The Meeting .....Chapter 3

[AnneM]

Hi folks. Sorry this has been so delayed but I've been up to my eyes and had computer problems. Hope you've not all lost interest in the fate of Ninian, Effie and co!

The Meeting

In a dusty solicitor’s office Ninian is standing waiting for a meeting he had hoped to avoid. Over the past few days he has managed to convince himself that the difficult situation will somehow resolve itself without any effort on his part. Surely the scene in his father’s house was part of a nightmare! Now he must face reality. Unable to be still, he paces the room, picking up a volume of law reports and noting from the dust which flies off the covers that it has been little consulted. As he paces he is plagued by doubts. Is the agreement proposed by his father in law the best he can expect? He is after all only a country solicitor. Should he perhaps have consulted one of the big Edinburgh firms? He shudders at the thought of the cost and the need to admit an outsider into a tale which seems increasingly sordid and personally humiliating.

At least the funeral had passed off reasonably well. As expected there was a good turn out. Inevitably some rumours about the marriage had begun to circulate and Ninian suspected that most people had attended out of curiosity and in the hope of witnessing a scene. He had indeed feared that Effie might push herself forward and insist on taking a prominent role in the ceremony but his apprehensions proved groundless and the only entertainment for the local people was the sight of Ninian, his striking wife and their 8 children, ranging from a young man at University to a toddler clinging to his mother’s skirts, all trying to show suitable sorrow.

Effie, accompanied by a reluctant Sarah, had chosen to sit quietly at the back of the church with the other servants, where they would have gone largely un-remarked had not Jessie elected to sob noisily throughout the service. Disgusted, Effie had jabbed her sharply in the ribs but that minor cruelty served only to cause her to increase her sobbing.

Never before had Dr Denholm conducted a funeral where there was so little genuine grief at the passing of the deceased but he soldiered nobly on. When it seemed that a few anodyne remarks about Adam’s early life and some praise for his willingness to embrace progress when many feared or scoffed were being well received, he was emboldened to embark on what he felt was the most powerful part of his eulogy. “It may be said” he intoned “that Adam Kerr’s temperament was harsh and unyielding. It must be remembered that such fixity of purpose it was that made great the ancient civilisations of Greece and Rome and protected our beloved Scotia from her ancient enemies!” As this sentiment was greeted by various poorly concealed choking sounds from the congregation and a few unconvincing coughs, audible even above Jessie’s sobs, he felt it best to move swiftly on to finish. “And now brothers and sisters we commend the soul of our departed brother to the God who knows the secret of every heart, trusting that, in his great mercy, He will admit him to the company of the saints and angels who sing around His throne for eternity”. And, with that unlikely vision before them, the congregation clattered to their feet to sing the final hymn, ‘Oh God, Our Help in Ages Past’. Finally Adam joined his poorly remembered and little mourned wife in the churchyard.

In a corridor in the same lawyer’s office another unwilling participant at the meeting is sitting scuffing her brown boots off the floor. Sarah is still barely able to take in Effie’s revelation about her birth.

Just the previous night she had lain rigid in her bed, trying not to wake a snoring Betty, while convincing herself that her world had not changed. “My name is Sarah Redpath. I am the daughter of William and Betty Redpath. My sisters are Effie, Agnes and Betty and my brothers are John, David and Willie. I have 2 nephews called Will and Georgie and a niece called Lizzie. I am an ordinary mill girl like any other mill girl in Scotland. How many mill girls are there in Scotland? Are there mills in other parts of Scotland?” As she recited this litany she pinched her arm to see if physical pain could make it more real. In the end she had to admit that no wishing on her part could change the unwelcome reality. The feeling of security stemming from her membership of that busy family had gone. She no longer felt safely surrounded by her familiar brothers and sisters and also those whose short existence was marked only by anonymous mounds in the churchyard. She would for ever be one step removed. Now she must acknowledge that Effie was not her sister but her mother. Her only brother was the intimidating figure in clerical black who reminded her of a particularly malevolent crow.

“I am an ordinary mill girl” she repeated to herself, “I’ve been to school. I can read and write and say my catechism. I’ve learned about the ancient kings of Scotland, about Robert the Bruce and the spider and the brave girl called Kate whose arm was broken barring the door to the King’s enemies. This need not make me different” She reminded herself reassuringly that everyone was different in some way, She was always getting teased about her height and her liking for reading books but her friends were teased about their little differences too. Jeanie Wilson was frequently reminded about her chubby figure and her imperfect scholarship, the product of time spent dodging the school inspectors while caring for the results of her all too fertile mother’s numerous pregnancies. Her other best friend Annie Shaw was the victim of bright ginger hair and an unfortunate tendency to turn a virulent shade of red every time a boy even looked at her.

Just the other day, before the world shifted on its axis, Jeanie, who considered Sarah to be spoilt, had been tormenting her, at least partly in jest, about her addiction to reading.

“There’s nothing wrong with that” Sarah had retorted, “Dr Livingstone was a poor boy who worked in a mill like us and he had a book by his loom all the time. In those days mill children didn’t even get to go to school like we did. He taught himself Latin and Greek”

“Much good it did him”, returned her friend “He was eaten by savages”

At this Sarah got quite heated defending her idol, “He was not. He brought the natives to Jesus and spoke against slavery and they loved him very much for it. You know nothing about it”

Annie, feeling that the argument was getting out of hand, interjected the view that he could not possibly have had a book by his machine as the manager would undoubtedly have spotted it, confiscated it and clipped him hard around the ear. As this truth appeared to her peers to be self evident the discussion ended abruptly and peace was restored.

This innocent interlude now seemed like a lifetime ago. Why must Effie be her mother? Of all her sisters she liked her least, preferring the more cheerful Agnes or motherly Betty. Why even more so must that dreadful old man be her father? Why was it not a boy from the village, a mill worker or gardener? There would have been nothing unusual in that. Sarah knew that fornication was a sin. Anyone who listened regularly to the pulpit thumping sermons from the village minister, a young man much enamoured of hellfire and eternal damnation, could be in no doubt about that. However a realistic young woman, she noted that the rhetoric did not match the reality. No-one thought badly of poor Maggie Wightman; nor had anyone raised an eyebrow when young Will, John and Mary’s elder boy had put in an appearance a bare six months after the wedding. Indeed she was sure that Willie and Betty senior’s concern about her brother Willie’s amorous adventures sprang mostly from worry that he would be tied down before his unquestionable hard work and talent for fixing machinery bore fruit and little from concern for his immortal soul.

Despite their constant quarrels, the realisation that, Willie was not her brother after all hit her once more and she began to weep into her pillow, and continued to weep even after Betty silently slid a comforting arm around her waist.

In John Renton’s office Ninian and Effie are now face to face. The elderly solicitor is trying to be genial and hide his disgust at the whole situation and worry about the consequences for his daughter.

As a young minister in a country parish, Ninian had often had to question young women about the parentage of a child brought for baptism so he could be no stranger to this situation but never before had it concerned his own father. It seemed as he spoke that the words left a foul metallic taste in his mouth.

“Did your relations with my father cease after the birth of the child? There were no more children”

A modern man living in the city he could hardly be unaware that there were means of preventing conception but he doubted if a simple countrywoman like Effie would have had knowledge of them. As the father of 8 living children he sometimes wished they were not against the will of God.

“No indeed” replies Effie with only the ghost of a blush “but the baby was a breach birth and big with it. My labour lasted 2 days and I only had the village midwife to attend me. I could never carry another child. It was only through the midwife’s skill and God’s grace that Sarah and I both survived.”

Ninian fights the unworthy thought that it might have been better otherwise, but can not bite back the retort, “Your gratitude to God for your narrow escape from death did not stop you sinning thereafter”

Unable to think of an answer Effie merely shrugs.

“How can you prove this girl is my father’s child?”

“Just look at her” replies Effie, “She’s here for you to see”

Basically a fair man, Ninian has had to admit privately that the marriage was lawful and the iniquitous will valid. His father in law has also given the unwelcome news that this meant that, if she is indeed his father’s child, the girl is his father’s legitimate daughter. He can not however resist adding:

“Very well, I’ll see her but you know that you will have difficulty proving the marriage. Just think of your witnesses and ask yourself where a woman in your situation will find the money to go to court”

A vision of the inarticulate George and the lachrymose Jessie appears before Effie’s eyes and she experiences a distinct lack of faith in their testimony. She also knows that a court case is well beyond her means.

“Just meet Sarah” she says. “She’s a good girl and clever at her books as well.”

At this John Renton leads a reluctant Sarah into the room. Quite devoid of her usual exuberance, she stands with her head bowed. Ninian feels something approaching revulsion as he looks at the gawky young woman in her ill fitting gown. Not all of Effie or Betty’s skill with a needle can hide the fact that what was once Agnes’ best dress was made for a shorter, plumper woman. The altered waistline disguises Sarah’s slim figure and, from beneath the hem, rather more of her serviceable brown boots can be seen than is altogether proper. Ninian catches sight of her hands, already roughened by hard work and surprises himself with a stab of pity, as he thinks of his own daughter of about that age, sulking and stamping because she has been sent to learn her French verbs or practise the piano. However he has begun to doubt that he can fulfil the agreement that his father-in-law proposed.

Then Sarah raises her head and looks straight at him and Ninian takes a step back as though he has been struck. He is looking down into his own features. Unlike his, the clear dark blue eyes are undimmed by years of struggle to find some more advanced piece of theology to please his fashionable congregation and to keep in check the expenditure of his equally fashionable wife. The nose has as yet just a tendency to the aquiline where his could uncharitably be described as a beak. However he has no doubt he is facing his own flesh and blood.

“The offer is still open” he says to Effie, “It will give the girl every advantage and save you from scandal.”

“It’s no more than our due” she replies, “and I’ve nae doubt the scandal would irk you far more than it would irk me. However I’ll agree to it and sign any piece of paper you want. “

As they turn to sign the agreement his father in law has drafted, Ninian’s heart sinks further as he wonders how he will tell Bella, who as yet knows nothing of the problem. He can only dread her reaction.

[Laura]

Anne,

This was definitely worth waiting for. Thank you.

All the best,
Laura