In Loving Memory

by Telfer Chaplin, Jenny

  Before Maggie could reply, Rory said, breathless with excitement, “An accident doon the pit? Did ye see the dead men? Ah can still remember the dead folk Ah saw in the lifeboats. Dead frae burns and exposure tae the Atlantic storms, but see a pit disaster, that’s something else again, some excitement that.”

  Ewan nodded. “Aye, dead men and the dyin, Ah saw all that and more. But listen, Rory, Ah really don’t want tae talk any more aboot it, at least no the night. But there was one thing that was really strange, weird and a bit creepy, if ye like...”

  Maggie leant forward, all the while nervously twisting the dishcloth she held in her hands.

  “Something strange, you say? And what might that have been, if I may ask?”

  Ewan appeared to consider then said, “It was while we were in the office, once Ah’d been cleaned up a bit, like, that’s when it happened. One of the high heid yins that they’d sent for, in fact, somebody telt me later that he was actually one o the owners of the mine – wid ye credit that, me meetin an owner, no less.”

  “Get on with it Ewan, if this owner really did speak to you, what did he say?”

  Ewan gave a sheepish grin. “It wisnae sae much that he spoke tae me... although at the finish he did ask me my name and where Ah stayed, but it was mair the fact that all the time Ah was in the office, he kept on staring at me, kept on lookin at me as he’d jist saw a ghost.”

  Rory gave a delighted laugh and slapped at his thigh. “Nae wonder he stared at ye... Ah shouldnae think it’s all that often that he gets tae see a cheeky wee white-face peering oot at him from a coal-blackened pit-boy. Shouldnae think that yer high-falutin owners come intae contact wi ower mony apparations like that.”

  Taking it all in good part, Ewan joined in with his cousin’s laughter.

  “Well, son, just forget about it,” Maggie said. “Pit owners and gentlemen like that are nothing whatever to do with us, I expect he has a son of his own and was grateful that his son has a better life than that of a being a pit-boy. And as to his asking where you lived, that’ll just be for their official records, about the accident.”

  Ewan grinned. “The good news there, Mother, seems the man’s wife a real do-good gooder, so mibbe she’ll come callin with a basket of food for us. Anyway, seems he hasne got any children, but my boss said with my height, colourin and my face cleaned, Ah could easily pass as his kith and kin. Some chance that, eh, Mammy?”

  Chapter 13

  In the days following Ewan’s lucky escape in the pit accident, Maggie kept reiterating in her mind the words. The pit-owner and his wife, a good Churchgoing woman who visits the sick, the aged and the poor of the Parish, they promised they would call in at the homes of the all those injured in any way in the mine accident.

  This morning with young Lara apparently sickening for something Maggie was thus fully occupied in dealing with her youngest child, who was doubly precious to her since she’d been conceived of Maggie’s last desperate attempt to save her marriage and had been born months after the tragic death of Fergus.

  When there was a knock on the door Maggie gave a tut of annoyance at being disturbed, then thought, Oh no, it couldn’t be the mine-owner and his saintly wife come calling, not today of all days? That’s more than I could stomach right now... for them to come bearing a basket of treats for the Poor of the Parish.

  Maggie opened the door and another bout of weeping from Lara alerted her to the fact that the woman still standing on her doorstep had not only been holding out a cloth-covered wicker basket, but she must also have spoken.

  The kindly voice again said: “You do seem to have your hands rather full. Mistress Bell... but even so, please may we come in for a few minutes of your time? Could we please have a quick word?”

  A quick word, thought Maggie. More likely they want to pray over me. I believe that’s the usual form of such visits.

  In a haze of mixed emotions, Maggie nodded and the couple entered the cottage, taking care to close the door firmly behind them.

  The woman who, until that point, appeared to be the spokesman, then said, “Might we please sit with you at the table, there is a matter, an important matter we must discuss with you.”

  Waving them silently to chairs Maggie questioned, “An important matter, to discuss with me? Sorry, I don’t understand, but if it’s about the accident, believe me I do fully appreciate the care that was given to my son after the pit accident. But Ewan, he’s fine, just fine now, thank you and of course back again at his work. So, now if you’ll excuse me...”

  Another cry from the not-so patient young patient and Maggie said, “Now, sorry but I really must bid you goodbye, not meaning to be rude, but I do have to see to my daughter.”

  The man spoke for the first time. “As my wife said I am John Tait. Of course, my dear lady, please, once you’ve attended to the little girl, please I must insist that you will take time to listen to what I have to say.”

  Her mind buzzing as to what they could possibly wish to talk over with her, Maggie managed to settle down wee Lara and turned to face the waiting couple.

  “Actually, although it’s not specifically about the pit accident, it all came about on account of that and so, yes. Our visit does concern your son... Ewan I think you called him?” Mr Tait said.

  Maggie frowned. “What has he done? Please don’t tell me he’s been up to some mischief or other at the pit?”

  Mrs Tait gave her a kindly, encouraging smile. “Mistress Bell, I believe you should stop worrying yourself about any possible misbehaviour on Ewan’s part, it’s nothing at all like that. It’s something much more personal than that.”

  Mr Tait gave a preliminary cough then took up the story. “The thing is this... when I first saw your son Ewan, in the office, his face scrubbed clean after the accident, the moment, the very moment I saw him, I knew, just knew... with his being almost the image of my own younger brother as a boy... now how can I put this... er... rather indelicate matter?”

  Tait! Tait, not Dixon. Of course, Tait was the name of the bastard that raped me. There was no reason why Ewan should look like any of the Dixon family.

  “When I saw Ewan... felt that even from that first sight of him, I felt that he could almost be my very own kith and kin. Oh this is very difficult, but I hope you will bear with me. My brother was the black sheep of the family. Father cut him off when he went altogether too far with gambling and womanizing. Paid his passage out to Canada and he was killed out there in some bar fight. What we would like to do…”

  Maggie seething with anger, her mind in turmoil said, “We’ve managed this far under our own steam, easy or not. And tempting while your offer of blood money most certainly is, I am not about to start accepting hand-outs with my cap in hand.”

  Husband and wife gazed soundlessly at each other and Maggie, by now desperate to get rid of them said, “Now, I really must bid you good-day... and you can take that wicker basket with you while you’re at it.”

  Mr Tait again raised troubled eyes and with the hint of tears in his voice he said, “My dear, you have every reason to think badly of our family. But please, the point is... my wife, Felicity and I, we have no family, no children of our own... we would wish to adopt, legally adopt, Ewan and change his name to that of ours. So one way and another, not quite the monetary hand-out of your imagination, now is it my dear lady?”

  A silence followed which was broken only when Mrs Felicity Tait said, “So, on reflection, how would such a positive proposal appeal to you now?”

  Maggie said not a word, but with head lowered, she moved across to the now peacefully sleeping Lara not merely to tuck the child more cosily under the patchwork quilt, but in reality also to give herself time to think.

  If this is put to Ewan, he’d jump at the chance, Maggie thought. He doesn’t really feel one of us at all. I’d be rid of him and the constant reminder of my past.

  Aloud she said, “Ewan’s thirteen now. I’ll allow you to talk to him about your suggestion. The decision
must be his. He must realize that such a change of station won’t be easy, but I won’t stand in his way.”

  Chapter 14

  1834

  With Ewan now long gone from the cottage to his new life, with each year that passed, Maggie had yet again more and more favoured Rory... but now even worse, in her eyes at least... she favoured him far and above the devotion and love which she knew she should have for her own daughters. But as Maggie decided in her own mind, where before she had shunned Ewan because he so much resembled his birth father, now she actively disliked... yes she had to admit it... disliked Lara on account of the many mother and daughter verbal battles they had. Usually ending in Maggie saying, “You get more and more like your father with all your arguing and speechifying, keep on like this my girl and in time you too will be a loud-mouthed orator on behalf of Scotland’s workers. Listen, I went through all the agony and worry associated with that carry-on when it was your father on the speakers’ platform, I’m damned sure it’s not going to be a case of history repeating itself, this time with you at the rostrum. Once you’re old enough to work, you can go into service just like Fiona. She’s doing well – mind you, she’s quiet and biddable. A real credit, a parlour maid at just eighteen!”

  Maggie thought on, Yes, I do favour Rory and certainly far above the other children in my care.

  Not for the first time she had to chide herself. I have to stop thinking of them collectively as ‘Sheena’a brood’. They are all young persons in their own right.

  But no matter how often Maggie reminded herself of this somehow, in some strange way, each and every one of them appeared only to be on the fringes of her life.

  Maggie shook her head. Too late now to start making a fuss of them individually, I’ve kept them all fed, watered, clothed and housed ever since that day they all turned up shipwrecked survivors and orphans at that on my doorstep.

  Maggie frowned. What about Lara? But before I pack her off into a life of domestic service in any big house, I’ll have to warn her and warn her well of the dangers just as I did with Fiona. Nobody ever warned me to be on my guard against predatory drunken upper-class house guests, our so-called betters... and look what happened to me.

  With her mind made up to such a plan of action, one evening Maggie called her daughter to her side.

  “Listen, Lara, my dear, you’re thirteen now, high time you were working and with a willing pair of hands, and being a good worker, you’ll easily get a job in one of the big houses.”

  Lara stared at her mother. “If it’s all the same to you Mammy, I think I’d rather try for a job in the bakery, that way I can still stay at home here in the cottage with you and the others.”

  Determined to be at her most sweetly reasonable, Maggie smiled kindly. “Of course, you’d much rather go on living here, I know, I realise that you love us all dearly, but life changes.”

  Maggie paused as she debated how best to put it, then she said, “Yes, things are different now. The cottage was fine when you were all younger, but now, especially with your being the only girl in a houseful of healthy young male cousins, somehow, it’s just not seemly. Anyway, your cousin Catriona, she’s happy enough in service and so is Fiona. Yes, that’s the answer, a position in a big house with a good church-going family, that’s the...”

  Lara leapt to her feet. “I won’t do it, you can’t make me, I’ll fight for my rights, why on earth should I, your own daughter, have to move out when my male cousin is allowed to stay. It just isn’t fair. I’ll fight in whatever way I can for my rights.”

  Maggie sighed. “Life isn’t fair, Lara, you’ll soon enough find that out once, you’re out in the big wide world, life isn’t fair. And anyway, how often have I told you, an attitude such as you have, a fighting attitude like that and you’ll end up like your poor father.”

  Lara shouted. “End up like my father? That would be just fine by me. My father, by all accounts, was a hero, a champion in the workers’ cause, and he even died fighting for his ideals.”

  Maggie pursed her lips. “Nonsense, what utter nonsense, Lara. I don’t know where you ever heard such a romanticised version. Your father – God rest his soul – drowned like dozens of other doomed passengers, drowned when their leaky coffin ship went down in the Atlantic Ocean. Not quite the romantic notion of a noble Scottish hero of your imagination battling it out to the last breath in his body. Anyway, forgetting all such rewritten history for the moment, one thing you can hold on to... at the first opportunity of an in-service job, you, my dear, you are out of here.”

  Lara yelled, by now beyond tears, “Oh well, thanks for nothing, Mother that will suit us both just fine. You’ve never really liked me. Not my fault I’m alive and your precious wee Scott of blessed memory, from all those years ago, is dead and gone. But then as you so rightly said ‘Life isn’t fair’.”

  Chapter 15

  1843

  The bitter feeling over the endless rows which had eventually led to Lara’s sudden and totally upsetting departure from the cottage, the memory of all that and the bitter feelings, the recriminations, had never really left Maggie.

  Even so, she thought, with Lara gone all these years now, the atmosphere has always since then been happier, more relaxed and with the four boys spoiling me.

  Maggie felt very secure and comfortable living with Rory and his wife Mary-Jane – the girl he met on the Partick ferry. The other boys still living nearby were frequent visitors with their wives and families...

  Yes, life was good.

  Maggie stirred when she heard a voice at her elbow.

  “Oh sorry, Rory, I didn’t hear you come in, I think I must have dozed off, a sure sign I’m told of advancing age.”

  Her nephew smiled fondly. “Now then, Aunt Maggie, don’t start all that again, we’ll all be old someday. God willing. Anyway, enough of your nonsense and fishing for compliments. Fine well you know you’re still a girl at heart. And why shouldn’t you see yourself as still a young girl... lucky you with no less than four upstanding Scotsmen on hand to do your every bidding. Envy of many a young lass hereabouts, that’s for sure.”

  Maggie smiled up at him “Oho, so who’s the one fishing for compliments now, Rory.”

  They laughed together and Maggie said, “I’m a lucky woman all right, you’re all so good to me.”

  Her nephew’s face took on a serious aspect. “Good to ye, ye say and why not? Dear God, it’s the least, the very least we can do, let’s face it, it wouldnae have been every sair-trauchled widow-woman that would have welcomed with open arms into her home and into her life a barrowload of greetin, mewlin shipwrecked orphans. And that’s the God’s honest truth, we’ll never be able to repay. I know we don’t very often put this into words, but if as you say we are good to you, then believe me, it’s no more than you deserve.”

  James who had just come in called out across the room. “So what’s this, Rory? This you currying favour with the auld yin?”

  They laughed when Maggie sat up straight and as if all injured pride said, “Not so much of the auld yin label if you don’t mind, young man I’m still able enough to give you what my old Granny used to call, ‘A richt guid cloorin’, so mind your manners.”

  Laughter greeted this rejoinder from their beloved Auntie.

  While Robert fussed around straightening up her shawl, James said, “Good news, next week I’m to be promoted to gaffer, me? I’m to be a bowler-hat, you were right Auntie Maggie, ye aye said, ‘stick in and ye’ll make something of yerself’, your very words.”

  Rory said, “Between James’s promotion and Mary-Jane expecting another addition to our family, that’s a call for something stronger than a mug of tea at supper tonight, agreed?”

  Hours later, warm, comfortable and toasting nicely by the heat of the fire, Maggie could feel herself again drifting off to sleep.

  Oh this is lovely, all this good news in one evening, yes, my family have done well... Well, with Lara I can only hope that she too is making a success of
her life. In her case I have to assume that no news is good news. I can feel my head nodding, feel as if I’m drifting, it’s all so effortless, so lovely... I’m home, I’ve come home. It’s been a long time coming, but at last here I am. It’s been a long at times a harrowing journey, but now I’m safe home, at last.

  She gave a deep sigh of utter bliss and joyful contentment, her journey was over.

  Sheena’s Story

  Chapter 1

  1810

  The days, weeks and months passed in the usual drudgery of Sheena's hated daily work, but somehow, as each night, blackened-with-coal-dust, Sheena made her way home, one thought above all else sustained her. Like Auntie says, once Ah'm too tall, that'll be me finished with the coal mines. It'll be ta-ta tae Dixon's coal pit and hello tae the rest of my life.

  With this bright shining thought uppermost in her mind and a glowing mental image of an impossibly wonderful future blinding her to her present surroundings, Sheena tripped over the door step and unable to stop herself, she cannoned head-first into the cottage. Her dramatic entry was met immediately with ribald comments from her brother and his pal, Angus Stott.

  Uncle looked up from contemplation of his clay pipe.

  "Leave the poor lassie alone, ye lads. Dead beat frae her work so she is, but bone-tired or not, she jist cannae get in fast enough tae the comforts o hame."

  As Sheena rose to her feet amidst a shower of coal dust and dusted herself down with the help of a rag cloth from Auntie, the latter said, "Pay no attention tae that daft pair of eejits, hen. That's men for ye, no a brain in their heids. An as for ye, Angus Stott, is it no high time ye were on yer way tae yer night shift at the mine? Hing aboot here much longer and ye'll be the next one getting fired. And somehow Ah don't think yer Auntie Flo would like that, noo would she?"