought.

‘I still feel as if I’m walking on a cloud,’ Cathy said in a low voice.

‘I know what you mean.’

She laid her head on his shoulder, and put her arms round him. Her Bobby, she thought. Her Bobby for ever from here on in. Closing her eyes, she sighed.

He stroked the top of her arm, grimacing slightly when his hard calloused hand snagged the material of her dress. He stopped stroking to just hold her arm.

‘Bobby?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Don’t you think we should set a date now? I mean, is there any reason we shouldn’t?’ Having said that she lifted her head to stare into his eyes.

‘None at all. When do you fancy?’

‘I don’t want one of those long engagements. I just don’t see the point in being engaged for years and years, do you?’

‘No,’ he whispered.

That was what she’d been hoping he’d say. ‘So when?’

‘Let me see.’ His brow furrowed in thought. ‘It’s July now. How about towards the end of the year? Or at the latest the beginning of next?’

‘Oh aye, that would be just fine.’

‘That would give everyone a decent chance to get organised. For don’t forget we’ve a house to get and furniture to buy.’

‘Are you . . . are you all right for money? I mean, have you enough saved for furniture and that sort of thing?’

He grinned at her, suddenly feeling playful. ‘You being a working lassie I thought you’d buy the furniture, and maybe pay the rent as well when we get the house.’

Realising she was being teased she pretended outrage. ‘Are you serious Robert McCracken?’

‘Oh, dead serious,’ he replied, his lips twitching with suppressed laughter. He went on. ‘And what about you? Do you have anything saved?’

‘A few quid.’

‘How few?’

‘That’s my business.’

‘If I’m to be your husband there will be no secrets from me. I’ll have to know everything.’

‘Oh aye, and who made that rule?’

He screwed his face up into a mock glower. ‘Are you saying you’d defy me, woman!’

‘I am.’

‘Then . . .’ he paused dramatically, ‘there would be nothing else for it but . . .’ again he paused, ‘the strap.’

‘The strap!’

‘Like we used to have at school. Though this time it wouldn’t be across the palms but across the bare . . .’

‘Bobby!’

She was genuinely shocked, which amused him. ‘Yes?’

‘You’d never do that, would you?’ For the space of a few seconds his acting had been so good it had taken her in.

He didn’t reply.

‘Of course you wouldn’t?’

He couldn’t sustain it, the twitch came back to his lips. ‘I might.’

‘Och, away with you. You’re pulling my leg.’

‘It’s a lovely leg. I wouldn’t mind pulling it in the least.’

She hit his gently with her fist. ‘Now don’t talk dirty.’

‘It’s hardly that.’

‘Yes it is.’ She paused, her mind going back on their conversation before he’d started on about straps and bare . . . ‘I’ve got a good bottom drawer. I’ve been buying bits and pieces for years now. Sheets, pillowcases, towels and the like. Enough to get us started.’

‘And I’ve got thirty-four pounds, fifteen shillings saved.’

She gasped. ‘As much as that!’

‘I’ve never been one to waste money. I’m not mean, you understand; it’s just that I can’t bide waste.’

He was certainly not mean, quite the contrary. She’d found him to be most generous. Then again, maybe that was just because it was her; a thought she found very flattering indeed. ‘I’ve only got £7 in the savings bank, but then I only earn a lassie’s wage.’

He took the hand from her arm and put it round her neck. ‘Once we’re married you can stop work if you want to.’ Some women did, others carried on till a family was on the way.

‘Let’s wait until I’m . . .’ She blushed, a rare occurrence with her though a common one with Bobby.

‘In the pudding club?’

‘Bobby!’ she scolded. ‘That’s a horrible expression.’

‘All right then. How about till you’ve got a bun in the oven?’

She punched him again, this time harder. ‘Idiot!’

He started to laugh, but the laugh died in his throat as he stared at this woman he loved so much. Something twisted inside him as he bent and placed his lips on hers. Their mouths seemed to be filled with exploding fire as they kissed, a kiss that was long and deep and left them both with heaving chests.

‘I’d better away in,’ she whispered.

‘Cathy?’

She looked into his face.

‘Let’s say the first Saturday in October. That all right with you?’

She nodded.

‘Then that’s the date.’

‘Right,’ she agreed. ‘That’s the date.’

‘Will I see you Tuesday night as usual? We could go for a walk or to the café and make plans.’

‘Tuesday night as usual,’ she confirmed.

‘And Cathy?’

‘Yes?’

‘I do love you.’

Twice in one day, she thought. Wonders would never cease. ‘And I love you.’

Her hand was shaking as she put her key in the lock.

On Saturday morning Bobby collected Cathy and they took a tramcar into Sauchiehall Street, alighting at Charing Cross. It was raining, but that didn’t bother Cathy. She wasn’t going to let a wee bit of rain spoil what lay ahead of her.

When they reached the first jeweller’s shop they stood and stared at the display in the front window. Then they moved round to the side window and had a look in that.

‘What do you think?’ Bobby asked eventually. ‘Shall we go in here?’

‘Let’s see what the others have to offer first, eh?’

It was going to be a long morning, Bobby decided. And he was right. They looked at all four jeweller’s shops in Sauchiehall Street twice before Cathy chose the one she’d go into, which transpired to be the jewellers’ shop they’d looked at to begin with at the Charing Cross end of the street.

The assistant was a middle-aged man with a pseudo Kelvinside plum in his mouth, who couldn’t have been more helpful despite his pompous phoney accent.

Tray after tray of rings were laid before Cathy and Bobby for them to peruse, all below the top figure Bobby had stated when the assistant had inquired, ‘What price range did sir have in mind?’

The minutes ticked by but Cathy wasn’t going to be hurried and, to give the assistant his due, nor did he try to hurry her.

‘Take your time,’ the assistant purred. ‘Madam must find the ring that is just right for her.’

Smooth as syrup, Cathy thought. But nonetheless, genuine with it.

Bobby was amazed at the assistant’s tightly crimped hair. He’d never seen hair like that on a man before. It fascinated him. (Done with curling tongs like the lassies used, he wondered?)

Another customer came into the shop. ‘Excuse me,’ the assistant murmured, and moved off.

‘How about this one?’ Cathy asked. The central diamond was surrounded by a cluster of chips.

‘Lovely,’ Bobby replied.

‘Or this one?’ she demanded, replacing the diamond and cluster with another, this also a diamond and cluster but in a rectangular arrangement as opposed to a circular.

‘Lovely,’ Bobby nodded.

That ring was replaced in its velvet slit after which she selected a ring that was a diamond flanked by two tiny sapphires.

‘This is a bit different, don’t you think?’

‘Lovely,’ Bobby answered.

‘Or this green one?’ The ring she pointed to was a small emerald encircled by diamond chips.

‘Lovely.’

She glared at him. ‘Is that all you can say?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Lovely. You keep repeating yourself like some bloody parrot.

He grinned. ‘Does it matter what I say?’

‘Of course it does!’

‘But I think they’re all lovely. You haven’t put on one yet that doesn’t suit.’

‘That’s not the point!’ she exclaimed softly, vexed.

A clock chimed, followed by others, all chiming the hour. Bobby glanced over at the other customer, a posh-looking woman whom the assistant was showing a silver cigarette case.

‘What about this one?’ Cathy queried.

‘Smashing.’

And a few seconds later. ‘This one?’

‘Smashing.’

She glared at him again. ‘I hope you’re not going to be like this when we choose the flowers.’

‘What flowers?’

‘For the wedding.’

‘I’m not choosing any flowers! I don’t know one flower from another. A rose from an aspidistra.’

‘And what if I insist you participate?’

‘Oh participate, is it!’ he jibed mockingly. ‘My, that’s an awful long word that. Did you read it in a book or something?’ He knew Cathy loved books and forever had her nose in one.

‘I’m only surprised you know what the word means,’ she jibed back.

‘I may be working class, a Glasgow keelie, but I’m no’ higgerent,’ he retorted quickly, which made her laugh.

‘Are you not?’

‘No, I’m not.’

‘You should know about flowers then?’

He thought about that for a brief second, then replied. ‘Well we all have gaps in our education, and flowers is a gap in mine.’

She regarded him steadily. ‘What if I ask you to come along to the florist’s as a support?’

He regarded her steadily back. ‘We could do without flowers at the wedding, you know.’

Her eyebrows flew up in surprise. ‘Do without flowers! We’ll do no such thing! A wedding without flowers would be like . . .’ She thought furiously.

‘Chips without vinegar?’ he offered.

She laughed again. ‘Aye, you could put it that way.’

‘Well if you want the flowers you’ll have to arrange them yourself. Without my help.’

He was quite determined about this, she could see that. She might be stubborn herself, but Bobby could be just as stubborn. More so even.

‘Tell you what,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘When we leave here you can buy me a drink and we’ll talk about this further.’

‘I’ll certainly buy you a drink. I rather fancy a pint myself. And you can talk all you want, till the cows come home, but it won’t do you any good. Not the slightest.’

She smiled at him. ‘I’ll twist you round my little finger using my female wiles.’

He returned her smile. ‘No you won’t.’

He was gorgeous, she thought. Absolutely splendiforously gorgeous.

The ring they finally settled on was a diamond set in a bed of tiny garnets. It was one of three Cathy had swithered over, the deciding factor being this particular ring fitted perfectly which meant she could wear it straight away.

‘If I may say so, madam has made an excellent and tasteful choice,’ the assistant enthused, ladling on the syrup. ‘And now sir . . .’

Bobby reached for his wallet, having been to the bank in Partick before they’d got on the tram.

When they emerged from the shop they were pleased to discover it had stopped raining. ‘Look!’ Cathy cried excitedly, pointing skyward, ‘A good omen.’

Bobby followed the direction of her indicating finger to see a shining rainbow. A good omen indeed, if you believed in that sort of thing. He wasn’t sure whether he did nor not.

Cathy turned round at the sound of quarrelsome voices. There were two young men coming towards her and Bobby, the pair of them arguing the toss. The taller poked the shorter in the chest, and the shorter immediately, somewhat viciously, poked back.

The young man who’d first poked swung angrily away from the other, clearly intending to cross the road and leave the shorter chap behind. The second young man promptly did an about-wheel and started off back the way they’d come.

‘Are neither of you going to say hello then?’ Cathy called out.

‘Who are they?’ Bobby queried quietly.

‘My cousins. I’ll introduce you.’

The taller of the young men who was just about to step off the pavement halted at the sound of her words and glanced towards her, as did the other young man.

‘Hello Cathy!’ they both responded in unison.

When they’d joined her and Bobby, Cathy said, ‘Bobby these are my cousins Craig and Ronnie McIntosh. But they just get Big Toss and Wee Tosh.’

‘I’m Big Tosh,’ said Craig, sticking out his hand, which Bobby shook.

‘And I’m Wee Tosh.’ Bobby then shook hands with Ronnie.

‘I’m Bobby McCracken.’

‘My fiancé,’ Cathy stated with heavy emphasis, and waggled her engagement ring under Big Tosh and Wee Tosh’s noses. ‘What do you think of that then? We’ve just bought it, right this very minute.’

‘Congratulations!’ declared Big Tosh, and bent over to peer at the ring.

‘Aye, congratulations,’ echoed Wee Tosh, and also had a closer gander at the ring.

‘You’re the first to know outside the immediate family,’ Cathy went on.

‘But we are immediate family,’ Wee Tosh said.

Cathy pulled a face. ‘You know what I mean!’

Wee Tosh shook his head. ‘No, I don’t. We’re full cousins. Your mother is my mother’s sister, therefore immediate family.’

Cathy sighed. ‘Either of these two would start an argument amongst a choir of angels,’ she said to Bobby.

‘He might, but I wouldn’t,’ Big Tosh sniffed.

‘Yes you would!’ Wee Tosh challenged.

‘Och away and raffle that turnip you call your heid!’

‘You away and raffle yours!’ Wee Tosh retorted fiercely.

‘I’ve just about had enough of you and your lip for one day, so I have,’ Big Tosh spat out.

‘Is that a fact? Maybe you want to do something about it?’

Although Big Tosh was eighteen months older than his brother and considerably taller, Wee Tosh had the advantage in weight and build.

‘Will you two stop it at once!’ Cathy exclaimed crossly.

‘Blame him, not me,’ Wee Tosh muttered.

‘Blame you, you mean!’ Big Tosh accused.

‘Shut up!’ Cathy exploded in what was almost a shout.

What a pair, Bobby thought.

There was a few seconds’ hiatus, then Big Tosh said apologetically, ‘It’s a very nice ring, Cathy. I wish you and Bobby here all the best.’

‘Me too,’ Wee Tosh added.

‘Thank you, lads,’ Cathy smiled.

‘Do we get an invite to the wedding?’ Big Tosh asked.

‘Of course you do,’ Cathy replied.

‘Then we’ll look forward to it. Won’t we Ronnie?’

‘We will that.’

‘Make sure you invite lots of unattached lassies, now,’ Big Tosh said, giving Bobby a wink.

‘They’ll have to be blind ones if you’re to get off with them,’ Wee Tosh quipped.

‘Now look, I told you . . .!’

‘Only a joke! Only a joke!’ Wee Tosh said quickly, holding his hands fearfully in front of him as though he was afraid of his older brother, which was the last thing he was.

‘You’ve got a mouth large enough to drive a tram into,’ Big Tosh said.

‘Well at least that’s something we’ve got in common,’ Wee Tosh riposted, quick as a flash.

Bobby laughed.

The foursome chatted for a while longer, then Cathy and Bobby made their excuses and left her cousins, who continued along Sauchiehall Street together.

‘Are they always like that?’ Bobby inquired when the brothers were out of earshot.

‘Always. Since they were bairns. They’re the original cat and dog. Did you notice Big Tosh’s left pinky?’

Bobby shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t.’

‘That’s because he hasn’t got one. Or only the stubb of