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“I’m done,” Betty said. “See you next year.”
“Ha! That’s where you’re mistaken. We won’t be here. Paul got a job in the States.”
That made Betty pause. She might hate her sister with a vengeance, but America was awfully far away. It would be a helluva trip to make with two dozen rotten eggs.
“Where in America?”
“Like I’d tell you!” Maureen turned her back on Betty. “Enjoy your sad, lonely life without me. I know I’ll be living it up without you.” She disappeared back around the side of the house, and Betty wished she’d kept a few eggs to throw at her sister.
“You’re dead to me,” she shouted after her, but it wasn’t up to the standard of her usual retorts.
“Feeling better?” Edna said when Betty met up with her on the pavement outside the house.
“I was, until Mo told me she’s moving to America.” Betty wanted to hit something at the thought. “How am I supposed to get my birthday vengeance now?”
Edna linked her arm with Betty’s. “Maybe it’s time to move on. You’ve had twenty-five good years.”
Betty let out a heavy sigh. “I’m still right pissed off with her.”
“But no’ with Ramsay, I see.” It was a long-standing argument between them.
“You can get over a man’s betrayal, but a sister should always be on your side.” She thought about it. “She’s dead to me. I am now, officially, family free.”
“You, Betty McLeod, are a deeply disturbed individual.”
There was no arguing with that. “Let’s get a pie at City Bakeries. Then we can go to the department store and see that tartan dress.”
They headed toward the bus stop, arm in arm, as gray clouds gathered over Glasgow. Betty took some satisfaction in knowing that the rich folk got the bad weather, just like the rest of them.
“Have you ever noticed,” Edna said, “that rotten eggs smell a lot like sulfur?”
Betty smiled with satisfaction. Her nickname wasn’t Satan for nothing.
It Wisnae Me
This story takes place between Lingerie Wars and Goody Two Shoes.
“I’m designing my own knickers,” Betty announced to the Domino Boys as she stalked into the community center.
The old men were gathered around their usual table, pretending to play dominoes. Really, their games were just an excuse to get together and gossip. It was pathetic. Betty didn’t gossip. That was nothing more than spreading other people’s news. Betty preferred to make her own.
“Is there a reason you’re telling us this?” Archie McPherson said as he reached for the chocolate biscuits.
Betty shoved his hand out of the way and nabbed the last two. “I figured if Kirsty can design underwear, then so can I. I’ve got a lot more experience than she does, and I’ve discovered a gap in the market. There’s no sexy underwear for your discerning oldie. I’m making knickers for people our age.”
“Still no’ sure why you’re telling us this.” Archie scowled at the biscuits in her hand.
She took a bite of one and grinned while she chewed, thankful she’d remembered to put her teeth in this time. “I’m starting with designs for men because their underwear is less complicated. And I need models,” she said with her mouth full. “That’s why I’m here. To ask if you want to model my underwear.”
Hamish spat his tea over the table, and James thumped him on the back. Findlay looked like she’d asked them to lay an egg.
“You’re aff yer heid if you think I’m going tae strut around in my underpants for you,” James said.
Betty nodded sagely. “That’s what the Drymen Domino Team said you’d say.”
“Drymen?” Hamish sat up straight. “You’ve been talking to the Drymen men?”
“It just so happens I bumped into Charlie MacDonald at the post office a couple of hours ago. He’s up visiting his nephew. He thought the underwear was a great idea.” She rubbed her chin. “He even mentioned making a calendar and raising some money for their club. Of course, I said that I needed to offer the option to the Invertary team first. To keep it local, you understand. But he said you lot were too chicken to pose in your underwear.” She shrugged and turned away. “Nae skin aff ma nose. I’ve got my models.”
