It was a long walk from the shops in Dockmouth Road to Glebe St. With a message-bag full of groceries, a heavily pregnant Beth was tired out when she got home. They had outgrown Warner St. With two children and, with a third on the way, they had moved to a bigger flat in a nicer part of the town. Glebe St. had three-story, red-sandstone buildings. They lived on the first-floor, where they had a nice living-room, a large and a small bed-room, and a proper kitchen. They still had to share a communal lavatory with the neighbours, but at least it was inside. Not having to share their bed-room with the children was like heaven to Beth. Now that Cormac was a plater’s-mate, they could afford to live in the bigger house.

It had taken Beth twenty minutes to walk from the shops, and she was breathing heavily. It was not typical June weather, cold, wet and windy. Beth was glad to have reached the close to get out of the wind. She put the bag on the ground, when she was pushed against the wall by a blow from the shoulder of a man pushing past behind her.

"Careful. You’ll knock me down. Can you not have some respect for an expecting mother?"

"Shut yer mooth, ye fenian bitch. I hope it’s born dead. It’ll be one less Papist tae worry aboot."

Beth recognised him as their neighbour, Sam Anderson, a staunch Orangeman. With his blond hair cropped short, he looked like some-one just released from prison. Small pig-like eyes in a ferrety face with a long, white scar on the left cheek gave him a menacing look.

Ignoring Anderson. She lifted the bag of shopping and started to climb the stairs. Anderson was waiting for her at the landing, halfway up.

"Let me past please," she asked calmly.

"Why should I? Away back to fucking Ireland to your own sort, and leave us Protestants in peace. Your bloody man’s got my job in the yard. I got paid off. Me, a good Protestant, and him a fucking Papist."

He made no move to let her past. She smelled the beer on his breath and knew that, drunk, he could be unpredictable. She turned back down the stairs, deciding to go to her friend Julia, in the next close, who was looking after four year-old Mack and three year-old John while she did the shopping.

"Away ye go, and don’t come fucking back," he shouted after her.

He stumbled up to his own flat on the top-floor. When Beth heard the door close, she crept quietly back up the stairs to the landing. With a sigh of relief, she saw he was not waiting for her, as he had done on a previous occasion. Quickly, she got her key out and went into the house.

When Cormac got home from work that evening, she was very quiet.

"What’s up Beth? Has Anderson been bothering you again?" When he got no answer, he said, "I’ll knock his head off if he as much as touches you."

"He never touched me. He just shouts and calls me a Papish bitch."

"I’m getting awful fed up with him. It’s time he was taught a lesson."

"Cormac, you leave him alone. You’ve had enough bother with that McEwan at your work. You don’t want to get into another fight. That would just get you the reputation of being a brawler. He’s not worth bothering with, and apart from anything else, he’ll make two of you.".

"So did McEwan."

"If he starts a fight with me, I’ll knock his block off myself." She laughed. "He’s just a nuisance. He wouldn’t try to hurt me."

"Aye, well, he’d better see that he doesn’t. What have we got for the tea?"

*********

"Jimmy, I’m at the end of my tether. When we got the place, it was fine. It’s a grand house, and we got on fine with all the neighbours. We had to get out of Warner St. It was just too wee, especially with Paddy on the way, and we were dead lucky to hear about it. Six months later, old Mr. McAlister died and that damned Anderson moved in. He’s as Orange as King Billy and he’s making Beth’s life a misery. I’m at my work, but she’s in the house all day, and so’s he. He got paid off from the shipyard for always being drunk, and it sticks in his craw that some fenian bastard has the job that he thinks should be his. He’s abusing Beth every time he passes her on the stair. He’s pished against our door twice this month coming back from the pub.

Jenny’s really nice. I can’t understand how a nice lassie like her married a clown like him."

"Look Cormac, you’re paying one-and-nine a week rent for the place. He’s got to be paying the same. If he’s not in work, it won’t be long before he’ll get behind and they’ll throw him out."

"Aye, that’s just what I said to Beth. Then I got talking to Jackie Agnew at the yard last week. He’s in the Lodge. He let slip that Alec Sellars, the grand master in the Winton Lodge, is Anderson’s uncle, and the factor’s been told not to harass them over the rent for the time being. They’ll be there for years. It took me and Beth six months and more to find a decent place like that. It’s a lot of rent to pay, but it’s worth it. And then this happens. I’m fair fed up with the whole damned business."

"Why doesn’t Beth and the boys come and stay with her mother and me for a wee while. Beth was talking to her about it. She’s fed up with it too. Erna mentioned it to me a couple of days ago."

"She never told me that. She’s always told me that she’s not too bothered. This makes it different. I’m not having that bastard upsetting my wife. And thanks for the offer, but I’m not having my wife and bairns being chased out of their own home by an animal like that."

"Well, you be careful son. Don’t be doing anything daft."

*****

What the hell is that noise? Cormac jumped up from his chair by the fire where he was watching the images in the flames. It’s coming from the lobby. He walked quietly into the hall and stood listening to the sound of splashing water. It’s not raining, so it can’t be that leak beside the skylight. Christ, it’s Anderson peeing against the door again.

Cormac wrenched the door open to see Anderson shaking the last drops from his penis and a pool of urine on the doormat. Cormac kicked him in the crotch and kneed him in the face when he doubled over. The two men fell wrestling on the floor of the landing leading from the front doors to the top of the stairs. They wrestled and fought their way down the stairs and out the close into the street. Beth followed them down with a cast-iron frying pan in her hand. Landing more blows than Cormac, she flailed with varied success at Anderson

"For God’s sake woman get out the bloody road." Cormac pushed her aside after she had hit him for the third time. She stood back in silence with the pan at the ready. They kicked and punched each other till Cormac punched Anderson on the jaw and knocked him out.

As luck would have it, Sergeant Sinclair turned the corner of Green Street into Glebe Street just at that moment. When Anderson came round, the big sergeant marched them both off to the police station in the Station Road.

The following morning the cell door clanged open.

"Sleanagh, you come with me."

Cormac rose from the bed, picked up his jacket and followed the constable out of the cell. His tongue found the gap where a tooth no longer was. He turned his head to the left, the better to see out of his good right eye. The left one was of little use to him, being firmly closed behind the bruise that covered that side of his face.

The Sheriff looked down from his high desk into the body of the court.

"Sleanagh, Cormac. plater’s mate, Glebe Street, Seabank. Arrested at a quarter to eleven yesterday evening outside the afore-mentioned address. Charged with assault, affray and breach of the peace. How do you plead?"

"Guilty milord."

"You address the Bench as ‘Your Worship,’ young man."

"Sorry sir. I mean Your Worship. Guilty, Your Worship."

"Have you anything to say for yourself?"

Cormac knew that explanations would be of no use. He was immigrant, Irish, working-class. The establishment here was overwhelmingly Scots Presbyterian with heavy overtones of the Orange order.

"No, Your Worship."

"I am thoroughly sick of your type disturbing the peace for decent folk. I will not tolerate such behaviour in my jurisdiction. You will serve thirty days imprisonment in Kilmarnock jail. Constable take him away to the cells."

*****

Cormac’s attention was drawn to the door of the court-room, to watch a tall man stride in, and he almost missed the Sheriff passing sentence.

"Your Worship, may I be allowed to address the Bench?"

"No, you may not sir. The case is closed. I have passed sentence."

"With respect Mr Gourlay, I think I have something of relevance to say."

"Who are you , sir?" The Sheriff peered short-sightedly over his spectacles at the speaker.

"My name is Allardyce, your worship."

"Allardyce? I’m sorry Mr. Allardyce. How can you help us in this matter of an affray between two common working-men?" Sheriff Gourlay recognised a gentleman when he saw one.

"I am acquainted with the accused. I would like to present myself as a character witness on his behalf."

"Most irregular, sir. I assure you. As I said, the case is closed, and I have passed sentence."

"I realise that Your Worship. Still, I would greatly appreciate being heard."

The Clerk of the Court finally managed to attract Gourlay’s attention. A whispered conversation took place.

"Mr. Allardyce, I’m afraid I did not realise it was you in court. What would you like to say?"

"Your Worship, I am acquainted with Sleanagh. He is one of my employees, and I consider him to be of impeccable character. It has been brought to my attention that the person who was the other party in this assault, has for some time, been a source of considerable - shall I say - inconvenience to the accused. This has included urinating in his doorway on a regular basis, and also the verbal abuse of his wife. Sleanagh has been the epitome of forbearance. It has been brought to my attention that this abuse has continued for months, and I consider it to be to Sleanagh’s credit that such a confrontation has not happened before this. If I may make so bold as to make a suggestion to the court, a fine, rather than imprisonment, would be more fitting under the circumstances."

"I hear what you’re saying, Mr. Allardyce. I was unaware of such mitigating circumstances. The accused himself had not brought them to the court’s attention. It is most irregular, and, under the circumstances, personally, I would like to amend my judgement in view of these new facts. But I am afraid, sir, that I am unable to reverse my decision. Court protocol forbids me from changing a verdict and sentence, once it has been pronounced. Is that not so, Mr Fairlie?" he asked, turning to the Clerk of the Court.

"I fear so, Your Worship. It would be contrary to all the rules of procedure."

"I am afraid I cannot oblige you Mr. Allardyce. I’m very sorry. The case is closed."

*****

"Mrs. Kerr, would you be so kind as to ask Mr. Daly to come and see me at his earliest convenience."

"There are two gentlemen from Colville’s to see you. They had an appointment at ten o’clock. I told them you had a family crisis. I hope that was not presumptuous of me. I didn’t know where you were. I showed them into the board-room and gave them tea."

"That was extremely perceptive of you. You’re an angel. I had something to see to that wouldn’t wait. I’ll go and see them immediately. Bring more tea to the board-room if you will. Where is the contract?"

"That’s it there on your desk; the blue folder. Do you want me to ask Mr. Duff to join you?"

"I don’t know what I’d do without you. I am totally perplexed this morning. Yes. Ask Alistair to come to the board-room please."

He went through to the board-room.

"Mr. Flemming, Mr. Gartside, I most sincerely apologise for this. It is unforgivable, but I must ask you to excuse me just the same. Fortunately, it turned out to be a minor matter, but it caused a tremendous kerfuffle at the time. Please forgive me."

"Please, Mr. Allardyce. Don’t give it a thought. We understand completely. The best-run households have their upsets. I hope everything is all right."

"Yes. Thank goodness. The governess got in a panic about my youngest

daughter, Allison. It was absolutely nothing, but Mrs. Allardyce was not at home, and the silly woman sent the gardener post-haste to fetch me. I couldn’t ignore it I’m afraid. The man was completely overwrought. Could hardly understand what the fellow was talking about."

The story was made up on the spur of the moment, and Allardyce himself was surprised at how convincing it sounded.

"But, please. I’ve wasted enough of your valuable time. Let’s get down to it. Alistair Duff will be here directly. He has been discussing the new contract-terms with you I understand. He tells me that everything is perfectly satisfactory to both sides."

"Yes, of course Mr. Allardyce. Colville’s are making a small change to the price of the steel beams being supplied from Ravenscraig. It’s due to the increased price the Caledonian Railway are charging for delivery of the ore and coal to the furnaces, and the transportation of the steel through to Winton. They have raised their prices throughout the whole of Scotland. Clydeside even, have been forced to accept the increases. John Brown’s and Fairfield’s fought them like furies, but had to give in, in the end. They’ve got us over a barrel I’m afraid. Our customers who are served by the LMS railway, have no price-increases. Of course, plate from Glengarnock is unchanged from last year."

"Yes. Alistair has explained everything to me. We discussed the contract at length last week. I am quite satisfied with the terms. Our order-book is very healthy for the coming year, so I am confident that we will be able to make use of your discount-terms if we exceed the two thousand tons. That will mean, we have more-or-less the same price as last year. I’m not unhappy with that. We’ve always had a very pleasant co-operation with Colville’s. I’m sure it will continue for many years to come. Ah, there’s the tea. And Alistair too. Come in Alistair. You’re just in time. I hope Mrs. Kerr has my favourite Abernethy biscuits."

"Yes, Mr. Allardyce. They’re there on the plate."

*****

"Mr. Daly, can you explain to me why that man Sleanagh is at this moment on his way to Kilmarnock jail to serve thirty days there? I gave you express instructions that I wanted to know any and every change in that man’s circumstances. You were instructed to be constantly aware of anything that would interfere with his being able to influence the Irish contingent in the yard."

"You can’t expect me to know what any one worker gets up to in his own time? We have 250 men in the yard. I can’t be expected to know what they’re all getting up to outside their work."

"I expect you to have enough contact with your people to be kept aware of what’s going on in the community in general. How the hell do you explain how I found out about Sleanagh while you knew nothing. I pay you to run this yard. That means you need to know what’s going on in the background. If you can’t do that, I’ll damn-well find some-one who can."

"You can’t blame me for what Sleanagh gets up to when he’s not in the yard. Do you expect me to follow him 24 hours a day to see what he gets up to?"

"Don’t be impertinent, sir. Yes, I do blame you. I expect you to talk to your people. I expect you to listen to their gossip. That’s where you learn what’s going on outside the damned yard. If I hadn’t been down in the yard this morning and bumped into Tom Warnock, I’d never have found out that Sleanagh was up in court this morning. This damn business has been brewing for weeks.

It’s exactly the type of thing I wanted you to find out about. Sleanagh has been terrorised for weeks for God’s sake. And you knew nothing about it. If I’d known about it, it would have been a simple matter to have had it fixed, A word or two in the right ear, and it would have been resolved the same day. Sleanagh is worth just as much to me as you are. Between him and Tom Warnock, they’ve got the whole damned ethnic / religious thing under control. And you had no damned notion it was happening under your damned nose until I told you. You had better pray to your God that nothing happens in the yard while Sleanagh’s in jail, for it will mean your termination. Now get out of my sight."

Daly turned to leave.

"Another thing." Alardyce called him back. "You make damned sure that when Sleanagh gets out, his job will be waiting for him."

"How can I do that? It’s always been company policy that if one of them goes to jail, they get finished. I can’t keep a job open for a month."

"Daly, you’re stretching my patience. I don’t give a damn how you do it. If Sleanagh does not have a job after he gets out, you won’t have one either."

Again, Daly turned to go.

"Oh, and one last thing. I don’t care how you do it, but you make damned sure that his family eat and pay the rent, till he gets out. If you’ve got to pay it out of your own pocket, so be it. But make sure it happens."

*****

"Cormac, oh, Cormac. I’m that glad you’re back. I was that miserable."

"Hush, Beth. Hush. It’s all right."

"Are you all right? Were you ...?"

"Was I what? Beaten up in the jail? No love. It wasn’t very nice, but they don’t beat prisoners up here, these days. I even ate the food. It was terrible, but it was eatable. I’m sorry I did this to you. I shouldn’t have fought him."

"Don’t be daft. It had to be done. It was just your luck that policeman turned up right at the wrong time. Jenny was put out the house the next day. She went back to her mother’s. Did you know that?"

"Aye. I heard about it. I always had somebody come to visit me every Saturday. Your daddy came, as you’ll know, and a couple of the men from the parish and some from the yard came as well. They told me."

"I would have come if you’d have let me. I wasn’t ashamed to visit my own husband in jail. You hadn’t done anything wrong."

"I know Beth. But I didn’t want you to see me in there, and, more to the point, I didn’t want you to be among that sort of folk. There were some awful nasty folk in there my love, and I’m not just talking about the prisoners. You should have seen some of their wives and girl-friends. Real fish-wives. I didn’t want you to be sitting among them. A lot of them were filthy; really dirty. I’m sure some of them hadn’t seen soap and water in weeks. And while we’re talking about it, put the big kettle on. I’m getting into the bath. Burn them clothes. They’re full of fleas."

A white nose poked round the edge of Cormac’s armchair by the fire.

"What’s that thing doing in here?"

"That’s King Billy."

"King Billy? What King Billy?"

The rest of the kitten followed the white nose from behind the chair. It was a little ginger tom, as Orange as any sash or lily.

"Who’s is that?"

"It’s mine. Julia’s cat had kittens and she asked if I wanted one. Look at the colour of it. That’s why I called it King Billy. I just call him Billy though."

"Beth, I told you I don’t want animals in the house."

"Och, I was lonely with you not being here, so I said yes to Julia. It’s a

bonny wee thing. It’s never dirtied in the house or anything, and it’s awful friendly."

"Get rid of it Beth. I don’t want animals in the house. They’re dirty and they bring in fleas."

"Don’t be rotten. I want him. He’ll be company for me when you’re at your work."

"You have the children for company. I mean it Beth. Get rid of it. No animals." He went into the bed-room and took off his clothes. He came back into the living-room in his long-john’s.

"If you don’t get rid of it, I’ll put it in a bucket of water."

"It’ll be no bother Cormac. You’ll see. I’ll make sure there’ll be no fleas or anything."

"When I was a boy on the farm, the dogs were always scratching, and so were we. Animals mean fleas, and I’m not having any of it. Now, please give the thing back to Julia. She’ll find somebody else to take it."

"Cormac, ..."

"Beth. It’s finished. I’m not going to tell you again. No animals. Get rid of it."

"Right," she snapped. "I’ll take the poor wee beast back to Julia."

"Do it after you’ve boiled the kettle for my bath then."

"You know how to boil a kettle. You don’t need me to do it for you. Oh, and you can make your own tea, ... and the childrens’ ... and put them to bed. I’m taking the cat to Julia’s. I’ll have my tea there."

"Come back here. Beth. Come back ..."

The door closed behind her.

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