Chapter 22

“My turn, Bob,” she whispered, and I turned to do the same to her, while Sandy pouted in feigned annoyance. I allowed myself a similar time with Georgie, then released her before my love could intervene.

I took a glance at my wrist watch, and remarked, “Plenty of time, so if it is dry outside, what say we walk down to Kempock Street?”

So we walked down, and I regretted just having my light raincoat with me. A heavier one would have been better protection against the cold wind. Both girls were at home, so they put on warm coats for our stroll. Sandy regarded my thin coat with ridicule.

“Bob, you can afford a better overcoat, my love.”

“I know, dear heart; I simply forgot about it.”

“You have said before that cash is only useful for spending, so spend a little on a good coat; perhaps mohair.”

“Yes, dear,” I replied, as that is always the best answer. I had seen pictures of US military personnel wearing what they called parkas for cold conditions, so that might be a possibility if they were available on the commercial market. It would be Monday before I could do something about it, so I put it out of my mind for now. I was getting peckish, so I was looking forward to dinner.

After our pleasant stroll, the warmth of the restaurant hit us when we stepped inside the door. The air also had the aromas drifting from the kitchen adding a pleasant tang to the atmosphere, enough to get the salivary glands into action in my mouth.

Our usual table was occupied by an earlier arrival, so Georgie asked for any table by the windows offering a view over the Clyde. The waiter who greeted us steered us to a table that fitted our needs, then Georgie asked if Janet was available to serve us.

The man appeared a little put out by his presence being thought unacceptable, but Sandy laid a hand on his arm and said sweetly, “We need to talk with her privately, but only if that is all right with you.”

His attitude changed and he smiled, saying conspiratorially, “I’ll see if I can get her for you, ma’am.”

“Thanks ever so much; you are a darling man,” said Sandy, smiling her pleasure. Any man would have wilted under that smile that I loved to see on her face. We had to sit for another few minutes, but the wine waiter filled that time for us, getting us interested in his choice of wine for beginners. It proved to be a good choice.

Janet appeared at last, with a big smile as she approached us.

“Ah, my heroes! My abject thanks for your financial assistance. It is a load off my mind.”

Sandy told her, “It was what was needed, so we persuaded Bob to divert some funds your way. Isn’t he a dear?”

Janet directed her attention to me, with a look of appreciation on her face.

“Thank you, Bob. If I wasn’t on duty, I would kiss you!”

“Janet, I would happily kiss you back,” I replied with a grateful smile.

Janet frowned at me, saying, “Down boy. Not at this time.” She paused and I added, “Maybe later, if all goes well?”

Janet’s eyes widened as she tried to make sense of this offer. Sandy did nothing to help, except to quote, “There is a time and a place for everything”, emphasising the “everything”, which made Janet even more at a loss for words.

Georgina stepped in and asked for the menus, which Janet at once passed round automatically while she recovered from her dazed state. We got back to normal and had a lovely meal with Janet fully recovered but with a pensive look on her face whenever she had a moment to think.

As we finished, Sandy suggested to her, “Do let us know if you have any other difficulties, Janet dear. Anything we can do to help.”

Janet thought swiftly then asked Georgina, “You deal with houses, don’t you, Georgina?”

Georgie admitted this as a fact, and Janet went on, “If possible, I would like to find better accommodation, as I may be able to afford a trifle more space. Does your agency deal with lets?”

Georgina confessed, “Officially, all we do is sell properties, but leave it with me, and I will see what I can do for you. Don’t make any commitment in the meantime.”

Janet was working the late shift, so we couldn’t offer her a lift home. After a quick confab with Sandy, I decided on a taxi to get the girls home then me to Greenock so I could get a good night’s sleep before church in the morning and the meeting with Sandy’s minister in the afternoon.

While we stood at the restaurant’s front door waiting for the taxi, Sandy approved me to give Georgie a goodnight kiss as that would not be appropriate at their house door. It was a short kiss as the taxi was quick in arriving, and Sandy directed him to their home, with a warning that I had to be taken to Greenock after that. At their house, Georgie gave me a quick peck on the cheek in the taxi, then got out first to go to the front door of the house. I asked the driver to wait a moment while I saw Sandy to her door, and thoroughly kissed her goodnight there before she went inside and I returned to the taxi.

The driver commented, “Such a romantic sight! Reminds me of my own goodnight kisses with my now wife. Greenock, sir?”

I told him the address and he nodded, “Got it.”

I asked him if he had a colleague in Greenock who could take me and my parents and brother to church next day, and take us back after church; and then take me to the girls’ house in Gourock in the afternoon.

He chuckled, “Not a problem. We have a group arrangement of swapping clients around to make best use of the taxis’ time and fuel; we share the profits and it works well. So, a taxi at your house in the morning?”

“Yes. Make it at ten-thirty for eleven o’clock service; that allows for hiccups at any point. My parents will say when they want us collected after service, including any chat time with friends.”

These arrangements all went well, and I finally arrived at the Thompson house ten minutes before the scheduled meeting. Sandy greeted me at the door, while Georgie stayed out of the way. I was taken through to the sitting room where a clergyman in his white collar was waiting to greet me.

“Welcome, young man. My name is the Reverend Murdo McAllister. I am minister of Gourock Old parish church. Please introduce yourself, in your own words.”

“Thank you, sir. I am Robert McIntyre, aged almost eighteen, of Greenock and a member of Ardgowan Square United Free Church there. I am currently in temporary employment with Mr Thompson’s office, and my intention is to marry his daughter as soon as we can make the arrangements. I own my own house in Gourock and we would hope to live there afterwards.”

McAllister raised his eyebrows at ‘my own house’, but said nothing about it.

Sandy now formally introduced herself, “I am Alexandra Thompson, aged nineteen and embarking on business studies at Glasgow University. Bob asked me to marry him a few weeks ago, and I said yes. My sister Georgina has agreed to be my maid of honour at the wedding.”

“Georgina ... yes ... she is not married, I am told.” the minister said with a touch of acerbity. Sandy was not for putting up with this.

“She had a boyfriend who left her for another girl, Mister McAllister, through no fault of her own, and that has made her wary of other men.”

“Ah, I was unaware of that. It must have been prior to my translation to this charge two years back.”

“It was. She deserves sympathy, not misapprehension, minister.”

“I agree, young lady. You argue well for your sister.”

“I have been her protector from unwanted attentions for several years, but my attachment to Bob has made her see that not all men are untrustworthy.”

“Very well. I expect your minister will give a good report of you, Mr McIntyre, and my own assessment of Alexandra and her family means that we do not have to go over the religious requirements for marriage. Are you both aware of the civil law in this matter?”
Sandy told him, “I have spoken with the local Registrar and she has briefed me on the law of marriage in Scotland. We see no problems ahead.”

I added, “I am also familiar with the civil requirements. I checked with my local Registrar in Greenock about the documentary procedures.”

“That is satisfactory. We can now move on to the actual church ceremony. The families are seated on either side of the central aisle, so you have the bride’s side and the bridegroom’s side. The ushers normally represent the two families and will direct the congregation to the appropriate side on arrival. We will have a hymn or two, and I will deliver a short homily, but the main part of the service is the exchange of vows to each other, and this is what makes the marriage legal. It is followed by an exchange of rings, and then I announce that the pair of you are married in the eyes of God and man.

The bridegroom usually has a Best Man, sometimes called a Groomsman, who attends to the preparations for the groom, including having the wedding rings in a waistcoat pocket ready to hand to the minister when the exchange of rings takes place. The minister hands the ring to the groom to place on the bride’s finger and then hands the other ring to the bride to put on the groom’s finger.

The bride has one or more Bridesmaids, usually young girls, to hold up her train and otherwise look nice, and the Maid of Honour assists the bride with dress adjustments, floral bouquet, etc. The bouquet will be handed to the Maid of Honour to ensure hands are free for the exchange of rings, and for that first kiss after the wedding declaration.

Oh, and at the start of the service I have to ask if anyone has a lawful objection to the marriage, but objections almost never come up. The only likelihood is where either party is suspected of committing bigamy, and that is an extremely rare occurrence.

There may be bible readings and one or two praise songs during the ceremony; oh I think I already mentioned that.

Now, any questions?”

I asked, “How much of all that is essential, and how much is by choice?”

The readings and praise are all by choice and your input for that is welcome, but it is traditional to have at least one of each. The readings reflect the institution of marriage by God, so are recommended by me, but the praise is entirely optional. Some couples have hymns, and others choose popular songs about the value of love. The exchange of rings is similarly symbolic of sharing your lives, so most couples like this; and the kiss after the declaration is much appreciated by the onlookers ... The oaths, and the minister or registrar’s part in administering them are the section that is essential in law.”

Sandy asked, “What about afterwards? The reception?”
“That is entirely up to the bride’s family. It can be lavish or simple, but tome, lavish is merely bragging. It is normal to have the minister there, so he can say the grace for the meal. Grace comes from a Latin word for ‘act of thanks’, so you are thanking God for the meal.

The speeches can be long or short, and there is a traditional order to them: the Best Man gives the first toast to the happy couple, and the Maid of Honour may also offer a toast, and the groom usually responds, starting with the immortal words: ‘On behalf of my wife and I’, which is usually accompanied by ribald cheers from everyone. There can be other toasts by the couples’ parents, but these are not necessary, and in the case of your father, Alexandra, it may remind him too much of the wife he has lost. It might be best to leave off the parental speeches for that reason.”

We talked more about tradition and religion, and how the wedding ceremony is almost identical for all Christian denominations; and the legal requirements applied to everyone in the national jurisdiction, no matter your religion or none. There were probably more differences between Scottish and English jurisdictions than between religious denominations.

McAllister explained, “Since 1929, the legal minimum age in Scotland has been sixteen, even if your normal residence was in England. All you had to do was live in a fixed abode in Scotland for two weeks to officially establish residence here according to Scots law, then you could legally marry. Scotland has never had a requirement for parental consent which is why these runaway marriages happened just this side of the border for many years. One hopes that the marriage works after that flying start.”

We concluded our discussion with the minister giving his approval to marry in his church with him officiating. He promised to get in touch with my own minister to confirm my data and invite him to attend if so wished. The date of the wedding would be determined by what events his Gourock church was already booked for, and when he was not committed to events elsewhere. That last he was 90 per cent sure after checking his pocket diary, but he said he had to liaise with his wife in case of other clashes like family events.

We pencilled in for the Saturday two weeks away at eleven a.m., so we could confirm with the hotel about the reception there two hours later, with single alcoholic drinks offered just prior to the reception time, to avoid attendees getting tipsy. Non-alcoholic drinks had no restriction on them.

Sandy and Georgina would make sure their dresses and floral accessories would be ready on that day, and I was positive I would have my suit well before then. Invitations would be printed as soon as the date and time were fixed, and Mr Thompson would have his staff fill in all the names of invitees, address the envelopes, stamp them using his office franking machine, and get them posted first class a week before the date at a minimum. Georgina took on the task of making up the list of invitees to the church service, and the secondary list for invitations to the reception only. These were people we knew less well, or who we knew could not be present at the time of the church ceremony.

And so it went on, for two solid weeks; meetings, appointments, discussions with various people and bodies; purchases of suits (yes, plural. Sandy said get two, to prepare for emergencies, so I did). My parents did their own thing to get properly kitted out for the event, and I made sure that my younger brother was included, for I wanted him as my Best Man, despite his youth. This youth thing works both ways, you know. As long as he was competent at learning formal dress codes and how to take care of the wedding rings, that was most of his job. Sandy and Georgina worked in the background to take care of everything else as well as their own preparations. That stack of banknotes that came from the lawyer was easily managing to cope with my expenditure on taxis as well as all the wedding expenses, so I got Sandy to take Janet out and buy her a dress, gloves and hat for attending the wedding (I know it should be stated as OUR wedding, but to me it was THE wedding). Nobody queried that one of the invitations went to her; she was just one among so many relatives and friends to be invited, so no-one batted an eyelid about an unknown attendee.

Whenever I could, I made another trip or two to 2026, delivered more bricks, and finally delivered the cement. That was when I realised I needed a board for mixing the mortar. Seemingly you make a ring with the cement, add water in the middle, and slowly introduce the cement to the water, adding more water as required, until you had a bucketful of moist mortar and a couple of hours or less to lay the bricks with the mortar before it starts to harden. I had to set aside a day to do this job, in case I mucked it up somehow and had to re-do it.

I visited a local builder to get a mixing board that would fit through the travel device, and asked for tuition in bricklaying by myself, while unable to allow someone to do it for me, which is what they would have preferred. For a fee, they gave me a demonstration and a list of dos and donts, and I applied them all several days before the wedding. With perseverance (bricks are heavy buggers when you are not used to them, as my foot could testify), I laid course after course and had the wall built in the allotted two hours; exhausting work for an amateur. The last few bricks were the worst; trying to squeeze them in at the top and pushing mortar in between the final course and the ceiling. Try doing that with a bricklaying trowel without plenty of experience; it is a tough job. I really needed some sort of injector to squirt the rapidly hardening cement into the gap. I had to use my gloved fingers to push the stuff into place. I knew I was finally there when I heard dollops dropping on the far side. That happened despite me trying to build the wall right up against the door. When I finished and stepped back to view my work, I almost despaired, for it was not neat and tidy brickwork. It looked shabby and amateurish, but hey, it was built and that was what mattered; it was brickwork and fully mortared together. Now I needed it to stay there solidly for a few weeks to become completely hard and secure in place.