The River Flows On by Maggie Craig

a tracer.’ His eyes were wet. ‘It’s only the really clever lassies that get taken on for that.’
    His pride in her achievement made Kate ashamed of herself. It was a good job and she was lucky to have been taken on. She ought to be counting her blessings instead of feeling resentful that she couldn’t go to the Art School. Her father turned to Robbie.
    ‘We’ll have to do something to celebrate. Shall the three of us-‘
    ‘Neil, man,’ came a shout. ‘We’re off to Connolly’s for a dram. A wee celebration, like. Are you coming wi’ us?’
    Kate held her breath. He’d been making heroic efforts to stay off the drink. Being one of the Vigilantes had helped. It had given him a purpose, despite Lily’s constant nagging that he was going to get himself in trouble with the law, and then where would they all be?
    Behind her back, Kate carefully crossed her fingers - only those on the right hand, of course. Everyone knew it didn’t work if you crossed both. If you were telling a wee fib you could cross both, but not if you were wishing for something. And she was wishing for something. She was wishing so hard...
    Neil, his attention caught briefly by the man who had shouted the invitation to him, bent his gaze again to Kate. He flung the next words over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off his daughter’s face.
    ‘Another time, Bill. I’m away to take my daughter for an ice cream and a glass of ginger. For our own wee celebration, like. She’s just got a start at Donaldson’s. As a tracer,’ he added, unable to keep the pride out of his voice.
    There were shouts of congratulation and Kate’s hand was seized and shaken several times.
    ‘That means there’s going to be a new ship then?’ asked the man called Bill.
    ‘Aye, Mr Thompson,’ said Kate. ‘Good news, eh?’
    She smiled furiously at him, screwing up her eyes to hold back the tears. Her father had been offered whisky - and he had chosen to go and drink lemonade with his daughter.
    When they got home an hour later, the girls were out in the back court, playing at beddies. They had marked out the hopscotch court on the paving slabs with chalk. Robbie joined in with the game - to hoots of laughter from his sisters and Jessie Cameron. Deftly nudging the peever - an old shoe-polish tin - with one foot, he hopped up the beddies court to where it had landed.
    ‘Help! I’m gonnae fall over!’ he yelled, pretending to lose his balance, waving his arms wildly in the air.
    ‘Och, Robbie,’ giggled Barbara Baxter, ‘you’re daft. You’re on four and five. You’re allowed to put both feet down there.’
    Neil Cameron, leaning on his elbows against the wall which divided their back court from the next, smiled and turned to Kate, who’d hoisted herself up to sit on the wall beside him. She’d been on the point of going in when her father had suggested staying out for a wee while to enjoy the sunshine.
    ‘Well, lass,’ Neil asked, ‘how do you think you’ll get on at Donaldson’s?’
    ‘Fine,’ she said cheerfully. The pay’s not that great,’ she told him how much, ‘but I think I’ll earn more in a year or so. It’s not exactly what I wanted to do-‘...
    She broke off. Neil Cameron was nothing if not quick on the uptake. He was also stone cold sober, with nothing more than ice cream and lemonade inside him.
    ‘Kathleen... I’m sorry, lass. About the Art School.’ Leaning against the wall beside her, he seemed to slump, become once again the defeated man of that dreadful scene in the kitchen, not at all the magnificent warrior of an hour ago. She wanted that man back. The tall, brave, laughing man she remembered from before the war. Oh, how she wanted that man back!
    It’s all right, Daddy;’ she said. ‘I don’t mind. Not really.’
    She should be crossing all her fingers and toes for that one. She should be crossing every part of her anatomy.
    Silence fell between father and daughter. It was punctuated by the yells and