Ralph Glasser was brought up in the Jewish quarter of the Gorbals between the First and Second World Wars, and began work in a garment factory at the age of fourteen. After years of studying at night he won a scholarship to Oxford University. He went on to become a psychologist, economist and notable memoirist. This is a record of a conversation he had with a fellow factory worker as they walked home one night through the Saltmarket, a particularly desolate and ill-lit district renowned as the haunt of prostitutes.
We were walking home from the factory late one night, about ten o’clock, the streets stilled. Something in his [Alec’s] mood suggested he wanted a cue to talk.
I said: ‘Have you ever had one of them?’
‘Aye, a few times,’ he replied in assumed indifference, ‘when ah’ve been hard up for ma hole. That wis where ah had ma first hoor, when ah was aboo’ fifteen. Ah wis jist this minute thinkin’ aboo’ ’er! In fact she comes tae mind many a time. She wis ma first proper fuck!’ He fell silent. ‘But that’s no’ the reason. She wis, ah don’t know how tae put i’. She wis warm an’ understandin’ an’, well, she was genuine. She wanted me tae be happy! She made me feel ah wisnae jist anybody. Ah’ll never ferrget it. Never. A wee thin-faced lassie wi’ red hair, verry pale, shiverin’ in the cauld wi’ a thin coat an’ skirt on. A guid bi’ older than me she was, aboo’ twenty-five. An’ wi’ a weddin’ ring on.’
He pushed his lips out: ‘It wis one payday, an’ it wis snowin’ an’ cauld, an’ ah wis comin’ away frae the workshop late at night dog tired an’ for some reason ah don’t remember ah wis gaun hame through the Saltmarket an’ no’ thinkin’ aboo’ anythin’. An’ suddenly there was this lassie beside me an’ caught haud o’ ma hand sayin’: ‘‘C’mon ah’ll show ye somethin’ wonderful!’’ An’ she pulled me intae a big dark archway an’ before ah knew anythin’ she’d put ma haun’ up ’er skirt – Jesus ah can feel it this minute – an’ she’d got haud o’ me an’ a couldnae stop masel!’ Christ wis ah ashamed! Bu’ she said, quiet an’ soft: ‘‘Never yew mind. Ah’ll wait. An’ ye’ll be fine wi’ me in a wee while.’’ And she held me tight, an’ kissed me as if she really meant i’. An’ efter a minute she shivered and said: ‘‘Ah’m sae cauld! Ah’m tha’ hungry. Will ye gie me a sixpenny piece an’ ah’ll go an’ ge’ a bag o’ fish an’ chips?’’’
He snorted. ‘If a hoor said that tae me the noo ah widnae trust her tae come back! Bu’ ah wis ony a boy. An’ she’d been sae warm and gentle wi’ me. She looked sae peaked ah wanted ’er tae have somethin’ tae eat. Ah gave her a whole shillin’. Ah’d have tae tell ma mither ah’d lost it on ma way hame. In a way that wis true! She took tha’ shillin’ in baith ’er hauns it could’ve been a gold sovereign! An’ she said: ‘‘Yew jist wait here an’ rest yersel’. Ah’ll be back in a wee minute.’’
‘An’ ah wis left standin’ there all flustered an’ lonely an’ wonderin’ whit was happenin’ tae me. Ah felt ah wis seein’ this wurrld fer the verry furrst time. Aye, seein’ a lo’ o’ things fer the furrst time. Ah thought of ’er walkin’ aboo’ hungry in tha’ God forsaken place, through piles o’ rubbish an’ horse shit dirty white wi’ the snow left lyin’. A’ the emptiness an’ loneliness. And the bitter cauld that had driven a’ the ither hoors hame. An’ her sae desperate. Grabbin’ hold of a boy tae ge’ a shillin’ aff of, for a bag o’ fish an’ chips an’ pennies fer the gas an’ the price o’ a pint o’ milk! An’ her bein’ nothin’ tae me, and me bein’ nothin’ tae her. An’ the next minute ah thought: ‘‘No. That’s wrong! I’ is somethin’! If it wis nothin’ ah wouldnae be carin’ at a’! It’s got tae mean somethin’!’’ Ah started shiverin’, standin’ there under the arch, the freezin’ cauld creepin’ up ma legs frae the pavement. Ah wanted tae feel ’er warm body pressin’ against me again, an’ ’er gentleness, sayin’ nothing’, jist bein’ there wi’ me. An’ then ah started wonderin’ if it wid be different fuckin’ her than blockin’ ma sister.’
I should not have been shocked but I was, and I must have shown it, or at least that I was surprised, perhaps by the slightest shift in my step or a questioning turn of the head, for he looked at me in astonishment. ‘Yours’ve done it wi’ yew surely?’
I shook my head, not sure what words would fit.
‘Come on!’ he said, disbelieving, ‘Yewr sisters must’ve shown ye whit’s what? Ah’ll lay ye odds o’ a hundred tae one ye’ll no’ find a feller, who’s go’ an older sister, who’s no’ been intae ’er – aye many, many times, sleepin’ in the same bed night efter night! Hiv ye really no’ done i’? Ah’ll no’ tell on ye mind!’
‘No. It really is true.’ I searched for a bland excuse. ‘Maybe it was because they were so much older than me.’
Most Gorbals parents, trying to instil the standard prohibitions, fought against impossible odds. Girls and boys were not even supposed to undress in each other’s presence after a certain age, but in most families they had to share bedrooms and as often as not beds, and so the rules were dead letters …
Alex paused for only a moment: ‘Aye, ah see whit ye mean. Maybe that’s it.’ He dismissed it. ‘Anyway, ma sister went at i’ wi me fer years. She used tae play wi’ ma prick in oor bed even before ah’d go’ any hair on me; an’ after ah grew ma bush an’ started comin’, she go’ me tae take ’er maidenhied.’
The memory jolted him: ‘Christ tha’ wis a night an’ a half! Wonderin’ whit tae do aboot the big bloodstain in the bed. Though at first when she saw it she was sae overjoyed – no, ah mean light-hieded like she wis drunk. Ah couldnae understand it …
‘Well, anyway, in the end we decided she’d pretend she’d had a freak early monthly! An’ ah’m no sure tae this day if ma mither believed ’er! Still an’ a’, nothin’ wis said. Efter tha’ she go’ me tae block ’er over an’ over again, nearly every night sometimes! But it wis never a proper fuck ’cos she never let me come inside ’er. She always knew when ah wis goin’ tae come an’ pulled me oo’ jist before. Well, she stopped a’ tha’ when ah was aboo’ sixteen. Ah’ve go’ an idea tha’ Father Millan, seein’ ah was gettin’ tae be a big lad, had a quiet word wi’ ’er one day in Confession, an’ tellt ’er it was bad for her immortal soul! An’ mine too. How ’e knew, well, ye can guess. Them priests! Aye, them priests. They’re on tae everythin’ that’s goin’ on. Too bliddy much.’
I wondered if he was about to branch off into that familiar pastime, scurrilous talk about priests and female parishioners. Not this time. The encounter in the Saltmarket long ago, shining within him over all the years, needed to have its say.
‘Anyway, as ah wis sayin’, ah stood there under the arch freezin’. It wis snowin’ again. There wisnae a soul aboo’. Every single hoor must a’ given i’ up that night. An’ ah did begin tae wonder if she’d come back. An’ then ah heard the quick steps muffled in the snow, an’ ah smelt the chips an’ vinegar, an’ the next minute she was pressin’ against me there in the dark. Shiverin’ an’ movin’ against me tae get the warmth. An’ d’ye know? She’d waited till she was back wi’ me afore she started to eat any! Ah could tell she wis real hungry ’cos she ate them fish an’ chips as if she hadnae had anythin’ tae eat fer days. Ah hadnae the herrt tae take a chip frae the bag. Bu’ after she’d had most of i’, she stood there leanin’ close an’ put chips in ma mooth on a’ a time till the bag was finished …’
We walked on for several minutes in silence and I thought he would reveal no more. He needed to, but couldn’t.
At last he did, quietly, sombrely: ‘Well, as she’d said, ah’ wis fine wi’ her in the end. She showed me many things. Aye, many things. An’ then she came! She really did. A lo’ o’ hoors jist pretend tae come so’s tae make ye feel great. Aye an’ tae make ye think they’re enterin’ intae the spirit o’ things an’ no’ jist standin’ there thinkin’ aboo’ the gas meter! Anyway ah’d never felt anythin’ like i’. I’ made me feel – ah don’t know how tae say it – I’ made ma herrt feel full tae burstin’ an’ then she went very quiet an’ hung on tae me all limp an’ said: ‘‘Haud me up dear ah cannae stand.’’’
It had all been said sadly.… He might have been pouring out his heart for a long lost love. His silence could have been of mourning, and reverence, for the lost bounty of innocence and revelation …
‘Did you see her again?’ I asked.
‘Whit did ye say?’
He had fallen into reverie once more.
‘Did you ever see that hoor again?’
‘See her? Ah wish ah could’ve stayed wi’ ’er fir ever!’ The words rushed out. He stopped and looked at me, in wonder at himself…
‘Ah never fucked ’er again if that’s whit ye mean. Bu’ ah’ve seen ’er plenty o’ times. She’s lived a’ the time in the next close tae us! Married wi’ two kids. Her man’s on the booze, an’ knocks ’er aboo’ regular. He’s given ’er that many black eyes she cannae see tae wurrk. She used tae be a button hole hand. They always ge’ bad sight, bu’ getting’ a’ them black eyes as well must’ve buggered up ’er sight good an’ proper! She cannae see tae thread the needle any more. Come tae think of i’, if ’er eyes’d been be’er she’d ’ave recognized me in the dark that night afore she’d got hold o’ me. An’ maybe left me alane? Anyway, bein’ hungry an’ cauld, whit can ye say? She needed that shillin’.’