The Aul’ Man

"Pass the salt up this end please."

"Coming up Da." Mack passed the salt along to his father at the head of the table. Sunday dinner meant that the whole family was together at table. Since Mack started work as an apprentice mechanic in the mill, this happened only at weekends. Beth insisted that every-one be present. Family meals strengthened family bonds.

It was a ritual like the family rosary. ‘The family that prays together, stays together,’ was a favourite saying as long faces were pulled when the rosary was announced in the evenings. The recitation of the rosary was a nightly ordeal for all except Beth, Mack, Maggie and Cath. None dared refuse. Even Cormac had got to his knees, elbows on a chair, prior to the affair of Thomas’ window. Since then, he went to the kitchen and read the paper when Beth rattled her rosary-beads.

"Thanks son." Cormac sprinkled salt on his roast lamb.

"We’re launching a coaster next week. It’s the biggest one we’ve ever built; displaces more than eight hundred tons. We can bring a guest along to watch. If anybody wants to come...? It’s next Saturday."

"I’d like to see that Da, but I’ll be working."

"Mack Sleanagh, don’t speak with your mouth full. Mother of God, I despair of this family. The older you get, the less manners you have."

"Sorry Mother."

"I’ll come Da. I’ve always wanted to see a boat launched."

"John, my son, if you come, don’t let anybody in that shipyard hear you calling it a boat. It’s a ship. They’ll hang you from a yard-arm or something if they hear you calling it that." Cormac laughed at him. "Boats have oars. Ships have engines." He laughed again. "To hear them talking, you’d think we were John Brown’s."

"Can I come?"

"Sure, if you want to."

"That’s great."

The following Saturday, Cormac and John stood with the other shipyard workers beside the slipway.

Allison Allardyce pulled the lever releasing the champagne to smash against the bow of the newly completed Loch Finnart. Following yard-tradition, Angus McNair, in his kilt, played ‘Scots wha hae,’ on the pipes.

Bang, bang, bang, bang. Eight burly labourers with huge sledgehammers knocked the wooden wedges out from under the coaster. Slowly she began to move backwards towards the water.

As the speed increased, the rumble and clank of the great bales of drag-chains controlling the speed of the launch, could be heard above the screech of the hull on the wooden cradles. Then a tremendous splash drowned the hooting of the two tugs, in attendance to stop the ship drifting off to the other side of the basin.

Every-one cheered. The water frothed under the sterns of the tugs as they took the strain. The Loch Finnart swung slowly at the end of the hawsers. She was towed round to the finishing wharf, where the hull would be fitted with all the equipment and fittings she would need to sail the western waters of Scotland.

"Well, did you enjoy that son?"

"Aye, it was great. Did you see the wave it made as it hit the water? Smashing."

"Aye, it was a good launch. We had a fine day for it. Come on. There’s beer and lemonade and sandwiches and stuff over in the canteen."

"Who was the lassie that did the launch?"

"That’s Allison, Mr, Allardyce’s daughter. She’s as spoiled as they get. His first wife died and Allison was to his second wife. The others are much older, and they’re young men now. She’s the only lassie."

Cormac took John and introduced him around. John answered questions about school, and was generally the dutiful son. With a ham-sandwich in one hand and a glass of beer in the other, Cormac chatted to colleagues and their wives.

"That boy of yours doesn’t waste much time."

"What? What’s he up to now?" Cormac turned round. John, glass of beer in hand, was chatting to Allison Allardyce. "Oh, my God. I’ll be back in a minute."

"Can I get you a glass of something Miss?"

"No thank you, some-one’s fetching me some champagne."

"A sandwich then?"

"I’ve eaten earlier, thank you."

"Is this the first ship you’ve launched?"

"No, the third. It gets quite boring after a while. But papa insists. Mama refuses to come to the yard; even for launches. Papa gets quite angry, but mama refuses to consider it."

"I can see her point, Look at the place. It’s knee deep in mud and full of great hairy labourers. I think if I were your mother, I’d refuse to come as well."

She looked at him. "I suppose you think I feel comfortable here."

"No, not at all. That’s my point. I’m surprised you do come. I suppose you do it to make your dad happy. I’d do it for my dad."

"I only do it because papa promises to send me to Europe for a few weeks if I do. I’m going to Venice next month. I went to Paris and Biarritz the other two times. I can’t stand this ghastly place, with all these common people. Now if you’ll excuse me..." She walked off leaving him standing there.

Cormac had been standing a few paces away, listening.

"Oh hello Da." John took a swig of beer.

"What do you think you’re doing, chatting up the boss’s daughter?"

"Where’s the harm. She’s a fine looking lassie."

Cormac grinned. "Don’t let Mr. Allardyce hear you calling his princess a lassie. I’ll be out of a job tomorrow. What did you think of her?"

"A bit stuck up for my taste. She’d soon change her tune, if I got her down a quiet lane on a dark night though."

"Put that beer down you imp of the devil. You’re far too young for that."

Cormac laughed as John emptied the glass before putting it on the table.

"Come on. It’s time to get off home."

They stopped in the Popinjay for a pint for Cormac and a half of shandy for John, before going home.

"If you tell your mother I had you in here, I’ll wring your neck."

"Don’t worry Da. She’d cut both our throats, wouldn’t she."

They bought some peppermints in Jimmy McCourt’s, halfway up the hill.

*****

"Good morning Mrs. Sleanagh. Cold, isn’t it. You’d not think it was June. Feels more like April. You forgot something again? John, come and serve your mother. You need to add something to her order again."

Beth reddened. This was the second time in a month she had forgotten to put something on the week-end shopping list.

"Mr Bain, I don’t know what’s got into me the last wee while. I’m getting that forgetful. Imagine me forgetting eggs. I’m fair affronted."

John came through from the back-shop carrying a sack of potatoes.

"Just give me a wee minute Mother. I’ll just empty this into the bin under the counter here. What did you forget? Eggs? You never forgot the eggs? I’ll put two dozen on the list. I’ll bring them up the road with everything else, when I finish."

"Thanks son. Mr. Bain, have you the bill for the week ready? I’ll pay it now that I’m here, if you’ve got it ready."

"It’ll only take a minute Mrs. Sleanagh. I’ve got it here. I just need to add it up."

Beth watched John stocking the shelves while she waited. He was seventeen; an apprentice grocer with Mr. Bain in Fullarton Place, just off the Cross. He’d not done well at school, and had left at fifteen. He had no patience with learning.

A customer came in.

"Mrs Ross, good morning to you. Can I help you?"

"That’ll be all right John. Just finish stacking them tins of corned beef. I’ll take care of Mrs. Ross. Be right there Mrs. Ross. This’ll only take a minute."

‘They’re nearly all done Mr. Bain, and I thought I’d save Mrs. Ross having to wait."

"You just mind your corned beef. I’ll mind the customers."

Beth caught John’s eye and surreptitiously shook her head. She could see his resentment. Alec Bain was known as a good grocer, but not as a good employer. With few employment opportunities for a fifteen year-old, John had become the message-boy, bringing the orders to the customers’ homes on the delivery bicycle. Just over a year later, John had taken Brian Walker’s place in the shop and now young Francy Armstrong delivered the orders.

John said nothing.

*****

"I’m fed up with old Bain. He treats us like a piece of shite."

"John Sleanagh, I will not have that language in this house." The conversation round the table was dominated by John’s litany of complaints against ‘Old Bain.’

"Aye, sorry mother. But he does. I’ll not be sorry leaving that shop. I’m going to get a shop of my own one of these days, and I’ll take all his customers away from him. You wait and see. Can I have some more cheese?"

"That’s just the way to fix him son. He’s the best grocer in the town, and he knows it. He’s got arrogant over the years. I remember him not much older than you, behind the counter when his father Robert was still alive. Now, he was a gentleman. Funny how a son can be so different from the father. Anyway, you just keep your mouth shut and your nose clean, and learn the trade. There’s no easy way to learn a trade. You’ve always got to start at the bottom, doing the work everybody hates. A grocer is a good trade to have. Folk have always got to eat, so you’ll always have customers." Cormac buttered another slice of bread.

"How am I going to learn the trade, when all I do is humph and carry and stack."

"Keep your eyes and ears open, son. You’re learning all the weights and sizes of things, and all the prices. You’ll learn the difference between a good apple and a bad apple, or potato, or bit of butter, or anything. That’s where you’ll learn your trade. You watch him when he’s talking to the commercial-travellers, and how he talks to them about how much he’s going to pay for the stuff he buys in."

"He never listens to anybody. You should see how he’s got everything arranged on the shelves. It’s all higgledy-piggledy. I once said to him, ‘Why don’t we put all the tinned stuff together in one place?’ You should have heard him. ‘I’d never be able to find anything. I know where everything is now,’ he says. Aye he knows, but nobody else knows. He’s got the tinned beef next to the tea, and the sugar next to the tatties. It’s that disorganised. It’s driving me daft. He’s got us running about all over the place, when we could pick the stuff up and be walking half the distance in half the time. But you cannot tell him."

"Well, that just shows you that you’re learning the trade. You can see things that you would never have noticed if you were just a customer in there."

"Are you going to the bowling tonight?" Beth cut in. That was enough talk about Bain’s for tonight.

"No, it’s a fine night. I’m going to get them tatties planted while there’s still light. It shouldn’t take me long. The plot’s dug, so it’s just the planting to be done."

"Can I help Daddy?"

"Oh, that would be grand Dan. I’ll make the wee holes in the ground and you stick the tatties in for me. Then I’ll cover them up and it’ll take no time at all with the two of us."

"Is everybody finished? Hugh, clear the table please. Maggie and Thomas. You wash and dry the dishes. Paddy. Will you collect the school-shoes and bring them to the back-kitchen. You put the polish on and I’ll shine. If you’ve got homework, I’ll do them myself."

"It’s all right. I’ll help. I’ve only got some stupid poem to learn for Mr. Graham. I’d sooner clean shoes than learn poetry."

"What about Dan? He’s not got to do anything." Maggie was a great believer in equality when it came to sharing the housework.

"Dan’s going to help your daddy in the garden."

"That’s not fair. Helping daddy in the garden’s not work."

"Well, if you don’t think it’s work, the next time your daddy says he’s going to plant tatties, you’ll be the first to want to help him." As ever, Beth’s logic was unflawed.

"Leave Mack’s plate and things. He’s late tonight. Must be something broken down in the mill. Those machines always seem to break down at the end of his shift. He’ll be home in a minute. His dinner’s keeping nice and warm in the oven there. I’ll put the his soup on the hob. He likes his soup. Leave the bread and butter as well. He’ll be hungry. He always is. I’d rather feed him for a week than a month. There he is now. I’m away to see that the water’s boiling for his wash."

Beth went over to the range, where the big kettle sat on the hob. She poked the fire up and added some coal.

"Here, son," she said, pouring the hot water into a basin in the sink. "Add cold water there till it’s cool enough for you."

"Aye, it’s well seeing that he’s the number one son; the apple of his mammy’s eye. The rest of us don’t get that treatment." John dipped his fingers in the water in the basin and flicked some into Mack’s face.

"If you were doing a man’s work as a maintenance-mechanic, and getting a bit of dirt on your face and a blister or two on your hands, instead of swanning around in that shop among all the womenfolk, maybe mammy would give you the same treatment."

Mack rubbed his hand across his sweat-stained face, streaked with machine-oil and rubbed some of the dirty water on John’s nose.

"That’s enough carry-on, the pair of you. If you get any dirty water on my clean kitchen-floor, I’ll wipe it up with your hides."

"Right you are ma’am. Straight away ma’am. At your service ma’am."

"Right, that’s it." Beth reached for a pan from the shelf and shook it in their faces. "If you’re not out of my kitchen in one minute, the pair of you, I’ll change the shape of this pan to the outline of your heads."

John grabbed her from behind, and Mack caught her wrists from the front.

"Now what are you going to do old woman?"

"Don’t you tickle me, John Sleanagh. Don’t you dare. John, stop that. John, when I get my hands on you, I will crown you with this pot."

They let her go, and John ran out of the kitchen laughing. Mack went to the sink and started washing his face in the now cool water.

"You’re a big useless lump too, you never come to help me," she accused Cormac.

"You started it yourself. I’m not getting involved in your fights. Isn’t that right Dan?"

The rest of the family had enjoyed watching the skirmish. Beth put more water on the hob for washing the dishes, which had not got done while the boys had been carrying on.

"Right everybody, let’s get the work done and then we can all sit down and enjoy the rest of the evening."

Mack finished his dinner. "You doing anything tonight John?" It was a daft question, for it was Friday night and John always had something to do on a Friday night.

"I’m going into Seabank. I’ll be doing a bit of courting."

"And who’s the lucky lassie this week?"

Alice Breslin. She’s Brian Walker’s cousin. You know Brian. I got his job at Bain’s when he went to the Mill. They took him on as an apprentice fitter. You must know him. Big lad; red hair. It’s always sticking straight up in the air."

"I know Brian all right. What’s Alice like?"

"Dainty wee thing. Got the same red hair as Brian, though it doesn’t stick up in the air like his."

*****

"You’re going to do what?" Cormac was astounded.

"Not going to; I’ve already bought it. That is, I’ve got a mortgage and signed the contract. I’ll be taking it over on the first of May. That’s six weeks on Tuesday." Maisie let the satisfaction show in her voice.

"A boarding-house?"

"That’s right."

"Where, for God’s sake?"

"Helensburgh."

"Where in the name of God is Helensbugh?"

"On the north side of the Clyde; out past Dumbarton. It’s really nice, not like Seabank at all. It’s a bit like Largs, but even nicer. The better-off folk from Glasgow go there for their holidays."

"Where in heaven’s name did you get the money to do it?"

She tapped him lightly on the nose with her finger. "None of your old business." After a bit, she said, "All right then, I robbed a bank." She laughed at his expression.

"Be serious. Are you serious about a boarding house?"

"Of course I’m serious; never been more serious in my life. I’ve been earning good money in that pub. There are more ways to earn money in pubs, than collecting your wages."

"Are you telling me you were fiddling the till? Stealing?"

"Oh for goodness sake; come on. It’s not stealing. It’s the way pubs work. In the business, there’s a saying, ‘a pub manager who’s not fiddling the stock, doesn’t know her business.’ The wages aren’t good. It suits everybody. The owner pays low wages, the manager gets a decent income, and the tax-man sees nothing and he’s quite happy too. As long as you’re not being greedy, it’s all right. The greedy ones are soon found out and sacked. Ronny and I were quite open about it. We spoke about it a few times. I saved him a fortune because I kept the staff’s hands off of it."

"What will happen to the children?"

"Nothing will happen to the children. Why would anything happen to the children?"

"Lizzie won’t be there to look after the children while you’re at your work?"

"I’ll be at work in my own home, you great pudding. I’ll be at home all day every day. It will be perfect for them."

"Of course; daft of me not to think of that."

"Mind you, you’ve given me an idea. Lizzie has no ties in Hurlford. She’s no family. I just might ask her to come with me. The weans are daft about her, and she could help around the place. She could be a great help. She’d like Helensburgh a lot better than Hurlford."

"Uncle Corm, uncle Corm." A cry of delight preceded a rush of activity through the door from the garden

"Well then. Where have you been to get your face all dirty like that?"

"The back door."

"By the looks of things, there’s no back door out there any more. It’s all in here sticking to your knees and your face. Look at the colour of you. Come and give me a big hug."

Phillip ran over and jumped at his outstretched arms to be caught and swung up to give his hug. He was four years old and very like his mother. A handsome lad with jet black hair, he adored his uncle Corm.

"Where’s your big sister?"

"Ellen’s playing shops with Sandra. I was digging a hole."

"Are you not cold out there?"

"No."

"Cold? He doesn’t know the meaning of the word. He never seems to feel it."

"Aye, he probably gets that from me. I’m never bothered by it either."

"Where’s the match today?"

"Dumfermline, so I’m not expected back before nine or ten o’clock," said Cormac setting his son back on the floor, who, having done his duty, scampered straight back to his hole in the garden.

"Good, you can stay for your tea then. The children will be pleased. So will I. You can put them in the bath."

She kissed him fondly. The children loved being bathed by their uncle Corm.

*****

The house in Helensburgh, called Clyde View, was on the esplanade, a short walk from the railway station. Opposite it, beyond the grassy lawn between the road and the promenade, the yachts and sailing boats bobbed at their moorings, ropes constantly slapping against masts. At first, an irritation, it soon became a soothing background to the constant soughing of the west wind coming in off the Atlantic. In the winter, the west winds became western gales, drowning the slapping of the halyards.

On a clear day, they could see all the way down the Clyde to the Tail o’ the Bank at Greenock, where the big steamers lay at anchor, before departing for New York, Canada and Australia. On different days, they watched the squalls coming up the firth to batter the big bay-windows with rain. The view across the firth towards the hills of Argyle on good days, with the mountains of the Western Isles beyond, was worth enduring all the bad days.

Lizzie Lindsay came with them. The children made the move without a hitch. New friends were made and old ones forgotten, as five and six year-olds do. Maisie advertised in the Scots Magazine and was never short of guests. Six double bedrooms, all with facilities for at least two small children, meant that families found Clyde View an attractive prospect for a week or two by the sea. The availability of breakfast and evening meals, plus a small bar for residents-only, meant that she catered for all tastes.

Clyde View became a financial success, with visitors returning regularly each year. Lizzie Lindsay helped with the house-keeping and looked after children when visiting parents wanted some time to themselves. It was a perfect family guest-house formula. Phillip and Ellen thrived, did well at school, and grew up to become fine young men and women. Uncle Corm visited regularly and was always a firm favourite.

*****

"Look there’s the Waverly." Cormac pointed to the paddle steamer coming alongside the pier at Helensburgh. Phillip and Ellen waved to the day-trippers on their sail ‘doon the watter’ from Glasgow. She would stay moored in Helensburgh for an hour before resuming her voyage to disembark her passengers at seven o’clock at the Broomielaw.

The Wilson family were taking advantage of the good weather to stroll on the esplanade before serving the evening meal.

Passing the end of the pier, a disembarking passenger nodded to Cormac. "Hello Cormac. What are you doing here?"

"Hello Greg, Just off the boat?"

"Bowling club day out. We do it every year. You?"

"Aye, the same; day out."

"Aren’t you going to introduce me?"

"Sorry, Mrs. Wilson, my sister-in law. Greg Barclay.

"Mrs. Wilson." Barclay tipped his cap to Maisie

"We have a bowls competition every year with Greg’s club from Irvine," he explained to Maisie.

"Well, cheerio then." The Wilsons moved on.

"Problem?" Maisie asked.

"Aye, it could be, but I doubt it. I know him from the book-keeping classes. He’s as Orange as they come. He was really nasty to me there. He’s from Irvine. We play his club every year in an inter-club thing. He’s met Beth at a couple of the socials. It’ll probably be all right. I don’t think he thinks there’s anything strange."

Later as he returned to the boat, Barclay saw them walking up the steps into Clyde View.

*****

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