Sammy marvelled at her self-confidence. He remembered how the set-up of the meeting-house benches and the heavy silence had discomfited him the first time he had attended.
After ten or so minutes of silence, the Registry Officer rose and said, ‘I am John Richards, Registry Officer for the West of Scotland monthly meeting of the Society of Friends. My sole purpose is to ensure that legal requirements are completed. I do not marry the couple – for they do that themselves.
‘The basis of our simple Quaker wedding remains the same as it was in the earliest days of the Society of Friends. For the rite of joining in marriage is the work of God only, not the priests or the magistrates. We marry none – it is God’s ordinance and we are but witnesses.
‘We will settle into a quiet meeting for worship during which Sammy and Julie will commit themselves to each other in the presence of God.
‘In their own time, Sammy and Julie will stand up and make their declarations to each other.
‘Then, during the worship that follows, in which everyone here is equal in the presence of God, we hope that anyone so moved will give a spoken message or a prayer for the couple. Later I will ask the couple to sign the Quaker marriage certificate which I am then required to read out.
‘The meeting will last approximately an hour, when two elders will close the meeting by shaking hands.
‘Then everyone will sign the marriage certificate, which is in the form of a scroll, for you are all witnesses of this joyful occasion and this certificate will also remind Sammy and Julie of our ongoing support in the years to come.’
John Richards sat down and, in the silence that followed, Sammy could have wept with happiness and gratitude. Gratitude for finding Julie. Gratitude for her love and gratitude for finding the Society of Friends. They were his saving grace, his rock. They had come as a light in his dark world and the light had never gone out.
Oh, how lucky he was. Sitting wrapped in the peaceful Quaker silence, he felt he was the luckiest man on earth. After losing Ruth, he had believed he would never love again. Ruth would always have her own special place in his mind and heart and soul. He would never forget her. But life had to go on and he believed that Ruth would not want him to be alone and lonely. She would want him to love and be loved. Julie would have felt the same about Reggie, he felt sure.
It was then that Sammy felt the time was right and he stood up. Julie also stood up.
‘Friends,’ Sammy said, taking Julie’s hand. ‘I take this woman, my friend Julie Vincent, to be my wife, promising, with God’s help, to be unto her a loving and faithful husband, so long as we both on earth shall live.’
Then Julie said, ‘Friends, I take this man, my friend Sammy Hunter, to be my husband, promising, with God’s help, to be unto him a loving and faithful wife, so long as we both on earth shall live.’
Then they both sat down and were once more absorbed into the silence. After a time, a woman rose to her feet to speak or ‘give ministry’ as it was referred to in Quaker terms. And what she said ‘spoke to his condition’, to use another Quaker phrase.
‘It says in Corinthians:
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.’
A long period of quietness followed. Then a man rose and said, ‘Friends, we hold this couple in the light. May God’s love enfold them this day and for the rest of their lives. We have known Sammy for some years and have great respect for his struggles as a conscientious objector. We welcome you, Julie, and know you bring each other great happiness. We pray that, whatever life may bring, your union will be enriched by the Spirit. This Glasgow Meeting will always uphold you.’
Julie felt for Sammy’s hand and squeezed it. They kept their fingers entwined in the silence that followed.
Then, unexpectedly, Sammy’s mother got up. She said, ‘I’ve not been to a Quaker wedding or service before. I’m not sure if this is all right. I just hope that God will bless our Sammy and Julie and keep them safe. They have had such hard times. Please give them many happy years together.’ She sat down again, head lowered.
There was a long, peaceful silence again, before someone else rose and said,
‘There is a place for you
Where there is perfect peace.
There is a place for you
Where nothing is impossible.
There is a place for you
Where the strength of God abides.’
And Sammy thought, no matter what fate had in store for him in the future, or where he ended up, he would always remember the place of perfect peace he was in now.
25
Chrissie and Ailish always enjoyed a good gossip. Ailish would tell Chrissie of all the antics of employees and customers in Copeland & Lye’s and Chrissie would recount stories about what went on behind the book stacks in the Mitchell. Both girls, especially Chrissie, tended to exaggerate at times but this only made their secret conversations all the more enjoyable. Chrissie assured Ailish, however, that the incident with Mr Farquhar’s false teeth happened exactly as she’d related it.
Poor Mr Farquhar – an awfully nice old man, ancient really – was kept upstairs all the time, out of the way. His job was to stand by the hoist and when any customer orders for books came up, he found the books on the stack, brought them to the hoist and pulled the rope to send them down. Chrissie felt sure he had been put upstairs partly because of his false teeth. They were loose and always moving about in his mouth when he spoke. Or even when he didn’t speak.
‘On this occasion,’ Chrissie told Ailish, pausing for a barely suppressed giggle, ‘he was leaning over to see why the hoist was taking such a long time to come back up, when his false teeth came out and careered right down the shaft to the bottom. When Miss Thornton went to put the return books in, she was met by a double set of grinning dentures.’ Chrissie let out a hoot of laughter to join Ailish’s hilarity. ‘We all nearly wet ourselves laughing.’
‘Poor Mr Farquhar,’ Ailish managed. ‘He must have been so embarrassed.’
‘Not a bit of it. He’s such a good-natured old soul. He came downstairs and had a good laugh along with us. Even before he put his teeth back in. A real gumsy laugh, that was.’
‘Who would believe there would be such a carry-on in the Mitchell? It’s so quiet and dignified in the main hall. I mean, going in there is like entering a cathedral.’
‘I know.’
‘Did you hear about the wedding?’ Ailish said, changing the subject.
‘You mean the one the Jacksons went to?’
‘Yes. You must have seen that Sammy Hunter. He often visits the Jacksons. Quite a tough-looking guy with a broken nose like our Dermot. But Sammy has red hair.’
‘Oh yes, I know who you mean.’
‘He’s a Quaker, would you believe? No one seems to have heard of them. My mother and father, for instance.’
‘Och, mine won’t have either. They think they’re religious but all they care about is their Orange Lodge and Rangers.’
‘Celtic with mine, of course. And you know what Dermot’s like.’
‘Sean’s not bigoted though, is he?’
‘Oh no, Sean is angelic. At least to you, he is.’
Chrissie blushed at the unexpectedness of this remark. Even her ears burned and took on a scarlet hue.
‘How do you mean?’
Ailish sighed. ‘You must think I’m daft, Chrissie. You’re always asking about Sean. It’s obvious you fancy him.’
Chrissie was so taken aback, she didn’t know what to say.
Eventually, Ailish sa
id, ‘You do, don’t you?’
Chrissie nodded, miserable now.
‘No need to look so tragic about it.’
‘No?’ Chrissie raised a sarcastic brow.
‘No.’
‘Now I do think you’re daft. Even if he did feel the same about me, what future could we have? It’s bad enough you and me trying to be friends. Trying always to keep our friendship a secret from your mother and father and my mother and father. I dread to think what would happen if I started going out with Sean.’
Ailish’s eyes had gone dreamy. ‘I think Peter McKechnie’s rather dishy.’
‘Peter McKechnie?’ Chrissie’s voice became shrill with incredulity. ‘He’s a Jehovah’s Witness!’
‘Maybe not.’
‘How do you mean, maybe not? I’d even get a battering if I went out with him and Jehovah’s Witnesses are Protestants.’
‘Well, he may feel like us, for all we know. All we know is his parents are stupid bigots, the same as ours.’
‘But he’s gone to their meetings, or whatever they call them, ever since he was a child. Poor Sandra was the same.’
‘You’ve gone to church and I’ve gone to chapel. Anyway, I haven’t a crush on him like you have on our Sean.’
It was Chrissie’s turn to sigh. ‘I don’t suppose he ever asks about me.’
‘As a matter of fact, he does. You’re a right pair of idiots.’
‘Does he?’ Chrissie brightened, then deflated again. ‘But even so. It’s hopeless. I hate religion. I really do.’
‘Och, ignore it. Do you want me to help you and Sean get together? I could. No bother. Honestly.’
‘Ignore it? How can I ignore it? You know what my parents are like. Especially my mother.’
‘It’s so stupid.’
‘I know that. But knowing it doesn’t help, does it?’
‘Once the pair of you got together, there would be nothing they could do about it. Sean’s a grown man. You’re not a wee girl any more, Chrissie. Your mother can’t batter you now.’
‘Oh, no?’
‘Stand up to her.’
‘You’re a fine one to talk. You’ve never stood up to your mother about our friendship.’
‘That’s different. My mother doesn’t keep well at the best of times. She’s half dead with her chest.’
‘It would be even worse for her then if she had to face anything going on between Sean and me.’
After a minute’s thought, Ailish said, ‘It’s really damnable.’
‘I know.’
‘Maybe if we did it kind of gradually. Be subtle, you know. Get them used to our friendship first.’
‘How do you mean, exactly?’
‘Well, our parents do say hello and pass the time of day with one another. We could start dropping casual remarks like, “I bumped into Chrissie Stoddart in the close. She was saying she likes her job in the Mitchell.” Keep dropping in wee remarks like that, plus things like, “She seems nice.” Get them used to the idea of us speaking to each other first of all.’
‘It’s worth a try, I suppose. I could say I went to buy something in Copeland & Lye’s and Ailish O’Donnel served me and was terribly helpful.’
‘Watch you don’t overdo it at first. The idea is to make it gradual.’
‘As I say, it’s worth a try, Ailish, but you know what they’re like. I don’t think we should build up our hopes. And, anyway, it would be a big jump between accepting us being friends and Sean and I going out together.’
‘One good thing nowadays, nobody needs to be caught out in any other way.’
‘The pill, you mean?’
‘Yes. The best invention since sliced bread.’
‘Have you used it?’
‘Good Catholics aren’t supposed to. It’s a sin, so I’m told.’
‘Nobody need know.’
‘Our doctor’s a Catholic.’
‘But surely …’
‘Forget it. He’d either refuse to give me it or dish out a sermon instead. Or he’d tell my mother.’
‘Oh, surely not.’
‘I’m telling you.’ Ailish suddenly brightened. ‘But you could get some from your doctor and pass them on to me.’
‘What if my mother found out.’
‘It’s not against your religion, is it?’
‘I don’t think so, but sex is taboo before marriage as far as my mother is concerned. The Swinging Sixties haven’t swung in her direction yet. She saw a couple lying kissing each other on the grass in Springburn Park the other day and she shouted at them, “You ought to be ashamed of yourselves. Get up out of there, you dirty devils.” She told me herself.’
Ailish couldn’t help laughing. ‘I can just imagine it. They’d get the fright of their lives. Your mother is a formidable sight.’
‘I know. Her and Madge Jackson have voices like foghorns. At least your mother’s quiet spoken.’
‘Poor soul. It’s her chest. She can hardly breathe at times, never mind raise her voice. My father makes up for her, though.’
‘I wonder what a Quaker wedding’s like.’ Chrissie’s mind began to wander. ‘I wish we’d gone along. They don’t care what religion you are, apparently.’
‘I wish our lot were like that. I mean I wish they’d try to have a bit of respect for what other people believe.’
‘In your dreams, Chrissie.’
‘Och, there’s bound to be lots of people who do.’
‘Not up our close.’
Chrissie sighed.
‘That’s true.’
They continued walking along the street, arm in arm, in silent sympathy with each other. Then suddenly their path was blocked and a voice said, ‘Caught you!’
26
‘But how does it work?’ It was Mrs McAllister’s first visit and obviously she was not too sure if she’d done the right thing in coming to see Catriona.
‘Well, in the first place, it’s from the words homoios which means similar and patheia which means suffering or feeling. That’s the basis of homeopathy – like is cured by like. For instance, it was known that the bark of the cinchona tree, known as quinine, caused fever in a healthy person – shaking, trembling, sweating, hallucinations and vomiting. Then it was discovered that if you gave the quinine to someone already suffering from those symptoms, for instance with malaria, it cured them.’
Mrs McAllister didn’t look too convinced. She was tense and anxious, sitting there frowning, hands clenched. Catriona took over an hour to get to know everything about Mrs McAllister’s personality, as well as her symptoms. It was important to know about her emotional state and mental symptoms, about which foods she preferred, even whether she liked hot or cold weather. Absolutely everything. Homeopaths treated the whole person and one of the most important aims was to build up and strengthen the body’s natural immune system. Catriona tried to explain to Mrs McAllister what she’d been doing and why.
At the end of the session, Mrs McAllister hadn’t altogether lost her anxious look, but she was grateful for the opportunity to talk and be listened to with such attention and sympathy. So much so that she was eager to come back for another visit.
‘See how you feel after taking the medicine,’ Catriona said. But she made an appointment and Mrs McAllister went away hopefully clutching her package of powder and tablets.
Mrs McAllister had just gone when, to Catriona’s surprise and consternation, Melvin appeared in the doorway.
‘Hello, dear,’ she greeted him, hastily getting up from her desk and hurrying over to deflect him from entering the room. She knew he would hate to see her sitting at her desk, a calm, confident figure of authority.
‘You’re home early. Is there anything wrong?’ She steered him into the passageway and shut the consulting-room door behind her.
‘Damn weddings!’ he complained. ‘They must be getting infectious. Now Baldy announces he’s getting hitched and wants two weeks off. Two weeks! He wants to go to some fancy place abroad. Can you beat it? D
unoon or Rothesay’s not good enough for him any more. It must be that woman he’s got mixed up with. It’s her that’s behind this.’
They were safely out in the hall now. ‘I’ll make us a cup of tea,’ Catriona soothed.
In the kitchen, he was still raging. ‘I told him. You’ll be the ruination of me, I said. You’ll be the ruination of this business, I said, and then where will you all be?’
‘Sh, sh, drink your tea. It’ll be all right.’
‘What do you know? The man’s gone off his head. Flying. Flying to some foreign country for two weeks.’
‘That’s what people are doing nowadays, Melvin. Holidays abroad are all the fashion now.’
She could see his problem. Baldy practically ran the whole place now. Melvin was afraid to be without his right-hand man.
‘The place won’t fall to bits in two weeks.’ She had meant it to be reassuring but immediately the words were out of her mouth, she knew she’d said the wrong thing.
‘My business won’t “fall to bits”, as you put it,’ he sneered, ‘even if Baldy never came back. My business depends on me. Not him, or anybody else. He couldn’t run or manage it any more than you could. I run that business and always have done. Do you hear me?’
‘Yes, Melvin.’
She stared at his hollow-cheeked, sallow face. Even his untidy straggle of a moustache was quivering with indignation. He was pathetic. She could read him like the proverbial book now. Yet, despite everything that had passed between them, she genuinely wished she could help him. She knew different homeopathic remedies that she was sure would work. But no way could he be persuaded to take any of her ‘stupid rubbish’ or listen to her ‘mumbo jumbo’.
She had been forced to resign herself to the worst – both in the deterioration of his health and of his business. She had lost count of the times she had tried to persuade him to stop smoking, for instance, without the slightest success. No matter what she said or what warnings she gave him, he continued to smoke and suffer paroxysms of coughing. He preferred to buy cough medicine from the chemist’s, ignoring or denying the fact that the medicine upset his stomach.
The New Breadmakers Page 16
