She wis the prettiest girl in oor street. In a’ the streets, an’ it wisnae just me as thought so. Her name wis June Primrose an’ lookin back it wis ayeways summer, an’ the evenins stretched oot for hoors, an’ I remember June wi her skirt tucked intae her knickers an’ turnin rope an’ singin sweet as a linnet.
An’ she could turn cartwheels ower the green, an’ bounce balls up agin a wa’ wi a magic, an’ ayeways singing daft rhymin songs that made nae sense: ‘ally bally ally bally bee, sittin on yer mammy’s knee’. An’ peevers outside the paper shoppie, an’ she was the queen o’ the hale school at athing.
June Primrose, an’ she wis yince ma June. It wis late an’ ayeplace lit up yellow wi the streetlights an’ it was just me an’ June. We wis skippin an’ only aifter she promised no tae tell a soul. It widnae dae for a laddie to be skippin. An’ she wis teachin me an’ I wis breathless an’ happy as Larry, which is tae say happier than a boy has a right tae be.
The air wis sweet wi the smell o’ floors an’ grass. An’ for the longest time we stood lookin up at the night sky, an’ June took ma hand an’ she said she’d love me ayeways. It wis like she was swearin a oath and the moon an’ the stars wis oor witness.
We’re aulder noo, auld as uncles or aunties wis then, an’ sometimes, when I’m oot walkin the dog a’ by masel, late an’ everythin quiet, I just stops an’ I tiits ma head lookin for the sky, an’ I dinnae ken but the streetlights are awfy bright an’ it’s no sae easy tae see stars these nights. An’ I cock ma ear, like a wee birdie, an’ I listen for the sound o’ children singin down the years. An’ I close ma fingers, claspin naethin, an’ I try to recall what it felt like holdin June’s hand a’ they years back.
She’s married on a rough tom frae the next estate. He snarls if you says him guid mornin an’ he kicks at any dogs what come near. An’ I doot but he kicks June when he’s a drink in him or a temper on him, an’ I think oor June deserves better than that, an’ her three bairns deserve better an a’.
I stopped her yin day, in the street, a wee whilie back, an’ I made a fuss ower the wee yin in the pram,gied him some siller for luck. He’s a bead-bonny thing, an’ the twa lassies dancin either side of June an’ they is bonnie tae. An’ I said tae June as how I remembered that night when we was skippin thegether an’ lookin up at the stars an’ holdin hands an’ swearin oaths.
June thought I wis bein fresh an’ she laughed, an’ just for a moment I saw the lass leap intae the woman, an’ her skin looked smooth as new sheets, an’ a light in her blue een. June Primrose, an’ she was the prettiest lass in the hale street an’ I think maybe she still is.
February 13, 2014: I’m the one on the right.
Patricia Ann McNair 
She wis the prettiest girl in oor street. In a’ the streets, an’ it wisnae just me as thought so. Her name wis June Primrose an’ lookin back it wis ayeways summer, an’ the evenins stretched oot for hoors, an’ I remember June wi her skirt tucked intae her knickers an’ turnin rope an’ singin sweet as a linnet.
An’ she could turn cartwheels ower the green, an’ bounce balls up agin a wa’ wi a magic, an’ ayeways singing daft rhymin songs that made nae sense: ‘ally bally ally bally bee, sittin on yer mammy’s knee’. An’ peevers outside the paper shoppie, an’ she was the queen o’ the hale school at athing.
June Primrose, an’ she wis yince ma June. It wis late an’ ayeplace lit up yellow wi the streetlights an’ it was just me an’ June. We wis skippin an’ only aifter she promised no tae tell a soul. It widnae dae for a laddie to be skippin. An’ she wis teachin me an’ I wis breathless an’ happy as Larry, which is tae say happier than a boy has a right tae be.
The air wis sweet wi the smell o’ floors an’ grass. An’ for the longest time we stood lookin up at the night sky, an’ June took ma hand an’ she said she’d love me ayeways. It wis like she was swearin a oath and the moon an’ the stars wis oor witness.
We’re aulder noo, auld as uncles or aunties wis then, an’ sometimes, when I’m oot walkin the dog a’ by masel, late an’ everythin quiet, I just stops an’ I tiits ma head lookin for the sky, an’ I dinnae ken but the streetlights are awfy bright an’ it’s no sae easy tae see stars these nights. An’ I cock ma ear, like a wee birdie, an’ I listen for the sound o’ children singin down the years. An’ I close ma fingers, claspin naethin, an’ I try to recall what it felt like holdin June’s hand a’ they years back.
She’s married on a rough tom frae the next estate. He snarls if you says him guid mornin an’ he kicks at any dogs what come near. An’ I doot but he kicks June when he’s a drink in him or a temper on him, an’ I think oor June deserves better than that, an’ her three bairns deserve better an a’.
I stopped her yin day, in the street, a wee whilie back, an’ I made a fuss ower the wee yin in the pram,gied him some siller for luck. He’s a bead-bonny thing, an’ the twa lassies dancin either side of June an’ they is bonnie tae. An’ I said tae June as how I remembered that night when we was skippin thegether an’ lookin up at the stars an’ holdin hands an’ swearin oaths.
June thought I wis bein fresh an’ she laughed, an’ just for a moment I saw the lass leap intae the woman, an’ her skin looked smooth as new sheets, an’ a light in her blue een. June Primrose, an’ she was the prettiest lass in the hale street an’ I think maybe she still is.