Jenny Telfer Chaplin (16 page)

If you enjoyed reading
Hopes and Sorrow
you may be interested in reading
Love and Sorrow
by Jenny Telfer Chaplin, also published by Endeavour Press.

Extract from Love and Sorr
ow by Jenny Telfer Chaplin

Part 1

Chapter 1

1 July 1899

The early morning light filtered through the threadbare curtains at the window of the tenement flat but for all the joy it brought the three young women in the room at the dawning of a summer’s day, it might as well have been the dark of mid-winter. Engaged as they were in this most secret of tasks, the darkness was already in their souls. As one tear-stained, matted-haired woman writhed in agony on the bed, the second with her untrained, so-called midwifery skills, struggled to bring into the world a reluctant baby, and the third member of their conspiracy sat continuously chewing her fingernails to the quick as if already doubting the wisdom of their actions.

As they all knew the pregnant woman had been in the throes of her tortuous labour for what seemed to them an endless age but which was in reality a little more than ten hours. Despite the midwife’s well-meaning but feeble efforts the baby was no nearer to making his or her way into the waiting world. The constant urging to keep pushing but to do so quietly lest her screams be heard by the bairns across the landing in the neighbour’s flat did even less to comfort the patient than the regular mopping of her brow with a vinegar-soaked rag.

With the light gaining strength the appointments of the room gradually became clearer – the black steel sink under the window; the goose-necked cold water tap; the wax-cloth-covered table; the mantelpiece with its regulation pair of wally dugs, brass candlesticks, tea caddy, and overhanging gas mantle; the crammed to capacity pulley with its array of vests, towels, nappies, and knickers; the home-made wee creepie stool; the rather decrepit armchair into which the ‘Heid o’ the Hoose’ would slump when home between stints as an ocean going deckhand.

Just as the rays of the sun reached the recess bed and the pain-wracked face of the young woman, with a final scream and arching of her body, she finally expelled the burden she had
carried with her for nine long, weary months. What a hated burden it had been for both her and her sister. For the final months and weeks of her pregnancy Meg had ventured out only at night enveloped in an enormous, moth-eaten shawl, while her sister, Nellie, had waddled round the streets of Bridgeton and her already child-filled tenement home with a cushion tied to her waist creating the supposed bump of a growing baby in her belly.

The self-styled midwife cleaned up the baby, wrapped it in a crocheted shawl, and held out the latest bundle of humanity.

“There sh
e is then, a bonnie wee baby.”

When there was no reply, nor even as much as answering smiles from her audience, Hannah persisted. “Weel, if naethin else, surely between the pair o ye
wi aw the fine planning ye’ve done, surely tae God ye’ve at least thought up a name for the puir wee bastard.”

As the harshness and bitter reality of this hated word sounded in the stillness of the early morning somehow its echoes seemed to hang in the air between them. Finally Nellie got slowly to her feet and glaring at Hannah said in a voice low with menace: “Bastard?
Naethin o the kind. Don’t you iver again use that hideous word referring to that poor wee mite.”

Hannah nodded and opened her mouth as if to speak, but Nellie hadn’t finished with her tirade.

“See her? See that wee scrap o humanity – you can call her any first name ye like, but Ah’m tellin ye this: as far as her surname goes … she’ll bear ma husband’s name, jist like aw the rest of ma ither bairns. Dae ye understand?” Hannah nodded. “Jist in case ye don’t get the picture, frae this minute on ye keep your silence – silent as the grave would jist aboot dae it.”

Hannah locked glances with the red-faced Mrs Nellie Bryden then slowly and deliberately rolled down her sleeves.

“Oh aye! That’s one thing sure … Ah’ll no be saying a word tae naebody. Apart frae onythin else – and maybe ye dinnae ken this, Mrs Know-it-all, but see the very minute ye gie false details aboot an illegitimate bairn on any official document, like it or lump it, ye will be breaking the law o the land, so ye will.”

From the quick indrawn breath and the look on Nellie’s face Hannah grinned, taking it that her barb had struck home and this was indeed news to Nellie.

“For all Ah ken the pair o youse might weel end up in jail. So hae nae fear. Ah wouldnae want tae join ye. Frae this day forrad ma lips is sealed.”

Having completed her task to
her own satisfaction, the self-righteous Hannah turned and called back from the doorway: “As far as a Christian name goes, why don’t ye call her Becky? Ah had an auld Aunt Becky and see her, talk aboot being lucky! Aye! She was that lucky in everythin she touched in this life that folk used tae say o her that if she fell in the Clyde she’d come up wi a gold watch. Aye! The name Becky should dae that puir faitherless bairn jist fine. For let’s face it, if anybody ever needed a bit o luck in this life ye can take it frae me it’s gonnae be that puir wee innocent bastard.”

With the noise of the slammed door still ringing in their ears Nellie and Meg looked at each other and almost in unison said: “Right! Becky Bryden it is.”

Nellie bustled around the kitchen preparing a pot of tea and said: “Right, Meg, one way and another, between the pair o us, we’ve battled our way through this bit o bother jist fine and dandy.”

A wan-faced Meg nodded and, exhausted, fell back. The pain and trauma of the night faded and she slipped into a dreamlike state …

Alex Cartside was so much more sophisticated than anyone Meg had ever met before. His polished manners and refined speech attracted her right from the very first time she saw him standing at the podium lecturing the class on the finer points of diction – “So necessary for a teacher to give a good example to her pupils.”

She was thrilled when in the second week he had complimented her in front of the whole class on her excellent speech and speaking voice. Their accidental meeting in Miss Cranston’s on Sauchiehall Street was the high point of the third week at the Normal School and she readily agreed to his proposal that they meet at Kelvingrove Art Gallery. There, he said, he could expand her horizon, discussing with her the excellent art, and thus making her a better teacher.

The visit to the gallery was very pleasant and at the afternoon tea which naturally followed Meg was charmed and readily agreed to further meetings.

Miss Euphemia Edgar, the spinster teacher who had taken Meg in when her parents died and with whom she still lived, warned her against ‘any romantic entanglement’ which would end her career in teaching. Meg had laughed. Alex was a lecturer at the Normal School, a good ten years older than she; he was simply good-heartedly interested in helping her become a better teacher.

However, as the meetings went on Meg was aware that while still formal and proper Alex now occasionally held her hand and once daringly put his arm round her waist. The first kiss in the twilight walking in Kelvingrove Park startled but thrilled her and she found herself kissing him back. Meg declined the next invitation, but Alex had pulled her aside after class and apologised, saying he had been carried away by the moment and that it wouldn’t happen
again. Their next meeting was again formal but in subsequent meetings they moved to amorous caresses and before Meg stopped to think they were in his rooms and it was too late to think.

In mid-November she discovered she was pregnant. Alex’s response to the news shocked her. He implied that she, a woman of loose morals, couldn’t possibly be sure the baby was his, and that anyway he was moving back in with his wife from whom he had had a temporary separation. He was resigning his post at the Normal School and taking up a similar post in Canada in the New Year.

Meg left Miss Edgar’s comfortable home saying her older sister needed her and she moved in with Nellie.

Later that day after copious amounts of tea Nellie sighed.

“Why on earth ye had tae gie everythin away like that, it fair beats me. Honest tae God the mair Ah think aboot it, the angrier and mair het-up Ah get. Tae think o aw the chances ye had that Ah niver even got a look at … ye were clever; ye got tae stay on at school efter Maw and Paw died and that dried up auld spinster o an English teacher wi the posh talk and stuff took ye in. Ye even got tae begin yer training for tae be a schoolteacher. A schoolteacher by God – and then …”

Meg eased herself up on the bed and reached out a detaining hand.

“Och, Nellie, don’t. Please don’t go on and on about it.”

Nellie brushed Meg’s hand aside and shouted: “Och, Nellie, nothin. This is somethin Ah hae tae say and God help me Ah will say it. It makes me fair boil wi rage when Ah think how bloody stupid ye’ve been. Where were aw yer brilliant brains then when ye were daeing the business wi him? Was aw yer high intellect and yer high-falutin manners doon therr skeeterin aboot in yer knickers?”

Meg’s face became even paler and she gasped.

Seeing the effect of her diatribe on her sister, Nellie relented somewhat.

“Och, listen, hen, what’s done cannae be undone but wi yer lover by noo over the seas tae the colonies tae escape his responsibilities, God alone knows what on earth ye’ll dae noo. But one thing Ah dae ken. Ye’ll no be able tae stay here in ma hoose. Ma ain tribe o bairns will be back frae across the landing the morn’s morn and Ah’ll need tae introduce them tae their new wee sister Becky. Apart frae onythin else ma man could be arriving back frae the high seas any day noo. He’s gonnae be surprised enough tae see another new bairn – although
mind you the way he went on at the hochmagandie on his last leave it shouldnae be as big a surprise.”

Meg blushed at her sister’s use of the coarse old Scotch word for intercourse. “It was fortunate that this trip took him away for just over the nine months.”

Nellie snorted. “Rab will deal aw right wi another mewlin wean, but the one thing he couldnae stomach is your fancy Kelvinside speechifyin, yer prissy manners, and yer high-falutin ideas. Naw, naw. Rab jist couldnae deal wi a high and mighty lady o quality such as ye’ve turned intae over the years. So ye’d better start thinkin aboot where it is ye’re gonna be livin, since ye cannae see yersel back wi yer teacher freen, and ye havenae the ghost o an idea as tae whit ye’re gonnae dae tae earn an honest crust.”

***

Chapter 2

Nellie’s words sank into Meg’s already sore, troubled brain. For the rest of that memorable day and far into the night, as Meg tossed on a sleepless pillow, the words kept on hammering their relentless message at her.

Early next morning Meg barely had time to sip at the cup of hot, sweet tea Nellie handed her before Nellie said: “Well? Reached any decisions yet? At least ye’ve had time to sleep on it …”

“Sleep on it! Sleep on it did you say, Nellie? With all this on my mind?”

Nellie waved her sister’s words aside with a dismissive gesture. “Hmph!
Ye’ve probably had a hell of a lot more sleep that me. Ah wis up and doon the hale night attendin tae that mewlin brat o yers.”

Meg bridled. “Her name is Becky, if you don’t mind, not mewling brat.”

“Listen, hen, Ah don’t give a damn whit her bloody name is, but whit Ah dae care aboot is this … ma man Rab could come roisterin back frae the high seas ony day noo. Ye’ll hae tae be weel clear o ma hoose before then. Surely ye can understaun that?”

Meg sighed. “I know, I know, so you don’t need to keep harping on about it. As to my own instincts … I’d love to stay on here with wee Becky, but I know I can’t. It’s impossible.”

“Impossible is right. At least that’s somethin we can baith agree on. Too bloody right it’s impossible. Right, noo we’ve settled that, what exactly is it that ye’re plannin tae dae for tae keep yer ain body and soul together? No tae mention haein the means tae go slippin me the odd half-croon backhander for looking efter yer wee b… er for feedin and clothin yer wee Becky.”

Silence greeted this and Nellie went on: “Ye’ll need tae get a job o some kind and the good God above alone kens whit that will be. For there’s one thing for certain sure, ye’ve certainly buggered up yer chance o iver reachin the giddy heights of social superiority o being a schoolma’am.”

“Nellie, would you please, please stop going on about my lost chances? If anyone on this planet earth is aware of what a horrendous mess I’ve made of my life it is me. When I think of how easily men can wriggle out of their paternal responsibilities I could weep from now till Kingdom Come.”

“Aye, ye were right stupid aboot that scunnersome lout that left you to fend for yersel with a bun in yer oven. Ah’ve been lucky
wi ma Rab. He works his fingers tae the bone slavin away on the high seas on that boat jist tae feed and clothe oor squad o weans. Never a cross word passes his lips even if every time he gets back Ah’ve got another new bairn waitin for tae greet its faither. Aye, one mair mouth tae feed disnae bother him, and ye can thank yer lucky stars for it, otherwise Ah’d no hae been able for tae take wee Becky aff your hands. Aye, a man among men, that’s ma guid man Rab.”

Meg pressed her lips together for the sake of peace as she thought of her picture of Rab – a drunken, womanising, controlling man; the seafarer home from the sea with money in his pocket and ‘rarin to go’ on his usual jaunts to the many houffs and pubs of the City of Glasgow.

After a short silence Nellie shook herself. “There’s ower much tae dae this morn for tae stand here bletherin. Whit in God’s name kinda job dae ye hope tae get?”

Meg frowned and chewed her lip then quite suddenly her face cleared.

“I think I may just have stumbled on an answer.”

Nellie stared at her sister, a look of disbelief on her face. “Ye really think that woman would gie ye a job? Why on earth would she? Let’s face it hen ye’ve nae experience nor qualifications for tae work in a haberdashery, or any other dashery for that matter.”

Meg gave a rueful smile. “If we’re being totally honest I’m not qualified for anything at all now, am I? But the thing is, Miss Martin, the elderly lady who owns it, she and I struck up quite a rapport when I used to buy some oddments in her shop while I was at the college in Dundas Vale.”

Nellie rolled her eyes to heaven. “Listen, hen, Ah don’t care what it was that ye struck up the auld biddy, but Ah still don’t see why in God’s name she would gie ye a job. She’s no yer fairy godmother nor naethin is she?”

Meg waved aside her sister’s words. “I became quite friendly with Miss Martin. I think she just needed someone to talk to. She used to tell me about her old mother and –”

Nellie snorted. “Fascinatin stuff!”

Ignoring her sister’s sarcasm, Meg went on: “Anyway be that as it may, the point is she once said, since I had a lovely speaking voice and compassionate manner, if ever I found teaching a class of unruly children was not to my liking she would be more than happy to give me a job. So there you have it! I’ve made up my mind. I’ll go and see her.”

“Right, Meg. For the love o God dae it sooner rather than later afore the auld biddy changes her mind. Eh no?”

***