Its Colours They Are Fine. Alan Spence

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СКАЧАТЬ of as a friend. The others had returned their attention to their Bibles and were soundlessly mouthing the text over and over.

      ‘Jist aboot,’ said Aleck. He opened his Bible at the place, which he’d marked by inserting his attendance card and his membership card for the Life Boys.

      He went over the words into himself.

      ‘Mark 4:28 and 29 – For the earth bringeth forth fruit of herself; first the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear. But when the fruit is brought forth, immediately he putteth in the sickle, because the harvest is come.’

      ‘Quite a long wan this week, intit,’ said David.

      ‘Aye, so it is,’ said Aleck. ‘An ah canny get ma tongue roon that “putteth in the sickle”.’

      ‘Aye it’s hard right enough. Whit is a sickle anywey?’

      ‘It’s wan a they things fur cuttin grass. Lik a big knife wi a blade lik that . . .’ and Aleck drew an arc in the air with his forefinger.

      He went on, ‘D’ye remember they kerds ye goat wi FLAGS bubble-gum?’

      ‘Aye.’

      ‘Well, d’ye remember the Russian wan ah hid, the wan ah widnae swap?’

      ‘Aye, aye it wis a red flag.’

      ‘Well, thoan wee things in the coarner wis a hammer an sickle, croassed lik that.’ He crossed his forefingers in front of him.

      ‘Aw aye, ah remember. Huv ye ever seen a real wan?’

      ‘A red flag?’

      ‘Naw, a sickle.’

      ‘Naw. Huv you?’

      ‘Naw. Bet it wid be some chib, eh?’

      They hadn’t heard Jim coming up behind them. He tapped David on the head with his Bible.

      ‘What would be some “chib”?’ he asked, sitting down at the head of the group.

      ‘A sickle,’ said David, slicing the air to demonstrate. ‘Schuk!’

      ‘Bloodthirsty shower!’ said Jim.

      Aleck asked him if he’d seen a real sickle.

      ‘Och yes,’ he replied. ‘We’ve got one at home. In the toolshed.’

      Aleck had forgotten that Jim lived in a house with a garden. He only came to Govan to teach at the mission. He was about twenty-five and he always had a redfaced, clean and scrubbed look. He smelled of soap and haircream, and he always wore a sports jacket with a Christian Endeavour badge in the lapel.

      ‘Ah’m glad you all managed to bring something for the service,’ he said. ‘Have you all learned the text?’

      He got five different replies, from Yes through Silence to No.

      ‘Ach well, we’ll see anyway. Would you like to pass me your cards?’

      While he was taking in the attendance cards, David turned again to Aleck.

      ‘Didye go tae the pictures last night Aleck?’

      ‘Naw. Ah jist steyed in. Did you?’

      ‘Aye. Ma big brurra took us tae the Lyceum. It was a war picture. Aboot Korea. Terrific! Ah’ll tell ye aboot it efter.’

      Jim took each of them in turn, and with varying degrees of assurance and hesitancy they intoned the text for the day in the same monotone of incantation that characterised the way they would recite the alphabet or the multiplication tables or any other memorised litany. Then he marked their cards, once for attendance, once for reciting the text. He also marked Aleck’s Life Boy card.

      The Junior Division of the Boys’ Brigade. Sure and Steadfast.

      ‘That’s fine,’ said Jim. ‘Now if you’d all like to open your Bibles at the place, we’ll have a wee look at it. Mr Neil’s going to talk about it after, so I won’t spend too much time on it. Right, well what’s the text about then?’

      ‘Harvest,’ said Robert.

      ‘Right, and what’s that?’

      ‘Time a year when aw the crops ur ready,’ said David. ‘Corn an wheat an stuff.’

      ‘Fine,’ said Jim. ‘In fact all the crops we need to make food. To live. And that’s why we celebrate harvest specially. To give thanks for our food. Now. Do you remember what a parable is?’

      ‘A story,’ said Aleck.

      ‘That’s right, but it’s a special kind of story that Jesus told. If you look at the top of the page it says The Parable of the Sower. Now Jesus told stories like this when he wanted to explain something in a way people could understand. This one starts at verse 3.

      ‘. . . Behold there went out a sower to sow . . .’ And Jim read them the whole story, about some seed falling by the wayside and some on stony ground and some among thorns and some on good soil, and when nobody understood, Jim explained about the sower being Jesus.

      ‘If you could look at verse 14,’ he went on, ‘it says “the sower soweth the word”. So Jesus is trying to make something grow from his words. Now, what do you think it is?’

      Everybody shrugged or looked at the floor.

      ‘Look at verses 30 and 32.’

      Five heads scanning the books.

      Silence, except for rustling pages and shuffling feet and creaking chairs.

      ‘No? Oh well. It is quite difficult I suppose. It’s talking about the Kingdom of God, growing up like a tree.

      ‘So if Jesus is the sower, trying to make it grow by spreading his words, what d’you think it means about the different kinds of soil?’

      Another silence. Then Aleck said, ‘Different kindsa people?’

      ‘Yes!’ said Jim. ‘Good. Good. We’re getting there!’

      When he finished explaining he said, ‘I suppose these things’ll be easier when you’re older,’ and smiled and added, ‘like me.’

      The singing of hymns left Aleck feeling strange, though he didn’t know why. Sometimes he felt like crying. Sometimes he felt his face flush. Everything seemed very real but far away, as if he was watching it on a film.

      Above the platform hung a single light bulb with a pink plastic shade. Aleck was looking at it as if he’d never seen it before. There was a dark crack on the shade, running from the rim about half way up. Aleck hated pink. The colour was like the sound of the word, like the taste of the pink pudding they sometimes had in the school dinnerhall.

      Mr Neil with his wife at the piano had led them in singing the hymns. Heavenly sunshine. This little light of mine. This is my story. Give me oil СКАЧАТЬ