The New Breadmakers (6 page)

There was an Orange Walk every year on the anniversary of the Battle of the Boyne. Sean’s heart weighed him down at the thought. All it would take on one of these occasions was the sight of Jimmy Stoddart swaggering out of the close wearing his bowler hat and orange sash to set Dermot off. All it would take to start the Battle of Glasgow was for Jimmy Stoddart to sing ‘The Sash’. One of these days, Sean felt certain, all this senseless bigotry was going to end in tragedy.

Before 1958 was out, Sammy decided to join the Red Cross and work for them in his spare time.

‘Are you a masochist or something?’ Alec asked him.

‘Och, I’m used to it.’

‘How do you mean? You work at a desk in an office.’

‘I served in the Friends’ Ambulance Unit for a while.’

‘Even so. They saw to the injured on the front line during the war, didn’t they? That’s a lot different from looking after the injured at Glasgow events like football matches.’ He hesitated with mock thoughtfulness. ‘Although … I don’t know.’

Sammy laughed. ‘The Red Cross believes in looking after folk in need or in pain. It doesn’t matter who they are or what side they’re on. That applies all over the world. Even in Glasgow.’

Alec couldn’t imagine Sammy in a uniform of any kind. One of the guys who’d been at Maryhill Barracks at the same time as Sammy had told of how Sammy refused to put on the khaki. How he’d survived the punishments meted out to him for that and everything else, Alec couldn’t imagine. He remembered only too well how Sammy had looked at Ruth’s funeral. That’s when the Quakers had got him out. What a mess his face had been in, and no doubt his body had been covered with injuries as well.

‘After what, happened in the past, I was surprised at you agreeing to put on any kind of uniform.’

‘It’s not the uniform that’s the problem. It’s what it stands for.’

Alec grinned. ‘I was always a wow with the girls in the old bell-bottoms.’

‘I bet!’

For a second, Alec felt terrible in case his thoughtless remark would make Sammy remember him and Ruth. But Sammy’s response had sounded perfectly good humoured, with no hint of bitterness.

‘Well, anyway, I don’t envy you having to patch up all the injured at matches. You’ll never have time to see the game.’

Sammy shrugged. ‘I’ll not be the only Red Cross man in attendance and the St John Ambulance’ll be there as well.’

‘Aye, and there’ll be supporters of both sides having to be patched up. Just try and make sure, when it’s an Old Firm match, that you don’t cart any Rangers and Celtic fans off to the hospital in the same ambulance. You’ll be more like a referee then than anything else.’

‘Stop worrying, Alec. You’re getting as bad as my mother.’

‘God forbid!’ Hastily he backtracked. ‘I don’t mean anything against your mother. You know what I mean.’

‘Yes, I know what you mean.’

It seemed to be Alec’s day for putting his foot in it. Sammy’s mother was a poor soul, bullied by his father, terrified of him as well no doubt. Alec didn’t blame her. No wonder she was always so anxious about her favourite son. If she lost Sammy, it would finish her. All her other sons had gone either to England or abroad – to escape from old Hodge Hunter, no doubt. He’d have emigrated to the North Pole if it had been him. What an old horror! The exact opposite of his pacifist son, Hodge had been a military man all his life.

Alec remembered well, and now with shame, how he and other boys would jeer and laugh at the Hunter family as Hodge put young Sammy and his brothers through their military-style drills in Springburn Park. Poor sods. As if they weren’t having a bad enough time with their horror of a father, without the likes of him and his pals tormenting them.

‘Fancy coming up to Balornock for a bite to eat?’ Alec asked. They had been enjoying a pint in the Boundary Bar in Springburn after work.

‘Madge’ll be getting fed up with me turning up for my tea so often.’

‘Nonsense. She thinks the world of you. It’s the only time she gives me any peace. She thinks I can’t get up to any mischief when I’m with you. With women, she means. To her, you’re my bloody guardian angel.’

He’d done it again.

Sammy groaned and shook his head, making Alec quickly add, ‘You know what she’s like.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’

‘Are you coming then?’

‘Well, if you’re sure …’

‘Definitely. I’m depending on you mentioning the walk.’

‘The Quaker walk?’

‘Well, this year’s Orange Walk’s past. Thank goodness we were on holiday. Doon the watter. All crushed together in a wee room and kitchen. Mad, isn’t it?’

‘It’s a hill walk. Are you fit for it?’

‘Bloody cheek!’ Alec stuck out his chest and threw back his shoulders. ‘I’m as fit as you, mate. I wasn’t in the navy for nothing.’

‘Yes, I know. It was to get away from Madge.’

Alec grinned. ‘You’re right there.’

‘Do you think she’ll believe you?’

‘Well, it’s true, isn’t it? I am going.’

‘You’d better. You’re not on if you’re hoping to use me as a cover for anything else.’

‘Don’t worry, Sammy.’

‘You did that once before, remember?’

‘OK. OK. But this time it’s either a hill climb or an afternoon with the Stoddarts down the stair. It’s Big Aggie’s birthday. They’ve probably invited half the Orange Lodge as well. Have you seen inside their place?’

Sammy shook his head.

It’s like a shrine to Rangers. Jimmy’s got pictures of players lining every wall in his front room and a big picture of Ibrox Park hanging over the mantelpiece. I support Rangers myself, as you know, but he’s a bloody fanatic.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. I’ve got pictures of Partick Thistle all over my house.’

Alec laughed. ‘Aye, that’ll be right. Anyway, no way am I going to be stuck for hours with Jimmy and his cronies talking about football. He can make the most torrid matches sound a bore. I’ve said I promised ages ago to go to this Quaker thing, booked in and all that. Swore on the Bible that I’d be there.’

‘Alec!’

‘I won’t be at the thing beforehand, though. I’ll meet you outside. It just isn’t me.’

‘Why not?’

‘Och, come on, Sammy. You know me.’

‘OK, OK, I’ll meet you outside.’

They were passing the Wellfield Cinema and beginning the walk up the steep incline of Wellfield Street. Alec jerked his head in the direction of the ‘Wellie’, as it was often called, especially by the local children. ‘I used to get in there for the price of a few jam jars. Did you?’

‘No. After school and at weekends, we had to do various army drills and manoeuvres.’ Sammy’s mouth tightened. ‘Or I’d be on some sort of punishment. Standing outside the mortuary for hours in the dark was a favourite one. Not with me, needless to say.’

‘My God, Sammy, every time I think of your father, I don’t know how you put up with him. Even to this day.’

‘What choice did I have? Especially as a child.’

Now there was his mother, Alec thought.

As if reading his mind, Sammy said, ‘I’ve asked my mother to leave him and come and stay with me, but I think she’s been frightened of him for too long. At first, she made the excuse that he was an old man and she hadn’t the heart to leave him now. But eventually she admitted that she was afraid he’d come after her when I was out at work, and she’s probably right. It sounds ridiculous in a way, but I gave her a puppy and that seems to have comforted and helped her. She loves that dog, and it loves her.’

‘Och, well, you’ve done your best, Sammy.’

At the top of the Wellfield hill, they turned left, crossed over to the Co-op, then went round the corner to the right and along past the line of shops to Broomknowes Road. They crossed the road again at the grassy patch called the triangle and went up Alec’s close. The Jacksons lived one up, so both men clattered up the stone stairs past the Stoddarts’ and the McKechnies’ doors. John and Vera McKechnie had a son and daughter and all were devout members of the Jehovah’s Witnesses. They would take a dim view of the Stoddarts’ birthday celebrations. They seemed to take a dim view of everything everybody did.

‘Hello, Sammy.’ Madge greeted him with one of her toothy grins. ‘The kettle’s on.’

‘I feel guilty eating here so often, Madge. I was just saying to Alec …’

‘Och, be quiet. You know fine you’re always welcome. Sit down.’ She suddenly let out one of her enormous roars. ‘Sadie, Agnes. Where are you, you lazy middens? I told you an hour ago to set this table.’

Huffy voices issued from one of the two bedrooms. ‘How’s it always us that’s to do everything?’

‘I’ll “how’s it always us” when I get my hands on you,’ Madge bawled as she made for the lobby in big muscular strides.

Alec shook his head in exasperation. ‘She’s got a voice like a ship’s foghorn. I don’t know where she gets the energy. It tires me out just listening to her.’

Willie, who had been doing a jigsaw puzzle on the floor, looked up with a cheeky, mischievous grin. ‘I’ll tell her what you said.’

‘Who’s her?’

‘Mammy.’

‘Well, show a bit of respect. Say “Mammy”, not “her”.’

Alec turned to Sammy. ‘See kids nowadays? A right cheeky lot. They’re all the same.’

‘I’m not cheeky, am I, Daddy?’ Charlie sidled up to Alec and leaned against him.

‘No, you’re a good wee lad, son.’

A loud groan came from Willie. ‘Wee sooky, Daddy’s pet. Sook, sook …’

Sammy cut in. ‘How about some pocket money? I’ve got some for each of you.’

A cheer immediately erupted and Alec had to fight to be heard. ‘You don’t need to do this, Sammy. You spoil them.’

‘Och, what’s the harm? Give me enough space to get into my pocket, folks.’ All seven children had appeared as if by magic and were crowding excitedly around Sammy.

‘Say thanks, or I’ll murder the lot of you,’ Madge bawled from the scullery.

Alec suddenly longed for a bit of peace and quiet. Sammy’s mother must be mad to turn down the offer of a bed at Sammy’s wee house in Springburn Road. Although it was in the busy centre of Springburn, Sammy’s house was an oasis of calm and peace inside. Ironically, it was too silent and still for Sammy.

‘If he made me the offer,’ Alec thought, ‘I’d jump at the chance.’

The trees in the Botanic Gardens were laced with snow. It was like a fairyland, brilliant white and sparkling. Catriona liked to stand at one of the windows and gaze across at it. That was when she had a minute to spare, which was not often.

Usually, when she had to go down to Byres Road, either for shopping or if there was some emergency in the bakery and she had to help out, she cut through the park. She did that today, her boots crunching into the snow and leaving a trail of footprints behind her. It was strangely quiet. Snow muffled every sound, even those of the trams and buses in Great Western Road and Byres Road leading off it. She passed the Kibble Palace, one of the largest glasshouses in Britain, named after John Kibble, its original owner. At one time, the huge, iron-framed conservatory had been the venue for many city meetings and functions. Concerts were held in it and Disraeli and Gladstone had made their inaugural speeches there when they were installed as Lord Rectors of Glasgow University. Eventually, to prevent further damage to the plants by so many visitors, a heating system had been installed and it was returned to its original function as greenhouse. There were many other hothouses in the park, containing an impressive selection of shrubs, trees and plants from all over the world. Catriona took delight in wandering around, admiring the wonderful collection of exotic orchids. Apparently, the Gardens also supplied much material for the use of the Department of Botany in Glasgow University.

Melvin, as usual, had left earlier to open up the shop. The bakers in the premises at the back would have been busy all night and would be ready to knock off when Melvin arrived. There were four bakers, including Baldy Fowler. Baldy now rented a room and kitchen across the road from the shop. Every time Catriona reached the main gate of the park and crossed Great Western Road into Byres Road, she couldn’t help looking wistfully at the wee room and kitchen she’d once lived in there. Melvin had been away at the war and, after the Dessie Street shop and houses had been bombed, that’s where she eventually ended up.

It was overcrowded, with Melvin’s old father and Fergus having to share one room, and her and Andrew sharing a bed in the other, yet she had felt – for the first time in her life – free, independent, with such a peaceful sense of belonging. She had found the place herself, paid for it herself, and made her own decisions. She had friends to visit when she wanted and went out when and where she wanted. Not that she went out very often, not in the evening at least. But, during the day, when the children were at school, she could always snatch a few minutes’ walk in her lunch hour, even just around the shops. She had enjoyed her job, working alongside Julie in Copeland & Lye’s. In the evenings, she’d either take the boys out to the park (so handy being just across Great Western Road) or occasionally to the Lyceum Cinema, which was off Byres Road, just a couple of minutes round the corner in Vinicombe Street.

On Saturday afternoons, the boys often went to the matinee there. Everything was so handy. On other evenings, especially after the boys went to bed, she’d sit at the front-room window, her chin cupped in her hands, watching all the people strolling along talking and laughing together.

Everything changed when Melvin came home. He had to be the big man again and have a bakery and a house to show off. That was the reason he’d bought the ridiculously big house they were in now. She didn’t work full time in the bakery. Even Melvin, crazy though he was, saw that it was impossible for her to do that and run the house in the way he wanted and also have his meals cooked and served up exactly as he liked them. But she helped out occasionally – by checking the books or serving at the counter if Sandra McKechnie was off sick. The poor girl obviously had trouble with her periods. She was an awful sickly colour at times. Catriona guessed she hadn’t much of a life. Not that Sandra had complained or anything, but she always looked so miserable and neglected, with her pale face, lank hair and steel-rimmed glasses. Nowadays, her father was an elder or had some such important post in the Jehovah’s Witnesses and he was very strict with the family. Apparently, singing, dancing and enjoying yourself in any way whatsoever was a sin. Sex before marriage was particularly heinous and the perpetrators were definitely destined for hell.