Authors: Jenny Telfer Chaplin
Chapter 8
That night when Rory came in from his work, it was to find his mother in floods of tears, his father hunched up in misery, no meal on the table, the children fretting and quarrelsome and wee Catrinona vainly trying to secure some of the family’s goods and chattel up in a ragged assortment of bundles.
One horrified at look at this utter chaos was enough for him to say, “Ma, what’s goin on? What’s happened here since Ah left this mornin?”
Sheena mopped at her copious tears. “Oh Rory son, it’s awful, terrible news, we’ve tae leave the cottage ...”
His father raised his head and speaking towards the sound of Rory’s voice, said, “Aye, son, it’s true, it’s the Poorhoose for us, nothin else for it .... even yer Maw’s Auntie she’s too auld and too cramped for space in her ain wee cottage tae take us all in. And Ah couldnae let us be a burden tae Fergus and Maggie ...”
Rory banged his fist on the table causing wee Catriona to drop the baking griddle which crashed to the floor – at which everyone jumped – and the younger children started crying.
Rory took a step nearer to his father and said, “Listen faither, ye can forget Fergus. He widnae gie us a reek of his dung, far less move a muscle tae help us yins. And forbye ...”
Sheena had half a mind to reprimand her son for the choice of gutter language, but then seeing him frowning and obviously deep in thought, she decided to let it go this once, after all he was as upset as she and Rab were, so why shouldn’t he be allowed to let off a bit of steam with guttersnipe phrases.
Rory raised his head, caught her eyes on him, nodded and said, “Like Ah say, forget Fergus and while ye’re at it, ye can forget the Poorhoos and all ... Ah’ve got an idea ... it might jist work.” He paused then biting his lower lip he asked, “How soon dae hae we to quit here?”
Sheena said, “We’ve got till tomorrow morn, then after that, we’re homeless.”
Scarcely were the words out in the open than again she started to weep noisily, all the while mopping at her face with the edge of her pinny.
The piteous sight seemed to activate Rory. “Ma, get me a dish of tea and a wee bit of bread and drippin, Ah’m fair starvin of hunger, Ah’ll get that doon me and then Ah’m oota here tae see what arrangements Ah can make, but ye can take it frae me, even if Ah’ve tae move heaven and earth, there will be nae Poorhoose, nae Workhoose for us.”
Rab spoke up, “Brave words indeed, Rory, but as tae how ye’ll manage such a miracle, damned if Ah know. Oh God, why the hell did Ah ever go tae yon Radical meeting ... it’s all my fault, all this sorrow, misery and upheaval, it’s all my fault.”
Rory sat down at the table, pushing aside the unwashed plates. “Father, your fault … nothin o the kind. Fine weel Ah ken who Ah blame and it’s ...”
Sheena set down his requested mug of tea. “Rory, no need to go intae all that again, especially in front o the bairns. They’re upset enough and after all, what’s done is done and can never be undone.”
Rory gobbled down his scratch meal, then without another word being said, he left the tied cottage and went out into the night in search of a solution to their dilemma, muttering to himself as he closed the door, “It might just work, yes it might. Well; only one way to find out.”
The door closed behind him, leaving his parents waiting and wondering as to what possible outcome there might be.
Time will tell, thought Sheena.
Next morning with the children in a rare state of excitement, each one carrying a tied-up bundle, Sheena holding on to her husband’s arm to guide him safely over the rutted cobbles and with Rory leading the way, they quit the tied cottage; the only family home they had ever known. Some fifteen minutes or so later, having made their way down Water Row, then further along the banks of the Clyde, past a number of derelict boat-houses, one in particular the very sight of which caused Sheena to stumble and all but accidentally pull Rab to the ground. Then, safely past this hazard, there they all now were standing in the yard, the premises of Buchan’s boat builders.
Sheena, having followed her son, was still unsure where it was they might have been heading. She looked in surprise at Rory, who with a barely concealed grin on his young face, said, “Wait here for a minute, Ah’ve sorted it all oot with Mister Buchan ... last night, guid hearted, churchgoing man that he is, he agreed tae my plan. So if ye will haud oan a minute, Ah’ll just let him know that we’re here.”
Rory mounted the outer stairway to the office and, after a brief meeting with his boss, Rory returned to her side with the words, “Aye, he’s a good man, true tae his word, not like some others we ken. Mr Buchan, he’s agreed that we can all live in an empty boatshed he owns, live in it for free. The only condition is that Ah’ve tae work longer hours at my same wage and you Ma and Paw, you two can be on hand, like sort of unpaid caretakers, see who’s comin and goin and that and forbye keep the yard tidy. There noo, whit dae ye think tae that arrangement?”
Sheena hugged her son, thinking, At least it’s not the Poorhoose and we will hae a roof over oor heads. But what about Rab, a blind caretaker? He’s going to feel even more useless especially if all the rest of us is pullin oor weight.
Scarcely had these gloomy thoughts ran through her head, than she heard Rab say, “Aye yer grand plan is all very fine and dandy, son. But between ye, me and the gatepost, a blind caretaker will be as much use tae Mr Buchan as a blind miner was tae Dixon’s. Ah just hope yer boss will be weel pleased with his side of the bargain ... or is this gonnae be another tied house, and before ower long, we’ll be getting oor marching orders frae here, same as the last stramash.”
Chapter 9
Early November 1819
In the weeks since they’d found shelter in the empty boatshed, Sheena could not believe how well they had all settled to their new home and their new way of life. With Rory working longer hours for no additional pay; Sheena being on hand as an unpaid cleaner-cum-caretaker, it was clear even this early on in the new arrangement, that as long as nothing untoward should occur to upset the tenor of their days, then the arrangement also suited Mr Jock Buchan very well indeed.
Even as she was thinking this and dwelling on such positive thoughts, Sheena was nevertheless all too aware that the one fly in the ointment was Rab. Just as she had feared, with each day that passed, her husband, too sensitively aware that he was contributing absolutely nothing to the common good of his family, was becoming ever more depressed and sunk in black moods of utter hopelessness. At her wits end as to how best to make him feel useful again and prove, not least of all to himself, that he really was a valuable member of their family, she had devised a ploy ... let him take the younger children with wee Catriona to lead him by the hand and take them further along the riverside, there to let the bairns play on the grassy banks of the River Clyde.
Much to her amazement and having broached her brilliant ploy with the utmost sensitivity, no he would not really be taking on the role of child minder, but it would be so good and so health-giving to let the bairns play out in the fresh air and well away from the noise, dirt and dangers of a busy boatyard in full production. It was only when she had further pointed out the double-edged advantage to all of them ... in accepting this role not only would Rab be benefitting the children and himself, it would leave Sheena free for her caretaking and cleaning duties without having the children under her feet all day.
For a few weeks this ploy worked like a charm, the children enjoying the freedom to run about, playing tig on the grassy slopes, young Catriona proud of the important task she’d been assigned, and Rab not only now feeling more useful in the scheme of things, but also now having a previously much-need pattern to his days. It seemed that no sooner was Sheena congratulating herself on this splendidly communal arrangement, then gradually she became aware of a rather disturbing aspect now rearing its ugly head. Each day on returning to their boatshed home, Rab, rather than his face aglow from all the fresh air, instead, he was looking increasingly downcast, morose and ill-tempered.
When she could stand his dark moods, his sudden outbursts of temper and even his sullen silences not a moment longer, one evening when the children were all fast asleep and Rory had gone out to meet a work companion, Sheena decided the time was right to confront this latest problem head-on.
Once having said her piece and now awaiting his reaction Rab put his hand to his furrowed brow in a gesture of utter despair.
“Uch, Sheena, sorry lass, Ah know it’s hard for you in every way ... these days the way Ah’m feeling Ah cannae even be your husband in the true sense eof the word, but ...” He paused.
Sheena said, “Rab therr’s nae need tae talk aboot such things, ye’ve never heard me complain as tae that business, noo have ye? Seems tae me the last thing in this world we’d need would be for me tae fall with another bairn. We’ve got oor faimly, we’re no needin ony mair weans.”
He gave her a sorrowful shake of his head. “Therr’s something else that bothers me, what wi me trailing the weans nearaboot every day doon for tae play games at the riverside and then me jist sitting therr like a numptie, daein nuthin, daein sweet bugger all, all that makes me feel even less of a man, a real man and God help us, Ah’ve even hae tae wait till wee Catriona condescends tae take haud of my hand before Ah can come back hame for my tea. Humph, some apology o a Scotsman me. And tae cap it off it’s getting too cauld tae be sitting outside.”
She reached forward, took his hands in hers and said, “Rab, as tae ye no bein like a real man or a real husband, it’s no seemly tae talk o such private matters, so best just leave it there.”
Into the ensuing silence she said, “Rab, correct me if Ah’m wrong, but surely there must be something else that’s troublin you, somethin ye’ve no yet mentioned. So, while we’ve got the place tae oorselves, tell me, what else is it that’s troublin you, for Ah’m convinced ye’re no easy in your mind aboot some ither matter. Tell me. and tell me noo, what is it? Is it anythin that I can help ye with? Are yer poor sightless eyes giving ye pain, are ye gettin headaches with pain behind yer eyes, are ye gettin stiff joints and creakin bones afore yer time wi all that sitting aboot the banks of the River? What is it, for God’s sake tell me. For one thing’s sure, we cannae go on like this a minute longer.”
He appeared to weigh up her words, and feeling the tension in his hands she knew he was debating with himself as to what, if anything he should tell and if deciding to speak, just how much of his guilty secret he should actually reveal.
He jerked away his hands, gave a preparatory cough, then started to speak, “Sheena, lass, Ah sometimes think ye can read me like a book. Aye, ye’re right enough, there is something sair troublin my mind. The heart of the matter is this ... what with me trailin doon day after day tae sit idly by on the banks of the Clyde ... ye must know, that’s what depresses the very hell oota me, just sittin twiddlin my thumbs at the riverside and ...”
Sheena could not control the anger she felt and the words tumbled out of her mouth, almost of their own volition.
“For heaven’s sake, Rab, it’s high time ye stopped feeling this sorry for yourself. Life has changed for all of us, thanks tae yer terrible accident, but we’re all making the best of a bloody bad job. It’s no very often that Ah swear, but see you, ungrateful bastard that ye are, ye’d make a saint use bad words. Ye’re depressed because ye sittin oot in the fresh air all day, just twiddling your thumbs. Like Ah say, we’re all makin the best o a bad job.”
He gave a bitter laugh. “Out o no job, ye mean. And with me bein nothin more than a child-minder, a blind child-minder, let’s face it, it’s no a man’s work, noo is it?”
She rose to her feet. “Put it this way, Rab ... Ah’m the one that’s daein the whole bloody bit ... washin, cleanin, scrubbin, cookin, bringing up yer weans, caretakin and sweeping up the boatyard, and tidyin up and cleanin Mr Buchan’s office ... dae ye think all that, aye and even more, is all that woman’s work? See me, if Ah could laze aboot all day sittin on ma bum on the banks of the Clyde, Ah’d be the happiest woman in the length and breadth of Scotland and that’s a fact.”
He sighed, a long heartfelt sigh which she could feel tearing at her heartstrings. Throwing out his arms in a gesture of mute appeal he said, “Ye still don’t see it, Sheena, Ye still don’t really get my meaning. Not only have Ah lost my manhood, in every sense of the word, but unbeknown tae you, Ah’ve lost all the lifelong dreams Ah once had. Ye see, hen sittin there at the Clyde day after weary day and daein sweet damn all ... it’s like a knife in my heart, and believe me, that’s no exaggeration.” He paused, swallowed hard a couple of times, then went on, “Ye see, hen darlin, the reality of what Ah hae noo, what Ah’ve become and what Ah’ve did with my life ... it might sound daft like to you, but nooadays the very sound of the waters of the Clyde, brings back tae me yon magical day when Fergus and me ... we were raw, untried, untested laddies on the threshold of life. A pure deid brilliant day, sittin in the autumn sunshine, dabblin oor feet in the Clyde, spinnin dreams, with oor lives before us. But noo, me sittin in the self-same place, relivin in my mind such memories, such happy memories of days gone by ... and then thinkin how it’s all turned oot in the end, it’s torture, nothin but terrible mental torture, that’s what it is. And knowing that much as Ah’d like tae, therr’s nae way Ah can turn back the clock ... the misery, the bitter reality of it all, it would depress a saint.”
She moved over to him and placed a hand on her his head. “Uch, Rab, how could Ah have even guessed that you sittin doon therr was such a hellish torture for you, Ah’m sorry Ah made ye dae it.”
“No, it’s me that’s sorry, sorry Ah ever went tae yon accursed Radical meeting; but Ah tell ye this: ye’ve nae need ever tae envy my days of idly twiddlin ma thumbs, but if that’s my punishment, then Ah maun bear it, Ah suppose. But Ah promise ye, Ah’ll never ever mention it again. Ah will try tae get a grip o masell and put on a bit cheerier-like face, that’s all Ah can dae. But, Sheena hen, Ah will try.