Chapter 21

“Welcome to our house, Florence. I have heard of you from the ladies at the Antiques Market. Nice to finally meet you.”

“Thank you, sir. I was surprised to be invited to dinner.”

I shrugged.

“You needed fed, and we could feed you, so you are here. I hope you like what we have tonight.”

She looked confused, saying, “Roast beef, I understand, but what are potatoes Dauphinoise?”

“Thinly sliced potatoes cooked in a cream sauce, with layers of grated cheese and topped with grated cheese; delicious.”

“Sounds simple, but cream is expensive, and good cheese is expensive as well. Mum seldom buys cream or anything other than cheddar cheese.”

“Well, you are in for a treat, Florence. And don’t worry about having delayed dinner. The beef will be fine, just even more tender, and the potato casserole benefits from a wait of fifteen minutes after coming out of the oven. We will all savour the meal, I am certain.”

After the meal, which she clearly truly enjoyed, Florence was taken to a currently unused bedroom and given it for the night. Sandy, being her escort, told her, “It may be available for other nights, but that will depend on the situation at your parental home. Always remember that we are here if you need help of any sort. It never costs to ask.”

Florence ventured, “Why are there so many ladies in this house? At one point I heard a baby crying; was that your baby? I saw another lady, the one who answered the door, going to attend to it.”

Sandy smiled noncommittedly, saying, “Jenny acts as our nanny when our regular nanny, Naomi, is away; that’s why.”

“Aww, that’s nice,” Florence commented.

Sandy pointed out the change of underwear laid out on the bed, saying “That’s for tomorrow. Toss your used underwear in that basket for washing. You can collect it another day.”

She then gave Florence a quick run-through of the bedroom and its facilities before leaving her to get a decent night’s sleep. “We are usually up at seven-thirty, but you don’t have to get up as early, Florence.”

“But I’d like to, ma’am, if it fits in with your routine.”

“Then set your bedside alarm clock. I’ll show you how to do that; every alarm system appears to be different!”

In the morning, Florence appeared, yawning. She commented to Sandy when she saw her in the corridor, “That bed is very comfortable, ma’am; much better than my bed at home.”

“You tend to get what you pay for, Florence. We buy the best that we can.”

“I made my bed after I got up, ma’am.”

“Good of you, Florence. We change the sheets for the downstairs beds every Friday, even if they were only used once. The washing machine doesn’t care about the extra load!”

“Goodness! With all the people in this house, you must have a washing machine in use every day.”

“Nearly. Underwear gets a wash every day, along with socks, tights and such. Bedclothes get washed on Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays: different parts of the house. We keep a spare set for every bed in the bottom of each wardrobe. If you happen to be here on a Friday morning, please strip the bed and replace all the sheets and pillowcases. Bung all the used stuff in the basket; that will be a help for whoever is putting on the washing that day.”

“Gosh. How many bedrooms are there?”

“Twelve, I think. We planned for expansion of our family. Children have this peculiar habit of growing up and wanting their own room, as I am sure you are well aware.”

“Really? How many children do you expect to have, Ma’am?”

“Who knows? We already have nine.”

“Nine? You don’t look old enough, if I may say so; and your husband seems even younger; if you don’t mind me saying that.”

“Oh, not just me. The other girls have children in the nursery.”

“Ah, I see. That makes sense then, but don’t they have husbands?”

“Yes. Each of them has a husband all right.”

“Then where are they all? I’ve only seen your husband. Have they all been abandoned by their men, or did they run away from home?”

“It is even more complicated than that, Florence, but we can discuss that at another time if you are still around. Will your mother be looking for you?”

“No. She knows I stay away some nights by my own choice, so doesn’t fret about it, and this is one of her days as a shop assistant. Some evenings she is out working as a cleaner.”

Sandy took in this information, but made no comment on the work factor. Her main concern was for Florence’s future. “Good. The next question is, are you looking at further education, or seeking a job?”

“I can’t afford to go to college, and even with O-levels I wouldn’t be accepted for anything other than a trade. I have no idea about that.”

“How will you hear about your O-level results?”

“If I don’t go to the school, they’ll post them to me at my home.”

“So your mother will open your results letter?”

“She might, if I don’t appear soon, but I expect she’ll wait to give it to me to open.”

“Then after you have had breakfast, one of us who doesn’t have to get to work can take you home and see if the results have arrived yet.”

“Only if my father is off to work. I never know if he has work or not. It is something to do with his employment arrangements.”

“Ah; piece work, then, or casual labourer?”

“I have no idea; I don’t dare ask.”

Two young girls ran along the corridor chasing a ball, and one of them ran into Sandy, who caught her.

“Fenella! Martha! You girls should watch where you’re going. Now slow down before you run into someone else.”

“Yes, Mum Sandy. I’ll be more careful,” promised Fenella, and both girls trotted along more sedately for a little, before speeding up as the ball got ahead of them.

Sandy raised her eyes skyward.

“Children are lovely most of the time, but occasionally a trial...”

“Why don’t they play outside, Mrs McIntyre?”

“They are only four years old, young lady. At that age they still need adult supervision in case they get lost or hit by a car or something worse. They get to run around at the nursery school though.”

“I never went to a nursery school. My parents couldn’t afford that, and when I was about three I got out to play if older children were there to look after me. I had to do the same thing for younger girls when I was older. I remember playing in the street and we stopped to let the occasional car drive past; and then there were the horse and cart deliveries of coal briquettes that were shaped like bricks but smaller. If they were fresh out of the machine that makes them they steamed for a long while. The briquettes burned more slowly and were cheaper than proper coal. I don’t know what they were made of, except part was coal dross bound with some other burnable material.”

Sandy nodded.

“That would be a reflection of your economic circumstances. There are more cars about on this street, as the folk here are more affluent.”

“Yes, ma’am. I didn’t see the street when we got here last night, as it was dark. You are well off, then?”

“Comparatively, I agree; better off than your family anyway. You can keep these clothes you are wearing. We will replace them for the lady who contributed them.”

“That’s good of you, ma’am. Thank you. They are nice clothes.”

“You are well-mannered for a simple working-class girl, Florence.”

“That’s the influence of school, ma’am. We got taught to use proper English, instead of the way my dad talks.”

“He talks differently, does he?”

“Yes. He uses Braid Scots, as do most of his cronies.”

“Nothing wrong with Broad Scots, Florence. It merely reflects the community where you were brought up.”

They arrived in the dining room and were offered a range of breakfast choices. Florence was used to cold cereal and milk for breakfast, but willingly accepted a steaming bowl of porridge oats, which was what Sandy had opted for. Florence thought copying Sandy was a good approach to take.

Some of the others had a cooked breakfast of bacon and eggs, with extras like a slice of black pudding or Lorne sausage. Florence looked on with envy and a watering mouth. Next time, if there was a next time, she might ask for bacon and eggs, if they were willing to treat her that well, but the porridge oats was filling just the same.

Most of the ladies hurried to finish breakfast so they could prepare to leave for work. Jenny again was last to breakfast, having earlier dealt with the needs of the children in the nursery. The older children appeared with Jenny, to bid their mothers goodbye for the day. Florence noted that Jenny was displaying a slight belly bump, which she made a wild guess at being a sign of pregnancy.

A little later, as the house began to empty of women, another teenager burst in at the front door, and rushed to Jenny. “Sorry to be late, Jenny; had to help Alice with a few things before she ran me here. Anything to report?”

“Nothing of importance, Naomi. Now that you are here, I can cadge a lift with Phyllis to the Market and get started there.”

Florence saw that the woman Phyllis, from the Antiques Market, was standing nearby, looking impatient to be off.

The two baby minders vanished back to the nursery to change over responsibilities and news.

Phyllis commented sourly to Florence, “One of the doubtful joys of being an adult, young lady, is waiting for other people all the time.”

“Yes, ma’am. Being a teenager is no fun either.”

Phyllis laughed.

“Too true, girl. I married too young, as well; starry-eyed about marriage at the time.

Ah, here’s Jenny; she helps with our nursery at the Market. Now that is a good crowd-puller.”

“Sorry?” Florence queried. “Crowd-puller? What’s that?”

Phyllis tersely explained, “A business matter, that’s all. Bye for now, Florence. Duty calls.”

With Jenny in tow, she went out to her car and left.

Florence found herself almost alone, with just Janet in sight. Florence went up to her and asked, “Where is your nursery room, Janet? Can I get to meet the children?”

“Come and I’ll show you, Florence. I don’t have to go to my work until later, as I’m not on the early shift.”

Florence was led to an unmarked door, and when it was opened, she was struck by the smell of babies, accompanied by a lot a baby noise of all kinds. In a corner was a lady breastfeeding an infant, while the recently arrived Naomi was cheerfully changing another baby’s nappy. She appeared very pleased with herself.

Janet announced, “Florence wants to see our children, girls. Give her the grand tour.”

Baby changed, Naomi told Florence about the duties her job involved. So she named the children one by one as they went round the large room. Florence exclaimed, “How can you remember all the names, Naomi?”

“Practice; I’ve been working here for years now. There were fewer babies before, but the older ones are easy to care for. I just tell them what I want done, and they do it. The older ones go to a preschool nursery several hours a day, so are out of my hair for a while.” She broke off to command, “Tom! Leave Karen alone! Stop being jealous.”

The boy stopped bothering his half sister and went off to mope. Naomi explained, “Each of them acts differently according to their personality, but you get to know them all. They are dears, really, but have to learn to socialise with others. That is one of the reasons for them going to the preschool nursery.”

Florence said wonderingly, “We never had a nursery school when I was young.”

“It is a fairly recent introduction,” said Naomi. “It prepares them for school, as school can be a wrench from always being at home with your Mum.”

Florence confided,”I am amazed at how many women with children live here with Mr and Mrs McIntyre. Is it a sort of refuge?”

Naomi giggled before replying, “No. It is actually a polygamous marriage, but not officially. The legal marriage is between Bob and Sandy, but the other ladies regard themselves as wives of Bob too. Bob is father to all the children in here.”

Florence gasped.

“Polygamy? I thought that didn’t exist in Britain!”

“It doesn’t, in accordance with the existing law of the land. The family sticks to the letter of the law. British law would regard the other ladies almost as concubines, as they are not legally married to Bob. Sandy has no trouble with having the other ladies in the family, but she is the boss woman at all times.”

“But what about the women who are not legally married to him ... to Bob? Are they not worried about their position?”

“Not in the slightest, Florence. All of them joined the household by their own choice, once they knew what they were getting into. They all originally had personal problems that Bob and Sandy solved for them, and later they decided to stay permanently, and at Sandy’s suggestion, became extra wives to Bob, with all the benefits that entailed; they also got financial support to start or extend their commercial enterprises. Phyllis owns the Antiques Market, Janet controls the cafe/restaurant part of the Market; Carol runs a group of beauty salons, and Georgie runs a collection of estate agencies spread over a wide area. Sandy has her own successful business advice operation with no particular boundaries. Jenny, the most recent addition, is working on nursery nursing for now, as well as helping out here.

They are all guaranteed by Bob and Sandy every right that a wife has, and that applies to the children as well. It is fortunate that Bob and Sandy can afford that promise, but each of the ladies have incomes of their own, either as employees somewhere, or by running their own businesses. Have you seen anyone look as if they are not enjoying life in this household?”

“No, they all look quite at home. You look after all their children?”

“Yes. It is my paid job. I might keep it for a while, afterwards.”

“Afterwards? After what?”

“After I join George and Alice.”

“Who are they?”

“George is a physics professor at Glasgow, and Alice is a professional accountant. They met in this house and have just got married. They are a lovely couple.”

“That doesn’t explain why you want to join them. Are they coming apart?”

Naomi chuckled at the joke.

“No, they are fine, but you have seen what can happen. I fell for George, and Alice later approved me joining them in their marriage.”

“Does that mean...?”

“Yes, second wife without the formal legal status. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Good grief!” said Florence. “I can’t imagine such a thing.”

“You don’t have to imagine it, Florence. It exists in this house, quite successfully.”

“You think it is all right? Then why are there laws against more than one wife?”

“You’ll have to ask the more educated adults here, but I gather that many of the laws of England and Scotland are based on the stories of the Bible having to be seen as the ideal society. Why we can’t think for ourselves and have our own marital rules, I don’t know.

Even after World War One, when there was a huge surplus of available women, most of whom lost their men in the war, the government wouldn’t bend the rules, for fear of a religious backlash. Oh, the world has been devising stupid rules for thousands of years. Sandy says every civilisation has produced its own laws and ways of living. She says that the Romans dumped unwanted babies on rubbish heaps, as they didn’t have decent contraceptives to stop them coming into the world. We are horrified by the idea, but to the Romans, it was normal and probably viewed as sensible. They had enough of a population excess that they were able to have huge armies that they could support financially.”

“But economically in this country most people could not afford to have several wives and lots of children. My Mum and Dad can hardly support themselves.”

“This is where the varying levels of wealth affect how a society can work. The better-off men and women can afford more things than the working man, and the same applies to polygamous marriages. Bob inherited a load of dosh and so can afford to build this house, run a couple of cars, and pay me to look after the children. Do you realise that it was Bob’s money that financed the Antiques Market, Carol’s beauty salons and Georgie’s estate agencies?”

“Gosh; he must be rich!”

Naomi chuckled in amusement, saying, “It depends on what you mean by ‘rich’. Bob does not flash money around, and Sandy looks after his funds, so as far as I can tell, Bob really has no inkling of how much he is worth. As long as he can support himself and his wives and children; he is happy. What is money for, anyway? is the way he thinks.

This large house is needed for his family, and the cars are needed for their ease of transport, so need is the greatest deciding factor in how he spends his money. He has to be persuaded to buy new clothes, as he prefers being comfortable in what he already has. What would be the point of wearing expensive new clothes all the time? It would not be a surprise to see him in a charity shop, buying a shirt or tie or something. Sandy pushes him at times to buy a new suit for a special occasion.

I know he objects to spending money frivolously; you never see his wives with fur coats or expensive silk dresses, but they are all well-dressed otherwise. His ladies know his feelings on waste and adopt the same attitude when buying clothes.”

“I’d love to be so rich that I was not interested in how much I had,” voiced Florence.

Naomi corrected her, “From what I was told, he grew up in a working-class family where you watch the pennies, and that carried over to his current life. In his view, it is not how much you have that matters, but how you behave towards others.”

“Talking about others, I should let my mother know where I am. I don’t usually stay away quite so long.”

“Speak to Janet then. She can probably give you a lift to speak with your mum before she starts her own work at the Market.”

That spurred Florence to go find Janet and ask her for a lift.

“Where to, Florence? Home?” Janet asked.

“No. My mum works at Auld’s bakery as a counter assistant. You know where that is?”