The River Flows On Read Online Free PDF Page A

‘Kathleen, he wanted to call her. “It’s a bonnie name,” he said. “Well,” says I to him, “it may be a bonnie name, but everybody will think that we’re Irish. Worse, that we’re Catholics.” And then he says to me - “what would that matter?” ’
    Everyone had laughed at that one. Neil Cameron, when he had first come down to Glasgow from the more tolerant atmosphere of the Highlands, had been unaware of how much it did matter. Lily, in full flood, went on with her story.
    ‘What did it matter? “Well,” says I, “there’s no Catholic going to get a start at Brown’s or Donaldson’s, is there? Or a lot o’ other places for that matter”.’
    Mrs MacLean leaned forward in her seat, frowning in perplexity. ‘But Mrs Cameron, Kate’s a lassie. She wouldnae be looking for the start in the shipyards anyway, would she now?’
    ‘In the name o’ God, woman.’ That was Mr MacLean. ‘Mrs Cameron’s talking about the general principle. Is that not right, Mrs C?’
    Kate allowed her concentration to drift. She’d heard the story too many times. She didn’t like the way her mother made fun of her father’s Highland naïvété, either. Mind you, if she was being fair, she had to admit that her mother had a point. It was hard enough for either sex to get a start anywhere. Being a Catholic made it that much harder. So Kathleen had become Kate. Only her father occasionally used her name in full. And Robbie.
    He arrived at midnight, just after the toasts had been drunk. Neil Cameron, as master of the house, got up to let him in. They shook hands formally and wished each other a Happy New Year and many of them. Now that Robbie was away from the school and bringing in a wage, however small, his stock had gone up in the community. Not quite a man yet, but no longer a boy.
    He handed over the traditional gifts: a lump of coal for the fire, a bottle of whisky, and some black bun that his mother had made the day before. They were talismans - offerings to the gods. Food and drink should guarantee plenty of the same in the year ahead and coal should ensure that the house would always be warm.
    ‘Thank you, Robbie. Will you have a wee dram yourself, man?’ Neil, smiling, threw a quick glance over his shoulder to Robbie’s parents. ‘Is he old enough? Will you allow him?’
    ‘It’s all right, Mr Cameron,’ said Robbie. ‘I’ve signed the pledge. I’ve decided to stay teetotal.’
    ‘Well done!’ said Neil, slapping him on the shoulder. ‘That’s a fine thing for a young man to do.’ Behind his back, several sets of eyebrows were raised. ‘And it makes more for the rest of us. Come away in then, and we’ll get you something teetotal .’ He laughed, laying a humorous stress on the word.
    ‘Lassie, will you pour Robbie a glass o’ yon ginger?’ He spun round towards the window. ‘Och, and would you listen to that? Is that not a rare sound?’ For out on the river the ships were blowing their foghorns, heralding the start of 1925 in their own special and time-honoured fashion.
    Kate rose and went over to the draining board of the sink where the lemonade bottle stood. Robbie followed her and spoke in a low voice.
    ‘I’ve got a wee present for you too, Kate.’
    ‘Oh?’ Shyly, remembering how sharply she’d spoken to him that afternoon, she took the proffered bundle, wrapped up in a sheet of newspaper. It was a wooden carving of a robin, perched on a piece of mossy wood. He had painted the bird, its breast a startling splash of scarlet.
    ‘Och, Robbie, it’s real bonnie!’ On an impulse she stretched up and gave him a peck on the cheek, then blushed and threw an anxious glance over her shoulder.
    ‘It’s all right,’ came his soft voice. ‘None of them saw.’
    Kate’s green eyes met Robbie’s cool grey gaze with extreme reluctance.
    ‘It’s all right, Kate,’ he repeated. He seemed on the point of saying something else. Kate wasn’t at all sure that she wanted to hear it. He