‘We hear.’ Following on Corny’s laughing answer, David now piped in, ‘We hear. We hear, Mam.’
Mary Ann moved away and drew Rose Mary with her, but all the way down the garage Rose Mary walked with her head turned over her shoulder, looking back at the car and David’s feet, and she didn’t speak until they reached the kitchen, not until Mary Ann said, ‘Go and get your cooking apron, and your board and rolling pin, and you can make some teacakes, eh?’ And then, her lip quivering, she looked at her mother and said, ‘But, Mam, David doesn’t want to play with me any more. Now he can talk he doesn’t want to play with me any more.’
‘Of course, he does, dear. He’s just newfangled with the idea of helping your dad. That’ll wear off. We’ll go to the sands tomorrow if it’s fine and, you’ll see, he’ll be like he was before. Go on now and get your things out and help me, because, you know, you’re a big girl; you’re six, and you should help me.’
‘Yes, Mam.’
Mary Ann went to the table and made great play of setting about her cooking. Newfangled because he was helping his dad. Things would be like they were before. No. She was confronted with the stark truth that things would never be like they were before, for David had become Corny’s; of his own choice, the boy had taken his father. As, years ago, she had taken her father and left her mother to their Michael, now David had taken Corny and left her to Rose Mary. Oh, she knew there would be times when he needed her, like there had been times when she had needed her mother, but it would never really be the same again. They might always be a close-knit unit, but within the unit one of her angels would fight his twin, and herself, for his independence. It was only in this moment that she realised that David was like neither Corny nor her; he was like her da, like Mike. He had been slow to talk, but now he had started he would have his say and fight for the right to have it.
‘Mam, will I put some lemon peel in me teacakes?’
Mary Ann turned smilingly towards Rose Mary, saying, ‘Yes, yes, that’s an idea; David likes lemon peel, doesn’t he?’
‘Yes, Mam. Mam, will I make my teacakes just for David and me?’
‘Yes, you do that, I’ll make some for your dad and you make some for David. That’s a good idea.’
Rose Mary smiled, then said, ‘Don’t say I’ve made them until he’s eaten one, then he’ll get a gliff, eh?’
‘All right. And make them so nice he won’t believe you’ve made them.’
‘Yes, and he’ll want me to make them every day. He’ll keep me at it, and I won’t be able to have any play or anything.’
‘Well, if he does,’ said Mary Ann, measuring the flour into a bowl, ‘you’ll just have to say, “Now look, I’ll make them for you twice a week, but that’s all, because I want to play sometime.” You’ll have to be firm.’
‘Yes, I will.’ Rose Mary clattered her dishes onto the board, and after a pause she said, ‘But I wouldn’t mind baking teacakes for David every day. I wouldn’t mind, Mam.’
‘It wouldn’t be good for him,’ said Mary Ann. ‘You won’t have to give him all his own way.’
‘No, I won’t.’
Mary Ann turned to glance at her daughter. She was busily arranging her little rolling pin and cutter, her knife and her basin, and as she did so she said, as if to herself, ‘But I wouldn’t mind. I wouldn’t mind, not really.’
Mary Ann turned her head slowly round and looked out of the window. David, almost with one blow, had cut the cord that had held them together. He had flung it aside and darted as it were, leaving Rose Mary holding one end in her hand, reluctant to let go, bewildered at being severed from her root.
The plait of joy and sorrow that went to make up life was so closely entwined that you could hardly disentangle the strands. She wanted to gather her daughter into her arms and try to explain things to her, but she knew it did not lie in her power to do this; only unfolding years and life itself could explain, within a little, the independence of a spirit.
Chapter Fifteen
It was Sunday again and, outwardly, life had returned to normal; not that Corny’s frequent diving upstairs was his normal procedure. Sometimes Mary Ann had never seen him from breakfast until lunchtime, except when she took his coffee down, but now it seemed he didn’t want to let her out of his sight. He came upstairs on any little pretext just to look at her, to make sure she was really there. It was a similar pattern to the first month after they were married.
But it was almost two o’clock now and Corny hadn’t got back for his dinner. There had been a breakdown along the road and he had been called to see to it. She went into the front room and looked out of the window. She couldn’t keep the children waiting much longer; yet Corny liked them all to sit down together, especially for a Sunday dinner. And she had made a lovely dinner…roast pork, and all the trimmings, and a lemon meringue pie for after. Rose Mary came into the room now, accompanied by David, and asked, ‘Is me dad comin’, Mam?’
‘I can’t see him yet.’
‘Oh, I’m hungry.’
‘Me an’ all,’ said David.
They were standing one on each side of her, and she put her arms around them and pressed them tightly to her. And they both gripped her round the waist, joining her in the circle of their arms.
She smiled softly as she looked down on them. Oh, she was lucky…lucky. She must never forget that. No, she never would, she assured herself. She thanked God for her angels and that everything in her life was all right again…But not quite.
It being Sunday, and Jimmy content to stay on duty, they should have all been going to the farm, but there had been no mention of the farm today. Corny had remembered what she had said: ‘I never want to see the farm again. Well, not for weeks and weeks.’ And so he had not brought up the subject. Yet here she was, and had been all day, wishing she was going to see her ma and da and their Michael and Sarah, and sit round the big table and have a marvellous tea—that she hadn’t had to get ready—and laugh…above all, laugh.
What was the matter with her that she could change her mind so quickly? A couple of days ago she had been glad to see the last of them. Did that include her da?
She bowed her head and released her hold on the children, and turning away, went into the kitchen.
She had just looked into the oven to see that everything hadn’t been kizzened up, when Jimmy’s voice came from the bottom of the stairs, calling, ‘Mrs Boyle!’
She hurried to the landing and looked down on him. ‘Yes, Jimmy.’
‘The boss has just phoned from the crossroads to tell you he’ll be back in ten minutes.’
‘Thanks, Jimmy.’
‘That’s givin’ you time to dish up; he wants it on the table.’ Jimmy laughed, and she laughed back. Funny, how she had come to like Jimmy. Before, he had simply been a daft youngster, but now she saw him in a different light altogether. She asked him now, ‘Will you have any room for a bite when I put it out?’
‘Corners everywhere, Mrs Boyle.’
She flapped her hand at him and said, ‘All right, I’ll give you a knock when it’s ready.’
‘Ta, ta, Mrs Boyle…’
Twenty minutes later Corny was washed and sitting at the table and doing justice to Mary Ann’s cooking, and every now and again he would look at her and smile with some part of his face. Then he would look at the children. He caused Rose Mary to laugh and almost choke when he winked at her.
After Mary Ann had thumped her on the back and made her drink some water, Rose Mary, her face streaming, said, ‘It was a piece of scrancham, my best bit, it was all nice and crackly…Can I have another piece, Mam?’
‘Yes, but mind how you eat it. Don’t go and choke yourself this time.’
After Mary Ann had helped Rose Mary to the pork rind she said to David, ‘You want some too, David?’
‘No, Mam.’ David looked up at her; then immediately followed this by asking, ‘Goin’ farm, ’safternoon?’
Mary Ann resumed her seat, and David looked from h
er to his father, and Corny, after glancing at Mary Ann’s downcast eyes looked towards his plate, and said, ‘No, not this afternoon. But we might take a dander down to your Great-gran McBride’s.’
Corny now said softly to Mary Ann, ‘All right?’
‘Yes,’ she replied, but there was little enthusiasm in her voice. Not that she didn’t like going to Fanny’s, but free Sundays had always been reserved for the farm. She told herself that if she was strong enough she would say to Corny now, ‘We’ll go to the farm.’ But it was early yet to face her family and the hostility they might still be feeling towards her; and this included Mr Lord. She felt as if she had been thrust out by them all. The feeling touched on the primitive. As, in the dark past, some erring member of a tribe was cast aside, so had her family treated her…or so she felt; and the feeling wasn’t lessened by the knowledge that it was all her own fault.
Dinner over, the dishes washed, the kitchen tidy, Mary Ann set about getting the children ready before she saw to herself.
In the bedroom Corny was changing his shirt. He was in the act of pulling it over his head when he heard a car come onto the drive. His ear was like a thermometer where cars were concerned. He looked at himself in the mirror. When the cars began coming onto the garage drive thick and fast he felt his temperature would go up so high he’d blow his top. He was grinning at himself in pleasurable anticipation of this happening when he swung round on the sound of a well-known voice coming from the stairs, crying, ‘Anybody in?’
It was Mike. He was through the door and onto the landing in a second, but not before Mary Ann, half dressed, with the children coming behind her.
They all stood on the landing looking down the stairs. Corny was exclaiming loudly, as were both the children, but Mary Ann remained quiet. She watched her father coming towards her, followed by her mother, and behind her mother slowly came Sarah, and behind Sarah, as always, Michael.
The hard knot came struggling up from her chest and lodged itself in her throat, and when her da put his arms round her shoulders she felt it would choke her. But when her mother, smiling gently at her, bent and kissed her, it bolted out from her mouth in the form of an agonised sob.
‘Oh, there, there, child.’ Lizzie enfolded her as if indeed she was still a child, and she sounded very much like it at this moment, so much so that the twins stopped their gabbling and gazed at their mother. Then Rose Mary, tears suddenly spouting from her eyes, darted towards her, crying, ‘Oh, Mam! Mam!’ And David stood stiffly by, his lips quivering.
‘Aw, Mary Ann,’ Sarah lumbered towards her. ‘Don’t don’t cry like that. We just had to come. I’m sorry if it’s upset you.’
Mary Ann, gasping and sniffing now, put her hand out to Sarah and shook her head wildly as she spluttered, ‘It hasn’t. It hasn’t; it’s just…Oh!’ Her glance flashed from one to the other of this, her family, and she spread her arms wide as if to enfold them all. ‘It’s just that I’m so glad to see you.’
Corny was standing by her side now, holding her, and he looked at her family, endorsing her sentiments, saying briefly. ‘Me an’ all.’
‘Well,’ said Michael, who always had a levelling influence on any disturbance, ‘I don’t like buses with standing room only. We’re almost crushed to death in here, so if I’m not going to be offered a seat I’m going down into the garage to find an empty car…And it’s about time we were offered a cup of tea, if you ask me, we must have been here three minutes flat.’
‘Go on with you.’ Corny pushed Michael in the back and into the kitchen, and Lizzie, following Sarah into the bedroom to take off their outdoor things, shouted. ‘I’ll see to it, Mary Ann, although it isn’t fifteen minutes since they all had tea.’
The children, returning to normal, followed their father and uncle. This left Mary Ann on the landing with Mike. Again he put his arm around her shoulders and, pressing her tightly to him, asked under his breath, ‘How’s things?’
Shyly she glanced up at him. ‘Fine, Da.’
‘Sure?’
‘Yes. Better than before, I think. I’ve learned a lesson.’
‘Don’t we all?’ He moved his head slowly above hers. ‘I’ve been sick over the last couple of days wondering, and your mother has an’ all, and the others.’ He was referring to Michael and Sarah. ‘The house hasn’t been the same; it was like something hanging over us.’
Mary Ann moved slowly from the protection of his arm and went into the front room, and he followed her, and when they were quite alone he said, ‘You won’t hold it against us for the way we went on? We only acted for your own good; we knew that you would never be happy away from him.’
‘I know, Dad, I know.’ Her head was drooping. ‘It seemed hard to bear at the time because nobody seemed to see my side of it, but now, looking back, I realise I hadn’t much on my side, except temper.’
‘Oh, you weren’t all to blame. Oh no.’ Mike jerked his head. ‘The big fellow’s as stubborn as a mule. But, as I said, we knew that, separated, you would both wither…You know, lass.’ He took her chin in his one hand. ‘In a way, it’s the pattern of Lizzie’s and my life all over again; except’—he wrinkled his nose and added quizzically—‘except for my weakness, for I can’t ever see you havin’ to cart Corny home mortal drunk.’
‘Ah, Da, don’t, don’t.’ She turned her eyes away from him, and he said, ‘Aw, I can face the truth now, but as I was saying, the pattern of your life is much the same as ours. I knew I was no good without Liz, and he knows he wouldn’t be any good without you; we’re two of a kind, Corny and me. There’s only one woman for us. There might be little side slips, occasioned by glandular disturbances in the difficult years.’ He pushed her gently and laughed, and caused her to laugh, too, and say, ‘Oh, Da…Da, you’re awful. Anyway’—her smile broadened—‘when Corny reaches his glandular disturbance I’ll be ready and—’
Mary Ann’s voice was suddenly cut off by the sound of a band playing; at least it sounded like a band, and it wasn’t coming from the wireless in the next room; it was coming from outside, from down below on the drive. She almost jumped towards the window, Mike with her, and together they stood staring down at the four instrumentalists.
‘In the name of God!’ said Mike, then continued to gaze downwards with his mouth open. Now glancing at Mary Ann, he added, ‘Did you ever see anything like them in all your born days?’
Mary Ann put her fingers across her mouth. ‘They’ve shaved off their hair, nearly all of it.’
‘Shaved off their…!’ Mike narrowed his eyes as he peered downwards. ‘You mean to say that’s the blasted lot that came to our place the other night?’
Mary Ann nodded. ‘He said they might; Jimmy said they might…Corny! Corny!’ she called now over her shoulder, and almost before she had finished calling his name Corny was in the room, accompanied by Lizzie and Michael.
‘What’s all the racket?’
‘Look at this.’
‘Aw,’ Corny leaned over her and looked down onto the drive. ‘This is going a bit too far. I’ll tear Jimmy apart; you see if I don’t.’
‘Corny!’ Mary Ann gripped his arm as he turned to go. ‘Don’t…don’t say anything to him, because…well, he only tried to help me. You see,’ she spread a quick glance round the rest of them now and said, ‘I…I wrote some words and one of them set them to music; that’s…that’s what they came to let me hear the other night.’
‘Well I never! Hitting the pops!’ Mike was grinning now, his attitude entirely different from what it had been a moment ago. ‘And you wrote the words?’ There was pride in his voice.
‘Yes, Da.’
‘What are they?’ asked Michael.
‘Oh, I’ve forgotten; I’ve got them written down in the other room.’
‘Well, go and get them,’ said Mike now, ‘and we’ll all join in. Listen to it! It’s as good as you hear on Juke Box Jury, I’m telling you that. Anyway, it’s got a tune. What you call it?’
Mary Ann turned as she
reached the door. ‘“She Acts Like a Woman”.’
‘She acts like a woman?’ Lizzie was looking quizzically at Mary Ann, who, her face very red now, said, ‘It…it was something Mr Blenkinsop said about me; well…about me going for Jimmy practising his trombone.’ She looked down and tried to stop herself laughing. ‘He said I acted like a woman.’
‘Well, I never!’ said Lizzie. ‘And you turned it into a song?’
‘Sort of.’
‘Well, go on and get the words,’ said Mike, pushing Mary Ann out of the door.
It was plain that Mike was tickled and amused at the situation. But Corny wasn’t amused; he didn’t mind Jimmy practising now and again, but that was different from having that queer-looking squad doing a rehearsal on his drive, and a car might draw up at any minute. He turned from the others, who were now crowded round the window, and, running swiftly downstairs, he went past the instrumentalists and made straight for Jimmy, who was standing well away from the group and inside the garage.
Jimmy seemed to be expecting him, and he didn’t give him time to start before getting in, ‘Now look, boss, it isn’t my fault; I didn’t ask them here. I told them not to start, but you might as well talk to the wall.’
‘SHE ACTS LIKE A WOMAN.’
The group had become vocal; the voices soared now, and Corny, without speaking, turned and looked towards the performers. They had looked funny enough with their hair on, but now they looked ridiculous; their scalps bare except for a fringe of hair running from the top of the brow to the nape of the neck, they appeared to him like relics of a prehistoric tribe.
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