44 Scotland St

VOLUME 14 CHAPTER 13 LOOKING FOR MOTHER

Stuart had been pleased to see Sister Maria- Fiore dei Fiori di Montagna. There were some people whom he normally did not wish to see in the Drummond Place Gardens, particularly those members of the Garden Committee who policed access. This was a much-contested point: the founding charter of the Garden stipulated that it was for the exclusive use of the pro - prietors of Drummond Place flats and houses. That was clear enough, but then there had arisen a number of difficult issues over whether those whose windows overlooking Drummond Place, but whose doors were on a different street, were eligible to use the Garden. That had, by immemorial custom, been interpreted in favour of access, and it meant that there were some whose address was Dundonald Street or Nelson Street who were allowed to parade around the Garden with all the assuredness of those who had an actual Drummond Place address. There was, of course, always a certain qualification to their entitlement – a whiff of the narrow shave – but nobody openly called into question their rights. In addition, there were certain properties in nearby streets that had been given a right of access under some ancient letter of comfort, and whose position was therefore more parlous. Stuart was one of these. They had inherited a key when they bought the flat, and that key had originally been accompanied by a letter from the committee saying that the owners of flats in 44 Scotland Street could enjoy the gardens in perpetuity. But did that mean that any owner of a flat in 44 Scotland Street could enjoy that right until his or her demise, or did it extend to their heirs? That was the issue, and on several occasions it had been brought up in a confrontational way by a member of the committee.

“May I ask what you’re reading?” said Sister Maria-fiore dei Fiori di Montagna.

Stuart folded the piece of paper and tucked it into his pocket. The nun was notoriously nosy, and even had the document in question been an uncontroversial one, he would have resisted any effort on her part to discover the contents.

“It’s just a report,” he said, and then, deliberately changing the subject, he observed how neat and tidy the gardens were looking. “Mid-summer produces such luxuriant growth – it’s very easy for the gardens to look a little bit jungly.”

“Ah,” said the nun. “Like the background of a Rousseau painting? Very green. Very large leaves. Very dense.”

Stuart smiled. “I wouldn’t go so far as that, perhaps. But certainly, nature looks a little less ordered in summer than at other times.”

“So, what sort of report?” asked Sister Maria-fiore dei Fiori di Montagnae.

Stuart shrugged. “About the state of the world, I suppose.”

The nun sat down next to him on the bench. “Could I see it? I am most interested in the state of the world. Indeed, I spend long hours considering that very issue.”

Stuart pretended not to hear. He was aware, though, of the nun looking at him intently.

“Sometimes we are inclined not to hear what we do not wish to hear,” she said, after a while. “There is always that temp - tation, you know. If we do not like some - thing, we act as if we are ignorant of it – but we are not ignorant, Stuart. We are far from ignorant. That to which we close our ears bypasses our hearing and goes into our heart, where it may fester away for as long time. So, by denying it to begin with, we lend to it great power in the long run.”

Stuart pursed his lips. What had he done to deserve this relentless persecution by women? There was Irene, there was Sister Maria-fiore dei Fiori di Montagna, there were others – he was sure of it. But then he thought: am I becoming paranoid? And with that, he decided not to resist the nun’s inquisitiveness.

Reaching into his pocket he extracted the report. “My wife has written this,” he said. “It’s for her progressive book club.”

He passed the nun Down among the men and the nun began to read it. When she finished, she folded it again, taking care to observe the same creases that he had used, and then handed it back to him. Then she crossed herself.

“That is very culture-specific,” she said calmly. “Not all men are like that.”

Stuart expressed relief. “I’m not,” he said. “Nor is Angus Lordie. Nor anybody, really.”

“Of course, they aren’t,” said Sister Maria-fiore dei Fiori di Montagna. “And you will see that she is only quoting northern, mostly Protestant writers, although Mr Mailer was Jewish, I believe.” “That’s true,” said Stuart.

“And where are the Italian writers in all that?” asked Sister Maria- Fiore dei Fiori di Montagna. “Where is Ariosto? Manzoni? Calvino? Eco? Where are they?”

Stuart frowned. Irene made a great deal of her interest in Italian culture, and so the absence of Italian writers was surprising. “They’re not mentioned because they don’t fit the argument.”

“Exactly,” said Sister Maria-fiore dei Fiori di Montagna. “Italy is not a maledominated society. It would not fit the mould.”

“And yet,” said Stuart. “And yet it has the Catholic Church. Surely that is more or less entirely dominated by males? Where are the female cardinals? Where are the women in the higher echelons of the Vatican – or even in the lower echelons?”

The nun sighed. “They are there,” she said. “But only in an idealised state. There may be no real women in those places, but they are there in the cult of the Virgin. The feminine principle infuses Latin Christianity, Mr Pollock, because of the absent father in Mediterranean culture. That is why pre-christian religions in those parts had powerful female goddesses who simply became the Virgin Mary later on. And because the father was not present, men looked for a female figure to replace their mother when she was no longer there. And they created the Virgin Mary as the expression of all that longing for a feminine presence in their lives – these sad, lonely men expressed their longing for the feminine by creating a figure whom they could venerate. That explains the Marian cult, you see.”

She smiled sweetly. “Whereas in Scotland, men did not feel the same need to have a mother-substitute. Nor any statues, nor superstitions. Scots looked for love in Reason, and in sympathy.”

Stuart smiled. “You’re sounding more and more like a Protestant,” he said.

“I understand that,” said the nun. “I have been moving gently towards Protestantism, although not going as far as your Free Kirk, I’m afraid.”

Stuart laughed. “What are they looking for?”

“They’re looking for mother too,” said Sister Maria-fiore dei Fiori di Montagna. “If you listen to those Gaelic psalms of theirs, the key note – the authentic note – is this: Where are we? Where are we going? Why is there so much rain?”

‘Stuart passed the nun his wife’s report for her progressive book group. When she finished, she folded it again, and then

handed it back to him. Then she crossed herself’