The New Breadmakers

by Margaret Thomson-Davis

  Sammy shook his head. ‘Julie, she is not a child any more. She’s probably off to university or she has a job somewhere away from Glasgow.’

  He was right, of course. In her heart, Alice had always remained the baby she had allowed the nurse to prise from her arms. But Alice was not a child any more. She was a grown woman. This realisation saddened Julie, instead of making her happy. She wanted her baby back.

  Time was flying past. She could not let it speed on relentlessly. She needed to be properly reunited with her daughter. Alice was her baby, her child, her grown woman, her own flesh and blood. The only way she could think of was to approach Mr and Mrs Robertson. She’d seen Alice with them one day and she had long since found out their name. She had learned all sorts of devious methods of getting information. She knew, for instance, that Mr Robertson was a clerk in the railway offices. She knew, by watching what Mrs Robertson purchased on Saturday mornings in the butcher’s, that the Robertsons’ favourite Sunday lunch was steak pie. That was usually followed by steamed apples and custard, judging by what was purchased at the grocer’s on the same day. She and Mrs Robertson had got to the stage of smiling at each other in the grocer’s and the butcher’s. She looked a nice woman, with a kindly, lined face and grey hair. Most women nowadays had their grey hairs dyed as soon as they appeared and favoured a spot of make-up. Not Mrs Robertson.

  Julie thought of going to their door. Then it occurred to her that it would be easier to speak to Mrs Robertson, casually at first, in one of the shops. The next day she followed Mrs Robertson into the chemist’s, stood behind her, smiled and then said casually, ‘I haven’t seen your daughter around for a while. She’s that tall, dark-haired girl, isn’t she? I hope she’s keeping all right.’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Mrs Robertson’s face lit up with pride. ‘She’s doing very well. She’s training to be a doctor, you know.’

  ‘Is she?’ Julie too felt pride. ‘How wonderful!’

  ‘Yes, her dad and I are very proud of her. She’s a born doctor. Ages ago, when I had flu, she insisted on looking after me. She’s always been so good to both of us. She’s such a loving girl as well. Her dad and I feel really blessed to have her.’

  It wasn’t fair. Later Julie wept to herself. Her need had become an agony. Alice belonged to her. It was right that Alice, that everybody, should know. She did not care what Sammy or anyone said. She dreamed of their reunion. She saw Alice’s surprise and delight. She felt Alice’s young body in her arms. She held her close. She vowed never to let her go again.

  In her dreams, they spoke for hours. They got on so well and they had so much lost time to make up for. She listened eagerly to every detail of Alice’s childhood and young womanhood. All her likes and dislikes, every detail she could think of. They laughed together.

  Julie told her about the job she had once had in Copeland & Lye’s. She told her about Madge and her large brood of children. She described Madge’s tall, handsome charmer of a husband and how Madge kept him on a tight rein. She told her about Catriona and her troubles.

  She told her about Sammy and how he had been a conscientious objector during the war, served in the Friends’ Ambulance Unit and now worked in McHendry’s. He also did first-aid work for the Red Cross, helping tend to the injured at football matches as well as other events. She told Alice that Sammy was a Quaker and that she often she went to meetings with him now. She was getting to quite enjoy going there. There was something appealing, genuine and comforting, about them.

  Oh, she had so much to tell her beautiful, loving daughter. First of all, she would tell her that she loved her so much and had always loved her. It was important for Alice to know that she hadn’t given her baby away because she didn’t love her.

  Thinking about love made Julie remember her wedding. She’d tell Alice about that too. It was then she remembered what had been said there about love. She looked it up again in Corinthians. She sat alone in the front room with the open Bible in her lap.

  Love is patient,

  Love is kind.

  Love is not jealous or boastful;

  It is not arrogant or rude.

  Love does not insist on its own way;

  It is not irritable or resentful;

  It does not rejoice at wrong,

  But rejoices in the right.

  Love bears all things,

  Believes all things,

  Hopes all things,

  Endures all things.

  Love never ends.

  Julie wept. She could not insist on her own way. She did love Alice. She would bear all things. She could only pray now that one day Alice, in her own time, would try to find her.

  31

  Alec and Sammy didn’t go to so many matches together now, because of Sammy’s Red Cross work. Most of the time, if Sammy went to a match, it was to see to the injured. He also attended other big events. He had been at a ceremony in the City Chambers recently where a procession of councillors was led in by a piper. Sammy had made Alec laugh afterwards by saying, ‘I’ve often seen haggis piped in but never dumplings.’

  The last match they went to together turned out to be a bit of a disaster. The section of the Celtic end called ‘The Jungle’, where the worst of the hooligan mob stood, had erupted as usual with sectarian songs and chanting. The Jungle had been filled with a thunderous rendition of,

  Faith of my fathers,

  Holy faith we will be true to thee till death.

  Faith of our fathers living still

  In spite of dungeon, fire and sword.

  Oh, how our hearts beat high with joy

  When e’er we hear these glorious words,

  Faith of our father …

  And after it, ‘Hail glorious Saint Patrick, dear saint of our isle’ was roared out.

  Then of course the Rangers end where Alec and Sammy were standing countered with ‘The Sash’ and ‘God Save the Queen’, although some other, not so complimentary words had been substituted for the original ones. Then there were the usual obscenities and gestures of hatred.

  Sammy had turned on the nearest foul-mouthed man and, before Alec could tell him to ignore all the taunts – after all they weren’t aimed at him – Sammy had told the man in no uncertain terms what he thought of him. Unfortunately this particular man didn’t ignore Sammy. He started bawling abuse, while grabbing Sammy by the lapels to jerk his face nearer. Alec tried to get in between them, protesting in what he hoped sounded a friendly and good-humoured manner. He said, ‘He didn’t mean it, pal.’

  But Sammy stubbornly insisted, ‘I did mean it!’

  Alec felt like helping the man throttle Sammy. Instead he jerked Sammy away, at the same time making signs to the man that Sammy was mad and no further attention should be paid to him.

  The man wasn’t going to be fobbed off, however, and was joined by his immediate companions. A real barney developed, with Sammy and Alec in the centre of it. Then a couple of policemen struggled among them. One, reaching Sammy, told him to ‘fuck off’. But Sammy, indignant now, refused to budge. The policemen gave him another chance but Sammy was now objecting to the policeman’s attitude. The result of all this was that Sammy, Alec and the other men all ended up in court. The other men had pleaded guilty. But Sammy, awkward as ever, pleaded not guilty and told the sheriff that he had been provoked, first by the men and then by the police officer who had twice told him to fuck off.

  The sheriff wasted no time. He had the usual heavy after-match quota of cases to get through. ‘Guilty,’ he told Sammy abruptly, ‘because if you’d had any sense at all and fucked off the first time, you wouldn’t be standing here now.’

  And he gave Sammy a hefty fine. Sammy was furious. He had to be dragged away, protesting loudly.

  ‘Will you never learn to keep your mouth shut?’ Alec shouted at him outside the court. He genuinely felt nerve-wracked by the whole incident. He had never been one to get into fights if he could avoid it.

  ‘Talk about a pacifist. I’ve been through the blood
y war and I’ve still to meet anybody as aggressive and confrontational as you, Sammy. If this is what pacifist Quakers are supposed to be like, give me a military man any day.’

  The moment the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. Sammy’s face paled, showing a smattering of freckles that hadn’t been noticeable before. His eyes widened with shock, horror, guilt and hurt. Alec felt so terrible, he grabbed Sammy in a bear hug, then immediately let him go in acute embarrassment. Men didn’t hug each other in Glasgow.

  ‘Sammy, don’t listen to me.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Sammy was such a bloody awkward idiot.

  ‘I didn’t mean it. What do I know about anything?’

  ‘You know about me, Alec. I never thought … I didn’t realise. Do you think I’m just the same as my father, after all?’

  ‘No, no. Definitely not. What a daft thing to say. It’s just that there are times when you should keep your mouth shut, Sammy. There are surely better ways to tackle problems than head-on like that.’

  ‘You’re right, Alec. You’re quite right.’

  ‘Come on, where’s your sense of humour?’ Alec began to laugh when he remembered what the sheriff had said. He tried an impersonation of him.

  ‘If you had fucked off the first time …’

  Sammy began to laugh too.

  ‘Right enough, it was funny when you think about it.’

  ‘Let’s go for a drink. To The Titwood,’ he added hastily. ‘I’ve had enough excitement for one day.’ The Titwood was a neutral pub.

  The usual sectarian rivalry could erupt into violence in pubs even quicker than in football grounds. A new pub had recently been scheduled to open, but on the window they’d put an advertisement for staff which read, ‘Only Catholics need apply’. After the match that day, the place had been turned over. Not a glass had been left unsmashed, not a chair or table left in one piece. The place never opened.

  ‘You’re right,’ Sammy repeated after they’d settled in The Titwood. ‘It’s my quick temper.’

  ‘It goes with your hair.’

  ‘I’ll have to do something about it.’

  ‘There’s no need to make a big drama of it. It’s not a life and death situation. Although,’ Alec tried to look serious, ‘I don’t know. We’ve had a few close shaves.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Sammy said, taking him seriously.

  ‘Will you stop telling me I’m right? I’m not used to it. Madge has cast me as a villain and always in the wrong for too many years.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right.’

  ‘There you go again.’

  Sammy relaxed into laughter. ‘I think Madge is just scared you’ll go off and leave her, Alec. She’s daft about you.’

  ‘I’ve been tempted many a time.’

  ‘Wait till Julie hears about me being found guilty and fined. She’ll be tempted to kick me out.’

  ‘More like the Quakers kicking you out.’

  Sammy’s look turned tragic again, making Alec groan and add, ‘Sammy, it was a joke!’

  They finished their pints and made for home.

  ‘Did I tell you,’ Sammy said eventually, ‘that Julie has been taking a typing and secretarial course? She could have gone back to Copeland & Lye’s after we got married. I was perfectly happy for her to do that but she fancied a change.’

  ‘Good for her. Here, you’ll be well off, Sammy. Two wage packets coming into the house. Even so, I don’t think I’d like my wife going out to work.’

  ‘You’re behind the times, Alec. This is the ’60s. With all the labour-saving gadgets you can get for the house now, more and more women are going out to work.’

  ‘It’ll lead to trouble. You mark my words.’

  ‘What kind of trouble?’

  Alec shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But the man’s always been the breadwinner, the head of the house.’

  Sammy laughed.

  Alec said, ‘What’s so funny about that?’

  ‘Nothing. Sorry. I thought it was another of your jokes.’

  ‘Oh, aye. I know what you’re thinking.’

  He had been thinking of big, battling Madge, who had always worn the trousers in Alec’s household.

  Alec got off the tram car at Springburn to walk up to Balornock. Sammy gave him a wave and Alec grinned and waved in return before striding away.

  Sammy stayed on until his stop at Bishopbriggs Cross. He was thinking about Julie now and the job she was planning to start. Actually, she had already started working part-time, helping Catriona get her new shop ready in Springburn Road. The premises were very handy for where she was staying with his mother in his old flat. But, as she had expected, there had been a lot of trouble with Melvin and also with her mother, Hannah Munro, who refused to believe her son-in-law could do anything wrong. Sammy had said to Julie, ‘Do you think you’ll really end up having the job with Catriona? Do you think she’ll get things up and running? Especially with Melvin carrying on the way he’s doing?’

  ‘Yes, I do. She’s a surprisingly spirited wee lady underneath that timid-looking exterior. You’d be surprised if you knew just what a hard time she’s had. And the things she’s had to put up with over the years.’

  ‘Nothing surprises me any more.’

  ‘Things are looking really promising – she’s already got one or two therapists interested in renting rooms from her. We’ve organised a desk and space for me in the waiting room. The phone’s been installed there. I’ll answer it, keep the appointment books up to date and type letters for Catriona and the other therapists – ordering stuff, and all that kind of thing. I’m looking forward to working there, it’ll be really interesting. And one of the best things about it is that it’s not nearly as far to travel to Springburn as it would be into town to Copeland & Lye’s.’

  ‘Is Melvin still selling the house?’

  ‘Well, he’s still threatening to. His idea is to sell it so that Catriona can’t carry on with her therapy work. He plans to drag her off to Aberdeen to live. That’s where Fergus has settled. Separate her from her friends. Catriona says he did that to his first wife but he isn’t going to do it to her. I’m telling you, Sammy, she’s got guts, that one.’

  ‘Well, good for her. I wonder if she could give me some medicine for my quick temper.’

  Julie laughed. ‘That could prove to be one of her biggest challenges, Sammy. But I’ll see what she says.’

  ‘Don’t bother. There’s no pills or potions that can cure a fault like mine.’

  ‘Oh, you never know. Miracles do happen.’

  ‘Come here, you.’ He made a lunge at her and, dodging him, she ran through to the kitchen laughing. He called after her, ‘You’re getting too cheeky for your own good.’

  ‘What do you want for your tea?’ she called back.

  He thanked God that everything seemed all right with Julie now. She never spoke about Alice any more. Or only very occasionally and just to say that, wherever Alice was, she hoped she was happy. He didn’t know what had brought about Julie’s contentment, what had calmed her previous agitation and obsession with being reunited with her daughter. But whatever it was, he thanked God for it and he prayed that it would last.

  32

  The moment Chrissie opened the front door, she sensed the atmosphere. The air inside was tense, waiting.

  ‘Oh, so you’re back, are ye?’ Big Aggie sneered. ‘Enjoyed it, did ye – sleeping wi’ a bloody Pape?’

  Maimie was crouched by the fire, her fat cheeks quivering with excitement.

  Her mother strode towards Chrissie. ‘Your father says he’s gonnae teach you a lesson when he gets back frae work but Ah’m gonnae give you something for starters.’

  For a second, Chrissie was paralysed with shock before she could get herself moving and try to escape. Aggie caught her by the hair and Chrissie began to scream and fight. She was no longer the cowed child she had once been, too terrified to protest. She screamed herself hoarse and wildly fought to protect herself,
kicking and punching. At one point, her mother lost her balance in the struggle and fell onto the floor. Aggie was enraged and as she struggled up, helped by an eager Maimie, she bawled, ‘Ah’m gonnae murder you for this.’

  Chrissie turned and ran but Aggie caught her by the hair again. Before the older woman could land a blow, there was a terrific explosion at the front door. The door flew open, kicked in by Sean, who now rushed at Chrissie and jerked her away from Aggie.

  ‘Go and pack a case, Chrissie. You’re coming with me right now.’

  ‘What a bloody cheek!’ Aggie was genuinely astonished, as well as outraged. ‘Who do you think you are?’

  ‘I’m the man Chrissie is going to marry.’

  ‘Over ma dead body. No bloody Tim is going to be part of this family. Get out of ma house before Ah throw ye out.’

  ‘Mammy,’ Chrissie protested, ‘what does Sean’s religion matter? He’s a good man and we love each other.’

  ‘Aw, shut up, ya stupid wee cow. What do you know about anything? Ah’ll soon knock aw this bloody nonsense out of you.’

  ‘You’ll never lay a finger on Chrissie again,’ Sean said. ‘Go on, Chrissie. Pack a case.’

  ‘Don’t you dare act the big man in ma house,’ Aggie bawled. ‘Ah’ll soon make short work of you.’

  She strode menacingly towards him but Sean didn’t budge. Instead, he gave Chrissie a push. ‘Go on.’

  Aggie tried to grapple him aside but failed. In frustration, she screamed obscenities into his face.

  ‘And wait till Ah tell ma Jimmy. He’ll murder you. You’ll no’ get away wi’ this.’

  ‘I love Chrissie and I want to take care of her for the rest of our lives together. What on earth’s wrong with that?’

  ‘You’re a bloody Pape, that’s what’s wrong,’ Aggie bawled.

  He shook his head in despair and called to Chrissie, who was now in one of the bedrooms, flinging clothes, shoes, make-up and books into the biggest suitcase she could find.

  ‘Are you ready, Chrissie?’