Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER
Lizzie came to Glasgow in the Glasgow Fair holiday. On one of the two sunny days in Glasgow every July. She had never really understood why it was called the Glasgow Fair. Because it wasn’t. Fair was not a word that sprung to mind when describing even the flashiest parts of Glasgow in the 1940s. No matter how sunny.
Lizzie had been in Glasgow for a few months. Standing in front of the window, her hand wandered to the now swollen belly. It was the reason she had come here.
Jimmy, with his Derry accent, sharp suits and full wallet had talked her into coming here with him. Talked into giving up her life in Skye. Giving up her body to his baby. She wasn’t exactly unhappy. But she wasn’t happy either. She was starting to get the feeling that Jimmy’s wealth – all the comforts of her life – were, as her Auntie Agnes would have described them, ill gotten gains. In short, she was now pretty sure that Jimmy was a gangster.
She would never ask. He wouldn’t answer anyway. And he’d get that look. The one that made her feel that if she wasn’t carrying his baby, she might find herself less than gently handled.