The Four Streets Saga

by Nadine Dorries

  It would be a long night.

  Rosie woke to the sound of a loud knock at the front door.

  It was light, the cock was crowing furiously, and through the window she could see that although the sky was loaded with snow, for now at least, it appeared to have ceased falling.

  ‘Morning, Aengus,’ she whispered, as she recognized one of the young McMahons from the farm next door standing on the step.

  ‘Morning, Rosie. John asked me to knock and check everything was good, what with your car arriving so late and with the lights having been on all night.’

  ‘I’m fine, Aengus, tell John thank you, would you, but we are all good in here.’

  Rosie saw Aengus gazing through the doorway towards the settle, where Kitty was sleeping. He looked straight at Rosie and, in that unguarded moment, his eyes asked multiple questions.

  ‘Ye may be fine, but, sure, the car is not.’ The words Aengus spoke did not reflect his thoughts in any way. Rosie saw that her car was half buried by snow.

  ‘Don’t worry, it will be gone soon. Tell Liam I will clear it now,’ Aengus said, then lifted his cap and turned to walk back towards the McMahon farm at the end of the Ballymara Road.

  Rosie moved back inside and found Maeve in the kitchen.

  ‘Sure, I expected that,’ she said, nodding towards the door. ‘I’m surprised there was no one knocking on last night. If I had seen a car arrive at the McMahons’ I would have been out there like a shot to see if all was well.’

  Rosie smiled. The farmers in Roscommon liked to think they were a little more sophisticated than those in Mayo, but really it was just the same.

  ‘Aye, I suppose a car is a rare sight on the Ballymara Road,’ she said.

  ‘Everyone in the village will know within hours that Kitty is back with us,’ said Maeve. ‘There will be plenty knocking on soon enough, people wondering why we have a visitor. How is she? Is her temperature down? We need to move her into the bedroom to keep her from prying eyes.’ Maeve was talking as fast as her brain was working.

  ‘She has stopped burning and fretting, and seems to be sleeping more peacefully now.

  ‘But if people know it is Kitty, it will be obvious she has been in Ireland all along, else how would she have made it here last night in this weather? I will say she has been helping me out in Dublin, training for something or other, on a secretarial course maybe, and staying with family for Christmas, and that she has taken ill on her way to visit us. Will that do now?’

  ‘It is as good as anything, aye, and no one will be checking up on you, will they, you being so grand and important an’ all.’ Maeve winked at Rosie as, between them, both women lifted Kitty from the settle and carried her into the bedroom where Maeve had lit a fire.

  ‘Well, the sisters can whistle for their money because I will be driving nowhere today. Good job I rang home before I left for the Abbey to let them know what I was doing or my poor husband would have a search party out on the road by now.’

  As Rosie pulled up the covers, Kitty opened her eyes and, for a moment, looked confused as she took in her surroundings.

  ‘Have ye got the baby, Maeve?’ she whispered.

  Maeve threw Rosie a troubled look. ‘I’m off to get ye some tea, miss,’ she said, squeezed Kitty’s hand and left the room.

  Rosie sat on the edge of Kitty’s bed. ‘Well, ye gave us all quite a scare,’ she said, picking up Kitty’s thin, trembling hand.

  Kitty looked at the face of the speaker, staring her in the eye. She knew this woman, she was sure, but she just couldn’t remember.

  ‘Do ye have the baby?’ she asked again.

  ‘No, Kitty, I don’t. The baby has been adopted by an American family. You signed an agreement, do ye remember?’

  Kitty turned her head towards the window and saw Aengus, clearing the snow from Rosie’s car.

  ‘Aengus,’ she whispered. She remembered him. Maybe he would know where her baby was.

  Kitty’s room became a hive of activity: Maeve fed her, Rosie washed her, and Julia acted as handmaiden, changing her bottom sheet, bringing fresh water and putting her in a clean, warm nightdress. They all made soothing noises, stroked her hair and threw each other worried glances.

  ‘A few more days and ye will be up and about,’ said Maeve.

  ‘We will have you as right as rain in no time at all,’ said Rosie.

  ‘With Maeve’s cooking, ye will be giving us a dance in a week,’ said Julia.

  They were almost talking to themselves because Kitty wasn’t there. They could see the thoughts flitting across her brain, the questions and the confusion, as she looked at them, unknowing, through narrowed eyes, her brow furrowed. And then she spoke.

  ‘Where’s my baby? Do ye have my baby?’ Once she found those words, she said them again and again.

  No one spoke. There was no answer.

  ‘I think Jacko the mule must know ye are here, Kitty, he hasn’t stopped braying. He’s hanging around the back, waiting for ye, I reckon,’ said Maeve, remembering how much Kitty had loved riding on Jacko.

  But Kitty made no sign of recognition. She closed her eyes and laid her head back on the pillow, once more overcome by exhaustion. She tried to lift her hand to tap on the window to attract Aengus’s attention.

  ‘Aengus,’ she whispered.

  Instinctively, he stopped shovelling snow and looked towards her. He could not see Kitty through the net curtains, but he rightly guessed she was there, on the other side. In a wild gesture of hope, he smiled and lifted his hand. He was rewarded when, after just a second, he saw her own hand press the curtain flat against the glass, before it slipped down and the curtain gently swung back into place.

  The three women retreated and left Kitty to sleep.

  Kitty turned her head from the window and watched the bedroom door close, gently.

  ‘Sleep is mother nature’s healer,’ said Maeve.

  Julia placed the bacon rashers on the griddle and began preparing them all some much needed breakfast.

  ‘I’m worried about her delirium,’ said Rosie. ‘Her temperature is down but I still must find some antibiotics, somewhere, this morning. Whatever was in that potion has worked a miracle, so it has. It’s more her state of mind that concerns me now. She doesn’t seem to understand what is going on.’

  ‘She understands she has had a baby,’ said Julia. ‘Looks to me like she’s on the edge of madness. I saw it once with a woman, after a stillborn. Hanged herself in the barn, she did.’

  ‘Jeez, Julia, shush,’ said Maeve. ‘The girl has had a loss and been very ill. She will be well soon enough. I’d say a week from now, she will be a different girl altogether. She’s young, she will bounce back in no time. Liam is ready to run ye to the doctor in Castlefeale, for whatever it is ye want, Rosie, but eat first. It could take a while on these roads.’

  From the familiar bed she had slept in while on holiday at the farmhouse, Kitty could hear the muffled voices in the kitchen, just as she had heard them, only months earlier, when they had decided what to do in order to contain her secret. Nellie had been with her then, in the bed on the opposite side of the room.

  ‘Nellie,’ she whispered. Was that Nellie sitting on the bed? It was; there was no mistaking Nellie’s red hair. ‘Nellie,’ she whispered again as she reached out her hand, but Nellie had gone.

  She was alone again, or so she thought, but not for long.

  Turning slowly onto her side with her face towards the window, she saw Aengus digging the snow away from Rosie’s car. Kitty remembered their meeting at the harvest, their flirting and her happiness. Her eyes filled with tears. She had thought she would never see him again but she had remembered his name.

  ‘Aengus,’ she whispered. ‘Aengus.’

  She raised her hand again and her heart filled with joy at the sight of his smiling face.

  He will know, he will tell me, he will know where my baby is, she thought. But as she saw him walk away, back to the McMahon farm, Kitty felt anxio
us.

  ‘Don’t go,’ she croaked through her dry lips. ‘Aengus.’

  But he had gone. The sound of his feet crunching through the snow faded as the distance grew between them.

  Kitty decided to follow him and tried to put her feet on the floor. Maybe he had left to fetch her baby, to bring him to her. That must be it. She would go with him, she must.

  ‘Aengus,’ she rasped again, setting her feet on the rag rug at the side of the bed. She felt dizzy and it was difficult to move, but then they came. They filled the room and they knew where her baby was.

  There was her mammy, Maura, and her da, Tommy, and Nellie and Aengus were with them, and they were leading her away from the bed and outside to her baby. They knew where he was and she laughed. They were taking her to her beautiful baby boy, to her little prince, her baby John.

  They held her hand, helped her across the bedroom floor and swept her down the corridor towards the dairy door. As it opened, the dazzling white glare from the first rays of sunlight reflecting up from the snow almost blinded her and the blast of icy air took her breath clean away, but they were leading her, urging her on. She laid her bare foot on the glistening snow and laughed but, as she looked down, a look of puzzlement crossed her face as drops of blood were falling at her feet, piercing the snow as they dripped. Deep, hot, penetrating red against the icy brilliant white.

  Someone held out a hand. It was no longer Maura supporting her, but a man she didn’t know, and she smiled at him as the others circled round her, calling her name.

  ‘Mammy,’ she whispered, looking for Maura. ‘Mammy, I have to find my baby.’ She held her face up to the watery sunlight reflected in the glistening snow, so pure and white and cold.

  ‘Do ye know where my baby is?’ she asked the man as he took her hands and led her into the deep snow towards the river’s edge. And there, he pushed her down into the cold rushing water, and held her still. The last thing Kitty saw was a lady with long red hair and a beautiful smile, who looked just like Nellie, holding out her arms.

  ‘Did ye know Kitty was back?’ Aengus asked his aunt and uncle as they sat down to bacon and tatties from the range, before they began their day’s work.

  ‘No, I did not. Well, I never, I had no notion,’ said his aunt.

  ‘Well then, we will be seeing a lot more of ye around here seeing as ye have such a soft spot for the girl,’ said his uncle, laughing.

  ‘I think she may be poorly now,’ said Aengus. ‘She was asleep on the settle and, later, I saw her wave from the bedroom.’

  ‘’Tis unusual for anyone to be ill when it snows,’ said his aunt. ‘The snow freezes all the sickness solid, so it does, inside and out. There is no cure for any ailment as good as the snow.’

  Later that morning, when Aengus was leading the cows back out and taking feed to the pigs, he looked down from the top of the hill. Below him he could see Liam and Rosie, Julia and Maeve, running along the bank of the Moorhaun River, at the point where it passed from their own land onto the McMahons’ farm. He saw his uncle run out of the barn and he heard Maeve scream.

  And then he saw Kitty in her blue floral nightdress, floating on the fast river, and Maeve and Liam, running to catch her.

  He looked to the top of the Ballymara Road, at the point where the road, the river and the village met and, for a brief moment, his eye was caught by a very large black car, gliding out of the churchyard and turning right, across the top of the Ballymara Road, away from Bangornevin and on towards Galway, the heavy wheels cutting through the snow with ease.

  ‘Who the feck?’ he whispered under his breath. As he was on his way down the hill, he wondered who was the red-haired woman, kneeling at the side of the riverbank next to Kitty.

  Before he reached the bottom of the hill, she was gone and now, all he could see through his tears was Liam, staggering across the white, river-worn pebbles, carrying Kitty, dripping wet and limbs hanging lifelessly, like a broken rag doll.

  4

  WHEN HE LEARNT that he was to be sent to Liverpool to assume responsibility for the parish of St Mary’s, Anthony Lamb had insisted that his sister, Harriet, accompany him. He knew he would need all the help he could find, in a parish where the priest and a respected parishioner had been murdered within weeks of each other.

  His wish had been granted. En route he had broken his journey in Dublin to collect Harriet, as well as to help her shut up the house, which had been their childhood home and where Harriet, the remaining spinster of the family, had been living alone.

  Although she was only thirty-five years old, Anthony was aware she had sacrificed much of her own life, caring for both their elderly parents until their deaths, and he felt an overpowering obligation to protect her.

  ‘Isn’t life funny, Anthony? If Mammy and Daddy were still alive, I would still be in Black Rock, helping to run the house. Daddy just wouldn’t countenance giving up the surgery to retire. God knows, he loved all his patients.’

  Her parents’ deaths had not been a great shock, to Harriet or to any of her eight siblings. Both had lived to a ripe old age and her father had still practised as a family doctor almost up to the day he died aged eighty-five.

  Harriet, having been the youngest of nine, appeared to have missed out, as each of her brothers and sisters had carved out their paths in countries and towns too far away from Dublin to be any help when it was needed. Surprisingly, when trouble arose at home, in the places where her sisters lived the postal service often seemed to be struggling to survive. The postmen were always on strike in Watford, Luton, London, Chicago and New York, all at the same time, or so it had seemed.

  Harriet occasionally resented them all, every last one of them, apart from her beloved Anthony, and then felt tormented with guilt. Her life had been given over to caring for her parents and she had longed to break free. To move away from Dublin and experience some excitement of her own, if only for a short while.

  ‘It is not so much funny, as the way God planned it, Harriet,’ Anthony said gently, smiling at his sister. He sensed she was a Catholic out of duty, not commitment. Harriet smiled back. Her lack of true belief was the guilty secret she would always carry.

  Pressing her face up against the cab window as they headed up towards the four streets, she changed the subject. ‘Gosh, Anthony, would you look at those shops.’

  Anthony had asked the cab driver to take them on a short tour around the city of Liverpool before they arrived at the Priory. It had given him huge pleasure to see the look on Harriet’s face as they drove past Lewis’s and down Church Street.

  ‘The housekeeper’s name is Annie O’Prey. I have already written to her,’ Harriet said as she settled back again on the cab seat. ‘She said she would have a hot supper ready for us when we arrive and that Sister Evangelista would be waiting for us. Then tomorrow, it’s down to work. Sister Evangelista did say we would be rather thrown in at the deep end.’

  Father Anthony sighed. He had hoped to begin his time on the four streets on a more positive note, but he was at a loss to find a positive in a double murder. The world was changing fast and holding a community together in England was difficult at the best of times.

  As they drew nearer, Harriet became entranced by the docks. When the klaxon sounded, the cranes, which loomed like spectres, ceased to swing and men began to appear at the top of the steps, hurrying home. Each one looked directly at the cab and lifted a hand in greeting as they looked to see who was entering their domain. Harriet felt slightly self-conscious, but Anthony smiled and waved from the window with a smile for each work-weary face they passed. A car on the four streets was an event, unless it was a police car.

  As they pulled into the Priory drive, Harriet’s heart sank. It wasn’t because of the rows of back-to-back houses, the towering, smoking chimneys and the all-too-apparent poverty of the neighbourhood; none of that bothered Harriet in the slightest. Anthony had prepared her well and she knew what to expect. What troubled her was the eerie Victorian tombstones
peering at them over the Priory wall out of the darkening mist, and the knowledge that Father James had met his ghastly end just yards from the Priory front door, where the cab now paused. She looked over the graves, down towards the river, and cold shivers ran down her spine.

  The Priory door flew open. Sister Evangelista, who filled the brightly lit doorway with Annie O’Prey hovering behind her, sang out in greeting, ‘Ah, thanks be to God, ye have arrived at last. Come away in, now.’

  After an exchange of introductions and greetings, there was a bustle in the driveway while they tripped over one another, each trying to ease the other’s burden and carry the largest number of bags indoors.

  The cab had long since disappeared.

  ‘I’ll be going now, queen, if that’s all right,’ the cab driver had said to Harriet, taking the money from her gloved hand. ‘It’s a bit creepy round here, like, since the murders and I’m a bit of a wimp. I’m not one of youse Catholics.’

  Father Anthony, who had carried a trunk indoors, could be heard struggling up the stairs to a concert of instructions from Sister Evangelista and Annie O’Prey. Harriet stood with the remaining bags, waiting for him to return and take her own trunk, which was too heavy for her to lift.

  She looked up at the red-brick building covered in lichen and ivy, at the tall sash windows on the top floor and the even taller chimneys. She counted eight, soot-blackened doubles and she couldn’t even see over the other side of the roof. She had yet to set a foot indoors, but her heart was already yearning for their white-rendered, sea-facing, welcoming home close to Dublin.

  Harriet shivered. The snow-covered ground had frozen. She could feel the mist penetrating her woollen coat as it drifted over the gravestones and onto the Priory lawn, lying at her feet and rolling out a carpet of welcome, all the way to the front door.

  Father Anthony’s voice boomed out into the damp air.

  ‘I’m sorry, Sister, I think that maybe ’tis a painting now on the floor as I cannot see round this corner on the stairs.’