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  Inside, the house lacked any ostentation. Furniture was solid, plain and sturdy. There was carpet in all the public rooms and heavy curtains made by Mrs Hutchison, who was a good needlewoman. The Hutchisons had two grown-up sons: Craig, who was studying to be a lawyer, and Alexander, who was not long back from service in Arabia. He looked as though he needed feeding up but he had a great sense of humour and he was soon teasing Isa in a way she found very brotherly and that reminded her of her boy cousins. Craig, on the other hand, thought himself very superior to them all and looked down his nose at everyone rather than look anyone in the eye.

  Isa quickly settled in her new room, much bigger than usual with a proper window looking over the back garden. She had a rocking chair made comfy with chintz cushions, and a proper wardrobe as well as her bed and cabinet. There were two lamps, one by the bed and another standard lamp by her chair where she could read or sew. There was a little writing desk too under the window and she loved to sit there looking on to the greenery and flower beds.

  Her work was to organise the household staff and meals. A maid, Lizzie, who lived out, did the cleaning and rough work and Isa had to give her the daily tasks. Isa was responsible for planning the meals, shopping for them and reporting to Mrs Hutchison every Monday morning with her plans. It was already a well-ordered household and her new employers very warm and welcoming of so young a cook in charge.

  Every morning Isa and Lizzie gathered with the family in the drawing room for prayers. Everyone took it in turns to read the Scripture passage for the day and then the Rev. Hutchison led prayers. Isa was often surprised by the Biblical stories and their powerful messages and moved by the minister’s humble prayers. She did not have much to compare it with, but she knew she was in the presence of a man of integrity who lived as he preached, with honesty and compassion.

  One morning it was her turn to read the passage. At school Isa had loved reading aloud but she would have practised. When Mr Hutchison handed her the Bible she began fairly confidently, but soon was stumbling over unfamiliar words and place names she had never seen before and had no clue how to pronounce. The younger son, Alexander, was standing next to her and began to whisper the pronunciations to her. His older brother, Craig, just sniggered and made fun of her afterwards, repeating her mispronunciations behind her back.

  Later that day the Rev. Hutchison came into the kitchen and asked to have a word with her. They both sat at the kitchen table.

  “Isa,” he said, “I realise you may not have read from Scripture before and that I may have put you in an awkward position this morning. I am very sorry. It’s just that that is how we start our day here.”

  “Please, sir, do not trouble yourself on my account. I would have managed better had I practised, but some of the words were completely new to me.”

  “Well, I wondered if I might be of some help. Have you made your communion?”

  “No sir. I am baptised, but with my father being at the war I have not taken full membership of the church.”

  “Would it be something you would like to know more about? I am running a communicants’ class at the church on Thursday evenings, which will start next week. You would be most welcome to attend.” The minister looked into her young eyes and saw the longing to belong. He waited.

  Isa saw in his gaze his kindness and integrity, and knew she wanted to hear more. And so she began communicants’ class along with several other young adults in Falkirk, including some young men returned from the war and her old friend Jeannie, who she persuaded to come with her.

  The two young women now had new topics of conversation when they met in the tearoom on their afternoons off. Jeannie had found work in another big house on the other side of the town. Together they discussed the readings and information they were given about the Christian faith.

  For Isa the story of Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane was a powerful one. After he had eaten his last meal with his friends they went out to a garden and Jesus went off to pray, asking them to stay awake and watch since they all knew the authorities were looking for an opportunity to arrest him.

  “Isa, I don’t get that prayer. What does he mean when he says, ‘Father, if Thou be willing, remove this cup from me; nevertheless not my will but Thine be done.’ What is the cup?” Jeannie asked.

  “Mr Hutchison says it’s the suffering he sees before him, Jeannie. He feels he must prepare himself for death but it’s such a death. It reminds me of the look I saw in some of the men’s eyes in the hospital when I was searching for my father. They were terrified they would get well enough to be sent back to the front. Knowing what lay ahead of them was awful. To go the first time, when they didn’t know about the trenches and the shelling and the ghastly injuries and horrific deaths, was one thing. But to be asked to go back was more than many could bear. Jesus would have seen crucifixions. They all had. He knew what the Romans would do to him if they got him. No much wonder it says he was sweating blood.”

  “Why did he not run away?”

  “I think it’s because he had to stay true to himself and his belief in what God was. If he ran away it would be like admitting defeat. That he had got it all wrong. That the old Jewish ideas were right after all. So he had to stand firm. Even if it meant they tried to destroy him. He wanted to stand up for God.”

  “What courage. I don’t think I could do that.”

  A few weeks later they were formally asked if they wanted to go ahead and join the church, with all the responsibilities that entailed. One or two were not sure but Isa and Jeannie were very definite. Both knew it was a solemn undertaking, but they knew they wanted this in their lives: this sense of belonging to something important, something that was changing their lives for the better, being a part of the church and working in their community to make it a better place. They were to make their vows on the Sunday at the morning service. Isa wanted her family there and so she spoke to them when she visited on her day off.

  “I’ve got something I want to ask you all,” she began as they sat around the tea table. They were tucking in to the pancakes and jam she had made. “I have been going to classes at the church, as you know, with the Reverend Hutchison, and I am ready now to join the church and take my first communion. It will be on Sunday and I would like you all to come and support me.”

  Margaret was first to respond. “Will we have to do anything, Isa?”

  “No. You would just sit in the congregation in the row behind us and follow the service. It would be a chance to wear your best.”

  Margaret’s eyes lit up at this. She enjoyed a chance to dress up in her finery although there was seldom the opportunity. “I’ll definitely come.”

  “Me too, Isa. Do you get a prize for finishing the course?” asked Chrissie.

  “No. No prize except knowing I belong to the church as a full member. That’s enough of a prize.” Isa looked across at her father. “You’ll come, won’t you, Father?”

  Her father looked up at his eldest daughter and saw his wife in her more clearly than ever. She had been a spiritual woman, keen to live right and keep faith with the church. Had she been alive he might have been a better man. But here was his daughter following in her footsteps. Of course he would support her, although he did not feel fit enough to cross the door of a church after all he had done, war or no war. “Aye lass,” he said quietly. “I’ll be there. Spruced and shining. And richt prood tae be there for ye.”

  On Sunday morning the family were dressed in their best, shoes polished, the girls wearing their hats and sitting in the church pews. Isa and Jeannie sat in the front rows, along with the others who were to make their profession of faith and partake in communion for the first time. It was a bright, frosty October morning. Isa felt excited. For her this was a momentous decision that she was taking: aligning herself in full with the church, agreeing to follow Christ’s teaching and work within the church for her community. She rehearsed in her head what the minister would ask each of them and what she had to reply.
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br />   The ceremony would take place after the sermon. She settled herself to listen to the Rev. Hutchison, her minister and her employer. What would he have to say to them?

  “Friends, we are gathered as always to hear the Word of God, but today we have a special ceremony to perform. We are to admit into full fellowship of the Church of Christ worldwide these young people you see before us. We who have already made this commitment years previously are also called upon at this time to renew our vows in our hearts, as we recall Christ commissioning his disciples: ‘Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.’ So today we think carefully about the meaning of our commitment to Christ. Why is it that we took this step? What keeps us in faith?

  “Perhaps the verse I just read answers my questions. Why is it we take the step of faith? Because others committed themselves to telling of Christ’s life, explaining his teaching, embodying his life in theirs, and we were drawn to what we saw and heard. How could we resist this man of love, wisdom and compassion? This man who transformed the lives of all whom he met and who transforms us; who heals us, makes us whole; who enables us to live with integrity, with compassion, seeking that which is good. You first communicants have seen this. You have heard the story of Christ’s work on earth and you have found yourself saying, ‘Yes, this is good. This is right living. These are the principles I want to build my life upon.’ Today you have come to publicly share your ‘yes’ with our congregation. And you ask of us our support on your journey of faith. So all of us here gathered today make you a commitment too. We promise to share your journey, listen to your doubts and searching, encourage you when life is tough and faith is weak; and to rejoice with you in all your joy. For we are on this journey together as Christ’s people.

  “But that is not the only support you can rely on in this often demanding but always rewarding life of faith. For the rest of the verses I read remind us Christ journeys at our side always. When the road is safe and easy and our direction clear, but also when we are shrouded in fogs of doubt or burdened with suffering. He has promised to be with us always. He will be your guide, your strength, your direction, and your ally. So although this step seems a terrifying prospect, to commit to live as Christ lived, He will show you the way, step by step, never moving too far ahead of you. We who have already committed ourselves to Him can testify to this and we know His promise is for you also.

  “Now as we sing our communicants’ hymn, ‘Take my life and let it be consecrated Lord to Thee’, I ask our new communicants to come forward.”

  Isa’s heart fluttered as she rose to take her place in front of the communion table. She loved this hymn and sang it from her heart, meaning every word.

  When the congregation had retaken their seats, the minister came towards the new communicants and asked each one in turn to make their vows. Isa was trembling when he came to her and asked her if she confessed her faith in God, the maker of Heaven and Earth, and in Jesus Christ as her saviour and Lord.

  “I do,” she said clearly. She was then asked if she promised to live according to his teaching and was she willing to commit herself to the study of Scripture, to prayer and to giving of her time and means to the work of Christ’s church. She said a firm “yes” to these too.

  Then the minister laid his hand on her bowed head and she closed her eyes as he blessed her.

  “May the Lord bless thee and keep thee. May He make His face to shine upon thee and give thee peace, as thou committest thyself to His service. Amen.”

  Isa felt a stirring in her at these words. She was going to live this life. She had a sense of all being well and right and in balance. Much of the rest of the service was a blur as her own inner joy rose within her. She did remember that the elders in the church came and shook them all by the hand to welcome them into their fellowship.

  Back home, her father presented her with her own copy of the Bible. She was thrilled. It had been so important that he support her. On Monday, back at work in the manse, Isa felt different: taller, more confident. She was no longer outside. As a member of the church she felt surer of her place in this family’s household and in her community.

  14

  Not long after this Isa started walking out with a man she had met at Johnny Doke’s dance hall in Falkirk. Peter Swan was a handsome, well-presented man who wore perfectly tailored suits and gloves to come dancing. He had caught her eye early on, but he seemed rather taken with another girl at first. After a few weeks, though, he was regularly securing several dances with Isa each week. He was not the lightest on his feet, but he did know what he was doing with most of the dances and he had a great spark in his eye. He worked in the railway as a clerk in the office at Coatbridge. It was a clean, responsible job with prospects. He always had money to take her for tea and to present her with treats. He would send her a card near their next meeting with simply, “See you on Sunday, same time same place. Peter.” At first she found it very disappointing that there were no fonder greetings, but it was reassuring that he was looking forward to the meeting by sending her a reminder and the cards were sometimes prettily chosen. They could only meet every three weeks because of his shifts and her days off.

  If the weather was agreeable, they would walk in the Dollar Park among the flower beds and around the goldfish pond, sitting on benches to relax. The local tearooms provided somewhere warm on colder days and they were never short of conversation. Isa heard all about Peter’s family: his father was a tailor employed in his brother’s business, the well-known establishment of Sandilands; Peter’s oldest brother, Jimmy, had his own bakery; Tommy ran a butchery in Falkirk; his older sister Alice was married with two girls, and Jeannie, of whom he was very protective, despite the fact she too was older than him, was in service like Isa.

  She in her turn told him of her life and family, including the tragic deaths of her mother, Eliza and the baby boy.

  “Oh God, Isa. That must have been hard on you. I knew about Eliza’s death, of course. It was in the paper. The whole of Camelon virtually was on the streets for that.”

  “It certainly felt like that. People were very kind immediately, but afterwards they just expected life to go back to normal. And it was for them. But it never went back to how it had been for us. We were all changed. My mother never recovered and it led to her own death, I think. It was her heart failing, but not just because of illness or weakness. It was broken. She could not bear to go on living.”

  “And what about you?”

  Isa was stopped in her tracks. Could she put into words what she had felt? What she still felt? She looked into his face.

  “Me? I just had to get on with things. Once she died I was the one who took over running the house. I had to leave school, which I missed. It was tough at first and I made loads of mistakes, but in the end I got quite good at it. That’s why I ended up in service to Lord and Lady Tolquhoun. My tutor at the college in Glasgow recommended me to them when they were looking for someone to start with their household in London.”

  “You worked for the aristocracy?”

  “I did. And a very fine couple they were. They took a real interest in their staff. When they heard about my situation, with my father gone to the war and my mother passed, Lady Tolquhoun told me to see her and her husband as my protectors if ever I was in any trouble. And when I found my father in the hospital and told them the story of his rescue, Lord Tolquhoun sent his car and driver round for my father and entertained him in his study. My father was very impressed with him, for he talked to him in broad Scots. They really were fine people. And he spoke out for the working classes. He voted for Lloyd George’s bills on pensions for the over-seventies and tax rebates for families with children. I remember the day I saw them all dressed up to attend the opening ceremony at the House of Lords. They were fabulous in their full regalia and
robes.”

  “Well, I am glad you had a good experience of the gentry, but I tell you, Isa, I rubbed up against some of them in the trenches and they were none o’ them any better than ourselves. Some were right idiots, I tell you. Straight into officer posts with not an ounce of nous between their ears. I once had to guide a group o’ men from the back lines up to the front. That was what I did, as a runner. You had to have your wits about you and listen and smell the air and look for the telltale signs of where the worst shelling was going on so that you didn’t move into a direct line of fire. There was no use mapping it out because the landscape constantly changed with the bombing and shelling. Trees were all burned, hills flattened, bunkers that were there one day were shelled to extinction another.

  “Anyway, I was supposed to guide this group and lo and behold this jumped-up officer with his toffee-nosed accent wanted to tell me which way we should take. Well you’re supposed to obey an officer’s order but if we did obey this idiot I knew we’d all be shelled to blazes. So I drew myself up and I said, ‘With respect, sir, I have been a runner between the lines for eight months. I know how to read the signs. We cannot take that easterly route you used last time because the last few days that’s where the shelling has been worst. And the north-easterly direction has no secure duckboards left. The mud has made those walkways impassable. I saw men slip off two days ago and lose their lives in the mud. If you take my advice I can keep you and your men safe. I know it’s longer but it’s safer.’ Well the bugger looked like he was fit to burst at my impudence.

  “‘Don’t you know, corporal, that you could be court-martialled for disobeying a commanding officer?’

  “‘Of course, sir,’ I said, ‘But at least I’ll be alive to attend it. You can go east or north-east if you prefer, but I will be going in the northerly direction and approaching the front further up the lines.’”

  “So what happened?” Isa’s heart was thumping at the bravery Peter had shown in standing up to an officer. She was amazed at his confidence.