My eldest grand-daughter, Isla (then aged nine) asked me to write her a love story. I thought: what does an old man like me know about this? After all, I am 50 years older than her, and most other primary school age boys and girls.
But, I was wrong. Every grandparent knows about this love, because love for us is become much like love is for children. That is why love between grandchildren and their grand-parents is so simple and easy. Much simpler than love between two parents, or between parents and their children. Our old-young love is simple, uncomplicated, accepting, open and trusting.
As this love between boy and girl begins to wane in grand-parents, so it blossoms and grows in children. We meet at a passing point; a divine appointment. However, the reasons why a boy seeks the love of a girl, and why a girl seeks the love of a boy, are as different as they are from each other. So I have written two love stories: one for girls and one for boys! I suggest you read your own one first, then read the other one. But, whatever you do, don't tell granny or she'll just call me a silly old man ...
Janet Jemima Blair was born in Irvine Royal Hospital in Ayrshire. Of course, she can't remember it, but her mum and dad do, because they were both there when she first appeared. She came into the world as a small, pink bundle of crinkly skin. Babies all look beautiful to their mum, but to everyone else (often including their dad) they look a bit like piglets. Indeed, new-born Janet didn't really say wa! wa!, she open her new-born mouth and said something more like oink! oink! (Granny once told her that when Uncle Ian was born he said quack! quack!)
After a few days, the new family of mum Nancy, dad Henry and baby Janet were on the ferry out of Ardrossan, heading back home to the Isle of Arran. All the mums and grans on the ferry oohd and ahhd at the new baby. But Janet only had eyes for the daft dads and grandfathers who made funny faces at her with their eyes and mouths.
Dad had arranged for a taxi to meet them at the ferry terminal. Before they stepped carefully down the ramp onto the pier, mum waited patiently as dad spent ages trying to unfold the arms and legs of the huge buggy, and then click and pop the variety of safety clips. Eventually he stepped back and smiled triumphantly. Mum sighed, rolled her eyes, tossed her hair back and handed him Janet. She then quickly re-folded the buggy and quickly snapped everything into place properly. "Oh!", said dad.
The taxi took Janet to her new home at Popay Castle in Blackwaterfoot. Janet's parents had come from London to give her - and her not-yet-to-be-born twin brothers, Calvin and Hobbes - a safe place to grow up in. The house wasn't actually a castle, but since mum and dad were Mr & Mrs Popay they named the house after their family. "And here the Popays will be safe as a castle!", dad always used to say.
The twins were born three years later in the same hospital back on the mainland. About one year later Janet, now a very active little girl, went to Shiskine Primary School, just a few miles away. In the good weather dad would take her there on the tandem. She gathered memories of dad's back and the view to the Mull of Kintyre across the water as he cycled the road with ease. Thankfully, there was little traffic during school terms as the tourists only came in their busy cars during the holidays.
Janet and her brothers enjoyed life by the harbour and at the beach. There were a few other children - she played often with Jim Furnish, Annie Bolton and Roddy McNeil. I suppose they had always lived on the island. They, and their brothers and sisters, grew up with the Popays. Parties were plentiful, as was the rain. But children never remember rainy days - only sunny ones!
At the age when she began to become a young woman, Janet was torn from her brothers to spend each day in Arran High School in Lamlash. This was a long way away, along the length of the String Road, right across the other side of the island. She left on the first day a bit tearfully, and her brothers and mum both sobbed. Dad chucked her on the chin; but he couldn't speak or he'd have started crying too. Men don't like being seen to cry, but mums do; a lot.
At the high school she met new children, and everyone made friends quickly. They each had to introduce themselves to the rest of the class. The children mainly came from Brodick, Lamlash and Whiting Bay. There was just one each from Shannachie and Lochranza - plus Janet from Blackwaterfoot.
The big school was exciting after the tiny two-teacher school at Shiskine. There must have been over a hundred pupils, and around a dozen teachers. Janet spent the day moving from room to room. She ate her pack lunch in a sunny spot overlooking Ayrshire across the Clyde. By mid afternoon the bus was waiting. Janet waved goodbye to her new friends and was soon home in the hustle and bustle of her family with the familiar noise and smells of home.
Everyone welcomed her back, especially Eric, the family's rescue greyhound. "He spent the day whining and pining, looking for you all around the house. Whenever he sat down he just looked up with his sad dog eyes," said dad. Eric's tail slapped noisily against Janet's leg as he drooled a warm welcome home.
In her years at the high school Janet grew up to be a young woman. By S4 she was particularly good at acting, singing, Gaelic, Mathematics and English. Mr MacDonald - his door sign said Ruairidh Domhnuillach (everyone called him Rory) - was often helped by the new teacher, Miss Shona Stewart. They translated and shortened the Romeo and Juliet love story into Gaelic for the end of year school play. They were the talk of the lunch breaks - Janet saw them holding hands under the table, and was astonished to find that she blushed, felt her heart rate rise, and had to catch her breath.
She caught Tom Skinner watching her from across the room and, suddenly embarrassed, she stood up, left her lunch, and went out to the school garden. Janet was sure everyone else was staring at her, but they weren't. When the bell went she rushed back into the school building. Tom came over and packed her abandoned lunch box for her and handed it over to Mr MacDonald.
First class after the lunch break was Gaelic. Mr MacDonald came in, holding a very pink and girlie lunch box. He acted as if it was his, opened it, took out an apple, and bit it. "Janet. Nice apple. Thanks. Just for that you can be Juliet." He was half-joking, of course. He had already chosen Janet for the part.
"Now, who should be Romeo?" He looked around the room, "Why, Mr Skinner, it'd have to be you." Again, there was no surprise here as Tom was a good actor. "But, the big question is: is there a part in the play for Janet's lunch-box?" The class laughed. He crossed the floor and handed it over, without the apple which was soon gone.
The practices went well, throwing Janet and Tom together. They had to hold hands, say love stories in Gaelic. (Who knows what Janet and Tom's English parents would make of the play!) They even had to kiss, before dying in each other's arms. At the end of the performance they lay together, breathing in each other's ears, their bodies pressed together.
On the day of the performance Janet's dad wasn't sure whether to be happy or annoyed. Janet's mum cried and held her husband's hand. On the drive home the car was silent; and her mum and dad were holding hands when they walked with her to the house. The boys were out staying at the Furnish's. Her mum and dad went upstairs - together.
Janet finished school with A's in all her exams. From the world now open to her beyond the Clyde she decided to go to the University of Glasgow and study to be a doctor. She passed her exams easily and started to work in the Queen Elizabeth Hospital at the age of 23. After two years she decided to specialise in general practice as a GP. She then spent a happy, busy five years in the nearby town of Paisley.
She came home to the Isle of Arran regularly, of course, but rarely met any old school friends. Her parents were getting older. Her two brothers had taken over dad's business of cutting and selling wood and fitting stoves into the houses in Arran, Ayrshire and Kintyre. Neither of them married. The brothers were too busy making money to find that rarity, a pretty woman each, about their age, on Arran. They bought the big Hotel in Blackwaterfoot and turned it into a holiday resort for yachtsmen.
Janet met many men in her job - but most of them were ill! The few others she met were generally older and already married. She was happy to simply live in her flat in Park Circus in Glasgow, with its grand views of the city and beyond. There was room for her baby grand piano too. She loved playing Tchaikovsky's Romeo and Juliet fantasy overture, while speaking the parts in the school play to keep her from losing her Arran Gaelic.
Life would have gone on much the same if she hadn't caught that train to Ardrossan Harbour on that Saturday. She was sitting in the last carriage of the train at platform 13. The doors beeped for the final time, and the whistle blew to tell the driver to pull out from the station. Just as the electric motors whirred into action - she saw him! Yes, it was him: Tom Skinner! He was walking to platform 14, tall, handsome, just greying a bit above the ears, carrying a leather satchel.
Janet blushed; she felt her heart beat quicker as she caught her breath. At just that moment Tom turned to look at the nearby train leaving - and he saw her as she looked at him. He had began to walk towards the departing train, but then he didn't. He meant to raise his hand, but he didn't. He simply watched her watching him as she disappeared. In a black and white movie from when gran and I were young, she would have flung open the train door and he'd have jumped in. But that is not safe, so you can't do that today.
The ticket collector came and she asked him, "Where is that train going to?" He looked through the window and replied, "I dunno. Probably Gourock or Wemyss Bay. Or it could be for Largs." Janet said, "Thank you". She stared out the window all the way to the ferry terminal. Back home her parents found her unusually quiet. They left her to sit and stare out at the bay. Her mum took her dad's hand and dragged him into the kitchen, "Come, I need help with the dishes."
"What's up with her?", Janet's dad asked his wife.
Her mum sighed, rolled her eyes, tossing her hair back and handing him an apron and the sponge. "She's in love. I wonder who he is?"
Back in Paisley Janet worked hard at not thinking about Tom. Whenever she played her piano she forgot to say Romeo's lines, but his voice played them in her head instead. Would she meet him, or would she finally forget him? She started to take the train to work, passing through Glasgow Central Station more often. Actually - she did this every day.
Then she saw him again! He was sitting drinking tea in Costa's near platforms 13 and 14. She stopped, standing about four metres away. She saw that he wore no wedding ring on his left hand, and his coat was buttoned up tight against the winter cold. Janet went in, bought a hot chocolate, and went over. She sat down opposite Tom.
She was as bold as brass. Tom looked up, and spilt his tea, just a tiny bit.
"Hello, Tom."
He smiled, "Hello, Janet."
"How's life been for you?"
"Busy. And you?"
"Busy."
They both looked down at the table. Janet moved her hand and it touched Tom's hand. He looked up at her ..
That's where my tale ends. Love stories don't always have happy endings, but some do. I am afraid you have to make your own endings in real life. Love can be hard, risky work. Did Tom and Janet fall in love again? Did they get married, raise children and grow old as a gran and a grandfather? Or did they finish their drinks and simply say, "Goodbye"?
You must decide. For, the best love stories are the real ones ones we make ourselves. Like the one your mummy and daddy are living, or the old one that granny and I have long had together.
Love you, Grampa.
© copyright John N Sutherland 2018, 2023.