Chapter 19

She grinned as only a satisfied wife can.

“Good boy!” she congratulated me, and after kissing me with her usual enthusiasm, added, “Us women appreciate hearing these sentiments from time to time; keep it up, my man!”

I sighed. “Georgie, after four years and two children, I am indeed ‘your man’, but remember there are others who feel the same, and I have obligations to all of you.” “Phooey! You can cope; you have done so all this time already. I expect you to continue in that vein. You know how to get a girl off, any time of day or night, but a few occasional kind words helps a lot, dear love.” “I’ll do my best, Georgie.”

I have also been informed that Naomi has been off on several outings with Alice and George, so we should start considering what to do if she leaves us permanently. Possibly Jenny can take up much of the slack, so she could assist with interviewing for a replacement nanny, for I don’t see Jenny as permanently on nanny duties. She will have her own child to care for, and that should be her priority.

Alice and George apparently turn up and whisk Naomi off somewhere, usually as her shift ends. I suspect it is either for a meal together, or some social function Alice wants to get her used to being present at. Naomi’s social life has been somewhat restricted up till now; so that will certainly do her good. George appears to have grudgingly accepted that Naomi may be joining Alice in their marriage at some point, for Alice sees it as helping Naomi have a good life in the same way that many of my wives have benefitted from being in our household. I hope she is right about that.

Phyllis, one of our family team, is exceedingly active in her antiques market at the moment. The grocery firm that rented the other half of the building have now made official their desire to take a share in the market, and have made preparations for clearing the shelving in their section to allow for an expansion in the number of trader stalls available. They must have been planning this for some time, for one cannot simply up and move a huge stock of groceries; it is a logistical nightmare if not prepared for. Phyllis tells me that it will require another rejig of the shelving parts to provide new stalls and larger storage areas for all the traders, but she is looking forward to it. Part of the rebuild planning is providing stairs to allow people to access the upper levels. An electric hoist is fine for moving goods, but not so safe for people transfer. A proper passenger lift is an expensive option unless it is going to be constantly in use. This woman is taking to the antiques trade with an astonishingly enthusiastic energy, getting better and better at it. It is as if she was looking for this career all her life, and had just been held back by her marriage to a controlling partner for a long time. Even having our daughter Karen has not held her back, nor the impending arrival of her second child.

Dammit, and so has Carol got a baby due soon. I hope she is able to sort out cover for her duties with the beauty salon chain. If she has a second in command that she trusts, it should be easy to hand over control for a month or two. I should mention to her the availability of Alice to check the salon chain finances before that handover, so Carol has a benchmark to measure how well her stand-in manages. This chain of salons has been owned by the hairdresser lady who still has the original female hair salon, but as she is getting older perhaps she would be open to a takeover bid from us, with Carol designated as the managing director. Carol deserves that position as she has shown admirable ability in that direction.

I mentioned these thoughts to Sandy, and she nodded. “I was thinking in much the same way, my love. I will get Carol to speak with the lady, mentioning that she had a willing investor in mind to provide the backing for the takeover. That, of course, is us!”

“Do we have enough immediately available finances for that, Sandy?” I asked. “We do. I always keep an adequate amount of easily realised investments where we will not lose important interest payments if we liquidate them for a purchase such as this. Much of it is in the form of gold in a safe deposit box, and in any case gold mostly seems to increase in value while you hold it. That gold set-aside does not include your original gold stash in the storeroom, which sits there untouched.” “Sounds good,” I agreed. God, I love my Sandy!

Janet had said that she was spending more time running the catering facility at the antiques market, and was enjoying the more general managing task even better than running the waiting staff at the restaurant in town. Sandy had asked her if she wanted to own that operation entirely, instead of running it for the restaurant owners, but this seemed to scare her a little. Sandy had explained that she would have little more to do than she was already doing; just having to source ingredients, pay for materials and power, plus employ and pay staff by herself instead of passing the information back to the owners. This still looked like extra responsibility and financial worries for her, so she declined the opportunity for the immediate time. I felt for her, but you have to bite the bullet and take charge of your life sometime.

That made me wonder about where the phrase ‘bite the bullet’ comes from. It must have a military connection, and I recalled one of the causes of the Indian mutiny was cartridges being closed with animal fat, so a soldier had to bite it open at the end and pour the gunpowder down the barrel, then add the wadding and projectile; finally ramrodding it tight before firing. Rumour was spread by nationalists that it was greased with pig or cow fat, which was unclean for Muslims and sacrilege for Hindu soldiers; as a result that made them reluctant to fight with this ammunition. It was untrue, being beeswax and mutton fat, but rumour does not need to be true to have a malign effect by the spread of the tale. Later in time, did soldiers enduring surgery for wounds have to bite a bullet to distract them from the pain? Both might be true, I suppose, but they come from different military eras and locales. All the more reason for both to have brought the phrase into use at different times and occasions.

This reminded me of the ludicrous WW2 tale of Russians arriving in Britain to fight for the allies. The supposed proof that they were Russians was that they had snow on their boots! Anyway, I left it to Sandy to negotiate over the beauty salon chain.

It was around this time that my mother took ill and was taken to hospital in Greenock, where they diagnosed cirrhosis of the liver and decided she should go to a Glasgow hospital for treatment. This diagnosis was a shock, for most suffers were alcoholics, yet my mother had been teetotal all her life! Later judgment was that drugs she had been taking for other ailments had caused the liver cancer. Be that as it may, she ended up with a short time to live, and all my financial assets could do nothing about it. Money doesn’t solve all problems, and certainly doesn’t prevent you from crying over the death of your mother. I can attest to that. Mum’s funeral was conducted with decorum. Sandy and I were there as ‘son Robert and his wife Alexandra’, while the other wives stayed away and looked after the children. They didn’t know my mother anyway, so it was an easy option. Not so easy was the graveside service, where the males of the family were asked to hold a cord for lowering the casket into the grave. Two burly undertaker’s men actually took the weight on wider straps, so it was all symbolism, but my heart broke as I helped lower my mother’s corpse and said a mental ‘Goodbye, Mum’ as my eyes watered involuntarily.

She never had a problem with dying, as her devout Christian faith made her see it as a simple transfer to Heaven, and a new life there. I was more ambivalent in my faith, living in hope that I had it right, rather than ironclad conviction. All true Christians see life on this earth as a test of their ability to live peacefully with everyone around them. Being deliberately nasty to others, for whatever reason, is not a sign of being Christian, simply because they and you have different viewpoints. Having different views is being human. Just because what they think and believe is different to you, is not an excuse to condemn them. Jesus told us to turn the other cheek when slapped, so don’t be nasty to them in turn. Unfortunately, many Americans seem to think that their neighbours and strangers are a danger to them, so they have to arm themselves with guns and other weapons. In the UK, we start with the premise that other people in the community are not a danger, so we don’t have to arm ourselves against them. The statistics for UK gun crime support these facts. I don’t think I have ever seen a hand gun in real life, only in films, and usually US films at that. Americans historically have used guns to protect themselves from the native Americans, but seem unaware that the Europeans were the actual invaders of the land, and the natives were trying to protect what historically and logically belonged to them. Add to that the way Europeans have treated the native people: pushing them by force into reservations with little good land for food production, (the forerunner of concentration camps), and you have proof that the natives have a real grievance against the white invaders, and a justifiable resentment.

Here in the UK, crimes are more often than not crimes of stealing, one way or another. Violence tends to be conducted by fists, which are inherently non-lethal and also makes it easier to sort out who is the aggressor, by looking at the bruising on the victim. The occasional use of knives, usually taken from a kitchen drawer, is also simple: the one with stab wounds is the victim. Clever, eh? The men in British prisons also have a code of honour of sorts. If you harmed a child and were jailed for it, then the other prisoners will make your prison time a hell until you get transferred by the warders to isolation, and that has its own penalties, for isolation can be a punishment in itself.

Being a killer of any sort does not make you a big man in a UK prison; it makes you a target for ‘accidents’ with no witnesses; accidents severe enough to incapacitate you but not fatal on the whole. That brings such killers to heel if they want to survive long-term incarceration. As our immediate family were not criminals, we had more leeway with our lives. Our finances could achieve some things, to start with. For example, we gave Alice the cash for her wedding costs, including the reception and honeymoon. This shocked George, but was no surprise to Naomi, who calmed him down by saying that he should be glad he was not paying for it. It was the best wedding present he could wish for, she told him. Choosing Alice to marry was a good decision, she told him. That made him feel better, and he got around to thanking us for our generosity.

Carol was next to give birth again. This one was relatively quick and easy – relatively easy, that is; no birth comes without pain, and I always feel for my wives as they endure childbirth. As before, we hired our own midwife to assist Carol before the birth and help take care of her for a couple of weeks afterwards. The NHS does its best but is not geared up for all-day care at home for new mothers. The NHS midwife may make regular visits to check up on the patient and child, give parenting advice, and call in a doctor if needed, but that is all. For most new mothers, that professional oversight is enough to ensure the mother and baby remain well. Having an all-day midwife costs, but if money is not a hindrance, she is worthwhile. Our privately-hired midwife contacted her NHS counterpart, and they made their own arrangements. It worked.

Phyllis was due not long after, so we booked the same midwife and that smoothed everything. The arrival went well. Both babies were fine; for ‘fine’ read ‘loud’. They had good lungs, a fact which I can attest as truth. My children liked to let me know they were here. For some reason, I was not upset at being yelled at like that. The nanny or the mother might disagree. Babies may yell for attention, but don’t have the language to be able to say, I am hungry, or I am wet, or I have pooped and need changing, or even, I am uncomfortable in some way and I need sympathy for something like an upset tummy. Yelling is their only recourse, and you have to sympathise.

On the subject of nannies, Jenny took up the slack in our nursery with hardly a hiccup. She had built up enough experience at the antique market creche that she thought nothing of taking over from Naomi while the teenager was ill with measles, then gradually allowing her back when she was over the worst of it and our babies were all healthy again.

So far, Jenny has not had any ‘morning sickness’ from her own pregnancy, unlike her mother who endured it multiple times. Patricia was not a happy person over that ailment and blamed me every time she saw me; it sounded bad, until she kissed me again and smiled at me. “Damn! If it wasn’t for Jennifer, I’d become one of your wives, Bob.” I shrugged. “It is never up to me, Patricia. My girls make these decisions, I find.” “I know, and it is the best way for everyone. If I want another baby after this one, I am sure they will offer your services again.” I blushed, and uttered the immortal words, “Glad to be of assistance.”

The local church appointed their new minister, but throughout the measles epidemic, he could not do home visits, and while we were infectious we kept away from church as well, so we hadn’t met him yet. The minister turned out to be the Rev Herbert Brewster. He was a newly ordained minister of the Church of Scotland, a former social worker, but was still young enough not to have been indoctrinated into all the old clerical traditions. He cheerfully accepted the Kirk Session’s admonition of acceptance of all extant members as a worthy approach, and it was with only a limited shock that he discovered that one of the families in his care was somewhat unusual, or rather very unusual to the point of disbelief that such a household existed. He made a point of having a long discussion with the Session Clerk (the leader of the Kirk Session), before making his first pastoral visit to us.

He telephoned in advance, proposing to visit on Saturday, when ‘Mr McIntyre should not be off at his work’. Jenny took the call, and cheerfully made the appointment; reporting it to Sandy when she got home.

Sandy quizzed her: “Who did he say he was?” “The Reverend Herbert Brewster,” Jenny told her. “He said he was the new parish minister and wanted to meet the family. I asked him if he meant all of the family, and after a short pause to think about it, agreed that he meant all of the family, if that was possible. So I said that Saturday would be fine, any time after 11 a.m. I judged that the children would all have been dealt with by that time and I could join you in meeting him. Is that okay with you, Sandy?” “No bother, Jenny,” said Sandy. “We have to meet him some time, so this Saturday is as good as any.”

He phoned back later, to suggest a time of two o’clock, so as not to disturb our lunchtime. That looked like clever judgment on his part, so we were interested in seeing what this clergyman was like.

On the day appointed, we had an earlier than usual lunch, soon after midday, so that we would have everything cleared away before he arrived. At around one o’clock, the doorbell rang, and we looked at each other in surprise. Sandy rushed to the front door to check, and came back with George, Alice and Naomi.

“What brings you here on this occasion, George?” I asked our friend. “We heard the new minister was coming to visit, so we thought we might speak with him as well,”said George. “Is that okay with you?”

I shrugged, with a knowing smile. “Seems fine to me. Presumably you want to fix your wedding ceremony with him.” “Yes ... and a bit more. I thought I should let him know that Naomi is going to come and live with us.”

“Oh, yes, and what else are you going to tell him about Naomi?” “For the moment, that Naomi is a close friend of Alice; that Alice wants George to get to know Naomi better, so living with us is the best way.” “Nicely vague, with only a hint of the future. Wait a moment ... is that why you want him to see you with us; so that he can see how Naomi behaves with you?” “Hmmm ... he can draw his own conclusions if he wants,” George suggested. “I am saying nothing of great note to him at this time; nothing at all of significance.”

An hour later, the minister arrived on his bicycle, and Jenny opened the door for him. He apologised for being late, as he had to use the bicycle as the car provided by the church would not start. The vehicle was hired by the church from a local garage, and so the standard of maintenance was not guaranteed. It was not always the same car either. I sympathised with him.

“I was without any major transport of my own when I first arrived at Gourock, so I used the train or the bus for getting around for any distance more than a mile or two. I was used to it, so it never bothered me until I got used to having a family car.”

“My circumstances are similar, Mr McIntyre, but you appear to have been blessed with improved finances in recent years.” “True, true,” I agreed. “I was given an unexpected inheritance and that made a big difference, starting with being able to purchase this house four or so years ago.”

“The building looks more recent than that, to my untutored eye,” he pointed out. “Again, true. We rebuilt the house with a large extension to accommodate our growing family.”

He avoided the obvious follow-up question, and focused on finances. “You must have gained a considerable inheritance, to be able to afford that, as well as the generous support you give to the church, according to our church Treasurer; I did not ask for figures as it is not my concern.” “Good of you. Perhaps we are well off, in general terms, but we all work to bring in some regular income to the family coffers. I myself have two jobs, while Sandy runs her own profitable business venture.”

“Admirable as that joint income stream may be, I am informed that your household is more than yourself and Mrs McIntyre.” I nodded agreeably, and expanded on the subject, “That is so. Several ladies joined us after we rescued them from unfortunate pressures of one kind or another. Their appreciation has taken the form of joining our family as well as adopting our ethos of working lives. Georgina, Sandy’s elder sister, who had experienced an unfortunate betrayal by a man she trusted, accepted Sandy’s invitation to join us, and we financed her buyout of the estate agency group she worked for. Now she runs it efficiently and profitably, to the satisfaction of all her staff. I work for her in the field of house showings, presenting the buildings in a good light. Janet was hiding from her family who were members of an extreme Christian sect – one of the Brethren brand – and we assisted her in a number of ways to become more settled. She now writes to her parents occasionally, giving them generalised news, but we have the letters posted in Glasgow so as not to give away her location. She tells them she is now happily settled with a family, but without giving details. The phrase ‘with a family’ has two meanings. It can mean a family giving her shelter, or having her own children, but she does not make clear which it is. Vagueness is a blessing in this case. Carol was raped as a 14-year-old, by a schoolfriend’s father, so she was severely constrained in response by her own strong Christian ethos. She also did not report it to the police due to parental disbelief in her own veracity, and left home for a lone existence as a result. She worked in an all-female workplace, avoiding men as much as possible. We found her as an aquaintance of Janet, and later provided her with comfort, reassurance, and all necessary assistance in overcoming her mental and social difficulties. She is now a happy woman and successfully runs a chain of beauty salons around parts of Clydeside. Phyllis came to us as an abused wife whom we sheltered for some time to keep her safe. Her husband was later killed in a road traffic accident while drunk, and she became mostly a permanent resident with us. She has since become a talented antique dealer and runs the Antique Market in Gourock that we helped her set up. It is doing well. That is the sort of family we are, Minister. We try to be Christian in our life and work, and attend services as much as we are able. Your predecessor in the post was most generous in his dealings with us, I am pleased to say.”

He smiled graciously, but queried, “The young lady who let me in said she was Jenny, but you haven’t mentioned her. Is she an employee?”

“Not quite. It turned out that her father was Carol’s rapist, and later he died in one of these prison ‘accidents’ that child rapists tend to meet with. Carol wanted Jenny to know that she was not personally blamed for her father’s behaviour, and has been doing her best to assist Jenny back into society. Jenny assisted with running the creche at the antiques market, and she helps out with our nursery when our regular nanny, Naomi, is elsewhere.”