Coming Home to the Four Streets

by Nadine Dorries

  ‘Get a grip, soft lad,’ he said to himself, to calm the nerves in his stomach as he was met by the smell of hops, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses. And he felt the invisible cloak of tension that he wore day and night slip from his shoulders as a docker’s voice called out, ‘Well, look who it is! Eric the milky, here for a proper pint, come on in, man, come on in!’

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Nellie, Angela and Harry returned from Peggy’s, still chattering away, nineteen to the dozen.

  ‘Oh yes, we did so much fishing – your Uncle Liam took me with him all the time!’ Harry was talking to Nellie who was keen to hear all the news she could about everyone in Ballynevin where she spent two weeks every August with her Nana Kathleen. ‘I held the landing net and he heaved and heaved and he threw a big salmon into it. It was bigger than me. I almost couldn’t stand up!’

  Angela thumped him. ‘Stop lying, Harry, you’re better now, you can’t get away with telling your whoppers any more. The salmon was no bigger than your little finger and he only took you the once because you almost fell in.’

  Harry looked outraged at Angela’s put-down but had no time to bite back as Maura’s voice broke in. ‘Excuse me, remember where you are, please, and that the little ones are asleep upstairs. Now, is Peggy back then?’

  All three shook their heads, their faces solemn. ‘We’ve lit the range in your house, Maura, I got the key from inside the copper boiler,’ said Nellie.

  Maura hugged Nellie and held her close, the girl as precious to her as one of her own. ‘I was just going to do the same thing myself. Was big Paddy home, then?’

  Once more all three shook their heads.

  ‘Have the kids gone to bed?’ asked Alice and all three nodded.

  ‘Except little Paddy,’ said Harry. ‘He’s going to sit up until his mam gets home – Ma, can I sit with him?’

  Maura frowned. ‘Harry, it’s been an exhausting day and journey; I think I’d rather you stayed here, where it’s warm.’

  Harry lifted his face to her. ‘Oh, it’s boiling in there! Shelagh and Mrs Keating and Deirdre have all been in with buckets of coal – you would have said it was as busy as Lime Street, Ma. Shelagh said no one’s going to be going to bed until they have seen you with their own eyes. They all knew you were here because Seamus came back for his pipe and told Shelagh that Tommy was in the pub. Deirdre has brought sheets in and is making the beds and Malachi says I can be in charge of the ball all day tomorrow.’

  Kathleen looked concerned. ‘Well, isn’t that just grand? Plenty of heat now in Peggy’s and they will have your house warmed through and sheets aired in no time, Maura, different altogether to next door. At Peggy’s the lights are on and the kids have full bellies but they have bare feet, God love them.’

  Alice walked over to her mother-in-law. ‘Why are you looking so worried, Kathleen?’

  ‘Because, Alice, I think we have a much bigger problem. Every bingo in Liverpool ended almost an hour ago so I think something awful is wrong; Peggy should have been long back by now. That feeling I had, Alice, all day, it must have been this.’

  Alice was already lifting coats down from the back of the door. ‘Maura, would you let Harry go back, so that little Paddy isn’t alone if he needs help? Girls, will you stay here and look after Joseph and the others? We must all go and look for Peggy because, Kathleen, I’ll put money on Paddy being in the pub, otherwise, he would have been back at his house or called into ours to let us know what was happening. He’s been waylaid by the taste of the Guinness.’

  ‘He will have seen Tommy and stayed with him, for it will be a right old lock-in with Tommy and Conor both home,’ said Kathleen. ‘I have a better idea, though: let’s knock on with the mop, see who we can get around to help. That way we can decide who is looking where. It’ll need more than two of us, Alice – I think we need a search party.’

  ‘Shall we call the police?’ said Alice.

  Kathleen shook her head. ‘No, not yet. Maura, are you up to it after the journey?’

  ‘Of course I am! There’s no way I’m sitting here while you are all out looking for Peggy. Where do we start?’

  Alice picked up the mop. ‘Kathleen, do you think you should read our tea leaves first, for a bit of a clue?’ She banged on the wall, three long thuds in rapid succession, which meant: urgent.

  Kathleen lifted the simmering kettle off the range, poured it over the tea leaves and threw in an extra scoop. ‘Alice, that’s the best idea you’ve had all day.’

  Alice raised her eyebrows. ‘Is it now, along with looking for Peggy and everything else I do around here? Welcome back, Maura!’

  ‘We will be a woman down. Maggie Trott won’t be answering the knock,’ said Maura. ‘We just saw her heading into the Anchor as we passed.’

  Kathleen frowned and shook her head. ‘Maggie Trott? No, you must be mistaken. Maggie hasn’t been on a night out, ever. She’s a martyr, is Maggie, she prefers to sit at home missing her husband, who has been dead for over twenty years. Maggie of Arc, I call her. She never misses mass, though, and for a woman who never goes out, she spends far too much time in confession.’ Kathleen plumped up the cushions on the chairs beside the fire; despite the urgency of the situation, she could not allow anyone to come into her house unless it was tidy. ‘The problem with Maggie is she is scared of her own shadow. She wouldn’t admit it, but she is. The thing is, Maura, they think life lasts forever – and the thing about Maggie especially is, she should know better! No, she will be running up this path along with the rest of them any moment now.’ Alice banged on the kitchen wall with the end of the mop, three ominous thuds. The three women held each other’s gaze knowing all too well the sounds that would follow. They waited, they heard the echoing thuds on walls followed by the distant click of back yard gates. The women of the four streets were coming to the rescue as they always had, so many times before.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Cindy gave Maggie’s arm a reassuring squeeze as they approached the doors of the Anchor. She could sense her nervousness and, as they drew nearer, the quieter Maggie became.

  ‘Come on, love, cheer up, you’re just coming for a drink in the pub, it’s Babs and Bill waiting inside, not Pierrepoint the old hangman! And you never know, you might just meet someone nice, a fella, I mean; there are a few around here worth a second look.’

  Maggie pulled a disbelieving face and Cindy smiled. ‘Oh, all right, I’m exaggerating.’

  Reg snorted with derision. ‘Cindy, you haven’t even had a drink yet.’ He leant forward to address Maggie. ‘Not much chance of finding a decent fella in here, Maggie. You have to let us take you into town one night. You’d enjoy yourself because we know how to have a good night out.’

  Maggie liked Reg. He had made a good show of not minding in the least that Maggie had joined them. ‘Let me try the local, first, eh, Reg? But I do appreciate the thought. It can’t be much fun for you, having me playing gooseberry when you thought it was just the two of you for the night – I’m very lucky to have been asked.’

  Reg gasped in mock surprise. ‘Maggie, I’m the lucky one. They’ll all be asking me in the pub what aftershave I use.’ He bent his head down to Maggie and whispered, ‘On our second date, Maggie, I’m going to insist you take my other arm so that I have one of you on each side – and I’ll tell you this for nothing, I’ll be the proudest man on these streets. You see, that lot in there, they think I can’t bag a wife because Cindy refuses to marry me.’

  Maggie blushed. ‘She will one day, Reg,’ she whispered back. ‘She’s a modern miss, is our Cindy, so don’t give up. You just keep trying.’

  ‘Let’s light up before we go in. I think you need one for your nerves, Maggie,’ said Reg as he shuffled a packet of Benson and Hedges Gold and handed one to Maggie.

  Cindy flicked open the silver lighter Reg had bought for her birthday. ‘She’ll soon cheer up once she’s got a port and lemon inside her, won’t you, Maggie? And here’s my gues
s: tonight is going to be special, I can just feel it and I haven’t even been to Kathleen to get my tea leaves read. Two port and lemons, please, Reg, as soon as we get in; me and Maggie will go straight to the table. Let’s walk in like we’re Princess Margaret arriving for a night out and show off your lovely coat – I haven’t seen that before.’

  Maggie blew her cigarette smoke high into the night air and smiled. ‘Neither had I until this afternoon – I bought it in Blacklers, treated myself, along with the make-up.’

  Cindy was delighted. ‘Well, it’s smashing – I’m jealous. And your hair looks lovely, even though I say so myself.’

  There was no more time for conversation or sartorial scrutiny because Reg opened the pub door and the wall of noise hit them. The throng at the bar stood three deep and the overhead lights reflected from the pile of hair that was Babs’s, her face shining with perspiration from pulling the tall mahogany pumps to serve a demanding throng of thirsty dockers.

  The smell of hops, the smoke from the fire and cigarettes, lit a memory for Maggie of the last time she was in the Anchor, with her husband before he left for the war. Her throat almost closed. Why hadn’t she remembered that before?

  ‘Aye, aye, queen,’ shouted Reg to Babs, as a sea of male drinkers parted to allow the ladies past. ‘Go on, Cindy, get yourselves settled by the fire, it’s damp out there.’

  ‘It’s always bleedin’ damp,’ shouted Babs, ‘don’t take your vest off until June, ladies!’

  Cindy waved to Babs then whispered, ‘Put a smile on your face, Maggie, you must stop looking as frightened as your cat when Scamp gets into your backyard.’

  Maggie tried to smile. ‘I’m not even used to being Maggie,’ she replied, ‘never mind going to the pub. Everyone calls me Mrs Trott and they always have.’

  ‘Aye, I know,’ said Cindy, ‘and it ages you. What’s more, you let it happen because it made you feel comfortable and safe, didn’t you?’

  Maggie smiled. ‘Who are you? Cindy the hairdresser, Dr Cole in disguise or Kathleen telling my fortune?’

  Cindy threw back her head and laughed. ‘That’s better, now you’re smiling. Do you know what, I think all those quacks need to learn to be a hairdresser first – you’d be amazed at the things women come out with while they’re sat in my chair. I reckon I can even tell when they are going to get pregnant, though it seems to come as a shock to most of them!’

  Maggie was not the least bit surprised; for many, need and survival had long since banished discretion and shame on the four streets.

  ‘Evening, Cindy – oh, hello, Mrs Trott!’ Babs called across.

  One of the men in the crowd shouted, ‘Oh, is it two ladies with you tonight, Reg? Is one not enough?’ The crowd began to laugh and Maggie blushed to the roots of her hair.

  Cindy squeezed her arm. ‘Evening, fellas! Well, he’s doing a lot better than any of you,’ Cindy shouted back to the joker, as bold as brass. ‘You can’t even find yourself one and you’ve been trying for ten years that I know of! Remember when you asked me to go out with you and I said, not on your life? I told you that the rumour that I had been blinded by the peroxide was entirely false – and even if I had been as blind as a bat, I still wouldn’t be that desperate that I’d want to go out with you.’

  The crowd roared and Maggie found herself laughing with them as the joker looked wounded and then laughed himself. ‘All lies,’ he shouted. ‘I was just after a free haircut.’

  A cry went up from the men around the bar, ‘What hair? You don’t have any hair, baldy!’

  ‘All right, Cindy, you win,’ the joker shouted back, to the odd jeer of, ‘You should never mess with Cindy,’ from the crowd.

  Cindy blew them a kiss and she and Maggie pushed through the crowd and found the table that was always waiting for Cindy. None of the men in the pub sat down and only a certain type of woman stood or sat near the bar; respectable women sat at a table. The table was nothing more than an upturned barrel with polished planks balanced on top. Maggie looked around nervously.

  ‘Oh, look, there’s the Morry’s crew in over by the fire. He’s a good bloke, Captain Conor, Ena never stops talking about him,’ said Cindy. ‘How lucky are people around here that one of their own is the captain of a tramp ship and gets the dockers all the knock-off gear? I swear to God, if it wasn’t for him, half of the kids on this street would go hungry. Ena says the owner knows that he only gets three-quarters of a ship, that the rest is for the streets, and he doesn’t mind. He tells Conor to just make sure there’s no trouble and that he gets the right price for his load.’

  ‘He’s come just in time,’ said Maggie, ‘because, by all accounts, only the fittest have had a full week in work since January. It’s going to be the most miserable carnival in living memory on the four streets this year.’

  Cindy crossed her legs and Maggie admired her ladder-free sheer stockings. Cindy’s boots were made of red leather, with grey fur dotted with black leopard spots folded over the top. Maggie’s heart ached. She would love just to try them on and then thought to herself for the very first time, look what you have been missing out on for so long. The warmth of the laughter in the room worked its magic as well as the heat from the huge fire. Maggie let her shoulders relax and gave a deep sigh. Cindy leant forward and placed her elbows on the table. ‘So, when was the last time you actually went out, then? And, I don’t mean to the bingo.’

  Maggie didn’t need to think. ‘I’ve not been out anywhere since the war,’ she said. ‘Well, except to the odd christening or wedding, and there was a party in the street, remember, the night before the Dohertys left for Ireland? But since then and you know, the war, well…’

  ‘I know, I know,’ said Cindy as she placed her hand over Maggie’s. ‘The war was tough, queen, but it was years ago and there’s no reward in heaven for being a martyr, you know, it’s a load of old guff. We all only have one life, it’s here and now and oh, before you say anything back to me, because I know you are going to, you can spend this life cherishing the memories of the man you loved and lost, God love him and rest his soul…’ Cindy blessed herself with the cross and then put her hand over Maggie’s. ‘You can live every day, honouring your vows – but you do know one of those vows was “till death do us part”? And that’s just it, Maggie: death did part you.’

  Cindy’s words pierced Maggie, but they worked; death had parted them. Realisation of how stupid she had been washed over her with such a force that she gasped.

  ‘I’ve been an idiot, haven’t I?’ She looked Cindy in the eye. ‘People didn’t think well of me for living like a hermit, did they? I did it in honour of him, but if he died for us, then the least I could do was be true to him.’ Even as she spoke the words out loud, she knew that after all this time, they sounded ridiculous. ‘They all think I’m pathetic, don’t they, think I need their sympathy? Is that what the women around here say when they sit in your chair?’

  ‘No, love, they don’t.’ Cindy’s voice was gentle, her eyes tender. She could sense she had got through. ‘That’s not what they say at all. Some are jealous that you have no kids to run around after, but honestly, everyone just worries about you. Do you know what I think?’ Cindy didn’t wait for an answer. ‘I think you became a war widow and you used it as a safety blanket. You don’t have to try, do you, so it’s an easy path to take. I think you dug yourself a trench that deep you didn’t know how get back out – which is why I’m that glad you’ve come out tonight.’

  Why had no one else ever said what Cindy just had? Maggie wondered. And then she remembered a conversation with Maura Doherty. ‘Do you want to stay in that house every day and night, or do you need a lift out?’ she had said once and Maggie had thought at the time she’d been joking. But now Maggie knew what she’d been getting at and the answer drifted into her thoughts almost as soon as she had finished asking herself the question.

  ‘I should have walked out of the door myself,’ she said to Cindy. ‘Should have got myself a job and liv
ed a life. It was just that with his mam and dad’s bit of money, it was always easier not to try.’

  Cindy removed her hand and sat upright. ‘Well, it doesn’t matter any more, you’re here now.’

  ‘Ah, it’s Eric the milky,’ shouted Babs over the heads of the men drinking at the bar. ‘Has your Gladys fallen asleep, or what?’

  ‘Eric? Good God, man, I never thought we would see you in here. Is it a man’s drink you’re after now?’ asked Reg who’d got caught by another customer and had only just reached the bar.

  Eric laughed. ‘I am – Babs, a pint of mild, if you would.’

  ‘It’s my pleasure, Eric. I take it you’ve escaped? The police won’t be coming in, will they? We don’t want no trouble with your Gladys.’

  Eric looked shocked and stuttered, ‘Oh, n-no, not at all…’

  Babs chuckled. ‘I’m kidding, Eric. Oh, it’s good to see you. Now Reg, two port and lemons and your usual, is it?’

  Eric peered towards the table where the ladies were sitting. ‘I’ll get those for you, Reg,’ he said.

  ‘Eric, it’s a gentleman you are, thank you.’

  A voice called out, ‘Reg, would you and Cindy play some arrows? We have Denny’s wife who wants to play a game and she can’t if the other team doesn’t have a woman to make it equal.’

  Reg turned to Eric and behind his hand said, ‘That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said about Denny’s wife, that she’s a woman. She can down a pint faster than any docker in here and she plays better arrows too! I can’t,’ he called back, ‘we have a visitor with us.’

  Eric who had spotted Maggie as soon as he had walked into the Anchor, did not let his moment pass. ‘I’ll keep your visitor company for you, Reg, if you and Cindy fancy a game?’

  ‘Would you mind?’

  Eric felt his heart lighten. ‘No, not at all. She’s one of my best customers is Maggie Trott, I wouldn’t mind at all.’