The New Breadmakers (18 page)

Maimie had been hoping and praying that the Paters would be at the Orange Walk. The only time she’d seen anything much of them was when they’d all attended the Albert School. Even there it hadn’t been easy because they were both in classes above her. Now, John was at Glasgow University and she’d heard that Brian had recently got a place at Edinburgh University.

So, after September or October, she would probably never see him at all. Except maybe at Christmas and summer holidays. Although students seemed to be travelling all over the place these days, Mr Pater said they never did that in his young day. Not that he’d been to university. Nor his father before him. But, nowadays, people you’d never think of were going. Working-class people, he meant. And why not, he said. Parents now wanted their offspring to have the best possible chance in life and that meant a good education. University used to be just for the middle classes or the toffs. But not any more, he said.

Mr Pater had talked to her far more than his sons ever had. The boys had even talked to Chrissie more than her. Apparently they did some studying in the Mitchell and had spoken to her there. Probably they were snobs. Chrissie was all right, of course, because she’d stayed on and got a lot of Highers and then passed library exams and knew about books. Someone who just worked in the Co-op wasn’t good enough for them. Well, to hell with them. She couldn’t care less about them.

But she still kept glued to the living-room or the scullery window if the Pater boys were practising their karate. And she sighed with admiration and desire, exactly the same as she always had.

Chrissie had laughed at her. This made her feel bitter. What right had she to laugh? Chrissie thought she was clever because she’d got a few Highers and had read a few books. Well, she wasn’t so clever. She had a thing about Sean O’Donnel. Sean O’Donnel of all people! Chrissie thought no one knew but Maimie had seen the way she’d been ogling Sean and trying to bump into him ‘by accident’. She’d seen the way Chrissie blushed scarlet any time Sean spoke to her or even just looked at her. Her mother and father would have a fit if they knew. Talk about a battering? They’d soon knock the stuffing out of Chrissie.

Maimie toyed with the idea of telling them but thought it best to give Chrissie enough rope to hang herself with. At the moment, she’d no proof. They’d never been out together. They didn’t have any intimate, telltale looks. She decided to keep a watchful eye peeled. If Chrissie got the chance, she would go out with him, Pape or no. And Maimie could bet her last halfpenny that, one of these days, Chrissie and Sean
would
go out together. It was just a matter of time. Chrissie wasn’t that smart. Even without any Highers, Maimie knew that marriage was difficult enough without complicating it with different religions. Her mother always said, ‘Even if the Protestant one doesn’t “turn”, the Papes make sure they get the children. The children are always brought up as Papes.’

What a sensation it would cause once her parents found out that Chrissie was serious about Sean. They’d never forgive Chrissie. And quite right too. Miss High and Mighty needed taken down a peg or two. She’d even criticised Maimie’s eating habits.

‘For goodness’ sake, Maimie, stop stuffing food into your mouth like that. It’s a repulsive habit and it’s not good for your digestion. No wonder you’re overweight and have spots.’

Damn cheek! Who did she think she was? Lady Muck? Chrissie wouldn’t feel so superior once she was flung out on her ear. That’s what would happen if she started courting with Sean O’Donnel. She’d be chucked out on the street. Maimie bet her last halfpenny she would. And what then, m’lady?

Sammy tried his best. He asked around as many people and places as he could. Even in other hospitals. All to no avail. At last he discovered a nurse who vaguely remembered a Nurse Webster and told him that she had married a GI she’d met during the war and gone to the States to live. The nurse didn’t know where in the States, or even what Nurse Webster’s married name was.

However, during his enquiries, he did find out the name of the people who had temporarily fostered Julie’s baby and where they lived now. It turned out they’d only moved to a bigger house along the same road they’d always lived on. He had gone to see them in his Red Cross uniform and, probably because of that, the Cliffords thought it was an official request when he asked about the adoptive parents and their whereabouts. Mrs Clifford was a well-organised person and had kept records of all the children she had fostered. After some careful checking, she found the answers to his questions.

He was in two minds about telling Julie. He felt acutely worried about what he might be unleashing. Julie had assured him more than once that all she wanted was a glimpse of the girl, just to see how she had turned out, what she looked like and to reassure herself that she was all right. Sammy couldn’t believe that. He couldn’t imagine her skulking about, then, after managing to get a glimpse of her daughter, just leaving it at that. Maybe at the moment that was her genuine intention but, once she saw her daughter, she would want to go further. She’d want to get to know her. She might even introduce herself. There could be no end of complication, trouble and heartache for all concerned.

He tried to tell Julie this. But she immediately sensed that he’d found something out and became almost hysterical. Ignoring his warnings, she gripped her hands together and shouted, ‘Sammy! You’ve found out where she is. You have, haven’t you?’

‘You haven’t been paying a bit of attention to what I’ve been saying.’

‘Tell me, Sammy. For pity’s sake.’

‘Julie, I’m sorry, but I regret having anything to do with this. It’s not a good idea. You’ll just end up with more heartache and you’re liable to cause unhappiness to the couple and the girl.’

‘Sammy, for God’s sake! I keep telling you …’

‘I know but, once you saw her, Julie, it wouldn’t stop there.’

‘Sammy, you promised me. I’ll never forgive you if you don’t put me out of my misery right now.’

Sammy sighed. ‘They live in Kirkintilloch Road in Bishopbriggs.’

‘Oh, Sammy, thank you. Thank you.’

‘Calm down, Julie.’

He watched her make the effort. She tipped up her chin, her mouth firmed. Then she nodded.

‘You’re quite right, Sammy. I must be calm and sensible.’

But her green eyes were still sparkling with excitement. Sammy had always regarded her as a good-looking woman, with her proud, perky features and glossy hair in a neat pageboy style. A subtle aura of sadness always clung to her, however. Not now. Flushed and happy, she looked beautiful. He remembered the time they had kissed. She, of course, had intended to give him a friendly goodnight peck on the cheek but he had not been able to resist the opportunity to kiss her properly. He had been overwhelmed by the passion it had aroused in him.

He had gone out with a few women over the years, since his wife’s death, but the friendships had never lasted, never come to anything. When the women wanted more than friendship, he could not respond with any warmth or sincerity. They had all found someone else who could.

Julie was different. He had always been fond of her and felt genuinely sympathetic towards her. She had lost her loving husband. He had lost his loving wife.

Now he felt more than just friendship. Much more. That one kiss had unleashed a passion in him that he had forgotten he was capable of experiencing. Julie no doubt had been shocked. She had jerked away from him and run.

He was afraid that would be the end of their friendship. He had momentarily forgotten that the most important thing in her life was to find her child. She needed him for that. Or thought she did. She would forgive his passionate kiss for her child’s sake. And she had. There was a passion shining from her but it wasn’t for him.

They eventually went together to Bishopbriggs. It was on the north side of Glasgow, like Springburn, but further out. Now fast becoming known as ‘a highly desirable commuter town’, it was a place that had lost some of its former close-knit community spirit as a result. The village or central part had changed little, though, and was still recognisable as being much the same as it had been a hundred years ago. Quinn’s pub had been there at one corner and across the road at the opposite corner there had always been a bank. The countryside outside the village that had once been open fields, however, was fast becoming one big, sprawling housing scheme – like so many others around Glasgow.

‘I’ll make some excuse,’ Julie said breathlessly. ‘I’ll go up and knock on the door and pretend I’m … a social work visitor, anything.’

‘I knew this would happen,’ Sammy said. ‘I knew it. You’re going to cause nothing but trouble.’

‘No, no …’

‘Yes, yes, Julie.’

‘Oh, Sammy, please try to understand.’

‘I understand only too well.’

‘I saw so little of her when she was a baby.’

At least he managed in the end to stop her going into the close and knocking on the door. But they loitered about outside in the street for what seemed an eternity. Then suddenly the street filled with youngsters. The nearby school was emptying and crowds of uniformed girls and boys came chattering past.

‘Oh, Sammy,’ Julie whispered, ‘there she is.’ A tall leggy girl had entered the close nearby. They only caught a glimpse of her but it was enough for Sammy to see the unmistakable likeness to Julie. He had to drag Julie away. He knew, of course, that she had every intention of returning. She wouldn’t let things rest now. They caught the bus back to Springburn. It had previously been arranged that she would join Sammy and his mother for tea. Julie could hardly wait to describe her daughter to Mrs Hunter.

‘Oh, she was really lovely, Mrs Hunter. Wasn’t she, Sammy?’

Sammy smiled. ‘The picture of her mother!’

‘Flatterer!’ Julie laughed. Then, ‘Oh, I can’t settle to just going home now and sitting on my own twiddling my thumbs.’

‘Do you fancy making a day of it and going to the pictures?’

‘I’d love to, Sammy.’

‘Fine. Finish up your tea and we’ll go.’

‘I’ll help your mum to wash up first.’

‘No, no, dear,’ Mrs Hunter said. ‘I’ve nothing better to do. Away you go, the pair of you, and enjoy yourselves.’

Sammy felt tense. He was wondering if he dared make another move on Julie. Should he take advantage of the back row in the Princes and put his arm around her? The mere thought made him sweat. Yet he was beginning to realise that he could not go on as he had been. It had become too much of a strain to be in her company so often, to be so close to her and yet so far away. He was beginning to have wet dreams about her. He had made passionate love to her a hundred times in his imagination. If she pushed him away again, so be it. But their relationship had to change one way or another.

They walked along Springburn Road cheerily, arm in arm. Feeling her body so near to his made him ache inside, he wanted her so painfully.

In the cinema, the usherette showed them to seats in the back row and, after they settled down, he stretched his arm along the back of her seat. Then he tightened it around her shoulders. She smiled up at him.

‘Oh Julie,’ he said. Then before he could say or do anything else, she kissed him.

‘If I go on like this,’ Catriona confided to Madge, ‘I’ll have to employ a full-time assistant.’

‘See what I’ve always said? The luck of the Irish. I bet you’re making a fortune. You are, aren’t you, hen?’

‘Well, not a fortune exactly but I’m doing surprisingly well.’

‘What’s Melvin saying to it? Proud as punch of you, I bet, eh?’

Catriona immediately regretted saying anything about her business to Madge.

‘I don’t tell him anything about it and I don’t want you to mention it either.’

‘Why ever not?’

‘He’s not interested. He doesn’t want to know. Now, promise me, Madge.’

‘Here, I know what you’re up to. You’re coining it and stacking it all up for yourself. Och, well, good luck to you, hen.’

‘Thanks, Madge.’

‘I’d do the same myself if I could. But what chance have I got with seven weans and that big useless midden I’m married to?’

‘You know fine that you wouldn’t want it any other way. You love the lot of them, including Alec. Especially Alec.’

‘Listen, hen, I could murder the lot of them. First they were screaming at Elvis and hopping about like maniacs at that Bill Hayley, now it’s The Beatles and see these wee pelmets of skirts – it’s not decent. Girls are the worst. That’s another thing you’re lucky with – you haven’t got girls.’

Catriona gave up. Her mind turned again to the success of her business or complementary therapy practice as it was known. She didn’t need to advertise now. She had built up quite a reputation. Even a few men came to her for help, mostly for sports injuries. She had got to know a young physiotherapist called Patricia Brown through Andrew, who had worked with her during one of his hospital placements. Quite often, she would suggest physiotherapy as well as her medicines, and Patricia would treat these patients in the next room. It only happened occasionally but, still, it could be a possibility to let out that other room to somebody like Patricia. Although it probably wouldn’t be her, because it looked as if Patricia was going to get married and move to Inverness. But there would be plenty of other physios or osteopaths who might be glad of a room. Osteopathy was becoming more and more acceptable. It might be tricky, though, to have someone else working regularly without Melvin knowing. He would definitely object to that if he found out.

Her ‘little hobby’ was one thing and he had long since happily accepted it. He never bothered to ask her how she was getting on or even go through to the back to see what was happening. As long as the house was kept clean and polished, his meal was ready for him when he arrived home in the evening and the television was switched on and as long as she was outwardly the quiet, acquiescent little wife, he was happy and content. Or at least as happy and content as a man of his temperament was able to be. He complained about the customers. He complained about the bakers and the girls in the shop. Even the cleaner, it seemed, didn’t do her job as well as she should. He always found something to grumble about. If it wasn’t people, it was the state of the nation or the weather. Everything accentuated the sour downward twist of his mouth. He even grumbled about the television, although he watched it avidly every night. Grumbling had just become a habit with him. He used to read the newspapers in the evenings but now he read them during his morning tea break in the bakehouse. That way he didn’t miss a moment’s TV. He now had a tray attached to the arm of his easy chair so that he could watch the screen while he ate. He even watched the adverts.