The Aul’ Man

"Greg, there’s the joiner to put up the shelves in the new store-room. Can you see to him and tell him where we want it."

"Right Mr. Alexander. I’ve finished those invoices for the Robertson’s contract. They’re on your desk. Where’s the joiner? Down at the main entrance?"

In the reception hall, a postman and the joiner were in conversation. The postman turned to Barclay as he arrived.

"Hello there Greg. How’d you get on last night?"

Barclay nodded. "Rory. Knocked out. Got thrashed in the last end."

"It’s no shame to you. Archie Hamilton’s not the Ayrshire bowls champion for nothing. Right, I’d better be getting on then." He picked up his post-bag and turned to the joiner. "I’ll see you at Jimmy and Erna’s at the weekend."

"Aye. Cormac and Beth are coming, so it’ll be a houseful." He waved to the postman and followed Barclay.

"Right, it’s down here." Barclay led the way down a corridor.

"You’re a bowler then? The brother-in-law there plays, but I haven’t got the patience for it."

"You Rory’s brother-in-law?"

"Aye. We’re married to sisters."

"You’ll be Cormac Sleanagh’s brother-in-law as well then?"

"That’s right."

"We play against Kerlaw every year. I know Cormac from there. Are there only three sisters? Is there not a Wilson connection?"

"No, there’s no Wilsons in the family. Rory’s name’s Urquart. I’m Carty, and Cormac’s Sleanagh. The wives are Conner to their own name. How?"

"Nothing. I just thought that Sleanagh had a sister-in-law, name of Wilson. He got any brothers or sisters?"

"Only a brother back in Ireland."

"I must have got him mixed up with somebody else. Right. It’s this room here." Barclay took a sketch from his pocket. "Here’s the layout of the shelves. If you need anything, go to the lassie at the desk in the hall and she’ll be able to find me. All right?" Barclay went back upstairs.

He definitely said Wilson. And them weans are related to him. A blind man could see that. Christ, don’t tell me he’s got a bit on the side with weans from her. He put the thoughts aside and concentrated on his work.

*****

He took two blue advertising leaflets from Lizzie Lindsey.

"Thanks. I’m down for the day, and my wife and I have been talking about spending a week or so here with the children next summer. I’ll drop you a letter making a reservation after we’ve talked about it at home."

Greg Barclay returned to the boat to continue his annual ‘doon the watter’ trip with the bowling club. It was a year ago that he had bumped into Cormac with Maisie and the family on the esplanade.

Wilson. See, I knew it. The bugger’s got a secret family. Barclay put the leaflets in his pocket.

*****

"They’ve killed some Austrian duke in Sarajevo." Cormac was reading the Daily Bulletin. The younger ones were in bed and the older boys were out. Beth was rolling wool on the other side of the fire.

"What’s that got to do with us? Let them all slaughter each other, then we’ll have no more bother from them. Bunch of heathens, that’s what I say."

"Ah lassie, I wish it was that easy. I’ve a funny feeling they’re all going to want to have their say."

"Who’ll want to have their say? He was an Austrian. Let Austria sort it out. It’s their duke. It’s their business. It’s nothing to do with us."

"Beth, they’ve all got agreements and treaties with each other. If you hit me, I’ll get my big brother to you. Germany’s just waiting for her chance to start a fight. I’m feart that we’ll all be involved very soon."

"How do you mean, involved?"

"It means war, Beth. It means war."

"That’ll not bother us. You’re 46 years old. They’ll not be wanting the likes of you."

"I know that my love. I’m not worried about me. Your bairns aren’t bairns any more. They’re young men."

"They’ll not take the boys? Mack’s not twenty yet."

"They’ll take them at eighteen. So, they’ll be after John as well."

In any problems she had encountered in her life as a mother, she had always prevailed. Neighbours, teachers and even on one famous occasion, a policeman, had quailed before her. But even she knew, the Army would prevail over her.

"Mother of God, protect us in our hour of need."

*****

"I’m just worried what mammy’s going to say. The Aul’-man’ll understand, but she’ll have heart-failure."

"John, it’ll be better this way. If you join up, you get some choice about where you go into. When you’re called up, you go where you’re told."

"I’m scared Mack. I don’t mind saying it."

"So am I. But what do you want to do? Sit here, and wait for Fritz to come over here and kill us all in our beds? Not likely. We’re going over there to give him a black-eye before he kicks our teeth in."

The brothers joined up at the town hall in Kilmarnock on Tuesday, 2nd September 1914. As a mechanic, Mack was assigned to the fledgling Royal Flying Corps, where he maintained the Sopwith Camels and Fairey biplanes which patrolled the front in Flanders. John, as a grocer, joined the Seaforth Highlanders and became a sergeant in the quartermasters corps.

Regular postcards were received from the two serving boys. They contained no news, but were signs only that they were still alive. Each card was saved in a shoe-box which Beth kept under her bed.

Cormac did not know they were kept there.

*****

Cath flew into the house, skirts swirling round her thighs. She had been waiting all morning at the corner, watching down the hill. The letter had arrived on Tuesday. This was Thursday.

"He’s coming. He’s coming up the hill. He’s nearly at the Post Office."

She disappeared out the door and raced down the hill. He dropped his kitbag when he saw her coming. She reached him outside the White Hart pub and leapt into his arms. Mack staggered back under the weight of her.

"My goodness look at the size of you. I wouldn’t have known you." He rumpled her long red hair with the one hand while supporting her with his other arm.

"Hello wee Cathy. Shouldn’t you be at the school?"

"I wouldn’t go this morning. Mammy’s not pleased, but I wouldn’t go. Daddy said I could." He picked up his kitbag and slung it over his left shoulder, taking her hand in his. He had to lengthen his step to keep up with her as she skipped up the hill at his side.

Beth met them at the door. She wept in the arms of her first-born in a tangle of arms and wild hair which had come loose from her bun

Mack had been demobbed from the Royal Flying Corps the day before from Hendon airfield near London. As an aeroplane mechanic, he had been in the rear. He had never heard the whistle of a bullet passing his ear, nor had he ever fired a rifle in anger.

John had returned home two months earlier, in time for Christmas 1918. He had been part of the force taking part in the Canal du Nord offensive in northern France, near Arras. He had been hit with shrapnel and had lost the ring-finger and little-finger of his left hand. He was wounded in almost the last action of the war, which he had been part of for four years without a scratch.

Later that evening when the table had been cleared, the dishes washed, the stories told and the younger ones were in bed, Cormac and Beth sat alone in the kitchen. He took her hand and looked into her eyes.

"Thank God they’re back safe."

He had not wept since he had sat in Thomas’ workshop in Carlingford. Now great tears ran down his cheeks into his moustache.

"Beth, we’ve been blessed. God help the poor mothers who haven’t." He held her for long moments.

"It’s gone twelve o’clock. I’m away up to check the bairns."

He left the room and went up to the attic, where, as was his habit, he tiptoed among the beds there. The two girls were behind the curtain at the end. Maggie, fifteen, and Cath slept peacefully. The three boys, Hugh, eleven, Dan, twelve, and Thomas, sixteen were restless but asleep. The two oldest boys were out. It would be late before they returned.

Cormac returned downstairs. He and Beth got ready for bed. Cormac turned out the gas-mantle and climbed into the bed-recess beside her. Pulling the curtains, he turned towards her and put his hand under her nightgown. She smiled in the dark.

"When did we do this for the last?"

"I honestly don’t know. It’s been years. I’m 52 years old and you’re 45. We’re not newly-weds any more. I love you even more than when we were first married, and I still think you’re a beautiful woman. I’ve never stopped wanting you. There’s just never been the right time these last years. With the boys away in France, and the rest of them being older, there was always something that made it, -oh I don’t know, - somehow, just not right."

"I know what you mean. I had the same feeling. Is it right tonight?"

"Aye sweetheart. It’s right tonight. They’re both back safe, and we can be ourselves again. Just the two of us, with no ghosts out there in the dark, waiting to take the boys away from us."

He made slow gentle love to her with the same consideration he always showed. Beth was a passive, though willing enough partner. She never refused him his conjugal rights, but there was none of the passion or wanton abandon of Maisie. Afterwards he lay with his contented wife in his arms, but he was thinking of Maisie.

The boys coming home did not waken them.

*****

"Well, John my old son, I told you we were going to kick some German backsides. Remember when we were talking about signing up and you said you were scared."

"Aye, I remember it. I remembered it dozens of time since then as well. We kicked some German backsides all right, but we’ve got a hell of a bloody nose to show for it." John took another drink of his beer. The euphoria of Mack’s homecoming had worn off, leaving him depressed. The beer was deepening the feeling.

"Don’t be so pessimistic. Give us a couple of months and everything will be just like we never went away."

"It’ll never be the same again. Mark my words old son. The socialists are going to turn the whole country upside down."

"And strength to their elbow. That’s what I think. The ruling classes got a bigger kick up the backside than the Germans ever did."

"That’s what I mean. For the first time in their bloody lives, they are short of some ready cash. Who do you think’s going to feel the pain? Them? Not bloody likely. It’ll be us as usual, the working classes. It’s going to be difficult to get work. They’re legally obliged to take you back into the mill when you get demobbed? Right?"

"Aye, and so they will."

"For two bloody weeks and then they’ll pay you off again. They’ll’ve done their legal duty, and then they’ll dump you. They can’t use you. They don’t need you. You talk to any of them in the town. They’ve all had it. It’s a bloody scandal."

"They can’t do that."

"They can, and they will. Away up and get us another couple of pints."

"What happened to your hand?" asked Mack when he got back with the beer.

"Bloody stupid. Spent the whole four years running the stores. Never even saw a bloody German. Right at the end, we were trying to cross this canal near Arras. The flaming Fritzes counter-attacked when we weren’t waiting for it, and they came storming over onto our side. You’ve never seen such a panic in your life. The major told me to get everything I could, loaded in carts and anything else that would carry anything. They weren’t so much worried about our lads going hungry. No, it was so’s not to let Fritz have it. ‘Burn what you can’t carry’, he says. Burn it? How in the name of God was I supposed to burn it? What with? A box of bloody matches. It was October and it was absolutely lashing down with rain, and had been for weeks. Everything was soaking. Even if there had been some wood and it had been dry, there would never have been enough to burn the tons of stuff we had. That was so bloody typical of the officers. No sodding idea of how you were supposed to do something. Just do it. ‘Use your initiative man,’" John put on an affected upper-class English accent. "Eejits."

"So how did you get shot, then?"

"They came on so quick, because our lot were running away. They reached our stores area which was supposed to be away behind the front line. By this time it’s the next day and we’ve got some sort of defence rigged up again, and they make a new front-line, right in front of the stores area. Some spotty subaltern comes up to me and shoves a fucking rifle in my hand and tells me to get into a platoon that’s being marched up to face the Germans. I told him I had orders from the major, but he wouldn’t listen. Waved his pistol in my face and threatened to have me arrested and court-martialled for desertion or cowardice or some such shite. So, away I went to fight; after four years of counting tins of beef."

Mack laughed wryly. "And then?"

"I was in this trench; more of a wee hollow in the ground. We were all jocks. All sorts of regiments; all mixed up. I saw HLI and Black Watch and some King’s Royal Borderers. No idea where they came from. Hadn’t seen any of them the whole war. Anyway, this whistle blows, and the rest of them say that that’s the order to advance. They all start to stand up and walk towards the canal, where we knew the Germans were. I’ve never been so fucking scared in my life. Folk say that, but I really mean it. You’ll not believe this, but I had this enormous great hard-on, that hurt like hell."

"I heard about men getting that when they were waiting to go over the top."

"Aye, anyhow, we walk towards the German lines for about five minutes. There’s nothing happening. We’re just walking through this field. It was really funny. There wasn’t a sound. I remember thinking, ‘I haven’t heard a skylark in years.’ And the crows, hundreds of the buggers; in the trees. It made me think of the crows up the Rec. D’you remember the crows up the Rec.? Are they still there? I’ll always remember Arras now, when I hear them crows.

Anyway, there I am, walking through this field, not a sound except the birds, and next thing, there’s this bloody great bang and I’m flat on my arse. The very first shell the buggers fired, landed half a dozen feet away from me. Killed two men on my left, and wounded a couple of others on the other side of them. I was stone deaf for three days, and had ringing in my ears for weeks. Still get it off and on.

Didn’t realise at first that I was hurt. I was dead dizzy. They said later I was concussed. I had no idea which way was towards the canal. I was wandering about following the rest of them. Then a Red-Cross orderly made me sit down. He put a tourniquet on my arm, bandaged me up and sent me back to the field hospital. I had to follow a couple of stretcher-bearers with some poor bugger with no legs.

Ended up in Lille, in a hospital there. The nurses were run off their feet, so, after a week or that, I started helping them out. There wasn’t anything wrong with my legs. When I got signed off, they told me to stay on in the hospital, where I ran the medical stores and generally helped on the wards. I was better off there than in some trench, so I wasn’t complaining. Stayed there the last couple of weeks of the war. And here I am. I’ll get the beers in."

John came back from the bar. "And you? What about you?"

"Nothing to tell. Went to Catterick when I joined up. Did the usual square-bashing. They got us to do some tests, and when they found out I was a mechanic, the shifted me to London. Out Hounslow way; Heston aerodrome. I got trained as a motor mechanic on these huge big aeroplane engines. At first I thought they were that complicated, but they’re only twelve small engines in a ring around the propeller-shaft.

Anyway, I got posted to Belgium. I was mostly in the Mons area. A couple of times, the Fritzes come over and dropped bombs on us, but they never fell anywhere near us. I was up in a double-seater a couple of times, but never on patrol. They were test-flights after some repairs, and only over friendly territory."

"Hey, that must have been great. What was it like? Were you not feart you’d fall out?"

"Don’t be daft. There are belts to keep you in. It was bloody cold though, and that was in July. I was dead sick. It was bumping around all over the place, but I was never in any danger. Not when I was up in the planes, nor at any time during the whole war. Still I’m glad I’m back home. Some of them said they enjoyed it; the excitement and that. I thought they were mad. I could never wait to get back home. Talking about home, I don’t know about you, but I’m dead tired. I’m going home to my bed."

*****

John and Paddy were walking up Rodden Street. They had been for a walk on the beach. John had not yet found work since leaving the Army nine months previously. Paddy had been paid off from the foundry the previous month.

"Remember when you were working for Alec Bain and you said you were going to put him out of business for being such a prick?"

John laughed. "Yes, brother Patrick. I remember it well. What about it?"

"Well we’ve just passed Willie Craig’s old shop. It’s been empty since the summer, and it would be a good place to start a shop. It’s big enough and it’s only a hundred yards or so from the Cross. Why don’t you start a grocer’s in it?"

"I haven’t the money. I hoped to get a job when I got out the Army and put some money by to get me started, but, - no work."

"I’ve got something put by. I always put something into the Post Office every week. Have you got nothing at all?"

"I’ve managed to keep most of my demob pay, but it’s not a lot," said John.

"What about Mack? Maybe he’s still got some of his left."

"Could be. He’s been getting something for gardening at Ardenlui. How much have you got Patrick?"

"Twenty-five quid."

"I’ve still got twenty-odd myself. I’ll talk to Mack when we get in the house and see how much he’s got."

"Mack, have you got any of your demob pay left?" The three brothers were sitting in the kitchen in number 37.

"Sure. I’ve still got it all. I put it into a Post Office savings account. I’ve never touched it. What I’ve got from doing the gardens in the big house at Ardenlui has kept me going. Why?"

"I’m thinking of renting Willie Craig’s old shop in Rodden Street. I’m going to start a grocer’s shop in it if I can get a few bob scraped together. I was hoping you’d have something to help get us get started. Paddy’s said he’ll chip in."

"You’ll not get far with what I can lend you. It’s only twenty-seven pounds odd, but you’re welcome to it."

"I’ve got twenty-four, Paddy has twenty-five and you’ve got twenty-seven. That’s seventy-six right there. If I went to the bank and told them I could put up that much, I wonder what they would say."

Later that week, the three of them were in the White Hart pub. John told them about his discussion with the bank manager.

"He said that if I could deposit a hundred with them, they’d be prepared to loan me another hundred and fifty to get me started. Now that would give us two hundred and fifty. We’re twenty-four quid short. How do we get our hands on that?"

"D’you think the Aul’-man would chip in the rest?"

"I never thought of the Aul’-man. Now you mention it, I’m sure he’ll do it. God knows if any of you’ll ever get your money back. We might lose the whole lot, and be left with sod-all."

"Well, we’ll worry about that when it comes. We’ll all get stuck in and help with the painting and that." Mack was quiet for a few minutes.

"Do you think there’ll be enough work for me and Paddy to work in the shop as well?"

"I don’t see why not. God knows whether you’ll get paid, but I’ll definitely need somebody to help me."

"That would be great. I’m getting fed up with gardening. The work’s not so bad, but you never know whether they’re going to need you next week or not. You can’t depend on it."

"Too right. I’m sick of sitting around as well," added Paddy.

"Well, you might not be able to depend on me either. But I’m going to give it a go. I’m fed up hanging about too. What do you say? I’m away up to talk to the Aul’-man. You coming?"

"Aye, I’ve got nothing else to do anyhow. When did you make up your mind?"

"Yesterday. I was walking up Rodden Street and I passed the place. There’s a notice in the window saying ‘To Let, Apply to Hugh Johnson, Estate Agents.’ I just thought, to hell with it, I bet he’s desperate to rent that out. He’ll be that desperate, he’ll take the first offer he gets. So I turned round and went back down to the Station Road and walked in and offered him ten pounds a month."

"What did he say?"

"He laughed at me. But I got it for fifteen. He wanted six months in advance, but he came down to three. I was right. He was desperate."

"Just like that?"

"Aye. Just like that. I’ve got till the end of next week to sign the contract." They finished their beer and went up to talk to their father.

"If I can get it, that would let me pay the first three month’s rent in advance. That’s the deposit. Then I’ve got to pay the rent every month as normal. I’ll also be able to give it a bit of paint and buy an old counter and some shelves. I know where I can lay my hands on some second-hand scales and a slicing machine. Once I’ve got that, the suppliers will give me a month’s credit for the stock."

Cormac looked sceptical.

Beth who was part of the discussion, turned to Cormack. "If you don’t give it to them, I will."

"Where would you get twenty-five pounds?" he wanted to know.

"Oh, I’ve got more than that saved up from the housekeeping money."

"I never knew that. What were you going to do with that?"

"It’s there for a rainy day. It’s not the first time I’ve used it when I didn’t have enough for something."

The four men stared at her.

"What are you all looking at? Any housewife worth her salt has a wee pot at the back of the cupboard for a rainy day. You needn’t look so surprised. We’ve all got one. At least the sensible ones have. Now, are you going to give them the money, or am I?"

"I’ll need to go down to the bank to draw it out. When do you need it?"

"That’s great Aul’-man. Thanks. Now we’re in business." John was spilling over with enthusiasm, like a pint poured too fast.

"What are you going to call it?" Beth asked.

"Sleanagh’s Stores. I’ll get Jackie Burns, the sign-writer, to do us a nice sign over the door. We’ve got to have a good sign, otherwise folk will think we’re small beer."

The whole family helped scrub and paint and humph and carry. Eleven year-old Cath made the tea and ran errands. It was a family effort. On Wednesday the first of April, 1920, Mack and Paddy stood behind the counter in their white coats, while John opened the door to the first customer.

To no-one’s surprise, it was their mother, Beth.

*****

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