Bible John's Secret Daughter by David Leslie Page B

2d.
    About once a month, the wider Martin family – Malcolm, Jessie, Isobel, Hannah, Malcolm’s parents, Richard and Hannah, plus various uncles, aunts and friends – would meet up, usually on a Sunday, for what became known as Tea in the Grass. This was in essence a grand picnic. The contingent would frequently head in the direction of the Trossachs, and the favoured destinations included Loch Lomond, Balloch, Helensburgh and Arrochar, and the appropriately named Rest and Be Thankful, a stopping point with spectacular views.
    ‘As we drove along, Granny Martin would turn to her husband and say, “I think this is a good spot for Tea in the Grass. What do you think?” He’d always reply, “Whatever you think.” He never argued or disputed her choice. Her word was law,’ recalled an old friend. ‘The car would stop at the side of some road, everyone would pile out of the motor and from the boot they would start producing chairs, but first one for Granny, blankets for everybody else to sit on and then the food. It must have involved some considerable preparation because Granny Hannah could put on a full dinner, meat and a variety of vegetables on a plate, and when that had been eaten open tins of custard, which would be poured over cakes or some other delicacy she had baked. You would see others passing and know they would be eating sandwiches while we felt as though we were seated in a restaurant having a full Sunday lunch.
    ‘The meal over, we’d sit around or go play until it came time to have tea, a sandwich, some biscuits and a cuppa. While we were having Tea in the Grass, the menfolk would drift away in the direction of the nearest pub or hotel for a pint and a natter, about the previous day’s football probably, or gossip about what was in the newspapers. The invitation to take alcohol did not include the women, and Granny would say, “You let the men do men’s things and the women do women’s things.” A couple of hours later, by which time we’d have had tea and cleared up, the men would return. They always came back cheerier than when they went.’
    Family snapshots, taken during Tea in the Grass outings, reveal how seriously these occasions were taken. They show Richard Martin dressed in a formal dark suit, his shirt buttoned to the neck and wearing a tie; his wife in a patterned dress, a cardigan around her shoulders, before a portable table heaped with cups and plates; Malcolm, clearly relaxed, eating as he lies in the grass then squatting on the edge of Loch Lomond to wash his plate; Jessie, dark haired, upright and attractive in a flowing white dress pulled up to her knees to reveal long, shapely legs; and the children, playful and conscious of the camera, eating and drinking with relish.
    Buddhists are taught the law of karma, which states that everything that happens is caused by something done previously; that we are responsible through our own actions for the course of our lives. Do good and good follows, evil and evil will result. In these terms, it is impossible to look at the faces of these little girls and understand why the events that would determine the course of their lives occurred. Their expressions suggest innocence and joy. Some suggest our karma is influenced by the thoughts and deeds of others, which might provide a solution, but the photographs give no hint of what lay in store for the sisters.
    Granny Hannah was raised during an age when a woman’s home was her castle, filled with starched linens, leaded fireplaces and a kettle always near boiling point. The pictures demonstrate the formality along which the lines of her life ran. She was solid, dependable, respectful and respectable, decrying changes in the world that had brought a relaxation in moral standards. For her to have discovered Hannah’s later pregnancy would have been a shattering blow and she would have found it difficult to forgive her granddaughter. She was, in short, of the old school. Visitors to her home,