Dragon Land by Maureen Reynolds

month after that initial visit to her cousin’s house, Milly was all ready to go. She had sold off the furniture and contents of her house, which gave her a tidy sum of money to start her new life. As she said, ‘It’s not as if I’ll be beholden to Jeannie, at least not to begin with.’
    On the Sunday afternoon before she left, Milly asked Mum and I to go with her to the new war memorial on top of the Law. Mum wasn’t keen, but she felt she couldn’t turn down this request from her friend. They had both paid a visit to the memorial on the day it was unveiled, but Mum had been very unhappy when she got home. It was as if the granite monument had been a reminder of all the deaths and she was still living in the hope that Dad would someday come home.
    It was a cold, blustery day with some sharp showers when we made our way up the steep slope to the top, where the memorial stood looking out over the city that had lost so many of its young men.
    Earlier, there had been a large article in the People’s Journal that printed the photos of all the Dundee and district casualties of the war, and Milly treasured the paper, which showed the photographs of her brother Michael and fiancé Billy. I remembered the argument at home when Mum refused to allow a photograph of my father to be used. As a result his name was printed with a black silhouette and Granny had been so angry at this.
    ‘Peter is dead, Beth. It’s been years and he isn’t coming back,’ Granny had said.
    Mum was furious. ‘That’s not true.’ She looked at Granny, her face red with anger. ‘Don’t you want him to be alive, Mary?’
    Granny went out of the door and I followed her. She was crying, but when I tried to speak to her she said she was fine. ‘Go back in, Lizzie, and look after your mother.’
    Now here we were, standing in the wind and looking at the memorial. Milly said what a great monument it was to the remembrance of the dead. I waited with bated breath, fully expecting Mum to lose her rag, but she turned away and said that it was indeed a great honour for the city to bestow upon the loss of so many fine young lives. Thankfully Milly didn’t hear her murmur, ‘It’s a great pity this country allowed the war in the first place.’
    We stood in silence for some time, then Milly said it was time to leave. I saw the look of relief on Mum’s face as we slowly walked back down the hill.
    Milly wiped the tears from her eyes and said, ‘It’s so sad looking at the war memorial. Don’t you think so, Beth?’
    ‘Yes, it is. It’s a sad reminder of all the needless carnage.’
    When we reached Victoria Road, Milly said she would come up for a quick cup of tea before leaving for the railway station that evening. Granny was pleased to see her.
    ‘So you’re all set for your trip, Milly? We hope everything works out for you in Glasgow.’
    Milly nodded. ‘Thank you for all your best wishes, Mary, and I think I’ll be very happy.’
    Mum brought the tea tray through and placed it on the table. ‘Lizzie and I will come to the station with you and see you off.’
    Later that night we stood on the platform, waiting for the train to arrive. I had carried the two suitcases that contained all Milly’s worldly goods, while Mum seemed to be on the verge of tears. Thankfully she managed to keep her composure as Milly checked her handbag to make sure her tickets were safely inside. Then the train arrived, and as she boarded the train, both women began to cry.
    ‘I’m going to miss you, Beth. Mind and look after yourself and promise me you’ll come and visit me when I’m settled in.’
    Mum said she would. ‘You’ve been a good friend to me, Milly, and I’ll miss you as well.’
    Then the train began to pull away from the platform and we both waved until it reached a bend in the line and disappeared from view.
    We turned and headed for home in silence. The rain had come on, a cold, wet drizzle, and we were glad to get back to the warmth of the