Before she lifted the latch she took a deep breath. Perspiration had formed on her top lip and her brow, yet her mouth was dry. She looked at the pale blue, cracked, painted door and stepped inside. Just like everyone else.
Maura looked straight at Alice. She had been touched by the card she had written for Kitty when she came out of hospital and, since that day, her heart had thawed towards Alice.
Tommy, himself shocked for a moment, broke the silence.
‘Jeez, how lucky a man am I, with the three best-looking women in the street all in me own kitchen. Alice, come and sit down with me at the table and save me from Kathleen and Maura naggin’ at me, will ye?’
Everyone laughed, as much with relief as at Tommy’s joke.
‘Maura, it’s going to have to be a pan night,’ said Kathleen, in a resigned voice, as she picked up the tea Maura had placed on the table for both her and Alice. With her other hand, she reached under the table and gave Alice’s hand a gentle squeeze. ‘If I don’t do it, some of the kids in this street will go to bed hungry tonight and we can’t have that, so. I will do it in our kitchen, Maura, but if I’m doing the cooking and serving, ye need to do the organizing.’
Kathleen had spoken. It was more of an instruction to Maura than a query.
‘Aye, Kathleen, I will that,’ said Maura, drying her hands on her apron and sitting down at the table to take instructions. ‘How much do we need from each house?’ she asked.
‘Threepence will do it, but if they don’t have it, Maura, don’t push it. We will have enough for everyone, so don’t make anyone feel bad. Some of these women have been away from the bogs for too long and aren’t as good at managing as they would be if they were back home with help.’
‘And that’s the God’s truth,’ Tommy chimed in.
‘It’s not just the women, Kathleen, some of the fellas are straight into the Anchor from the dock after work, spending the food money. The shorter work is, the more they want to drink the money away.’
‘Aye, thank God for the family allowance,’ said Maura. ‘I don’t know how we would manage without it, ye drinking as much as ye do, Tommy Doherty.’
She shoved Tommy on his arm, laughing as she spoke. Tommy always put his kids first and the only time he called into the Anchor was on the odd occasion when times were flush and Maura had given him a few bob extra. Every Friday night he walked into the house and put his pay packet on the kitchen table in a small brown envelope. Maura opened and checked it, then gave him his paper, betting and ciggies money. It was all Tommy needed; he didn’t ask for any more; he worked for his wife and his kids, not himself.
The family allowance, which was paid out from her book at the post office on a Tuesday, gave Maura over two pounds a week extra, which usually got them over to Friday if things were harder than usual, but this week she had been helping everyone else out, with the odd bit here and there, and now she was shorter than usual herself.
Tommy got his pencil out and they counted up the number of children on their street. Kathleen knocked on the kitchen wall with the mop end for Jerry to come in from Peggy’s, and promptly dispatched him down to Mrs Keating, Mrs McGowan and Mrs McNally, the keepers of the ship’s catering pans on the other three streets, to let them know what was happening. Jerry came back and confirmed the other women would follow suit. They had done this before and they would no doubt do it again.
Maura went out to collect the money from each house on the four streets. Kitty and Nellie went with her, together with Harry and Angela, wheeling Joseph’s empty pram to the shops. There were eighty-three children on the four streets, of varying ages. Maura needed forty pounds of potatoes, twenty pounds of carrots, fifteen of the large Spanish onions, which, to everyone’s excitement, had just started appearing in the greengrocer’s, and thirty pounds of neck end of lamb from Murphy’s.
‘Don’t ye be giving me no spuds with black eyes in now,’ said Maura sternly to Bill, the greengrocer. ‘I don’t want none of ye rubbish dumping on me, because I’m buying for everyone today.’
The greengrocer was English; if he could, he would palm the rubbish off on Maura and they both knew it. The greengrocer felt bad, knowing what Maura was doing and as she had done many times in the past. Once he had taken her money, carefully counted out in threepenny bits, he said, ‘Hang on a minute there, Maura, I’ve got something for you.’
He disappeared into the back of the shop and came out with a wooden box full of uncooked beetroots.
‘I will have to throw these out at the end of today, so if you can get them cooked quickly, you are welcome to them.’
‘Aye, so we can and thank ye, Bill, ye aren’t all bad.’ He and Maura exchanged a grin.
The cheeky mare, he thought. He had a soft spot for Maura, though. She had been Bernadette’s best friend and, like every other man who had been blinded after laying eyes upon her, he had been in love with Bernadette.
Maura placed the box of beetroots across the top of the pram and walked on to the homes in the other three streets that would become communal kitchens for the day. When she reached the door, she called out through the back gate from the entry, ‘I’ve an extra treat,’ and handed over to each one their share of the vegetables and meat, plus eight big beets. ‘Chop them into slices after you’ve boiled them, that way everyone can have a share.’
‘Ye got beets for free from that thieving git?’ said Mrs Keating. ‘Well, ye never know, maybe pigs do fly.’
Now, everyone was happier. They might have had nothing. They might all have been poor, and this morning they had been facing misery and hungry bellies. Some were smoking what was left of old fag ends in dirty ashtrays and, as a result, they were bad-tempered. Now, everyone was pulling together and an atmosphere of something close to joy had settled on the four streets, as the kids played together, wrapped up against the March wind, aware something close to a party was about to take place.
Kathleen’s kitchen became a hive of activity, as did the three others. As a result of Kathleen’s thinking, each child would go to bed on a full belly of Irish stew. The women tripped in and out of each other’s houses, sharing out the vegetables to be prepared and chopped. Once the beetroots were cooked, they were peeled and put into a large bowl, another gift from a ship’s kitchen, and then the ingredients for the stew were put into the pan to cook. The neck end of lamb needed to simmer all day to soften and then break down into stringy lumps. The carrots were put in at midday and then the potatoes in the last hour before the stew was thickened up with flour and gravy browning. The women had also made soft floury bread, which was still warm and ready to be dipped into the gravy.
At suppertime each child brought a bowl and a spoon into Kathleen’s kitchen, where she and Alice were dishing up. On the top of each bowl of Irish stew they laid slices of beetroot and on top of that a warm floury cob. You could hardly hear yourself speak for the excited chatter of children sitting on the stairs, as well as all over the kitchen and living-room floors.
‘Thank ye, Auntie Kathleen, thank ye, Auntie Alice,’ they all shouted, after they had taken the first mouthful, before getting down to the serious business of eating. As each child slurped and ate, silence descended on the house.
This was thrilling for the children. They had none of the worry of making ends meet. To them, this was an adventure, a break from the usual routine, underpinning the fact that they were all one big family and would always look after each other. Mothers wove their way among the children, helping the little ones to eat, making sure they were safe and could manage to spoon the food without spilling any. The women exchanged happy smiles with one another. This was a job well done. This was what their community was about. Together, they could beat anything.
Kitty did her bit to help, but she was feeling ill and the smell of the stew turned her stomach. She had helped to look after Joseph and, earlier in the day, once the pram was empty of vegetables, she and Nellie had taken him for a walk. They both kept looking over their shoulders for runawa
y cars as they ambled along the cold streets, wheeling Joseph to sleep after his lunchtime feed.
Nellie had noticed Alice was helping out in the kitchen, peeling carrots, which she thought was nice. Alice didn’t see that Nellie and Kitty had taken Joseph and they didn’t bother to tell her. Nana Kathleen knew where they were, that was all that mattered.
Nellie knew Kitty wasn’t very happy. She didn’t talk much and she didn’t laugh at Nellie’s jokes. This was unusual and confusing, but then Nellie had a grand idea.
‘Kitty, did you know that Nana Kathleen makes everything better?’ she piped.
Kitty laughed for the first time. ‘Aye, she does that,’ she replied.
‘So, why don’t you talk to her and tell her what’s wrong?’
‘Who says there’s anything wrong with me?’ said Kitty sharply. Nellie noted that her eyes had filled with tears.
‘No one, Kitty, just me. But I knows ye better than anyone and I know summat’s up.’ Adversity had gifted Nellie with wisdom way beyond her years.
Silence descended upon the girls.
Kitty wondered, would she dare tell Nana Kathleen? Her mind toyed with the idea. It was a ray of hope. She looked troubled again. How could she tell her, though, if she really would badly hurt her mammy and daddy by telling them what had occurred? Even if they did disown her, maybe a life alone in a convent would be better than feeling like this?
Last week Tommy had read out a story from the paper to Maura, whilst she was at the kitchen sink. Tommy often did that, now that he was better at reading. There was a time when he could only read the horses. He progressed onto the names and dates on the hatched, matched and dispatched and now he was full of himself and read at least one story out of the paper to them all at least once a day. Kitty had been teaching him and he read her school books with her, when she had brought them home. When she was younger, and Tommy used to put Kitty to bed, she would read him a goodnight story and test him on his letters. No one knew from outside the house and no one ever would. He liked to read items from the paper out loud to show off, especially if Jerry came into the kitchen. Jerry was visibly impressed by Tommy’s reading skills and assumed he must be much cleverer than he was.
‘Would ye listen to this,’ Tommy would always begin and waited for silence to descend on the kitchen, for effect. ‘A young woman aged seventeen was found in a house in Boswell Street, Toxteth, hanging from a rope attached to the ceiling, where she had remained undiscovered for approximately eight hours. The police have said that it was an unlawful act of suicide and no one else was involved. Now, why the hell would a young girl, with her whole life in front of her, do that, eh?’
Kitty had listened intently. She wanted to tell him that she knew a reason, but she couldn’t. She wasn’t sure what was right and what was wrong any more. If it was so wrong to tell her parents about Father James and what he did to her, what on God’s earth was right?
Her own life was becoming blurred and she knew she wasn’t doing as well with her schoolwork. She no longer had any self-confidence and was snapping everyone’s head off. She knew that, but she couldn’t help it. She carried around with her the darkest, dirtiest secret, which made her feel horrible and sick every day, but if she told someone, she would be a bad person. Nothing that happened any more could make her happy whilst this was the life she had to lead.
What Father James had done at the hospital had shocked her. She hadn’t seen him since, but she knew if he tried to do that once more, she would rather kill herself – she couldn’t let that happen to her again. She would rather be dead, like the girl from Boswell Street. That would be preferable to carrying round a guilty secret. Over the last three years, he had become bolder and bolder, and now he had done that. Every time she thought about it, she wanted to cry. She was so desperately alone.
After feeding the entire street Maura and Kitty were helping to clean up Jerry’s house. Jerry had put Nellie and Joseph to bed. Alice had gone up hours ago and Jerry himself was turning in. He and Tommy would be down at the docks early tomorrow, in the hope of a ship coming in and them both being taken on. They wanted a fatter pay packet next week.
Kathleen put the kettle on for the final cup of tea, while Maura finished scrubbing the big pan with a Brillo pad. Kitty startled Kathleen as she flew past her and down the path to the outhouse, yet again.
‘That kid’s not well,’ said Maura to Kathleen, nodding her head towards Kitty as she ran.
‘Really?’ said Kathleen. ‘What’s up with her?’
‘She has a stubborn tummy bug, which I think she picked up in the hospital weeks ago, and it won’t leave her.’
‘I’d take her to Dr O’Cole if I were you,’ said Kathleen, opening the back door and looking down the path to see that Kitty, who hadn’t managed to close the outhouse door, was throwing up in the toilet.
Kathleen was amazed that Maura hadn’t cottoned on. She herself had, days ago, but then there wasn’t much that got past Kathleen. She thought she had better make a joke of it, since Maura was obviously blissfully unaware.
‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say she would be pushing that bug around in a pram in six months,’ said Kathleen, studying Maura’s face for a reaction.
Maura looked up from the pan and laughed. ‘I know, me too, just shows we aren’t always right, eh?’
I know I am, thought Kathleen, and you will be too before long, Maura.
On Saturday night, everyone on all four streets had a wedding to attend at the Irish centre. It was an excuse for a big get-together. Half of Dublin had come to Liverpool for the celebration and nearly every house on the four streets had a guest sleeping over. Mrs Keating’s daughter, Siobhan, was marrying the son of a Dublin republican who owned a pub overlooking the Liffy River and he would inherit the pub from his da.
The men saw it as one of the most fortuitous matches any child from the four streets had ever made. The blissful thought of it… a free pint of Guinness always ready and waiting on a bar in Dublin, should they ever turn up. It didn’t get much better than that. The four streets buzzed with excitement and those who couldn’t fit into the church lined the path to St Mary’s and the road outside, armed with rice and confetti to throw at the happy couple.
Early that morning, a crate of Guinness and a bottle of Irish whiskey had been delivered to every house on the four streets so the guests could begin celebrating with the happy couple at breakfast, along with a box of boxty bread and a whole peat-smoked salmon. Tommy thought he had died and gone to heaven.
Everyone was giddy with a happiness that can be found only in an Irish home where, for every stranger, there are a hundred thousand welcomes.
The wedding breakfast began at three o’clock in the afternoon, straight after the church ceremony, and carried on into the early hours of the morning. Nellie loved a party. She loved Irish dancing and she and Kitty were part of a group of girls who had put together a number of dances for the wedding party. They had been practising on the green for weeks without any music and had no idea how fabulous the dancing would be on the day, with the band playing behind them and the huge audience stood in front, cheering and clapping them on. As the girls left the dance floor, everyone pushed money into their hands.
‘Oh my God, we’re rich!’ shouted Nellie, as they passed through the crowd, and they were indeed. Nellie had never seen so much money before. She put it straight into her pocket to give to her da the next morning; he would put it in the tin in the bread bin where all the savings were kept.
This was Nellie’s first ever contribution to the tin.
By ten o’clock, Kitty was feeling dreadful and decided to take some of the little kids back to the street. Nellie offered to help. When she heard they were leaving, Alice said she would walk back with them and put Joseph to bed.
Jerry was thrilled that Alice had not only agreed to come but had even seemed to enjoy herself, in her own way. He hadn’t even needed to persuade her. One word from Nana Kathleen was all it had taken and
when he saw Alice laughing and clapping along to the girls dancing, his heart felt warm. His mother had worked her magic.
When they reached their own street, Alice took Joseph indoors. Kitty and Nellie put Paddy and Peggy’s kids to bed and then said goodnight with a hug.
‘Get a good night’s sleep, Kitty, and ye will feel better in the morning,’ said Nellie.
Kitty could barely smile as she went in through her back door. Sleep was not her problem; she could hardly stay awake as it was.
They were all tucked up in their own beds and fast asleep within fifteen minutes, while the adults carried on partying.
Kathleen might have been a grandmother, but she had staying power. She loved to watch the young ones enjoying themselves and having a dance. The Guinness was flowing, the craic was wild, and she had caught up with some of her friends from home who had come over for the wedding. But having had five glasses of Guinness, she was now beginning to feel exhausted herself. The big feeding operation on Thursday had taken its toll and she thought about heading back home.
Kathleen couldn’t stop worrying about Kitty, but for the first time in her life she was stumped. The two families were close. She knew Kitty’s movements as well as she knew Nellie’s. What the hell had gone on? Because there was one thing she knew, for sure: Kitty might have only been fourteen, but she was pregnant all right. It’s not a bloody immaculate conception, she thought. Someone put that baby there and I cannot for the life of me think who.
She had no idea how to approach Maura and Tommy about it.
They could tell me to get lost, she thought. An accusation like that, especially if she were wrong, could spoil many years of a good close relationship. To be pregnant out of wedlock carried the biggest stigma. It was a shameful thing. Maura’s children were like brothers and sisters to Nellie. Kathleen would have to tread carefully or, even better, say nothing at all, just be there to catch the pieces and clear up the mess the day it did all become clear to Maura and World War Three broke out across the street.
The Four Streets Saga Page 24
