In Loving Memory

by Telfer Chaplin, Jenny

  “Uch, Sheena, dinnae start. Can ye no jist keep ra heid? Aye, right enough, Ah did promise Big Tam, but for sure there will be plenty of other days aff frae the mine when we can go fishin thegither. But on the ither hand ...”

  Sheena threw down on the table the dishcloth she’d been twisting and retwisting in her hands ever since he had first announced his change of plans. “Here we go, on the ither hand, this is where ye tell me that it’s not every day yer speechifying brother will be a guest speaker at some damned Radical Rally or other. And that, Rab Bell is the top and bottom o this whole stramash. And don’t ye dare try to tell me I’m wrong.”

  Rab let out a long heartfelt sigh. Sheena took a step towards where he sat in the master’s chair by the fireside. “Aye, Rab Bell, ye can sech and sigh all ye want, till ye’re blue in the face for all I care, disnae matter. But Ah’ll tell ye what does matter ...” She paused for breath.

  Rab muttered as he half-rose from his chair, “Listen hen, Ah’ve heard all Ah want; mair than enough for one day, so ye can jist talk away tae yersel, ’cause see me ... Ah’m gettin oota here.”

  Sheena glared at him, then gave him a none-too-gentle push which put him firmly back in his seat. “Yes, ma fine sir, ye are going nowhere till Ah’ve had ma say. Therr’s things atween us that’s needin for tae be said. For one ...”

  Rab again sighed and raised his eyes to heaven, but this time made no attempt to get up from his seat.

  Sheena took a deep breath, then arms akimbo said, “For one thing, ye’re gettin helluva palsy-walsy with yer sainted brother these days. For two ... have ye mibbe forget alreadies the cruel way he dumped me for yon Maggie whats-her-name? For three ...”

  By now counting off the items on her fingers she was stopped when Rab leant forward, grabbed hold of her arm and in a voice choked with emotion said, “if ye insist on a roll-count, here goes ... for three, if Fergus hadnae ... as you put it ... dumped ye, then you and me, we’d never have got thegither as man and wife. Ye’d never have looked twice at me. So that way of things never occurred tae you, now did it? And if Ah’m, as ye so poetically put it, these days all palsy-walsy with Fergus, strange as it might seem at a time like this when ye’re shoutin the odds at me, but eejhit that Ah must be ... but Ah’ve aye thought that he done me a real good turn in taking his affections elsewhere. Fine weel ye ken that Ah’d aye fancied ye, but while Fergus was on your scene, and mibbe even before that, Ah never stood a chance.”

  Sheena’s lips curled in disdain, but ignoring this sign of her annoyance he went on, “Apart frae all that romancin carry-oan, nooadays Ah respect my brother, he aye had a guid way wi words and noo that he’s fast becomin a leadin figure in the Radical Movement. The ither week he was even speaking at a big rally in Glasgow Green where even upstandin politicians can be heard spoutin forth. Aye guid on him, Fergie’s been speakin here, there and yonder; at Paisley, Greenock, the Calton, you name it. There he is beltin oot the Radical message. And see me, like many another hard-pressed worker gettin their faces trampled, Ah look up tae Fergus. And aye, Ah will say it, Ah’m proud tae claim him as my brother.”

  Sheena jerked away her arm which he had still been holding “Weel, if that’s ye done wi yer ain bit of speechifying, mibbe Ah can get a word in sideways. Ah’ll take it frae that hymn of praise tae yer damned brother; he dumped me so he did, the scunner. So noo ye’re determined for tae dump Big Tam just as cruelly and then go off free as air tae the accursed Radical Rally. Is that the message ye’re givin me?”

  Her husband nodded, got to his feet and punching the air with a clenched fist he said as though himself addressing a mob of eager listeners to the Cause, “Got it in one, Sheena, got it in one, hen.”

  Saturday September 11, 1819

  When the day of the proposed rally came around and Sheen was no nearer accepting her husband’s resolve to attend, despite herself she just could not let the matter rest.

  Rab scraped up the rest of his porridge and as he raised his head, their gazes locked.

  “So Rab, just what did Big Tam say when ye telt him that the fishin expedition was oota the windae? He widnae be best pleased, Ah’m sure.”

  Rab wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then grinned. “Wrang again, Sheena, and puir fella be damned. He said, ‘bugger the fishin’ and there and then he decided he’s comin with us. In fact he thinks same as me that it’s rerr that Fegus is a rising star in the Movement and fighting for the rights of the common man, the common working man.”

  Sheena tutted, “If ye ask me one’s dafter than the other. Men, humph, ye’re all like stupit wee boys. Wi your yer flags and yer banners and wi yer Peterloo mournin bands. Uch tae hell with the lot of ye. Jist watch this Paisley Rally doesnae become the Scottish Peterloo, Ah’m no wantin ye brought back tae me in a coffin.”

  He rose from where he’d been sitting at the table. “Sheena hen, dinnae upset yersel, Ah’ll be right as nine pence, just ye wait and see if Ah’m not.”

  The unconvinced look on her face caused Rab to take a step nearer her and desperate to appease her at least in some small way he said, “By the way, Sheena, talkin of Peterloo mourning bands, thanks, hen, for sewing the mournin diamonds ontae ma jaiket and for sewing on the ones for Fergus as weel. He thought that was real kind of ye … seeing that his ain wife downright refused tae dae the job for him. Seems she telt him it wasnae women’s work, some kind of nonsense ... at least no that particular woman’s work. So what dae ye think tae that Sheena?”

  She raised her eyes to heaven “Ah’ll tell ye whit Ah think, nae doubt aboot that. See that Maggie craitur, she can aye can get her ain way ... whether it’s stealin another lassie’s man, refusing tae dae a wee bit sewing job or even standin firm by her ain rights, her ain beliefs as she sees them. Useless apology for a wife if ye ask me.”

  Rab grinned at this harangue. “Sounds tae me as if there’s no love lost tween the pair of ye two women.”

  Sheena rounded on him. “Ye can think what ye like, Rab, but from what ye tell me aboot Maggie’s attitude one thing’s clear tae me ...”

  “Oh what might that be, hen, darlin?”

  Sheena frowned. “Don’t ye go hen darlin me, you’re in my black books this day and don’t you forget it. But what Ah’m saying aboot Maggie, it sounds tae me as if, jist the same as me, she has little or nae time for all this damned Radical stramash. But that’s that where we part company. See me? Ah’m the eejit that sat for ages sewin on the mournin bands, even though last thing Ah’m wantin tae see ... ye go off marching tae yer Rally , mournin diamonds and all.”

  Rab put a hand on her arm, laughed and said, “Aye, therr’s a difference between the pair of ye right enough. Maggie’s no anything like ye … ye’re a biddable Scottish wife that kens her place in the scheme of things. Hoity-toity Maggie still thinks she’s a lady’s maid and certainly no in the business of kowtowing tae any man, be he weaver, speechifyer or high heid yin of the Movement. Ah’m the lucky one with such a biddable wee wifie. Ye certainly ken yer place.”

  With that he made good his escape; with a shouted comment over his shoulder, “Expect me when ye see me, Sheena, and Ah’ll no be in any coffin, Ah’ll be right as nine pence, just ye see if Ah’m no.”

  As the door closed behind him, his words seemed to hang in the air long after he had gone ... “Expect me when ye see me.”

  For the rest of that day as Sheena tended the children, and washed, cleaned and dusted every corner of their miner’s tied cottage, she felt an inner glow of happiness each time she recalled the compliments.

  So Rab’s happy he’s got me ... how did he cry me? Oh aye, a biddable wee Scottish wifie. And Fergus was pleased that I so willingly did that wee sewing-job for him ... not much of a chore that for any woman worthy of the name of housewife.

  From time to time, having cleaned everything that didn’t move to within an inch of its life, when she was idle for even a few seconds, she found her thoughts straying to her inner imaginings as to how the Rally w
as progressing. But the more vivid became each mental picture of unbridled carnage … another Peterloo with men, women and children shot down where they stood ... with a supreme effort of will she refused to go any further down such negative back alleys of doubt, fear and possible disaster. She reminded herself of Rab’s confident and cheery comment, “Ah’ll be nice as nine pence, hen, so dinnae fash yersel. And ye can expect me when ye see me.”

  Darkness had fallen and the bairns were already sound asleep in bed when an almost furtive tap-tap-tapping on the door alerted Sheena from where she’d been dozing by the fireside. On opening the door even from the light coming from the fire, she could just about make out a bandaged-head Big Tam. Although so clearly wounded himself, he was heroically supporting Rab, her husband who like a floppy rag-doll, had all the appearance of a drunk man.

  As Sheena took in this scene at a glance, she stole another look at her husband and with not a bandage in sight on his person she gave a sigh of relief.

  Weel. Ah suppose aff his heaid wi drink, even that’s a helluva lot better than the state his pal is in, his face smeared with blood below that big bandage.

  Aloud she said, addressing herself to Tam, “Come in, come in ben the hoose and sit yersel doon afore ye fall doon. So, ma big brave-hearted Rab, he’s been at the bottle, has he? But, listen Ah can see ye’ve got yer ain problems, so Ah maun thank ye, Tam, for bringing him hame safe and sound. Mind ye, he’ll have a head like Peterheid in the morning, but that’s nothing compared tae ye.”

  While Sheena had been speaking, Tam was dragging his pal into the cottage. Then having deposited Rab on the nearest chair, Tam turned as if to make good his escape before any further questions were asked of him, but he had reckoned without Sheena’s persistence.

  “So whit exactly has happened tae you, Tam ? Banged into a wall when the pair of ye left the Ferry Boat Inn?”

  Tam shook his head, fully aware of a now-moaning Rab who seemed on the point of sliding off the chair. Turning again to her, Tam said, “Listen, hen, it’s no the booze that’s got him puggled like this. Truth is, that Rally, turned oot tae be one skirmish short of a bloody battle and that’s no swearing, Missus. It was just that, a bloody battle wi mounted cavalry, sojers and all. Ah got clobbered on the held wi a cudgel. Yer guid man Rab here, he wasnae sae lucky … he got poked in the eyes wi a rusty metal spike.”

  Sheena screamed, “Oh my God, Rab, Rab, my lovely man are ye all right, ma darlin? Ah don’t see nae bandage or nuthin, but ...”

  Rab sighed. “Uch, dinnae get in a state, Sheena, it’s just that Ah cannae see, it was gey sore at the time, Ah don’t mind tellin ye. It’s no hurtin or nuthin noo, but for the moment, the damn thing is Ah just cannae see. But och, Ah’m sure it’ll be all right in a wee while. Tam’s in a worser state than me, he was tellin me that for a while back there, he could feel blood pourin doon his face, so his wife’s gonnae get a helluva shock when she sees him.”

  Sheena turned towards the bandaged one and the thought went through her mind. Disnae look quite the same big fearless Radical noo.

  Aloud she said, “Tam, Ah can only thank ye kindly for having seen Rab safe hame, but ye’d better be getting on hame tae yer wife. She’ll be worried sick aboot ye by this time o night.”

  On his way out of the cottage, Tam turned and waved a still trembling hand to his pal, but there was no answering wave from Rab ... unable to see, he was imprisoned in a world of his own.

  Chapter 7

  Late September 1819

  ‘A wee while’ came and went, and then another ‘wee while’ and still Rab was no nearer to regaining his sight.

  “What about your sainted brother, big fearless Radical, my Auntie Fanny. Oh aye he can spout brave words for all he likes, but let’s face it, it wasnae him that brung ye hame wounded after that accursed Rally in Paisley, noo was it? While we’re at it, we havnae seen hide nor hair of Fergus since. He’s no the one that’s blinded, I’ll be bound and he wasnae the poor soul wi blood pourin doon his face that in agony or no, and him hauf-deid hissel, that dragged ye here and whit aboot ...”

  Sheena became aware that while Rab had apparently closed his ears to her latest verbal onslaught, her son Rory was hanging on her every word. She wheeled round to face him. “Rory, is it no aboot time ye were away to yer wee job, it’s no much Ah grant ye, but see the few bawbees that ye earn from helpin oot at Buchan’s boatyard ... .that’s all there is noo between this family and starvation. Who’s gonnae employ a blind miner?”

  Rory, now the chief wage-earner with his father as a broken shell of a man, got to his feet. “Listen Ma, for why should Ah no listen tae whit ye’re sayin. Efter all, Ah agree with every word. It’s ma Uncle Fergus tae blame for this tragedy. If it hadnae been for him, ma Da would have enjoyed a bit of fishin yon day and noo instead of sittin there blind, he’d still have been working doon the mine. Aye, Ah blame Radical Fergus Bell. Jist le let him try tae stick his nose in oor door again.”

  Sheena knew she should reprimand her son rather than allow him to fan the flames of hate of which he was so aware within the family. She looked in silence at her son thinking, He’s growing into a fine young man. In looks he resembles both Rab and Fergus … bloody good job they’re twins, even if they’re no exactly the same ... it’s a wise man that kens his ain faither ... and an even wiser mother that kens which man fathered him. Och, what a helluva life.

  Aloud she said:

  “Rory, Ah’ll no tell ye again, if ye’re late for yer guid work, next thing that’ll be ye oot o a job as weel ... then where’s oor next crust coming frae?”

  As he turned to go out the door, she called after him, “Uch ye’re a guid laddie, Rory, ye’re doing jist grand so ye are. But one thing, jist you keep weel away frae yer Uncle Fergus and his rabble of Radical eejits.”

  Several times Fergus appeared at their door, doubtless intent on trying to make his peace with Rab, but on each occasion, despite his protesting that he’d been unable to come any sooner since he’d been in hiding from the authorities, he’d been kept on the doorstep by either Sheena or Rory.

  Then on the day, when to Sheena’s amazement, Maggie came to try to plead her husband’s case, she got the added refinement of the contents of a well-filled chamber-pot chucked over her. Sheena was still gloating over this particular victory and for about the fifteenth time in as many minutes she said with a chuckle, “It’ll be many a long day before Queen Maggie pays another call, that’s for sure.”

  Just then Rab raised his head and speaking towards the sound of her voice said, “Sheena it’s a good job ye’re feeling pleased with yerself and your efforts this day, for Ah’ve got a bit of news for you ...” He paused as though weighing up his words. “News that’s gonnae take more than a chucked, well aimed chamber-pot tae sort oot. Ye’ve just said it’ll be many a long day afore Maggie’s at yer door again. Has it no yet occurred tae you that it’ll be an even langer day afore anybody ever comes tae oor door again ... the bitter truth is that …”

  His voice broke with emotion.

  “Ye ken, weel as Ah dae, this is a tied cottage we’re livin in. It’s meant only for miners and their families and as ye’ve reminded me often enough since my accident ‘Who’s gonnae employ a blind miner’ and ...”

  His words again trailed off and with a catch in her voice Sheena finished his sentence for him. “Tied cottages are for fully employed miners, so as of now, after these two weeks of grace, as of now, ye’re no longer an employed miner, so we’re oot o here, time for us tae pack up oor wee sticks of furniture and get the hell out of this tied cottage.”

  Chapter 8

  That night when Rory came in from his work, it was to find his mother in floods of tears, his father hunched up in misery, no meal on the table, the children fretting and quarrelsome and wee Catrinona vainly trying to secure some of the family’s goods and chattel up in a ragged assortment of bundles.

  One horrified at look at this utter chaos was enough for him to say, “Ma, wha
t’s goin on? What’s happened here since Ah left this mornin?”

  Sheena mopped at her copious tears. “Oh Rory son, it’s awful, terrible news, we’ve tae leave the cottage ...”

  His father raised his head and speaking towards the sound of Rory’s voice, said, “Aye, son, it’s true, it’s the Poorhoose for us, nothin else for it .... even yer Maw’s Auntie she’s too auld and too cramped for space in her ain wee cottage tae take us all in. And Ah couldnae let us be a burden tae Fergus and Maggie ...”

  Rory banged his fist on the table causing wee Catriona to drop the baking griddle which crashed to the floor – at which everyone jumped – and the younger children started crying.

  Rory took a step nearer to his father and said, “Listen faither, ye can forget Fergus. He widnae gie us a reek of his dung, far less move a muscle tae help us yins. And forbye ...”

  Sheena had half a mind to reprimand her son for the choice of gutter language, but then seeing him frowning and obviously deep in thought, she decided to let it go this once, after all he was as upset as she and Rab were, so why shouldn’t he be allowed to let off a bit of steam with guttersnipe phrases.

  Rory raised his head, caught her eyes on him, nodded and said, “Like Ah say, forget Fergus and while ye’re at it, ye can forget the Poorhoos and all ... Ah’ve got an idea ... it might jist work.” He paused then biting his lower lip he asked, “How soon dae hae we to quit here?”

  Sheena said, “We’ve got till tomorrow morn, then after that, we’re homeless.”

  Scarcely were the words out in the open than again she started to weep noisily, all the while mopping at her face with the edge of her pinny.

  The piteous sight seemed to activate Rory. “Ma, get me a dish of tea and a wee bit of bread and drippin, Ah’m fair starvin of hunger, Ah’ll get that doon me and then Ah’m oota here tae see what arrangements Ah can make, but ye can take it frae me, even if Ah’ve tae move heaven and earth, there will be nae Poorhoose, nae Workhoose for us.”