The New Breadmakers

by Margaret Thomson-Davis

  ‘There could be several reasons why she hasn’t.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Mrs Robertson might not have told her she’s adopted. But I doubt that. Lots of people tell their children that they’re adopted as soon as they’re able to understand. They usually explain that the child is special – especially chosen and wanted.’

  ‘I agree. OK, the chances are Alice knows. So why hasn’t she got in touch?’

  ‘One of the most likely reasons is that she doesn’t want to hurt or appear disloyal to the woman who has brought her up and has obviously been so loving and good to her. I’ve heard of several cases where that has happened. A colleague of mine in the Red Cross and his wife actually told their adopted son that they don’t mind if he tries to find his biological mother, but the boy refuses to do so. He insists they have always been his parents and always will be. Loyalty, you see.’

  ‘And love.’

  ‘Yes, of course, and Alice loves Mrs Robertson. You must accept that, Julie.’

  Julie nodded. ‘I do. And I know that I don’t deserve any of Alice’s love. I never will.’

  ‘Oh, stop feeling so sorry for yourself and do something about it. I always believed you had more spirit than that.’

  ‘Cheeky devil!’ Some of the sparkle flashed back into Julie’s eyes. ‘I’ve plenty of spirit, don’t you worry.’

  ‘And you’ll do something about it?’

  She turned away again. ‘We’ll see.’

  He imagined she sounded more positive, more determined, and he felt glad. He had always admired her perky bravado in the face of difficulty and the courage that lay underneath it. He admired her but most of all he loved her and he knew that, no matter what happened, they could face it and get through it together.

  He fetched the tablecloth from the dresser drawer and smoothed it over the table. His mother had embroidered the cloth for them as a wedding present. As he set the table with cutlery and china, he experienced an unexpected glow of happiness. How lucky he was to have such a beautiful and loving wife. How wonderful it was to be together in their perfect, homely house. To other eyes, it might only look like an ordinary one-bedroomed, grey stone tenement flat but, to him and Julie, it was perfection. A haven of comfort and privacy and love. Quite apart from what might happen with Alice – and he hoped and prayed that there would be a happy reunion of mother and daughter – they had another Christmas and New Year to look forward to.

  They had been invited to a Christmas party at Madge and Alec’s house. That would be a really noisy occasion with such a big family but it would be good fun. Catriona was going to be there too. A real happy-go-lucky bloke at heart, Alec usually had them all laughing, even Madge. Alec was always at his best in company. Many another man would have gone under with Madge’s overpowering personality – not to mention her voice – and with the house forever packed with so many squabbling offspring. Most young people nowadays were flying the nest, going to college or university and living in halls of residence on university campuses. But not Alec’s brood. Madge often said, or bawled more like, ‘Am I never going to get rid of you lot?’

  She didn’t want to, of course. Madge was all mouth. Always had been. But it must be very wearing for poor Alec living under the same roof as her and such a noisy family all the time.

  No wonder he was glad to escape to work, or to go to the pub with Sammy after work, and to matches every Saturday afternoon. They were looking forward to the 1971 New Year Old Firm match in a few weeks’ time, at Ibrox, although neither of them relished the prospect of all the fighting and trouble usually involved.

  Since Sammy had joined the Red Cross, he and Alec had to separate during the match if he was on duty. Then they’d meet up for a drink in a pre-arranged pub afterwards.

  This time, with it being such a big match with such a huge potential for trouble and injury, every Red Cross man and St John Ambulance man that could be mustered would be on duty.

  But first there was the Christmas party to look forward to. Then, on Hogmanay, Madge and Alec and Catriona were coming to ‘first-foot’ them. They were going to pick up his mother in Springburn on the way and bring her out to Bishopbriggs with them. So far, thank God, his father had not come after his mother. He had obviously taken the threat to his reputation to heart. Some people might have believed his excuse about burying the dog thinking the animal was already dead. But, if his wife and son spilled the beans about what a monster he’d been behind closed doors for so many years, he really would be finished. Without a friend in the world – if he wasn’t in that situation already.

  The word ‘friend’ reminded Sammy of the Society of Friends and he felt a twinge of guilt. He should not, he knew, feel any satisfaction at anyone not having a friend in the world. He tried to banish Friends with a capital F from his mind. He felt suddenly angry at them as well as himself. What could they know about such a man as old Hodge Hunter? Talk about optimists! He felt himself shivering inside with secret fury. If there was anything inside Hodge Hunter, it was the Devil. Evil old bastard!

  As Sammy set the table with the cruet and the bottle of HP sauce, the sugar bowl and the milk jug, he felt a terrible confusion in his mind, as well as the anger. He couldn’t rid himself of an element of guilt and of the part of himself that, like it or not, was a Quaker. At that moment, he hated Quakerism for making things so impossibly complicated in situations like this.

  Deep down he knew that hatred itself was wrong. Hatred, bitterness, all these negative emotions only harmed oneself. It didn’t matter who or what was the target of that hatred.

  Of one thing he was absolutely certain – according to everything he believed in, to leave his father, now a very old man, alone at Christmas was wrong.

  Bloody hell!

  37

  Despite the danger of being found out, Ailish had volunteered to come to the wedding in the registry office and then for a modest meal at Miss Cranston’s Tearoom afterwards. Chrissie and Sean couldn’t afford a licensed place – they could only toast each other in cups of tea. They were desperately trying to save up. At first, for a few mad minutes, they had considered inviting their respective parents, and even Maimie and Dermot. They had imagined a last-minute reconciliation at the wedding ceremony but they soon realised that it was only a pipe dream.

  ‘It would have been so nice. If only …’ Chrissie sighed.

  ‘Yes,’ Ailish interrupted. ‘If only … if only. How many times in our lives have we said that, Chrissie? But we might as well face it. They’ll never be any different and, if they came to the registry office, it would only be to fight with each other and spoil what should be a happy day for you.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad at least you’re coming, Ailish.’

  ‘Who’s to be the other witness or best man or whatever?’

  ‘A pal of Sean’s from the office. We thought of inviting Sammy but that would have meant Julie as well and maybe even Catriona and Andrew. Apart from anything else, we just can’t afford any more for the tea. We’ll need every penny we can scrape together to get a place of our own and buy furniture and everything. I know it sounds awful but …’

  ‘No, it doesn’t.’

  ‘We’re really desperate to get away from Aunty Mary’s. Not that we’ve anything against her personally,’ Chrissie added hastily. ‘It’s so kind of her to have taken us in the way she did. But we never get a minute to ourselves – not to talk, not to do anything. We’re nearly going mad with frustration. The only way she would recognise us getting married is if we tied the knot in the chapel. She never stops trying to talk us into it. I’d have given in for the sake of peace but Sean’ll have none of it.’

  ‘Good for Sean. It’s the only way to stop all this nonsense carrying on from one generation to the next. We’ve got to make a stand, beat the bigotry, not let it beat us.’

  ‘Easier said than done.’

  ‘I know, but you and Sean are making a start.’

  ‘Do you think you’ll be next?’ />
  ‘Marrying out of the faith, do you mean? Well, I must admit I won’t go looking for trouble and a Protestant lover.’ She grinned. ‘I’ll just look for a lover. If he turns out to be a Catholic, fine. If not, hard luck, Mammy, Daddy and Dermot.’

  They had been having a cup of tea together in Copeland’s in Ailish’s lunch break. They had already tried to decide what to wear at the wedding, without success. Again it was a question of money. Chrissie brought up the subject once more and Ailish said, ‘Well, mini skirts are out. I haven’t the legs for them. Anyway, midi length is more fashionable now.’

  ‘Yes, I think I’ll settle for my navy wool suit. I’ll brighten it up with a new blouse and a pretty matching ribbon for my hat. Or a wee posy of flowers, maybe.’

  ‘We’re both lucky we still have a hat. Hardly anyone wears them now, except on special occasions.’

  ‘I know. You’ll be wearing yours then?’

  ‘Of course. Don’t worry. I won’t let you down.’

  Chrissie felt a rush of affection for her friend.

  ‘I know you’d never do that, Ailish.’

  It was true what she’d told Ailish about their desperation to get away from Aunty Mary’s flat or at least to be able to share a bed there after they were married. Aunty Mary had made it clear that she would not, could not, recognise any marriage other than the one blessed by God at a proper, holy ceremony led by the priest in the chapel. They were welcome to stay on with her after the registry office wedding but only if they were willing to continue with the same sleeping arrangements as before. Aunty Mary still avidly read her romance novels but they were obviously completely devoid of anything of a sexual nature. In Aunty Mary’s novels, the story of the happy couple always ended on the outside of the bedroom door.

  Now they were afraid that Aunty Mary would accidentally let slip to the family the date of the wedding. She might even, with the best of intentions of course, tell Teresa and Michael so that they could talk them out of it, as she had tried to do.

  As Sean kept saying, ‘She doesn’t mean any harm.’

  But a great deal of harm could be caused if the family found out the exact date. They might turn up at the registry office and cause the ceremony to become a nightmare event or even stop it happening altogether. It didn’t bear thinking about. Sean worried about it as well.

  ‘Is it just a Glasgow thing, I wonder?’ he said one day, thinking aloud.

  ‘Is what a Glasgow thing?’ Chrissie asked.

  ‘All this religious stuff. Especially at football matches.’

  ‘I don’t know. But now you mention it, I haven’t ever read about anything like that happening in London, for instance.’

  ‘All the chanting and bawling out sectarian songs.’ He shrugged. ‘It might be the same in Wembley Stadium but I doubt it.’

  ‘Well, maybe we should be looking for a flat in London.’ Chrissie laughed. ‘Near Wembley Stadium, of course.’

  Sean took her seriously.

  ‘Maybe we should,’ he said.

  38

  Sammy and Alec had been sitting in the Boundary Bar talking over a pint about how so much of old Glasgow was divided into predominantly Catholic or Protestant areas. The new housing schemes built by the Glasgow Corporation were an attempt to eradicate this problem. Up Alec’s close, for instance, and in Balornock in general, there was now more of a mixture of different religions.

  ‘But take a Protestant place like Larkhall,’ Alec said. ‘One of the fastest things on earth is a Catholic going through Larkhall on a bike.’

  Sammy laughed. Being with Alec always cheered him up.

  ‘There doesn’t seem much, if any, of a problem in Bishopbriggs. Not as far as I’ve seen anyway. And one of the priests – Father Kelly – is well liked and respected by other flocks as well as his own.’

  ‘Well, good for the people of Bishopbriggs! Can you imagine the likes of Jimmy Stoddart respecting a priest or feeling anything towards him except hatred?’

  It was then that Sammy remembered his own hatred.

  ‘What’s up?’ Alec immediately sensed his change of mood.

  ‘I was just thinking I’m not much better than Jimmy.’

  ‘What?’ Alec’s voice careered up to squeaking point with incredulity. ‘You’ve never had a bigoted, sectarian or discriminating thought in your life, Sammy.’

  ‘I’ve felt hatred. I feel hatred. The worst kind – against my own flesh and blood.’

  Alec rolled his eyes. ‘You mean your old man? For God’s sake, Sammy, no one knowing what your father’s put you through could blame you for that.’

  ‘I wonder what the Friends with a capital F would say – try to separate the doer from the deed, I expect.’

  ‘How are you supposed to do that?’

  Sammy shrugged and couldn’t think of any answer. Then, after a few thoughtful moments, Alec said,

  ‘I wonder what on earth made your father into such an awful old devil. After all, he was once a wee baby and a wee toddler, like the rest of us. I mean, even my lot seemed angelic when they were that age. I wonder where things go wrong? What kind of background did your father have? What were his parents like?’

  Sammy stared at Alec.

  ‘Do you know, Alec, I’ve never thought of it like that. Not once.’

  ‘Do you remember your granny and grandpa?’

  There was another pause.

  ‘Funnily enough, when my grandfather visited us, that’s when I have some of my most vivid memories of my father. He was always worse when his father was there. I dreaded the visits because of that. And because of that my whole attention was on my father. I can hardly remember what my grandfather even looked like.’

  ‘What about your grandmother?’

  ‘She must have died earlier. I’ve no recollection of ever seeing her at all.’

  ‘That’s odd, isn’t it?’

  ‘What? Not ever seeing my grandmother?’

  ‘No, how your father was always at his worst when his father was there. I would have thought it more likely to be the other way around. You know, that he’d be on his best behaviour to make a good impression.’

  ‘Well, I certainly don’t remember it like that. It was almost as if he was showing off how he could terrorise the whole family, including my mother.’

  ‘Maybe he was.’

  Another pause.

  ‘That’s a thought,’ Sammy said. ‘Maybe that’s the sort of behaviour that impressed his father.’

  ‘Sounds as if his own father could have been even worse.’

  Sammy couldn’t quite get his head around that but the thought drifted about at the back of his mind like a dark shadow or an unwelcome ghost.

  ‘Enough about my family tree,’ he told Alec. ‘Julie wants to know what she should cook for your Sadie and Agnes. Are they still vegetarians?’

  ‘Och, if it’s not one fad, it’s another with them. Catriona doesn’t help either. Telling them all about herbs and stuff. She’ll be having them eating grass next.’

  ‘I suppose there’s worse things that they could get into.’

  ‘How’s Catriona bearing up, by the way? Julie sees more of her than anybody now.’

  ‘About Melvin being whipped off to the hospital, you mean? I think at first she thought it was just another ploy to get her back. So did I, to be honest. But, no, according to the hospital he’s suffering from pretty bad emphysema. Catriona says all those years of chain-smoking have finally got to him. I don’t think there’s much they can do for him now.’

  ‘Has she been in to see him?’

  ‘Yes. Julie says she forces herself for Andrew’s sake. He’s been so good and attentive to his father, that boy. Far better than Fergus. Yet Fergus was always Melvin’s favourite. Fergus is always coming up with some excuse or other about being too busy and not being able to manage to get down to Glasgow. You’d think he was on the other side of the world, instead of just up in Aberdeen.’

  ‘Funny that.’

&nbs
p; ‘Yes, it’s a funny old life,’ Sammy said, not thinking it was funny at all. He knew what Catriona must be feeling. She hated Melvin and, as far as Sammy knew, with good reason. He felt disturbed again as the shadows at the back of his mind threatened to slink forward.

  ‘Ask Sadie and Agnes if they’ve got a favourite veggie dish, will you?’

  ‘Oh, right. Fancy another pint?’

  Sammy shook his head. ‘I’d better be getting home. I’ve promised to put the decorations up.’

  ‘There’s hardly enough room in our house for decorations. By the way, you know you and Julie would be more than welcome at our Boxing Day do but I doubt if you could squeeze in. Sadie and Agnes’s boyfriends are coming and Hector and Willie’s girlfriends. The place is going to be bursting at the seams and absolute bedlam. I don’t recommend it. Thank goodness they’ll all be away at New Year. There’s some big do in Edinburgh they’re all going to and they’ll be there for two or three days. Sadie and Hector have begun to talk about having a double wedding in the spring so they should both be moving out then. I’m going to race down to the housing office and put their names on the waiting list myself, before they get a chance to change their minds.’

  ‘Right enough, it’s time they were all married and in places of their own. They must feel too happy and content at home, Alec. You’re too good to them.’

  ‘Time I took a leaf out of your father’s book then.’

  ‘You couldn’t. It’s not in you. You’re far too good natured. Always have been.’

  They had arrived out on the busy Springburn Road.

  ‘See you,’ Sammy added with a wave.

  ‘Aye, OK, pal.’

  For a moment, Sammy watched Alec’s tall figure swagger away, hat on the back of his head, whistling jauntily. Then he went off to catch his bus back to Bishopbriggs. When he got in, Julie was ready to dish his meal up and afterwards, they enjoyed decorating the house with a riot of coloured paper chains and balloons. Already the mantelpiece and dresser were covered with early Christmas cards. It was a bit early for the decorations as well but Julie was so looking forward to the festive season.