Authors: Jenny Telfer Chaplin
At tea-break on the Monday morning Petronella and Meg
discussed yet again at length the events of the weekend as they had affected
the Glasgow public. So far Meg had managed to keep private her own immediate
concerns.
“Didn’t you say your young man had been planning to go
to that match at Ibrox before meeting you?” Petronella said. “I’m sure that was
what you told me, but with Mother listening I rather got the impression you did
not want to upset her unnecessarily with your own involvements in the tragedy.”
“Yes, but thanks be to God, he was one of the lucky
ones. He wasn’t hurt or injured in any way. Although it did rather change our
plans for the evening.”
“I would think it would. No doubt he was very shaken. I
mean to say, witnessing a tragic event like that would not exactly be anyone’s
best moment. An evening of high tea and dancing would then be the last thing on
his mind.”
“No, you don’t understand. What cancelled our plans was
quite different. I didn’t even get to meet Jack on Saturday. He stayed behind
at Ibrox to help the injured while they were waiting for attention from doctors
and ambulance men.”
“Well, all I can say is this … that Jack of yours must
be a very caring and compassionate young man putting aside his own safety,
convenience, and social plans like that for the good of others.”
“He’s not exactly my Jack –”
“Listen to me Meg and listen well. Good men are hard to
find, so just you see and hang onto him. Don’t let him go pioneering off all
footloose and fancy-free to the colonies.”
Meg could feel the colour drain from her face and her
hands shook.
Had she imagined the subtle emphasis on the him in that
last sentence? Does Petronella know my guilty secret? Has she found out the
truth about the wastrel who fathered my wee Becky before beating a retreat to
some far flung outpost of the Empire?
“Er … um … Petronella, how do you mean pioneering off
to the colonies?”
Petronella gave an impatient toss of her head.
“Honestly, Meg. No need to look so worried. I’m not for an instant suggesting
that this young man has already booked his passage on the next available
emigrant ship. Really, you are the limit.”
Surely if she knew, Petronella would have me out of her
house, and her employ, in short order. I must be imagining the emphasis. It’s
all in my guilty mind.
“I’m still not quite sure what you’re on about …”
Petronella gave a somewhat patronising smile. “Meg,
really. Don’t you ever read the morning newspapers? Almost every day the papers
are full of those enticing advertisements offering anything up to a hundred and
sixty acres of land absolutely free to anyone willing and able to sail off from
Scotland and start a new life in Canada.”
“Oh, yes. I do know what you mean now. I have seen
those adverts and not only for Canada; Australia gets a mention too, I
believe.”
“That’s right. And it isn’t only skilled men they want.
Anyone willing to work as farmhands, and healthy women are needed to work as
domestic servants.”
Meg sighed in relief. Obviously, Petronella was talking
in general terms. The emphasis had been in my mind and Petronella knew nothing
about Becky and my past. The sooner I’m a decently married woman the better,
and I won’t have to go through the agonies of worrying about someone chancing
on my secret.
***
The chaste courtship of Meg and Jack was not without
its upsets.
The week after the aborted tea at Miss Cranston’s, Meg
had her first invitation to visit Jack’s home and meet his widowed mother. Mrs
Dunn turned out to be a spoiled, selfish old woman whose behaviour and attitude
towards Meg made it very clear that come hell or high water, she, as matriarch
of the family, was determined to hang on to her beloved son. Subsequent visits
did not improve the relationship as Mrs Dunn gave the impression that although
Meg was well-spoken and well-mannered, a shop-girl was not a suitable match for
her bank-clerk son.
Meg pressed her lips together and her knuckles showed
white as she recalled in detail the events the spiteful old woman had, in one
snide way or another, managed to ruin for them since their first introduction
five months before. But yet again Meg had high hopes that tonight would be different
…
Both Meg and Jack had been looking forward to the
choral concert in the City Hall for which Jack had managed to get two of the
very scarce tickets. At the prospect of an entire evening with Jack all to
herself and thus well clear of his mother’s apron strings Meg hummed happily.
Jack had also suggested it would be pleasant to start off their evening by
having high tea in the prestigious Ca’dora restaurant.
Although Jack in his usual quiet, unassuming way had
made no other comment about his plans for the evening. Meg could not help
feeling that perhaps this would be the night…
Surely a proposal of marriage would at last be
forthcoming? Meg frowned as she thought of the other false alarms of the last
few months, but tonight was her birthday, surely a good omen.
Meg grinned at herself in the mirror as she gave a
final pat to her hair.
Yes, my girl … tonight’s the night.
Jack was already seated at a table and rose as Meg
entered the room, waving her across. The first thing Meg noticed was that the
table had three place settings, not two.
Oh, well, she thought, Jack probably didn’t have the
foresight to ask for a romantic twosome and this was the table he was shown to.
She settled herself comfortably and was just about to
put her handbag on the empty chair when she heard Jack say: “Aha! Here she
comes. The lady herself.”
Meg turned to look at who was coming and Jack went on:
“Are you all right, mother? You seemed rather a long time in the lady’s powder
room.”
With a victorious smile at Meg, Mrs Dunn reached
forward and, as if he were a naughty schoolboy, ruffled his hair with the
words: “Silly boy. Always worrying about your poor old mum. I don’t know what
I’ll do with you, Jackie.”
She turned to Meg and twittered on: “He does worry so …
all this fuss. Just a little headache, nothing to speak of.”
Meg on the point of blurting out: “Then why bother to
mention it, if it’s that unimportant?” was saved the disgrace as Mrs Dunn
continued: “No, I told Jackie a little thing like a headache wasn’t going to
stop me from joining you both for tea … especially when it’s such a special
evening … your birthday tea!”
The last comment was delivered with such a ring of
triumph that Meg felt she was about to be physically sick. The idea of sharing
the meal with the possessive old harridan was more than she could bear.
Meg slowly rose to her feet and looking down on mother
and son more in sorrow than in anger said: “You know what, Mrs Dunn, I do
believe there’s an epidemic of sick headaches going the rounds at the moment
and it now seems to be my turn.”
She turned to Jack. “Sorry about this, Jack. I’m sure
your mother, herself a martyr to headaches, will fully understand my situation.
Anyway you only have two tickets for the concert. So please, you and your
mother enjoy both the concert and the meal. Goodnight.”
With her head held high and, she hoped, her dignity
intact Meg made her way out of the restaurant. Walking along the bustling
city-centre street Meg was aware that in delivering both an unspoken ultimatum
and a challenge, she had taken the risk of terminating the ongoing courtship
and putting an end to the possibility of eventual marriage to her dear Jack.
***
To Meg’s embarrassment and Petronella Martin’s delight,
the very next evening after the disastrous tea at the Ca’dora, Jack arrived on
the Martin doorstep with a request to see Meg in private. Petronella ushered
him into the parlour and rushed to Meg’s room with the news.
Jack apologised profusely about the fiasco. It had not
been his intention to have his mother there for the tea, but she had invited
herself and he hadn’t known how to say no. It wouldn’t ever happen again.
To Meg’s utter astonishment. Petronella bustled in with
a silver tea-tray set for two and, having placed it before them, with a
conspiratorial smile at Meg left them alone.
Meg started to pour tea then almost dropped the pot as
Jack sank to his knees.
“Meg, my dear, will you do me the honour of being my
wife?”
Meg quickly put down the pot. “Oh, Jack, do get up!
Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Petronella, who must have had her ear pressed to the
door, erupted in. “Meg! Congratulations. This calls for something a little more
than tea, I think. Would you get the good sherry glasses from the dining room,
Meg, and I’ll fetch the decanter.”
At her next visit to Nellie, Meg eventually scraped up
enough courage to ask the question that had been troubling her.
Nellie listened to Meg’s hesitant and circuitous
preamble for a time then said: “Are ye tryin tae tell me yer thinkin o gettin
married? That wid certainly be news tae me.”
“No … it’s just that … well … there is a chap who seems
to be rather keen on me and … well … yes … he has asked me … but the thing is …
if I did get married, would my husband know on the wedding night … I mean …”
Nellie roared with laughter. “Aw right, ye neednae
spell it oot for me. Onywey, who’s the lucky man?”
Meg, relieved that Nellie obviously did not require any
further intimate details, rushed on: “He sits near me in church – it’s Jack
Dunn –”
Nellie’s eyes opened wide in amazement. “Ye mean the
son o auld Dragon Dunn? Oh, my God, he must be feeling his oats if he’s darin
tae look at ony woman, especially if his auld witch o a mither’s in tow.”
Meg had no answer to this and waited for Nellie to go
on.
“Mind you, Meg, come tae think on it, leavin his mither
aside, Jack Dunn would suit ye fine … him no bein experienced wi wimen like.”
Meg held out a restraining hand.
Nellie grinned. “Listen, hen, Jack Dunn would be ideal
husband material for ye. So jist ye gae ahead. A real do-gooder Ah hear, so
come the weddin night if he did think awthin amiss … ye could aye say ye’d done
ower much bicyclin.”
Nellie gave a coarse laugh. “At the end o the day it’s
jist ye and me that kens the word for whit ye done – and it’s naethin tae dae
wi time spent cyclin.”
***
Now that Meg was married to Jack there wasn’t a day
that she didn’t count her blessings. Her days of going to work in the
haberdashery were finally behind her. At first she had worried about being able
to pay Nellie, but Jack had been used to turning over his pay packet to his
mother and handed it to Meg to deal with the household accounts. The weekly
amounts to Nellie Meg could afford by being careful with her housekeeping and
Jack was none the wiser. Even though she enjoyed being a housewife, Meg had to
admit to herself, when the hated chore of ironing awaited her attention she was
the first to invent an excuse to skive off and get as far away as possible from
the mountain of crumpled clothes.
She hummed quietly to herself as she dusted round the
living room, impatiently stowed away a bundle of darning, and plotted her
escape for the rest of the day. After toying with, then dismissing, the idea of
paying another visit to Nellie and Becky she finally settled on a visit to her
church friend Anna Weir.
Yes, the very idea. It’s been a while since I visited
Anna. I’ll pop over there this afternoon.
As she set out on her way through the city streets the
sky was overcast and the first spots of rain were already gaining strength. By
the time she reached Anna’s home in Rutherglen Meg was soaked. Anna took one
look at Meg when she answered the bell and burst out laughing.
“Meg, it’s yourself. Well, dear, I would say that
you’re a sight for sore eyes – but the truth is you look like nothing other
than a drowned rat. Come away in, into the warm.”
They giggled like a pair of schoolgirls. Seated by the
kitchen fire Meg said: “You know, I’ve always said that January was my most
hated month, but this February with this downpour … words fail me.”
“You know you’re more than welcome, of course, any
time, but what on earth possessed you to come out on such a day?”
Meg gave a sheepish grin. “Apart from avoiding some
household chores, I wanted to see you and in any case the weather wasn’t too
bad when I set out.”
As if on cue there was a blattering of rain against the
window.
Anna grinned. “At least you’re home and dry for the
moment. Now then, what’s new since I last saw you?”
Meg shrugged. “Nothing much but …” She nodded at the
very obvious bulge under Anna’s pinny. “… it looks to me as if you’ve got
something exciting that I haven’t heard about yet.”
The rest of the afternoon was spent in pleasant
chit-chat and fond reminiscences of their tried and tested friendship dating
from the days when in trying to establish her image of respectability Meg had
joined Anna in the church flower rota.
Battling her way against the driving rain and splashing
through the puddles on her way home Meg felt an inner glow of happiness.
I’m so pleased for Anna, she’s going to be a mother at
last. Poor soul, I think she’d almost given up all hope of ever achieving that
dream.
Next day when Jack arrived home for his mid-day meal he
flourished his morning paper. “Looks like you were lucky to get safely home
yesterday from your visit to Rutherglen. The paper’s full of it. Seems
yesterday’s rainstorms were the worst in living memory. The whole of Scotland
was affected … flooding everywhere, livestock swept away … as for Glasgow
itself–”
Jack paused for breath and Meg said: “I know I got well
and truly soaked, but apart from that–”
Jack smiled as his meal was placed before him. “Here,
dear, read all about it for yourself – seems that every river in Glasgow bust
its banks: the Clyde, the Cart, and the Kelvin. You were lucky to get home
safely without too much upset. Never mind, you had a good heart-to-heart
blether with Anna. I know you’ve missed her since she moved to that church
nearer her new home.”
***