The New Breadmakers

by Margaret Thomson-Davis

  ‘Yes.’ Chrissie staggered into the lobby, clutching the bulky suitcase in front of her. He took the case and pushed her out of the house, banging the door shut in Big Aggie’s face.

  ‘Up the stairs,’ he told Chrissie.

  ‘Oh Sean!’ Chrissie was near to tears. ‘Will your mother be any better?’

  ‘Don’t worry. My mother won’t have the energy to be aggressive.’

  ‘Your father then?’

  ‘As long as they think you’ll “turn”, as they call it, and have our children brought up in the faith, they’ll probably be OK. And don’t worry,’ he added, ‘we can both end up atheists for all I care, but anything to shut them up at the moment. Just until we get a place of our own to stay. OK?’

  ‘Yes, all right.’

  She followed him anxiously up to the top flat. Sean opened the O’Donnel door with his key.

  ‘Now, don’t worry,’ he repeated as they entered the lobby. ‘It’ll be all right.’

  ‘What’s this?’ Teresa O’Donnel asked. Her voice sounded shocked but it lacked the volume of Big Aggie’s. Teresa was smaller and thinner, and bent forward as if she was a heavy burden to herself.

  ‘Ma, Chrissie and I are going to get married. She can’t stay downstairs, so is it OK if she stays here until after the wedding and we move to a place of our own?’

  Michael O’Donnel had been reading his Daily Herald and now let it drop down onto his knees. ‘How long has this been going on?’

  ‘Long enough,’ Sean said.

  ‘And what do the Stoddarts think of it? As if I don’t know,’ he added with a sneer. ‘Turfed her out, did they?’

  Chrissie plucked up courage and said, ‘I love Sean and he loves me. That’s all that matters.’

  Dermot gave a howl of laughter at this. ‘That’s what you think, hen.’

  ‘It’s all so silly.’ Sheer frustration made her stick to her guns. She really, genuinely could not understand. ‘Why should it matter? If we respect each other’s right to worship as we want to, there won’t be a problem. There needn’t be any problem.’

  ‘Is she gonnae turn?’ Teresa asked Sean. ‘Are yer weans gonnae be brought up in the faith?’

  ‘You’ve no need to worry, Ma. Chrissie and I have discussed this. If she can just stay here for a week or two – OK?’

  Dermot laughed again. ‘OK? You’re joking. The Stoddarts live in the close, remember. They’re going to love her passing their door every day. I don’t think! You’re daft, you.’

  ‘Well, if you’re so clever,’ Sean said angrily, ‘what do you suggest?’

  ‘Why can’t you be content with a good fuck and leave it at that?’

  ‘Shut your filthy mouth!’ Sean rushed at Dermot and grabbed him by the lapels of his smart black jacket. ‘You ignorant bigot.’

  Dermot began to laugh at Sean’s unexpected nerve. Not even the toughest ned in Glasgow had enough nerve to attack Dermot O’Donnel. But before his laugh got going and before he had time to dust down his lapels, Sean had head-butted him in the face.

  Dermot’s head jerked backwards, then, his face livid with rage as well as blood, he landed a savage, scything left hook just above Sean’s left ear. Another jabbed into Sean’s eye. Sean’s knees buckled but he managed to grab Dermot’s jacket again. Dermot drove his knee deep into Sean’s stomach, then followed up with two more vicious, chopping rights to Sean’s face.

  Chrissie was screaming and hanging on to Dermot in an effort to drag him off Sean. Teresa, gasping and choking for breath, tried to claw her sons apart. At the same time, Michael was shouting at her, ‘Let them settle this their own way, Teresa. Leave them to it, for God’s sake.’

  Eventually, Chrissie’s scream of ‘Look what you’re doing to your mother, you maniac!’ did stop him, stopped both men.

  Dermot hitched at his shoulders and smoothed down his jacket.

  ‘He started it. Are you all right, Ma?’

  ‘Does she look all right?’ Chrissie said. ‘And Sean didn’t start it. You started it with your filthy talk.’

  ‘I’m OK, hen,’ Teresa managed, groping for her chair. ‘Just give me a minute to get my breath back and I’ll pour myself a cup of tea.’

  ‘I’ll pour it.’ Chrissie hurried over to the table.

  ‘Thanks, hen.’

  Sean also sank into a chair. One of his eyes had already begun to swell and turn black.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ma. Sorry for upsetting you but I’m not sorry for wanting to marry Chrissie. We’re still going to go ahead with our plans, even if everyone in both families is against it.’

  ‘Aye, well,’ Michael said, ‘you’re no’ bringing her here to stay, no’ for a day, no’ for a week, no’ …’

  ‘All right, all right, Da. I get the message. But if she can’t stay here, then I can’t either. Chrissie and I are together now and we’re staying together.’

  Teresa had begun to get control of her breathing.

  ‘She’s a nice wee lassie, son, but there’ll be lots of other nice wee lassies.’ She turned towards Chrissie. ‘Nae harm tae ye, hen, but mixed marriages cause nothing but grief.’

  ‘It doesn’t need to be like that,’ Chrissie said.

  ‘Exactly,’ Sean agreed.

  ‘Huh!’ Michael rolled his eyes. ‘Talk about living in cloud cuckoo land.’ He jerked his head in Sean’s direction. ‘He’s always been like that, of course. A right idiot. If this is what bloody education does for you, I’m glad I left school when I was twelve.’

  ‘Yes, and think of it.’ Sean sounded bitter as well as sarcastic. ‘I might have gone to university if you hadn’t pulled the plug on that.’

  Teresa said, ‘Where can you go to stay? I’m sorry, son, but it’ll just no’ work. As Ah’ve just said to Chrissie, Ah’ve seen it happen that often.’

  Sean heaved a big sigh. ‘Come on, Chrissie. Help me pack my case and then we’ll be away.’

  Chrissie rose and began to follow him towards the door.

  Teresa tried again. ‘But, son, where will you go?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Ma, we’ll get some place.’

  Dermot had been mopping up blood from his nose. ‘Let him go, Ma,’ he said. ‘He’ll soon find out for himself.’

  In no time at all, they were out of the house, out of the close and walking along Broomknowes Road. They walked in silence and with no idea where they were going.

  Eventually Sean said, ‘There’s always Aunty Mary. She might be worth a try.’

  ‘Aunty Mary?’

  ‘She’s Ma’s unmarried sister. She’s just as religious, or even more so than the rest of them, but she’s an awful romantic as well. She thrives on Mills and Boon novels. She might think this is more of a romantic situation than anything else and be more easily persuaded to help us. It’s worth a try anyway.’

  33

  ‘Did you hear about the barney up our stair?’ Alec asked Sammy.

  ‘No, what happened?’

  ‘You know the Stoddarts and the O’Donnels?’

  ‘Who doesn’t?’

  ‘Sean O’Donnel wants to get hitched to Chrissie Stoddart. Both families have disowned them now. Apparently, Big Aggie started battering Chrissie and Sean hauled her off upstairs, then Dermot tried to give Sean a beating. The Stoddarts went upstairs to try and drag Chrissie down again. It was a right punch-up.’

  ‘I hope you didn’t get involved.’

  ‘Listen, mate, I’ve enough to cope with with you. No, I was at work when it happened. Thank God,’ he added with feeling. ‘But Madge got stuck into Big Aggie.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yeah. Apparently, it was because Teresa had come down the stairs – to try and calm things down, I suppose, and Big Aggie set about her. Well, I mean, poor Teresa and her asthma. I couldn’t blame Madge.’

  ‘What a carry on!’

  ‘Yeah, the police carted them all off. Wait for it – Madge as well. I had to go and bail her out of the police station.’

  ‘No!’


  Alec laughed. ‘I’ll never let her live it down. I had the kids in fits about it. We were all falling about.’

  Sammy shook his head. ‘You’re an awful man, Alec.’

  They were sitting in the bus the Quakers had hired to take the hillwalkers out to the country where the walk was scheduled to start. It had become a regular outing for Alec. It was a joy for him to get out of his crowded, noisy house for a few hours of freedom and perfect peace. He loved his family but could only take them in small doses. Being with them at weekends, especially all day on a Sunday, could be totally overwhelming.

  Usually he stood outside the door of the Quaker Meeting House until all the Friends came out. They always gathered inside for a few minutes’ silence before setting off. Friends with a capital F, Sammy called them, to distinguish his Quaker friends from his other friends. Alec always tormented him about this.

  ‘Oh, aye, friends with a capital F are special, are they? Better than friends like me?’

  ‘Och, you know what I mean. It’s just to let you know it’s Quakers I happen to be talking about. It’s just a matter of clarification.’

  ‘Aye, OK, OK.’

  ‘Although they are special in their own way. The salt of the earth, in fact. I can say that because I’m not one of them. I mean, it’s not just boasting.’

  ‘Not one of them?’ Alec gave an incredulous laugh. ‘Of course you’re one of them! You’re the most Quakerly Quaker I know.’

  Sammy laughed. ‘You’re suddenly an expert, are you?’

  ‘Well, I’ve met quite a few now, haven’t I? I’m sitting at the back of a busload of them right now.’

  And a motley-looking bunch they were – both men and women in their woolly hats, shabby anoraks and bulky backpacks. Sometimes Alec wondered what on earth he was doing with such a crowd. It surely wasn’t his scene. Yet, more and more, it had become his scene. But soon he felt the incredible beauty of the place, the surrounding green of the hills and mountains, the shadowy villages, the vast blue of the sky, the welcome solitude in a beautiful world. Yet he did not feel cut off. Instead, he had a sense of being at one with the whole universe. He could never have told Madge or anyone about this. They would have thought he was mad. Maybe he was. Yet there was part of him that felt he belonged, mad as it seemed, as he sat on top of a mountain.

  These were the moments when he felt perfect peace and happiness. At the end of the silence, the circle joined for a minute by holding hands. Afterwards, looking back, he would feel a secret sadness at the knowledge that he could never be truly one of them. He was a typical Jack the Lad, he had flirted with innumerable women and went further with them when he got the chance. He had committed adultery. He had gone with prostitutes. Sammy didn’t know the half of it and he never would. All he could do was to show some respect for Sammy’s place of worship, his Quaker Meeting House, by never desecrating it with his presence.

  Sometimes they sang songs in the bus or when they were trudging through the countryside – cheerful, rousing tunes. But Sammy said they never sang or had music during their meetings for worship in Meeting House. On other occasions they did have music though. Alec had attended several meetings in Sammy’s house. Once there was a group playing guitar music and then they all had tea and home-baked cakes. Another time, a Muslim had been invited to speak about his faith and what it meant to him. Then, on other occasions, a Hindu, a Sikh and a Catholic had come to speak in Sammy’s front room. It had proved really interesting. Alec had joked to Sammy, ‘My God, Sammy, I’m getting converted to a different religion every couple of months now. I don’t know where I am any more!’

  Sammy laughed. ‘I feel a bit like that myself. It’s interesting though, isn’t it? If people could just listen to each other more and have a bit of understanding and respect for other people’s faith … Hopefully there would be fewer wars. Ignorance just seems to breed fear and aggression.’

  ‘Like the Stoddarts and the O’Donnels?’ Alec said. ‘You can’t get much more ignorant than them.’

  ‘Sean and Ailish aren’t like their parents and Chrissie is very different from hers, so maybe there’s hope for the next generation.’

  ‘I wouldn’t bank on it,’ Alec said. ‘There’s been wars and fighting since time began. It seems to me that it’s an incurable weakness in human nature.’

  ‘Och, don’t be so negative, Alec.’

  ‘I know, I know. Friends with a capital F believe there’s good or God in every human being but sometimes it’s hellish difficult to find, Sammy.’

  ‘True. But that doesn’t mean we should give up looking.’

  ‘If only everyone was a Quaker, eh?’ He really meant it.

  ‘You’re making a big mistake there, Alec.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Thinking Friends are perfect. They’re no more perfect that you or me or anyone else.’

  ‘I don’t see any ignorant or aggressive people here,’ Alec said. ‘Most of them are bloody academics.’

  ‘You think academics are perfect? Don’t be daft!’

  Alec shrugged. The bus had arrived at its destination and they had all begun to clamber out. It was a crisp autumn day and Alec gratefully took deep breaths of the clean, cool air. One of the good things about living in Glasgow was its proximity to beautiful country areas.

  They hitched up their backpacks and started the trek to the hills. At one point, Alec found himself beside a girl wearing a checked shirt and khaki parka, with woolly bobbles swinging from her hat. He began kidding her on and chatting her up. He couldn’t help it. Anything for a laugh. He was incorrigible. He never even passed Big Aggie without greeting her with ‘Hi, Gorgeous’. Once he’d even nipped her bum.

  Big Aggie! He didn’t know what to do to cure himself so he just gave up and braced himself for hell.

  The girl was called Sarah. She was a good sport and they enjoyed a laugh together. Once they started climbing, however, it was necessary to save one’s breath and concentrate. Or at least it was for Alec. He had been on a few climbs now but not as many as the others. They were a hardy bunch and he had quite a bit of training to do in order to reach their level of fitness. He had been toying with the idea of joining the local karate club. The Pater boys across the landing were members and he used to see them practising in the back green. Some of the kicks and throws made him wince. He doubted if he could be as physical as that. Or wanted to be.

  Eventually, reaching the top, he stood and gazed admiringly at the grandeur of hills and mountains and distant hollows, some hazed with mist, some sparkling with rays of sunlight. He could see woods – brown, dark, occasionally faintly blue as the light changed.

  How beautiful the world was. He had lived most of his life in the slums of Glasgow and never really appreciated the beauty of the wider world. He had been happy enough, though, especially in the Townhead where he’d been brought up and in the Cowlairs Pend in Springburn where he’d lived after getting married. He’d no complaints about Glasgow. He loved the place. But here was a world that was new to him. Indeed, a whole new world on many levels had been opening up to him these past few years.

  Thanks mostly to Sammy. His friend with a capital F.

  34

  In one way, Catriona could hardly credit it. Yet, in another way, she wasn’t a bit surprised. First of all, Melvin had tried to make her feel guilty about ‘putting her poor mother into an old folks’ home’. She countered that by reminding Melvin that she had not put her mother there, her mother had insisted on going. She also tried to assuage the guilt that she admittedly felt by visiting Hannah as regularly as she could, even though the visit only lasted half an hour at most and her mother put her through purgatory.

  Melvin wanted her to go with him to live in Aberdeen to be near Fergus. It was almost enough to make Fergus move to Timbuktu. But she didn’t believe Melvin really meant what he said about that. He wouldn’t fit in with Fergus and his crowd of hippy friends any more than she would. Nor did she believe he’d go ahead with sellin
g the house. He was too proud of it. He had always needed something to boast about. All that happened was that he kept knocking on Mrs Hunter’s door. Catriona was still staying with Sammy’s mother until a suitable flat became available near her shop.

  Melvin started by trying to bully her to come back to him. Then he tried making a fool of her. ‘You’ll never manage on your own. You think you’re OK now but that’s just because you’ve got a substitute mother, with Mrs Hunter looking after you. You couldn’t run a house, never mind a business.’

  He’d retire from the bakery by now and would get a good price for it, he assured her. They’d never be short of ‘a bob or two’ and he’d always been good to her. ‘You know that. So stop all this nonsense.’

  He wouldn’t listen. That didn’t surprise her. It didn’t matter how often she told him she was perfectly capable of managing on her own, and that she had already proved she could run a successful business. He refused to believe her.

  He wouldn’t leave her alone. Every night after work he was on the Hunter doorstep. If she was out when he knocked, Mrs Hunter would be persuaded to let him in and he’d be sitting waiting on Catriona when she arrived back at the house. It was almost worse than living with him. In desperation, she went to a lawyer and began divorce proceedings.

  Then he tried to play on her sympathies by making her feel guilty. Except she didn’t feel sympathy for him. Nor did she feel guilty about him.

  Mrs Hunter became upset though. ‘Och, he’s a poor soul, Catriona. Yesterday he was so breathless with climbing the stairs, he could hardly say a word to me. He sat there for ages coughing. He’s your man, remember, Catriona, and he needs you.’

  That was rich coming from her, Catriona thought. She felt bitter at Mrs Hunter’s attitude. She wanted to say, ‘What about your man? Last I heard he was coughing his lungs out.’ But of course, she didn’t.

  Melvin then tried speaking to Andrew and not just speaking, apparently, but weeping. Andrew was terribly upset and came to plead with her to ‘have some decency’. He was still living with Melvin in Botanic Crescent and he couldn’t even concentrate on his studies for worrying about his dad.