The Girl Who Made Good in America Read Online Free PDF

you. These last few months have been the loneliest time of my life.”
    Two days later they tied the knot in the vestry of St Ignatius. The best man was Maximilian Moisewicz and he brought along Zelda Boronski to be maid of honour. “She’s my chief cook and bottlewasher, Callum.”
    “You mean she’s your wife, don’t you, Maxie?”
    “Not really. She’s my live-in housekeeper.”
    “Come to think of it, Maxie,” said the priest, “I haven’t seen you at confession for a while.”
    “Well, I don’t get up to much mischief these days, Father.”
    “You’re incorrigible, Max. Now, we can’t have a proper wedding without a drink. It’s your turn to buy, Max. Consider it an act of contrition for all the misdemeanours you haven’t told me about. So let’s get down to the Polish Club to celebrate and give Theresa a proper welcome to the good old U.S of A.”
    The months passed. Theresa was well. There were no problems with the pregnancy but she was terribly homesick for Lochside. The neighbours were hardly sighted and, on the occasions she passed them on the stair, they merely nodded and spoke in a foreign language. She felt as though she was living in a Polish ghetto. It was different for Callum. He was at work most of the time. “I’ve been working overtime, Theresa, for you and the baby. I still want to be in business for myself but it’s going to take longer now.”
    When she was on her own, she often played a Harry Lauder phonograph record she’d bought at the local flea market.
    It’s oh, but I’m longing for my ain folk ,
    Though they be but lowly, poor and plain folk .
    Though I’m far across the sea, still my heart will ever be
Back home, in dear old Scotland, with my ain folk .
    Theresa was well aware that the lyrics were overly sentimental, designed to bring tears. Nevertheless, the singer brought some comfort to her. After all, she was only sixteen, had never lived away from Lochside, and she doubted she would ever feel at home in this foreign land. She’d asked Mr Duff to inform her mother about her departure. The bridges had been well and truly burned. Her father would have disowned her right away but she still missed her family terribly. Nevertheless, she knew she had to accept her circumstances and was determined to give this new life her best shot. She attended mass every Sunday morning at St Ignatius and often Zelda Boronski would invite her home for lunch. Zelda was a bit of a character, always making fun of Slapsy Maxie, although her love for him was obvious. On one of these visits, Theresa asked what Maxie did for a living. “Come on, I’ll show you, Theresa.”
    “Where are we going?”
    “Down to the gym – it’s only a five-minute walk. Good exercise for you and the bambino.”
    “Hi, Theresa,” said Maxie, “welcome to the Globe Gymnasium. Let me show you around.”
    “Hello, Maxie – Callum never told me about this. What exactly do you do here?”
    “Train fighters. I own this joint – bought it when I retired from the ring. I love boxing and this is my way of keeping in touch with the sport. Besides, it keeps me fit enough to defend myself against Zelda when she loses that Polish temper of hers.”
    “Show her the picture gallery, Maxie.”
    Theresa stared in amazement at the big photograph in the centre of the display. There was her beloved Callum in an action shot knocking his opponent through the ropes. “That can’t be Callum, surely. Is this some sort of trick, Maxie?”
    “That ain’t no trick photo, babe. That’s the real McCoy. Callum’s the best fighter I’ve ever trained. Surely you knew he was a boxer?”
    “No, I didn’t, but I’m beginning to understand. This was his second job!”
    “He coulda bin a champion, honey.”
    “Why did he stop?”
    “He just wanted enough dough to bring you to the States. Then I guess he gave it up so you wouldn’t worry about him gettin’ hurt. Also, I think he was kinda ashamed about bein’ a prizefighter.