Linking arms with her swain as if to establish her territorial rights and thus warn off any predatory females they walked off already deep in conversation. Unexpectedly they stopped. The young man pointed back towards the other girls and as if having reached a decision he took a step in their direction as though intending to speak to them. His girlfriend physically held him back shaking her head.
Meg couldn’t be altogether sure but she thought she heard the girl say: “Uch, jist leave them, Donald. If that’s the lie o the land, poor souls, they’ll find oot soon enough.”
Still waiting patiently for Jack, Meg wondered at the strange behaviour of the couples as men arrived, obviously from the football match, to meet their girls. The pleased greeting from the girls wasn’t matched by a similar salutation from the boyfriends. Instead each couple was quickly involved in a conversation which, if facial expressions were anything to go by, was of a serious nature. Meg couldn’t hear any of the words spoken clearly and dismissed the puzzle from her mind to concentrate on her own problem – where on earth was Jack?
A shiver of dismay went through her. Surely she wasn’t about to be the only girl left unattended on this street corner visibly announcing to the world she was the latest recipient of the dreaded ‘Glesga Saturday nicht Dizzy’.
A touch on her arm startled her.
“Listen, hen, don’t think we’re interferin or nothin, but are ye still waiting for yer man?” It was the young man of a couple who had spoken.
Meg, ever sensitive to her status as a fallen woman, thinking she was about to be warned of the dangers to a single woman standing alone on a street corner, bridled.
“What business is it of yours?”
“Therr’s mibbe somethin ye should know.” The young man said. “Wis yer fella goin tae the big match afore meeting ye?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact he was. He was going to Ibrox with his cousin. Why, do you know them?”
The young couple exchanged a meaningful look and the young lad went on: “Naw … the thing is …”
“Oh for God’s sake spit it oot. Tell her.” The girl snapped.
“There’s been an accident, a terrible accident. Ah wis at Ibrox … a bit o the terracing gave way … lots o folk hurt. Doctors, ambulance men, Polis aw ower the place … Ah even saw one poor soul, lying on the ground breathing his last …”
The girl gripped Meg’s arm.
“He disnae mean tae upset ye, hen. After aw it’s took this yin aw this time tae get here whit wey there being crowds of folk aw trying tae get away and ambulances jamming up the place …”
“Right,” the lad said. “Ah’m no for a minute saying yer fella’s amang the injured … or even …”
His girlfriend jabbed her elbow into his ribs.
“If ye’ve waited this long, hen, and he hasnae turned up, mibbe ye’d best jist get alang hame. Chances are he’ll turn up there right as rain.”
With a heavy heart Meg walked unsteadily away.
***
Chapter 12
Meg spent a sleepless night tossing and turning on her tear-damp pillow as she fretted about Jack and worried endlessly over what might have happened to him. What made matters worse was she had no means of getting in touch with him. She didn’t even, after all the time she’d known him, have the slightest idea of where he and his mother lived.
In a limbo of numbing doubt and anxiety she finally fell into a troubled sleep on the thought: Surely tomorrow at church I’ll get some news – be it good or bad.
Sunday dawned bright and sunny. It seemed to Meg, given the city-wide misery of the appalling disaster at Ibrox on Saturday, this brilliant April day was an obscenity and this burst of early spring sunshine did nothing to raise her spirits. Unable to lie in bed any longer she rose much earlier than was usually necessary, dressed quickly, and arrived outside the church well ahead of the time for the service. However, she was not alone in being ridiculously early. Obviously she was not the only person in the City of Glasgow who had spent a sleepless night and was now seeking comfort in the familiar ritual of the eleven o’clock service.
Meg settled herself in her usual pew and nodding, “good morning” to her neighbours, thought: Anyone seeing me behaving normally like this would think I hadn’t the slightest care in the world. If only they knew the turmoil I’m going through.
However, well trained in the niceties of church behaviour Meg knew better than to crane her neck round to see other parishioners as they entered, so she was glad her habitual pew was close to the back row of the church.
At least I’ll be able to see almost everyone as they come in, she thought. But she knew in her heart it wasn’t everyone she was concerned about.
One by one the congregation filed in and there was still no sign of Jack or his mother. Meg could feel her spirits sinking under a rising tide of despair. At last, when she had all but given up hope, she saw Mrs Dunn being ushered in by her ever attentive son.
For once ignoring the protocol of proper church behaviour Jack, on spotting Meg, smiled and as he passed her sitting at the end of her pew slipped a folded piece of paper into the palm of her hand.
A quick glance round at her nearest neighbours reassured Meg that no-one had appeared to notice Jack’s sleight-of-hand, but she was left with the dilemma of how to read the note without attracting attention to herself. After offering up a prayer of thanks for Jack’s obvious safe deliverance from the football match disaster, Meg asked the forgiveness of the Almighty for what she was about to do. The very moment that the first hymn was announced, under cover of the rustle of the pages of many hymn books being turned, Meg unfolded and smoothed out the secret note and placed it unobtrusively on top of the designated hymn.
As Meg’s lips moved only she, and the Almighty, knew it was not the words of the hymn she was mouthing as she avidly read the words on Jack’s note.
***
Chapter 13
At tea-break on the Monday morning Petronella and Meg discussed yet again at length the events of the weekend as they had affected the Glasgow public. So far Meg had managed to keep private her own immediate concerns.
“Didn’t you say your young man had been planning to go to that match at Ibrox before meeting you?” Petronella said. “I’m sure that was what you told me, but with Mother listening I rather got the impression you did not want to upset her unnecessarily with your own involvements in the tragedy.”
“Yes, but thanks be to God, he was one of the lucky ones. He wasn’t hurt or injured in any way. Although it did rather change our plans for the evening.”
“I would think it would. No doubt he was very shaken. I mean to say, witnessing a tragic event like that would not exactly be anyone’s best moment. An evening of high tea and dancing would then be the last thing on his mind.”
“No, you don’t understand. What cancelled our plans was quite different. I didn’t even get to meet Jack on Saturday. He stayed behind at Ibrox to help the injured while they were waiting for attention from doctors and ambulance men.”
“Well, all I can say is this … that Jack of yours must be a very caring and compassionate young man putting aside his own safety, convenience, and social plans like that for the good of others.”
“He’s not exactly my Jack –”
“Listen to me Meg and listen well. Good men are hard to find, so just you see and hang onto him. Don’t let him go pioneering off all footloose and fancy-free to the colonies.”
Meg could feel the colour drain from her face and her hands shook.
Had she imagined the subtle emphasis on the him in that last sentence? Does Petronella know my guilty secret? Has she found out the truth about the wastrel who fathered my wee Becky before beating a retreat to some far flung outpost of the Empire?
“Er … um … Petronella, how do you mean pioneering off to the colonies?”
Petronella gave an impatient toss of her head. “Honestly, Meg. No need to look so worried. I’m not for an instant suggesting that this yo
ung man has already booked his passage on the next available emigrant ship. Really, you are the limit.”
Surely if she knew, Petronella would have me out of her house, and her employ, in short order. I must be imagining the emphasis. It’s all in my guilty mind.
“I’m still not quite sure what you’re on about …”
Petronella gave a somewhat patronising smile. “Meg, really. Don’t you ever read the morning newspapers? Almost every day the papers are full of those enticing advertisements offering anything up to a hundred and sixty acres of land absolutely free to anyone willing and able to sail off from Scotland and start a new life in Canada.”
“Oh, yes. I do know what you mean now. I have seen those adverts and not only for Canada; Australia gets a mention too, I believe.”
“That’s right. And it isn’t only skilled men they want. Anyone willing to work as farmhands, and healthy women are needed to work as domestic servants.”
Meg sighed in relief. Obviously, Petronella was talking in general terms. The emphasis had been in my mind and Petronella knew nothing about Becky and my past. The sooner I’m a decently married woman the better, and I won’t have to go through the agonies of worrying about someone chancing on my secret.
***
Chapter 14
The chaste courtship of Meg and Jack was not without its upsets.
The week after the aborted tea at Miss Cranston’s, Meg had her first invitation to visit Jack’s home and meet his widowed mother. Mrs Dunn turned out to be a spoiled, selfish old woman whose behaviour and attitude towards Meg made it very clear that come hell or high water, she, as matriarch of the family, was determined to hang on to her beloved son. Subsequent visits did not improve the relationship as Mrs Dunn gave the impression that although Meg was well-spoken and well-mannered, a shop-girl was not a suitable match for her bank-clerk son.
Meg pressed her lips together and her knuckles showed white as she recalled in detail the events the spiteful old woman had, in one snide way or another, managed to ruin for them since their first introduction five months before. But yet again Meg had high hopes that tonight would be different …
Both Meg and Jack had been looking forward to the choral concert in the City Hall for which Jack had managed to get two of the very scarce tickets. At the prospect of an entire evening with Jack all to herself and thus well clear of his mother’s apron strings Meg hummed happily. Jack had also suggested it would be pleasant to start off their evening by having high tea in the prestigious Ca’dora restaurant.
Although Jack in his usual quiet, unassuming way had made no other comment about his plans for the evening. Meg could not help feeling that perhaps this would be the night…
Surely a proposal of marriage would at last be forthcoming? Meg frowned as she thought of the other false alarms of the last few months, but tonight was her birthday, surely a good omen.
Meg grinned at herself in the mirror as she gave a final pat to her hair.
Yes, my girl … tonight’s the night.
Jack was already seated at a table and rose as Meg entered the room, waving her across. The first thing Meg noticed was that the table had three place settings, not two.
Oh, well, she thought, Jack probably didn’t have the foresight to ask for a romantic twosome and this was the table he was shown to.
She settled herself comfortably and was just about to put her handbag on the empty chair when she heard Jack say: “Aha! Here she comes. The lady herself.”
Meg turned to look at who was coming and Jack went on: “Are you all right, mother? You seemed rather a long time in the lady’s powder room.”
With a victorious smile at Meg, Mrs Dunn reached forward and, as if he were a naughty schoolboy, ruffled his hair with the words: “Silly boy. Always worrying about your poor old mum. I don’t know what I’ll do with you, Jackie.”
She turned to Meg and twittered on: “He does worry so … all this fuss. Just a little headache, nothing to speak of.”
Meg on the point of blurting out: “Then why bother to mention it, if it’s that unimportant?” was saved the disgrace as Mrs Dunn continued: “No, I told Jackie a little thing like a headache wasn’t going to stop me from joining you both for tea … especially when it’s such a special evening … your birthday tea!”
The last comment was delivered with such a ring of triumph that Meg felt she was about to be physically sick. The idea of sharing the meal with the possessive old harridan was more than she could bear.
Meg slowly rose to her feet and looking down on mother and son more in sorrow than in anger said: “You know what, Mrs Dunn, I do believe there’s an epidemic of sick headaches going the rounds at the moment and it now seems to be my turn.”
She turned to Jack. “Sorry about this, Jack. I’m sure your mother, herself a martyr to headaches, will fully understand my situation. Anyway you only have two tickets for the concert. So please, you and your mother enjoy both the concert and the meal. Goodnight.”
With her head held high and, she hoped, her dignity intact Meg made her way out of the restaurant. Walking along the bustling city-centre street Meg was aware that in delivering both an unspoken ultimatum and a challenge, she had taken the risk of terminating the ongoing courtship and putting an end to the possibility of eventual marriage to her dear Jack.
***
Chapter 15
To Meg’s embarrassment and Petronella Martin’s delight, the very next evening after the disastrous tea at the Ca’dora, Jack arrived on the Martin doorstep with a request to see Meg in private. Petronella ushered him into the parlour and rushed to Meg’s room with the news.
Jack apologised profusely about the fiasco. It had not been his intention to have his mother there for the tea, but she had invited herself and he hadn’t known how to say no. It wouldn’t ever happen again.
To Meg’s utter astonishment. Petronella bustled in with a silver tea-tray set for two and, having placed it before them, with a conspiratorial smile at Meg left them alone.
Meg started to pour tea then almost dropped the pot as Jack sank to his knees.
“Meg, my dear, will you do me the honour of being my wife?”
Meg quickly put down the pot. “Oh, Jack, do get up! Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Petronella, who must have had her ear pressed to the door, erupted in. “Meg! Congratulations. This calls for something a little more than tea, I think. Would you get the good sherry glasses from the dining room, Meg, and I’ll fetch the decanter.”
At her next visit to Nellie, Meg eventually scraped up enough courage to ask the question that had been troubling her.
Nellie listened to Meg’s hesitant and circuitous preamble for a time then said: “Are ye tryin tae tell me yer thinkin o gettin married? That wid certainly be news tae me.”
“No … it’s just that … well … there is a chap who seems to be rather keen on me and … well … yes … he has asked me … but the thing is … if I did get married, would my husband know on the wedding night … I mean …”
Nellie roared with laughter. “Aw right, ye neednae spell it oot for me. Onywey, who’s the lucky man?”
Meg, relieved that Nellie obviously did not require any further intimate details, rushed on: “He sits near me in church – it’s Jack Dunn –”
Nellie’s eyes opened wide in amazement. “Ye mean the son o auld Dragon Dunn? Oh, my God, he must be feeling his oats if he’s darin tae look at ony woman, especially if his auld witch o a mither’s in tow.”
Meg had no answer to this and waited for Nellie to go on.
“Mind you, Meg, come tae think on it, leavin his mither aside, Jack Dunn would suit ye fine … him no bein experienced wi wimen like.”
Meg held out a restraining hand.
Nellie grinned. “Listen, hen, Jack Dunn would be ideal husband material for ye. So jist ye gae ahead. A real do-gooder Ah hear, so come the weddin night if he did think awthin amiss … ye could aye say ye’d done ower much bicyclin.”
N
ellie gave a coarse laugh. “At the end o the day it’s jist ye and me that kens the word for whit ye done – and it’s naethin tae dae wi time spent cyclin.”
***
Chapter 16
February 1903
Now that Meg was married to Jack there wasn’t a day that she didn’t count her blessings. Her days of going to work in the haberdashery were finally behind her. At first she had worried about being able to pay Nellie, but Jack had been used to turning over his pay packet to his mother and handed it to Meg to deal with the household accounts. The weekly amounts to Nellie Meg could afford by being careful with her housekeeping and Jack was none the wiser. Even though she enjoyed being a housewife, Meg had to admit to herself, when the hated chore of ironing awaited her attention she was the first to invent an excuse to skive off and get as far away as possible from the mountain of crumpled clothes.
She hummed quietly to herself as she dusted round the living room, impatiently stowed away a bundle of darning, and plotted her escape for the rest of the day. After toying with, then dismissing, the idea of paying another visit to Nellie and Becky she finally settled on a visit to her church friend Anna Weir.
Yes, the very idea. It’s been a while since I visited Anna. I’ll pop over there this afternoon.
As she set out on her way through the city streets the sky was overcast and the first spots of rain were already gaining strength. By the time she reached Anna’s home in Rutherglen Meg was soaked. Anna took one look at Meg when she answered the bell and burst out laughing.
“Meg, it’s yourself. Well, dear, I would say that you’re a sight for sore eyes – but the truth is you look like nothing other than a drowned rat. Come away in, into the warm.”
Love & Sorrow Page 4