The Breadmakers Saga

by Margaret Thomson-Davis

  Fergus was standing very quietly beside the cot, a golliwog in his hands.

  ‘How did you get in?’ Melvin asked in surprise.

  ‘Granda left the door open again, Daddy!’

  ‘Feggie!’ Andrew sobbed and pointed an accusing finger. ‘Feggie!’

  Teethmarks were fast swelling into fiery lumps on the baby’s thigh and spots of blood spurted.

  Catriona felt sick.

  ‘He had my golliwog,’ Fergus said.

  ‘Did you give him that golliwog, Catriona?’ Melvin shouted.

  ‘Yes, but, Melvin …’

  ‘Aw, shut up! You fool! Why did you have to find him Fergus’s toy? He’s got plenty of his own.’

  ‘I thought Fergus was too big for his golly now. I didn’t know he still wanted it.’

  ‘Never mind, son.’ Melvin patted Fergus’s head. ‘Tea’s ready. Away and wash your hands.’

  ‘Melvin, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Fergus,’ she said, when the child had gone. ‘I’m so worried. He does terrible things and I don’t know how to handle him. The other day he was tormenting the baby and I just lost my temper and smacked and smacked him.’

  ‘You what?’

  Melvin pushed his face close to hers, moustache spiking out, eyes bulging.

  The baby had stopped crying and was sleepily hiccoughing against her shoulder. She wondered if she should lay him down in his cot again and hasten from the room in case Melvin’s anger frightened him.

  Or would it be better and safer to keep him rocking in her arms?

  ‘I don’t know what to do about Fergus.’

  ‘You want my advice, eh? Well, here’s my advice. Don’t you dare lift a finger to my son again or you’re out on your ear.’ He pushed his face closer. ‘Is that understood? Has it penetrated that thick skull of yours? I’ll throw you out of this house with only the clothes you have on your back. That’s all you had when you came here and that’s all you’ll have when you leave.’

  He would take Andrew?

  Catriona’s eyes twitched about.

  She stood perfectly still.

  ‘Well?’ Melvin roared. ‘Understood?’

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ she managed politely.

  Chapter 13

  ‘Sammy, you didn’t!’ Ruth’s eyes guarded against panic.

  ‘Why not? I do object!’

  ‘You can’t!’

  His brows went down and his jaw set. ‘Oh, can’t I?’

  ‘What will people think?’

  ‘I don’t care what people think.’

  ‘You do. You know you do. We both care. And all your brothers have joined up.’

  ‘They were always good soldiers,’ he said bitterly. ‘Theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die!’

  ‘Sammy, your father!’

  ‘What about my father?’

  ‘Oh, now, please, love.’

  ‘Forget about my father.’

  ‘I can’t forget about your father and neither can you.’

  ‘Why not? What’s so special about him?’

  ‘He was a regimental sergeant-major!’

  ‘Oh, yes?’

  ‘Sammy!’

  ‘Ruth. I’ve registered as a conscientious objector and I’m going up before a tribunal. That’s all there is to it.’

  ‘People will think you’re a coward.’

  ‘Let them!’

  Anger widened Ruth’s eyes. ‘No, I will not let them. You’re not a coward.’

  He shrugged. ‘What does it matter?’

  ‘It matters a lot. I won’t let them.’ Her voice weakened and became petulant like a child’s. ‘It’s not that I want you to go, Sammy. I hate the war. I don’t even know what it’s about. All I want is to have you with me in our nice wee house. We weren’t doing anybody any harm. Just living our own nice quiet lives.’

  A burst of humourless laughter escaped from Sammy.

  ‘A nice quiet life! We’ve had that from now on.’

  ‘But if you change your mind.’

  ‘It won’t change the war.’

  ‘But, Sammy …’

  ‘You can’t have a nice quiet life during a war.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know?’ she flashed back at him. ‘You seem to be making a jolly good try for one.’

  ‘I was prepared for that from other people. But not from you.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it.’ Ruth stamped her foot. ‘I didn’t mean it. I hate you for making me say that.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘You can’t be a conscientious objector.’

  ‘I must.’

  ‘Everybody will hate you.’ She stamped again, her face twisting in tears. ‘I can’t bear it!’

  He took her in his arms. ‘As long as you don’t hate me …’

  ‘You always said you’d do anything for me.’ Her body squeezed provocatively against his. ‘Anything.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Well, don’t be a conscientious objector. Please, Sammy. Please?’

  ‘Ruth …’

  ‘You could join a corps where you would just be doing office work the same as you’re doing now.’

  ‘Ruth, you don’t understand.’

  ‘Or the military police, like your father. Wouldn’t he be pleased?’

  He pushed her away.

  ‘Oh, shut up!’

  ‘Sammy!’

  ‘The only connection I’ll have with the military police is when they come to arrest me!’

  ‘Don’t talk like that.’

  ‘After the tribunal they’ll come for me.’

  ‘And take you to the army?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She pressed wheedlingly close again.

  ‘Well, if you’re going to be made to go in the end, love, why cause all this fuss? Why bother with being a CO?’

  A flush crept up from his neck and his voice began to tremble.

  ‘I’ll do nothing they say. I’ll disobey every order. I’ll refuse to put on the uniform. I’ll have nothing to do with anything military. I hate them.’

  She stared in bewildered silence for a minute.

  ‘You feel as strongly as this?’

  ‘I hate them.’

  ‘Well,’ she decided, ‘if that’s how you feel, that’s how I feel. But your father will be furious!’

  He nodded.

  ‘Ruth, you’d better go out. Go to the pictures or something.’

  ‘Go out? Now? Without you? Why? What do you mean?’

  ‘He’s coming.’

  ‘Your father?’

  ‘I went up today, to get it over with - to tell him, but he wasn’t in. I waited for a while but I knew you’d be getting worried so I left a note. He’s bound to have read it by now. He’ll come.’

  Ruth shrugged.

  ‘Your conscience is your business. He has no right to interfere.’

  ‘I don’t want you getting upset. You don’t know what he’s like.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere without you.’ Her full lips pouted. ‘Imagine, me without you!’

  She kissed him and he held her tightly and thought if nothing good ever happened to him again he would still consider himself a lucky man because of her.

  ‘I think I’ll go back,’ he said suddenly. ‘I don’t want unpleasantness here.’ With his arm still encircling her shoulders, he surveyed the immaculate kitchen. ‘We’ve made a good job of this, haven’t we?’

  ‘It’s just right.’

  ‘In good taste yet homely and comfortable.’

  ‘Everybody admires it.’

  ‘Happy, too. There’s a feeling of happiness about it. That’s your doing, Ruth.’

  ‘You’re the one who’s made me happy, love. Mum and Dad’s place was never like this.’ She groaned. ‘All that crowd! Never any peace, any privacy, any security. I don’t know how my mother stuck it.’

  ‘She was a fine-looking woman.’

  ‘I wished she’d lived just a little longer. Just to see me married and happy.�
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  Sammy shook his head.

  ‘Sixteen children and your mother and father in that room and kitchen. My God!’

  ‘She liked nice things, you know.’ Ruth’s eyes looked back and glimmered with amusement. ‘She used to keep a half set of china and a sugar bowl and a milk jug locked away in the room cupboard and only brought them out at New Year or at other very special times when we had visitors. I used to think that china was marvellous. We just used tinnys, you know, tin mugs and the milk out of the bottles and the sugar out of the bag.’ She leaned her head down on his shoulder. ‘Now I use china all the time and I’ve a crystal sugar and cream.’

  ‘If I had the money you would have better than this.’

  ‘Nothing could be better than this. I’ve everything I want here.’

  He kissed her on the brow and her gaze fluttered coyly up at him.

  ‘Well, nearly everything.’

  He sighed.

  ‘A child, you mean? We’re barely out of our teens. We’ve plenty of time.’

  ‘We keep putting it off. Saving up for other things.’

  ‘The other things you wanted,’ he reminded her.

  ‘I know, love, but I was thinking …’

  ‘Don’t worry, one day we’ll get a wee house in Bishopbriggs with a patch of garden back and front.’

  ‘For the baby’s pram?’

  Already the scene was melting in her eyes.

  He nodded.

  ‘I could save up the deposit in two or three years.’

  ‘It would be a bit difficult here with a pram right enough. I’d never manage it up and down all these stairs.’

  ‘I wouldn’t let you.’

  For a few minutes, surfing along on the tide of her enthusiasm, he had forgotten about the war and his father and been happy. Now, suddenly, there was a loud rapping at the door, and happiness scattered.

  ‘Now, don’t be upset, Ruth. Just keep calm. Blast! Blast! I ought to have gone back. I should never have given him the chance to come here.’

  ‘Sammy, love …’

  ‘It’s all right. It’s all right. Don’t get upset. Don’t worry!’

  ‘One of us had better open the door before he breaks it in.’

  ‘Now, don’t you worry!’

  ‘Sit down,’ she said. ‘I’ll go.’

  He was grateful to her for giving him the chance of a minute or two on his own to arrange himself in a casual, relaxed pose on the chair facing the kitchen door. He took a slow, deep breath.

  He meant to say nonchalantly, ‘Oh, it’s you, Father! Did you get my note?’

  But his father’s eyes shrivelled him back to his childhood.

  ‘You’re a bloody coward!’

  The silver-topped stick bayoneted out, cracked against Sammy’s chest and doubled him up, rasping and red-eyed, clawing for breath.

  ‘Leave him alone!’

  Ruth rushed to his aid but was knocked aside.

  Sammy rose from the chair still choking, but another blow reeled him back.

  ‘You’re a bloody coward!’

  Hatred came pulsing to Sammy’s rescue.

  ‘Get out of my house.’

  ‘Och, the big brave man, is he? But not big enough or brave enough to fight for his King and country.’

  ‘Get out.’

  ‘I could make mincemeat of you, son. I didn’t spend half a lifetime in the army without learning how to make mincemeat out of the likes of you.’

  Ruth clung to Sammy’s arm, and he could feel her trembling.

  ‘You heard what Sammy said.’

  ‘He hasn’t said what I came to hear and I’m not leaving until he says it.’

  ‘If you’re waiting to hear me tell you I’m going to join the army, you’re wasting your time.’

  ‘Och, I’ve plenty of time, son.’

  ‘Mr Hunter,’ Ruth tried again. ‘If you don’t leave us alone I’ll go for the police.’

  ‘You just keep your stupid mouth shut, woman. We’ve always settled our own affairs inside the family. We’ve never needed anybody else.’

  ‘Oh, haven’t we?’ Bitterness weltered Sammy like a fire-hose shooting acid. ‘That’s where you’re wrong. Somebody should have locked you up in an asylum years ago.’

  Unexpectedly, the heavy-handled stick shot out again.

  ‘Sammy!’ Ruth’s cry was panic-stricken.

  From somewhere down a dark tunnel he managed to grab the stick and hang on, muscles straining as he heaved it towards the door, every now and again wrenching and twisting but still forcing his weight against his father with all the pent-up fury of years.

  The door banged shut and he lay against it for a moment, his lungs hiccoughing for air. Blood was rapidly spreading over his best white shirt and he stripped it off as he returned to the kitchen.

  Ruth’s face was all ink-black eyes and a white blotting paper skin.

  ‘Oh, Sammy!’

  ‘Bastards!’ he said. ‘Bastards. All of them!’

  Chapter 14

  Alec read the notice again.

  ‘“Parents should see that on the day of evacuation their children are equipped with the following: A gas mask. A change of underclothing. Night clothes. House shoes or rubber shoes. Spare stockings or socks. A toothbrush. A towel. A comb. Handkerchief. A warm coat or macintosh. A tin cup or mug.” Well, hen,’ he asked Madge, ‘have you got six of everything?’

  Madge tucked her hair behind her ears and grinned at him. She was ready at the front door with the babies crushed together in the pram and Hector, Agnes and Sadie and Maisie hanging on to her coat-tails.

  ‘Combs and toothbrushes would be no use to them.’ She indicated the babies, now christened William and Fiona. ‘Poor wee buggers! Toothless and hairless!’

  ‘Well, come on, gorgeous, don’t dilly-dally.’

  The grin still stuck on her freckled face but her eyes became worried.

  ‘You’re not just wanting to get rid of us, Alec?’

  ‘Dope! If I wanted rid of you lot the best way would be to keep you here. The Jerries would soon blow you to kingdom come.’

  ‘But what about you?’ Her smile disappeared. ‘You’ll be here.’

  ‘Not as much as you and the weans would, hen. I’m collecting, on the move all day, and often at night, remember, and now I’ve to do this fire duty. I’ve enough on my plate without worrying about you, so come on! I’ll see you to the school.’

  From early morning evacuees had been assembling at the schools in the evacuation areas where teachers and other harassed adults were endeavouring to make order out of chaos. Labels pinned to their lapels, gas masks slung over their shoulders and tin mugs tied to the gas masks; clutching coats, teddy bears and toys the children see-sawed between hysterical delight at the novelty of it all and the fearful dread of the unknown. They milled and crushed and pulled and pushed and giggled and waved good-bye and wept broken-heartedly.

  Glasgow sprouted children as if an invisible Pied Piper was conjuring them up endlessly out of nowhere. They hustled down streets, packed buses and trams, and swelled stations and trains to bursting point.

  Alec’s mind boggled at the thought of so many unsuspecting country houses about to be forcibly invaded.

  Billeting officers were empowered to serve house-holders with notice requiring them to provide accommodation for a certain number of evacuees and where actual rooms were commandeered, an offence was committed if they were not immediately vacated.

  Failure to comply with the regulations could bring a fine of £50 or a three-months’ prison sentence.

  ‘My God, hen,’ Alec laughed. ‘And I thought I was the only one swelling the population.’

  Although Madge laughed, she looked disconcerted. William and Fiona whimpered and Maisie sucked her thumb and looked tired.

  ‘Where are they all coming from, Alec?’

  ‘God knows! But just you keep with the teachers or whoever’s in charge. Do what they tell you. They’re organising everything.’
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br />   ‘Poor buggers! Better them than me.’

  ‘Well, it’s time I was back at work, hen. I won’t pay the rent standing here.’

  They had reached the gates of the school and small children and tall children, all lumpy with burdens and jaggy-cornered with gas mask containers, converged from every direction. Alec began to feel restless, hemmed in.

  ‘I’ll away then.’

  Madge automatically wiggled the handle of the pram about in an effort to rock and quieten William and Fiona.

  ‘Remember and send me some money, Alec.’

  ‘The first weekend after you send me your address, hen, I’ll be down to see you and bring you some.’

  Alec leaned closer to her and pinched her bottom. ‘I’ll be saving up more than money for you, I’m warning you - so be prepared!’

  She flung up a big toothy laugh and then gave each of the children leaning against her a jab towards him.

  ‘Say cheerio to Daddy.’

  ‘I don’t want to go away,’ Sadie wailed, and Agnes, Maisie and Hector took up the words like a fugue ending in unison with,

  ‘Dad … dae!’

  Madge laughed again.

  ‘Och, well, at least I don’t need to worry about them making a noise. No one’s going to hear them in the middle of everybody else’s racket.’

  Noise was attacking them from all sides and Alec’s brains began to crash together like cymbals. He couldn’t hear himself think.

  Hastily he swung Sadie, Agnes, Hector and Maisie up into the air and kissed them. He dropped a kiss on William’s and Fiona’s cheeks, now hot and wet with the exertions of screaming. A quick kiss for Madge and he was backing away when, in an unexpected flurry of movement she let go of the pram, rushed forward and grabbed hold of his jacket.

  ‘Now, Madge,’ he laughed, inwardly groaning. ‘It’s not like you to make a fool of yourself, hen.’

  She released him, tucked her hair behind her ears and began bouncing the pram again, laughing with embarrassment.

  ‘You never said you’d miss us.’

  ‘Gorgeous!’ He blew her a kiss. ‘I’ll be miserable just living and waiting for that weekend.’

  Never before in his life had he been so glad to escape.

  He was up to the top of his head in sound and knee deep in children, wading, struggling through them. He thought he would never get clear, never reach the cool dark quiet of his favourite pub with its newly-opened, wet-floor, disinfectant smell more pungent than the beer.