Love & Sorrow Read Online Free Page B

that?”
    Nellie pushed back a lock of hair which had escaped the
confines of her dust-cap. Once that had been done to her entire satisfaction,
only then did she deign to reply. “Oh, that? The plague – is that whit yer
gettin aw worked up aboot? Uch, ye cannae believe all them facts and figures
yon Sanitary Chambers is aye churnin oot. Keeps aw them pen pushers in cushy
jobs, if ye ask me.”
    Meg pointed an admonitory finger at her sister. “Well
then, I am asking you, aren’t you the least bit concerned? Of course, you are
at liberty to believe whatever you wish, but the fact remains bubonic plague is
quite definitely a force to be reckoned with. The very thought of it here,
rampant in Glasgow, scares me rigid.”
    Nellie sighed. “Aye, God help us, ye huvnae changed
much. Ye were aye a worrier. A born worrier, so ye are. Even as a wee girl
playin in the back court ye jist couldnae bear tae get yer hauns aw mucky. As
for rakin through the middens like the rest o us ye’d rather run a mile and tak
a runnin jump intae the Clyde.” After a reflective pause Nellie continued: “A
great worrier indeed. Jist a damn shame ye hadnae worried yersell aboot the
sure-fire consequences when ye done the business wi yon fly-by-nicht so called
boyfriend of yers.”
    Meg gasped and it was all of a minute before she could
trust herself to speak. “Nellie! Please. I beg of you. Please do not start that
again. It’s over. Finished and done with.”
    Nellie glared back. “Done with ye say? Hmph that’s
rich. Listen ye tae me, hen, it’ll niver be done with. No as long as that wee
wean’s arsehole looks doon. One wey and another ye’ve got that commitment for
life. And don’t ye ever forget it.”
    Meg’s lips tightened, but rather than keep a sulky
silence she decided to have it out with her sister. “Why is it, Nellie, no
matter what topic we start to discuss – be it the price of coal, the minister’s
last sermon, or even the bubonic plague – it always comes back to my fall from
grace?”
    Nellie allowed herself the ghost of a smile and
relented. “Aye, ye’re right, hen, deid right. God alone kens how we got frae a
killer disease tae ye ain wee bit o bother. Ah suppose it’s because ye’re aye
in ma mind – Ah’ll niver understand how an intelligent girl like ye could –
uch, tae hell, it disnae bear talkin aboot –”
    “Right then, Nellie. Don’t talk about it. That’s all I
ask.”
    To fill the empty silence between them, Nellie got to
her feet and busied herself about the kitchen, finally returning with the peace
offering of a fresh pot of tea.
    “Onywey, therr’s one thing Ah will say. Ah’m mibbe a
hell o a lot better informed aboot the plague than you seem tae think. Fine
weel Ah ken aw the details, whit ye might call the nitty-gritty. The plague was
first reported in Thistle Street and Rose Street. But ye can tak it frae me,
roon aboot here we’ve naethin tae worry aboot.”
    Meg frowned. “Nothing! You say there’s nothing to worry
about? How on earth do you come to that conclusion?”
    Puffed up with her own importance at her superior
knowledge on the subject, Nellie obviously savoured the moment before saying:
“Ah’m no arrivin nowheres, hen but Ah kin tell ye this … Ah hae it on guid
authority it’s aw been cleaned up – done and dusted. Aye, Swept away.”
    Nellie paused for dramatic effect, but before she could
continue Meg said: “For heaven’s sake, Nellie. No one on God’s earth can simply
sweep away the dreaded bubonic plague as if it were the Saturday night detritus
in the common close.”
    Nellie gave a mirthless laugh. “Ah’m buggart if Ah ken
whit yer talkin aboot noo. Meg. The fact remains – Ah ken it for God’s truth –
no only hae the Sanitary men disinfected the hooses in yon twa streets, but
they’ve even cleaned oot the very middens, and wid ye believe it. They’ve
whitewashed the landins, the stairs and the closes. Aye, whitewashed them! Wid
ye credit