The Girl From Paradise Alley (ARC)

by Sandy Taylor

  Minnie hurried back into the room and I held out the notes for her to see. ‘Why would he leave me all this money?’ I said.

  Minnie didn’t answer me.

  I moved towards the door. ‘I’ll have to give it back, he can’t have gone far.’

  Minnie held out her hand. ‘Give it to me, Nora.’

  ‘But I can’t keep it.’

  ‘Yes, you can. But you’re not to tell your mother. Promise me that you won’t tell your mother.’

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘I’ll keep it safe for you. There may be a time when you will need it.’

  ‘Who was he, Minnie?’

  ‘He was no one, Nora, no one at all.’

  * * *

  ‘You’re awful quiet, Nora,’ said Kitty as we walked through the town. ‘Did you have a hard morning?’

  ‘I had a terrible strange morning, Kitty.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I don’t know if I should tell you.’

  ‘Jesus, Nora, you can’t be telling me that you had a terrible strange morning and then not tell me why.’

  ‘It’s just that Minnie said I wasn’t to tell Mammy.’

  ‘Do I look like your mammy?’ said Kitty.

  ‘I think that what she meant to say was, don’t tell anyone.’

  ‘You’re a mind reader now, are you?’

  ‘Well, I need to talk to someone about it or I’ll burst.’

  ‘Well, don’t burst in the middle of Ballybun, or you’ll be the talk of the town.’

  ‘Do Mulligan’s still serve teas?’

  ‘They do, but the girl who serves them is an awful baggage.’

  ‘Do we know her?’

  ‘Rumour has it she’s old Mr Mulligan’s niece from Cork.’

  ‘But didn’t Bernie Daley have that job?’

  ‘She did, but then the baggage turned up and Bernie was out on her ear.’

  ‘Ah, that’s a shame for Bernie.’

  ‘To be fair, Bernie managed to make a simple cup of tea taste like Henry’s shite.’

  ‘Did she get another job?’

  ‘She’s down the laundry.’

  ‘Not making tea, I hope.’

  ‘No, Mammy says she’s up to her elbows in the town’s undergarments and happy as the day’s long.’

  ‘I’m glad, Kitty, for Bernie’s a lovely girl.’

  ‘Shall we take a chance on the baggage, then?’ asked Kitty.

  ‘You’re on,’ I said, slipping my arm through hers and heading for Mulligan’s.

  We’d been sitting at a table for a good few minutes, listening to the baggage giving out to anyone daft enough to listen about how wonderful Cork was.

  ‘If it’s that wonderful, what’s she doing in Ballybun?’ said Kitty, trying to catch her eye.

  ‘I haven’t a clue.’

  ‘If she doesn’t hurry up, I’ll make the tea meself.’

  ‘She’s coming over,’ I said.

  ‘About bloody time,’ said Kitty.

  The baggage stood in front of us, licking the end of a pencil. ‘What can I get you, ladies?’ she said.

  ‘Two teas and a couple of buns,’ said Kitty.

  The baggage licked the pencil again and started writing. ‘Two teas and two buns?’ she said very precisely.

  ‘Sometime today,’ said Kitty, under her breath.

  Once she was gone, Kitty leaned her elbows on the table. ‘So, tell me about your strange morning, Nora.’

  ‘A man came into Minnie’s.’

  ‘A stranger?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Well, that’s not so unusual, is it?’

  ‘No, but he asked me a lot of questions.’

  ‘What sort of questions?’

  ‘He asked me my name and where I lived and he asked if my parents were well.’

  ‘That’s mighty strange, Nora. Why would he want to know that?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘And you’ve never seen him before?’

  ‘Never,’ I said.

  ‘Well, that was very odd indeed.’

  ‘That’s not the oddest thing, Kitty. When I went to clear his table, I found two one-pound notes folded up under the saucer.’

  Kitty looked as if she was about to fall off her chair. ‘Jesus, Nora, that’s a fortune. Are you sure it was meant for you?’

  I thought about the way the man had looked at me. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I think it was meant for me.’

  ‘But things like that don’t happen in Ballybun.’

  ‘Things like that don’t happen anywhere, Kitty.’

  ‘You’re a woman of fortune now, Nora.’

  ‘I don’t feel like a woman of fortune.’

  ‘What are you going to do with it?’ asked Kitty, shovelling sugar into her tea.

  ‘Minnie says she’ll keep it for me, in case I might need it one day.’

  ‘But didn’t Minnie think it was strange?’

  ‘Minnie was pretty strange herself and really quite rude to the feller. I’ve never known Minnie to be rude to anyone.’

  ‘Well, you’ve taken the breath out of me, Nora, for I’ve never heard the like of it in all my life.’

  ‘Neither have I. I was all for running after the feller and giving him the money back, but Minnie stopped me and that’s when she said she would mind it for me.’

  ‘Well, if you go to work tomorrow and find that the place is bolted up, you’ll know she’s done a runner.’

  I grinned. ‘Minnie would never do that, Kitty.’

  ‘Money can do funny things to people, Nora; it can turn a person’s head.’

  ‘Not Minnie’s,’ I said.

  ‘You’re right, I don’t think that Minnie is a head-turning kind of woman.’

  ‘So, what am I to do, Kitty?’

  ‘There’s not a lot you can do, unless he comes in again.’

  ‘I don’t think he’ll be doing that; I think Minnie scared him off.’

  ‘I wonder why she didn’t want your mammy knowing about it.’

  ‘Do you think I might be adopted, Kitty? Do you think that man was my real daddy? Do you think that’s why I don’t have my own story?’

  ‘Did he look like you?’

  I thought about the man, I thought about the way his hair curled over the back of his collar.

  ‘He had curly hair, Kitty, just like mine.’

  ‘I’d say half the men in Ireland have curly hair, that doesn’t mean they’re your father.’

  ‘No, you’re right. But why would someone give a complete stranger all that money?’

  Kitty shrugged her shoulders. ‘Maybe he’s one of those do-gooder types.’

  ‘What would you think if it happened to you?’

  ‘I’d be only delighted and I’d go down to the church and thank God for me bit of good luck.’

  ‘Maybe that’s what I should do.’

  ‘It might put your mind at rest, then you can forget about it and get on with your life.’

  ‘I think that’s good advice, Kitty.’

  ‘He could be an angel, Nora; I’ve heard angels come in all shapes and forms.’

  ‘If he’d been an angel, he would have known my name and he’d know all about Mammy and Daddy without having to ask about them.’

  ‘The Devil then,’ said Kitty. ‘Come to tempt you away from the chosen path by making you a woman of fortune. Or it could be that God was testing you to see what you would do with the cash.’

  ‘Jesus, Kitty, you have my head mashed with your theories.’

  ‘Grandad Doyle?’

  ‘The very man, it means you’re suspicious.’

  ‘Have you ever done someone a good turn? Or saved someone’s life?’

  I thought about it. I’d carried Mrs Toomey’s shopping home for her once when she’d turned her ankle and I’d taken baby Sean out for a spin in the pushchair when Kitty was in bed with the belly ache but sure, they were both as poor as church mice and not in a position to be handing out one-pound notes
. I shook my head.

  ‘Then we will just have to leave it there and put it down to an act of kindness, like the Good Samaritan in the Bible.’

  ‘I agree, and I thank you for your counsel on the matter. I feel better, having spoken to you about it.’

  ‘That’s what friends are for. Now, shall we go Christmas shopping?’

  I smiled and nodded.

  ‘You’re in a great position this day, Nora Doyle, to be buying your family mighty fine presents altogether.’

  ‘Minnie has the money, Kitty, and anyway, I’d have the whole town talking if I went around throwing pound notes all over the place.’

  ‘But just think, Nora, if you ever find yourself out on the street, you’ll have the boat fare to England and as I’m your best friend in the whole world, you might have a mind to take me with you.’

  I laughed. ‘What would I do without you, Kitty Quinn? What on earth would I do without you?’

  ‘I have one more thing to say on the subject, and then I’ll hold my tongue.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘If you thought that man was your father, aren’t you smearing your mammy’s good name?’

  ‘You’re right, Kitty, and I feel ashamed to have thought such a thing. Confession?’

  ‘The very place,’ said Kitty.

  Twenty-One

  I couldn’t stop thinking about the gentleman and the money – it made no sense and it worried me. I knew without a doubt that the money was meant for me. Maybe it was the way he’d looked at me or the fact that he’d wanted to know so much about me. When Kitty had asked me to describe him, the only thing that had stuck in my mind was the way his hair curled over the collar of his coat. I couldn’t remember the colour of his eyes or whether he had a large nose, or whether his lips were full or thin. If I’d known that he was going to leave me a fortune I would have taken more notice. I wished I could have shared it with Mammy, she would have known what to do, but I’d promised Minnie that I wouldn’t tell her and a promise is a promise. In my heart I knew that it was wrong to keep all these secrets from her, because she was the one person who would have taken the burden from my shoulders. My mammy was the wisest person I knew and the one person I respected above all others. Not telling her about the garden or Eddie and now a pile of money from a stranger was wearing me down.

  Come Sunday, I was back at the broken piece of fence. As I pushed through, I was surprised to find that the brambles were nearly all gone and I could actually stand up. Eddie was in front of me, grinning, his arms full of the stuff. When he saw me, he tossed the lot onto a huge pile in the corner.

  ‘I wanted to surprise you,’ he said, grinning.

  ‘You have,’ I said, grinning back, ‘it’s grand altogether.’

  ‘I have another surprise for you, Nora.’ He held out his hand.

  I took it and we ran down the path like a couple of excited schoolchildren. As we got to the gate, Eddie stopped.

  ‘Close your eyes,’ he said.

  I did as he asked and let him guide me into the garden.

  ‘Okay, you can open them now.’

  I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be seeing. The garden looked the same as the last time I’d been there.

  ‘Over by the tree,’ said Eddie.

  My eyes filled with tears as I stared at the swing hung between two stout branches.

  ‘It’s like the story,’ I said, smiling.

  ‘That’s why I made it,’ said Eddie.

  I walked across and sat down on the smooth wooden seat. Eddie came and stood behind me. ‘Ready?’ he said.

  I nodded and he began to gently push.

  ‘Higher!’ I yelled. ‘Higher!’

  Eddie laughed and pushed harder. ‘You mad girl!’ he shouted.

  ‘I feel mad,’ I shouted back, as I rose up into the sky, my two legs soaring over the pond and my hair flying about my face. I startled a grey squirrel, who stared at me suspiciously and then disappeared into the undergrowth.

  We took turns on the swing, giggling and laughing as we pushed each other higher and higher. I felt like a child again, my heart bursting with the simple pleasures of childish things. I felt free and full of joy, and quite mad. I wanted to dance around the garden and not give a care, for I knew that Eddie wouldn’t think me silly. I had never felt so completely safe with someone. I had never felt so completely alive.

  ‘Thank you, Eddie,’ I said, flinging my arms around him.

  He didn’t answer. Our breath drifted between us like a white mist. I could feel my heart beating against my chest and although it was cold, icy beads of sweat prickled my skin. I rubbed my forehead and stared down at the frosty grass. I didn’t know what I was feeling and it frightened me. The silence was broken only by the sounds of the garden; the swaying of the tall trees as the cold wind moved the bony branches, the ice as it crackled and floated across the pond and the scurrying of creatures in the undergrowth. My senses became heightened as we stood there in the silence. The musty smell of the damp earth, the rotting vegetation, the fat robin ruffling his feathers against the cold and the thump of my heart, taking my breath away.

  There was something between us but I didn’t know what it was. He had felt familiar to me from the day we met. I didn’t want to kiss him, not the way grown-ups kiss, but I wanted to hold him with the innocence of our tender years. I wanted to hold him close and never let him go. We were standing so close that we were almost touching. And yet we were worlds apart and we always would be.

  I put my hand into my pocket and handed him the pebble.

  He didn’t speak for a minute, then he looked at me and smiled. ‘It’s the best present I’ve ever been given,’ he said.

  ‘It’s only an old pebble,’ I said.

  He shook his head. ‘I shall keep it forever.’

  He reached out and gently pulled me into his arms. I felt the roughness of his jacket and the beating of his heart beneath my cheek and I was full of love for a young boy who felt like one of my own. I felt confused; something wasn’t right and I didn’t know what I was supposed to be feeling or what was expected of me. I looked at Eddie and something in his face told me that he was feeling the same and then I started to laugh, really laugh, at how foolish we had been. I could hardly catch my breath, I was laughing so much and then Eddie was laughing and our laughter filled the little garden and echoed around the stone walls, because in that moment, we knew that we were friends, the best of friends, and that was all we would ever be, or want to be. We would be the best of friends forever and from now on things would be different, easier – we could just be ourselves and being ourselves was enough.

  ‘Happy Christmas, Nora,’ said Eddie, grinning.

  ‘Happy Christmas, Eddie.’

  Part Two

  Twenty-Two

  December 1927

  A lot had happened in the last three years. I was still working for Minnie, I had turned into a pretty good cook and I enjoyed meeting all the people who came into the café. Malachi had grown into the sweetest little boy – he made us all laugh with his sunny nature. He was very close to Stevie, who he looked up to and followed everywhere. I suppose it was because Stevie had never been well enough to go to school and was at home all the time. Malachi was going to be stronger. He would run faster, he would go to school, he would find his way in the world in a way that his brother never would. Stevie’s life was still restricted by his health but he helped Daddy as much as he could and continued to go on the milk round with him. He had also turned into a great reader and the stories took him away from what could have been a lonely existence. It was lovely to see him and Grandad Doyle discussing the books they had read. I loved being with my family, but my happiest moments were working alongside Eddie in the garden. I never tired of being there, because with every season there was change, nothing stayed the same. There was always new life pushing through the soil, life that we had planted and nurtured. I learned everything that Eddie could teach me and I loved it.


  Christmas at the Grey House was magical that year. Everyone was there and it was full of laughter and love. I forgot my worries and just let myself enjoy the special day. The fire burned brightly and, above the hearth, the red holly berries shone in the glow of the flames. Stevie and Mammy had placed the wooden nativity figures on a bed of hay. The baby Jesus lay smiling up at us in a tiny wooden manger that Grandad Doyle had made. Daddy had taken Bonnie and the trap down to the little cottage and brought Mrs Foley and Annie up the lane, as poor Mrs Foley’s legs were too weak to walk and her bowels were tormenting her. Granny and Grandad Collins brought a fine big turkey from the farm and the house was filled with the mouth-watering smell of the good meat, mixed with the sweet smell of pine from the Christmas tree that sparkled in the corner of the room.

  Malachi was beside himself with excitement. I wondered why on earth I had thought a sister would be better, for I loved the very bones of him. Stevie watched wide-eyed from his chair beside the fire, where he spent most of his days. It reminded me of the stories that Mammy would tell me about her grandaddy, but her grandaddy was old and Stevie was just a child who should have been running the hills and lanes with his friends.

  After dinner we exchanged our presents. I gave Stevie a new jotter and some pencils and he was delighted. I gave Malachi a little tin tractor, which he immediately started pushing around the floor, and for Mammy, a blue glass brooch which she pinned on her dress.

  ‘Now, this is for you,’ she said, handing me a parcel. ‘I hope you like it.’

  Mammy had bought me a new red coat and I couldn’t wait to show it off to Kitty. Granny Collins had knitted me a white hat and scarf and gloves.

  ‘You look like Father Christmas,’ said Stevie, laughing, as I paraded around the room.

  Grandad Doyle handed me a square parcel, which I knew was a book. Grandad Doyle gave me a book every year and I read and re-read all of them until I got a new one. The room fell silent as everyone watched me peel off the brown paper. As I pulled off the last piece, I stared at the book.

  ‘The Railway Children by E. Nesbit.’ I ran my fingers over the cover – there were three children running towards a train, waving flags. I opened the first page and breathed it in. When I was little, Mammy had asked what I was doing and I had said that I was smelling the story. Each of my books had its own smell. Treasure Island smelled of excitement and adventure, Just William smelled of laughter and mischief, and The Secret Garden smelled of sunshine and flowers.