17 December 2024
Good morning,
Feathers
Part 17
The story so far: Maryam feels increasingly close to Joe, despite her parents’ antipathy to him and their anger at her pregnancy.
Autumn deepened, heralded by the honking of geese above Kingsbarns. Maryam was busy with ante-natal classes in Kirkcaldy, occasional visits from Lizzie and her beautiful boy Jonny, already with a tousled mop of dark hair, and second-year modules including IR2712 Truth, Reconciliation and Peace-building. She was heavy, tired, stimulated by her studies, and fearful of the birth.
Her old friends from Sallies organised a baby-shower in a flat on South Street she might have been living in had it not been for that afternoon in the library. Was it only seven months ago? There were University-branded bears, bibs and beakers. Someone’s great-aunt had knitted bootees and a beanie. She opened a gorgeous cloth book with tiny mirrors and bells sewn into the pages, and a cuddly green frog that she thought she might appropriate for her own comfort over coming days – or years.
“We can’t really believe this is happening to you,” they said. “But it must be true!” With Maryam’s encouragement the girls had all put their hands on her tummy, and squealed when they were sure they’d felt a kick. There were glistening eyes in the many pictures they took, even if they weren’t sure their own lives would hold such a day in the future.
When Maryam saw the baby-sized red gown from the University Shop, she too couldn’t help but cry. She’d told Millie about the video, and that she hadn’t got pregnant the usual way. Millie said she believed her, that her granny had recovered from cancer even when the doctors had said it wasn’t possible. But Maryam wondered if Millie really trusted her story. She didn’t find it that plausible herself. But maybe it didn’t matter. Her friends were drinking prosecco for her, and helping her feel she would not face motherhood alone. “We all want to babysit.”
When the gifts were all opened and the bubbly all gone, one said, “Come on, let’s go down to the pier.” The picture of the six of them, far out on the pier with a churning late October sea behind them, was the one they remembered throughout their lives when people would say, “What was St Andrews like?”
Lombard Masters of the 15th Century, Mystical Wedding of St. Catherine of Alexandria and St. Catherine of Siena, Church of Santa Maria di Castello, Genoa
Yours,
Donald.
Revd Dr Donald MacEwan
Chaplain