Two Edwardian Adventures by Cecilia Peartree

Author:Cecilia Peartree
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: scottish, edwardian, edinburgh, railways, marches, illusionists

Chapter Two

The Special Scotch Express, otherwise known as the Flying Scotchman or Scotsman, on its way from London to Edinburgh on that day in October 1909, paused at York for only fifteen minutes. Some of the younger passengers got out to stretch their legs, including John and Kirstie Martin. John Martin found himself rather aggrieved that he could not stretch his legs quite so effectively while wearing a skirt.

“I don’t know why I let you talk me into this, Kirstie,” he grumbled as they promenaded up and down the platform. “I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known how uncomfortable it would be – how can you stride out like a man when your legs are hobbled by this thing?”

“Hmm,” said Kirstie, “you don’t stride out in a skirt, you take dainty wee steps like a lady.”

She laughed when John began to demonstrate his idea of dainty wee steps, mincing up the platform on tiptoe while brandishing, as if it were a deadly weapon, the parasol he had insisted on buying in London.

“I could do with a pipe of tobacco and a glass of beer now we’re stopped,” he said, staring enviously at an old man who was standing by the train doors puffing away contentedly.

Kirstie nudged him hard. “Shhh. There’s somebody looking at you.”

“I’m not surprised,” he said. “I’m such a sight in this outfit. Then there’s my hair – I haven’t even combed it since we left London.”

He patted the blonde wig ruefully. What with that and the stupid hat, his scalp had started to itch, and he yearned to take them both off and have a good scratch, but even with his rudimentary knowledge of social conventions he knew that wasn’t acceptable. To be more exact, his sister would kill him if he did it.

He glanced round to see if he could spot the person Kirstie was talking about. The old man with the pipe didn’t look as if he was bothered about anybody else. A nun approached from the ticket hall, followed by two old women. A young man wearing a straw boater and a striped blazer sat on a stool sketching, halfway down the platform. Every so often he would look up from his book and stare at the two of them.

“You mean the artist?” he said. “I’ll tell him to stop if you like.”

“No, don’t do that,” said Kirstie. “It will be good for the Cause if he puts us in a picture while we’re still wearing our sashes.”

“Oh, yes, the Cause. How could I forget?” John adjusted the purple, white and green sash which was too tight over his broad chest and had ridden up under his armpit at one side.

“Don’t you start making fun! It’s going to be to everybody’s benefit if women get the vote. No more wars – arguments being settled sensibly – no more drunkenness.”

He pretended to sulk. “But drunkenness is my favourite hobby. And if it wasn’t for wars, I wouldn’t have seen so much of the world.”

“You wouldn’t have come home wounded and you’d have had a proper trade by now,” said his sister.

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