The Girl From Paradise Alley (ARC)

by Sandy Taylor

  ‘Ah, Nora,’ said Josie. ‘Don’t be letting on so. Joe Lynch isn’t the only eligible lad in Dublin.’

  I put down my duster and sighed. ‘I haven’t been easy to live with, have I?’

  ‘You haven’t been a laugh a minute, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Josie. I promise I will put the dratted boy out of my mind. His name won’t pass these lips again.’

  ‘Does that mean you’ll come to the club tonight?’

  ‘It does not. I’ll never step foot in that place ever again.’

  ‘But if you’re putting the dratted boy out of your mind, then why not?’

  ‘Because I’ll either be looking for him all night, or watching him dancing with every girl in Dublin who is daft enough to be taken in by his blarney.’

  ‘It won’t be the same without you, Nora.’

  ‘I can’t help that, I’ve been made to look foolish and I won’t be putting myself through that again. Now I’d be obliged if you would change the subject.’

  Saturday was our busiest day in Finnigan’s and I loved it. The children’s section was always full of little ones and their parents. Choosing the right book was a very serious thing indeed and they were taken down from the shelf, stared at and then replaced as another one caught their eye. I spent a lot of time tidying up after them, but it was lovely to see the concentration on their little faces as they snuggled up in the comfy chairs and lost themselves in the stories. It also made a pleasant change from the dusting. The day passed quickly and it was soon time to go home. As we all left the shop, we were delighted to find that the rain had stopped.

  ‘My feet are only hanging off me,’ said Molly. ‘I hate working in the antiquarian section – the only customers that go up there are old men with smelly pipes who want to know the ins and outs of every single book. How the bloody hell am I supposed to know? I wasn’t around when they were written. They’re nearer to the author’s age than I am.’

  Just then Ellis nudged me. ‘What?’ I said.

  She pointed across the street and there, leaning against a wall, was Joe Lynch.

  ‘We’ll see you at home then?’ said Josie, grinning.

  I didn’t answer. I was staring at Joe as he crossed the road and walked towards me. My heart was thumping as he got closer.

  ‘Hello, Nora,’ he said.

  ‘Hello, Joe.’

  ‘I expect you’re angry at me,’ he said.

  I wanted to throw my arms around him, but what came out of my mouth was, ‘And why would I be angry at you? I hardly know you.’

  ‘I don’t blame you for being angry,’ he said.

  ‘I told you, I’m not.’

  ‘I think that perhaps you are,’ he said gently.

  ‘Well, what if I am? You made a fool of me, Joe Lynch. You said you’d meet me at the club but you didn’t turn up and you didn’t bother to let me know. You just let me go there and be shown up in front of my friends.’

  ‘I couldn’t let you know, Nora. I didn’t know where you lived.’

  ‘I suppose you couldn’t,’ I said.

  ‘I remembered you saying that you worked in Finnigan’s though, so here I am.’

  ‘Well, at least you have found the decency to tell me in person that you made a mistake, leading me on.’

  ‘I didn’t make a mistake and I had no intention of leading you on. I really wanted to see you again.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you? Why did you make a fool of me?’

  ‘My father was taken ill and I had to take over the bakery. I couldn’t get away until now. I’m truly sorry, Nora, for making you feel bad in front of your friends.’

  I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. It hadn’t been Joe’s fault at all. I had been too quick to judge him and all the while his father had been sick.

  ‘Oh Joe, I’m desperate sorry, I just thought that you had changed your mind and you couldn’t face me.’

  ‘Let’s say no more about it,’ he said, taking hold of my hand.

  The sun shone as we walked along together. The warm air smelled fresh and new after the rain, as if the whole city had been washed clean, especially for us. I looked up at Joe’s lovely face and I thought that Mr Darcy wasn’t fit to wipe Joe Lynch’s boots.

  Thirty-One

  It was official. Nora Doyle and Joe Lynch were walking out. During the next four months we spent every moment we could together and I had never been happier. The sky was bluer and autumn had never been more spectacular. Our favourite place to visit was St Stephen’s Green, the beautiful park in the middle of the city. When the weather was fine, we would sit beside one of the two small lakes and watch the ducks paddling by.

  It was at these times that we got to know each other. I told him all about Ballybun and Paradise Alley and Stevie and Malachi. I told him about Mammy and Daddy and Grandad Doyle who had given me my love of books. I didn’t tell him about Eddie or the garden or the Brettons. Maybe one day I would, but for now, there was no need for him to know and I didn’t want to be reminded of it. As I watched the ducks swimming by, I thought that perhaps I was a bit like them. Gliding along as calm as you like, but paddling like crazy underneath, at least where the Brettons were concerned.

  I loved listening to Joe talking about the city he had grown up in and loved so much.

  ‘This park may look peaceful now,’ he said, ‘but in 1916, it was the site of the Easter Rising.’

  ‘I thought that took place in the GPO building.’

  ‘Some of it did, but two hundred and fifty insurgents holed up here in the park. It turned out to be a big mistake and many lives were lost.’

  ‘What happened?’ I said.

  ‘See that building over there?’ he said, pointing across the park to a large imposing structure. ‘That’s the Sherbourne Hotel, and it was from there that the British army rained bullets down on them – they didn’t stand a chance, they were sitting targets.’

  I looked around at the beauty of it all. The autumn leaves drifting from the trees in reds and browns and yellows, the last of the summer flowers still bravely showing off their beautiful colours and the green of the grass beneath us. ‘It’s hard to imagine such carnage going on here, isn’t it?’ I said.

  Joe nodded. ‘It was a bad time alright, but even that had its lighter moments.’

  ‘How so?’ I said.

  ‘Halfway through the fighting, there was a ceasefire to allow the groundsmen to come into the park to feed the ducks.’

  I laughed. ‘Really?’

  Joe nodded. ‘I have always thought that only the Irish could do a thing like that – kill men on the one hand, but allow the ducks to be fed on the other.’

  I loved listening to Joe speaking. I loved everything about him. I had never been allowed to mention Eddie at home, but I knew that if I took Joe back to Ballybun everyone would be delighted with him.

  Joe took me to meet his family in the flat over the bakery. We entered by an iron staircase at the back. The rooms were bright and airy with long windows that stretched from floor to ceiling. The kitchen seemed to be the heart of the house. It was warm and cosy, with a long wooden table that ran down the centre of the room and a fire burning in the grate.

  The first time I had gone there, I was very shy and nervous but they were all so friendly that I was soon at my ease. They teased each other and they laughed a lot. His mother and father welcomed me into their home and couldn’t have been nicer. Joe had two younger sisters, Martha and Agnus. They had Joe’s fair hair and blue eyes and they asked lots of questions.

  ‘Are you going to marry Joe?’ said Agnus.

  ‘What a thing to be asking the poor girl,’ said Mrs Lynch.

  ‘If she’s going to be my sister, I have a right to know,’ said Agnus.

  ‘You have a right to know nothing of the kind,’ said Mr Lynch. ‘Nora will think you are a very bold girl.’

  ‘I’m not bold though, am I, Daddy?’ said Martha.

  ‘No,’ said Agnus,
glaring at her. ‘You’re like the Angel Gabriel, except that you only ever bring bad news.’

  I loved that no one was standing on ceremony on my account. I sat back and just enjoyed being with Joe’s family – it was almost as good as being with my own. I started to go there every Sunday for my dinner.

  Me and the girls had decided to pool our money to buy food. ‘It makes no sense,’ said Molly, ‘to be cooking different meals in the same kitchen.’

  We mostly lived on potatoes, which were cheap and filled us up. On Sundays we treated ourselves to bacon and cabbage. We ate the food that we had grown up with and it felt like a little piece of home.

  ‘If Nora is going to be spending Sundays with the Lynches,’ said Ellis, ‘she shouldn’t have to pay for the bacon and cabbage.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ I said. ‘I’d rather leave things as they are.’

  ‘You’ve fallen on your feet alright, Nora Doyle,’ said Molly. ‘There’ll be wedding bells next and then you’ll forget all about us and you’ll be making your own cabbage and bacon in your own kitchen.’

  ‘Jesus, Molly, we’ve only been walking out for a few months! You’ll have me married off with a tribe of kids at this rate.’

  ‘Don’t have any kids, Nora, they’ll ruin your life. My poor mother is fifty and she looks ninety – she’s been popping them out like peas since she was out of short socks. Ellis and I were glorified babysitters from the minute we were off the breast – we had no childhood.’

  I thought about my own childhood in Paradise Alley and how loved I had always been made to feel. Thinking about it made me long for them and I couldn’t wait to go home for a visit.

  * * *

  The weeks leading up to Christmas were terrible busy in Finnigan’s and it was all hands on deck. Miss Berry promoted me to the shop floor, serving the customers, while someone else took on the dusting. I was delighted with my new position and wrote home about it. I wanted them to know how well I was doing.

  The mornings were cold and damp and I shivered. It seemed I had grown since leaving home and the red coat that Mammy had bought me only a year ago was getting too small. My bony wrists hung out of the too-short sleeves.

  ‘You need to buy a new one,’ said Josie as we walked the cold streets to work.

  I thought about the fortune that Minnie was minding for me. I could buy a whole new wardrobe of clothes if I had a mind to, but the money had never felt like mine and I couldn’t bring myself to touch it.

  ‘I can’t afford one,’ I said.

  Molly, who was walking behind us, said, ‘Listen, there’s a jumble sale at the church hall every Sunday after Mass. Most of it’s shite and you wouldn’t be seen dead in it, but if you volunteer to sell the stuff, you get early pickings.’

  ‘I got a grand pair of boots there once,’ said Josie. ‘Let’s volunteer and find you a new coat.’

  Sunday morning found the four of us standing behind a long table that was piled high with old clothes that smelled like Kitty’s pig, Henry.

  ‘Jesus, I’m going to be sick,’ said Molly, holding her nose.

  ‘Well, don’t be sick over me,’ said Josie, moving away.

  ‘Are you ready, ladies?’ said Father Patrick.

  ‘As ready as we’ll ever be,’ said Molly, making a face.

  ‘Gird your loins,’ said Josie, as Father Patrick opened the doors.

  The stampede of women who swarmed into the hall nearly had me diving under the table. They were like a pack of wild animals as they descended on the clothes, grabbing armfuls of them and thrusting pennies into my hands.

  ‘Aren’t they supposed to ask the price?’ I said.

  ‘Take what you can,’ said Josie. ‘Most of them won’t offer anything.’

  ‘You mean they’ll steal them?’ I said.

  ‘If they can get away with it,’ said Molly.

  At the end of the morning the place looked like a bomb had dropped on it, with clothes scattered all over the floor.

  ‘Holy Mother of God,’ said Josie, ‘that’s the last time I’m volunteering for anything.’

  I looked at what was left and there was no warm winter coat in sight.

  ‘Don’t look so glum, Nora,’ said Ellis. ‘I have a fine coat here for you.’

  Ellis bent down, lifted a coat out from under the table and handed it to me.

  The coat was dark green velvet, with black fur around the collar and the cuffs. I’d never owned anything so stylish.

  ‘It looks about your size,’ said Ellis, smiling.

  ‘Well, if it doesn’t fit her, I’ll have it,’ said Molly, grinning.

  ‘Go on,’ said Josie, ‘put it on.’

  I slipped my arms into the coat; the wool was soft and warm and the fur felt like silk around my neck.

  ‘Perfect,’ said Ellis, grinning. ‘You look lovely and very stylish.’

  I didn’t have to look in a mirror to know that Ellis was right. I only had to see the look of envy on Molly’s face.

  * * *

  There was new stock coming into the shop every day and me and Josie were busy arranging it on the shelves. The trouble was that I wanted to read the jacket of every book that came in.

  ‘Jesus, Nora,’ said Josie. ‘Will you move yourself; we’ll be here all day at this rate.’

  ‘Sorry, Josie, but I can’t help meself – they all sound so intriguing and I’m itching to read the lot of them.’

  ‘Well, I’d be obliged if you’d read them in your own time and not mine.’

  ‘But don’t you feel anything when you look at all these lovely covers? Isn’t there something about the smell of a new book that makes you just want to breathe it in?’

  ‘Let me put it like this, Nora – it’s not my preferred choice of scent and not one that will have the boys swooning over me, unless of course they are desperate readers like you and Ellis.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said, smiling. ‘I’ll get a move on.’

  ‘I’d be obliged.’

  It wasn’t an easy task arranging the new books, because customers were still coming into the shop and stepping all over us as if we weren’t there. Suddenly Josie let out a blood-curdling scream that had Miss Berry running over to us.

  ‘Whatever’s wrong?’ she said.

  ‘Yer woman trod on me hand,’ said Josie. ‘I think it’s broken.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s not,’ said Miss Berry, examining it. ‘It’s just bruised, Josie.’

  The girl who had squashed Josie’s hand was kneeling down beside her. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she was saying.

  ‘No harm done, miss,’ said Miss Berry.

  ‘I’m afraid I didn’t see you kneeling down there,’ said the girl.

  ‘And why would you?’ said Miss Berry. ‘There’s been no real harm done. Go to the kitchen and run it under the tap, Josie.’

  Josie made a face as she walked away.

  The girl stood up and we stared at each other. ‘Dymphna?’ I said. ‘Dymphna Duffy?’

  ‘Nora Doyle?’ she said, grinning. ‘And what in God’s name are you doing in Dublin?’

  ‘I work here.’

  ‘So, you escaped too?’ said Dymphna.

  ‘Something like that,’ I said, smiling at her.

  ‘Do you get a lunch break?’

  I looked at Miss Berry. ‘Off you go,’ she said. ‘It looks like the two of you have some catching up to do.’

  ‘Thanks, Miss Berry,’ I said. ‘I’ll just get my coat, Dymphna.’

  Dymphna and I walked across the road to Dunnes Hotel. We found a table that looked out onto the street and ordered tea and sandwiches.

  ‘It’s good to see you, Nora,’ said Dymphna. ‘You were the last person I expected to see.’

  ‘And I’d forgotten that you were up here training to be a nurse,’ I said.

  ‘I packed that in,’ said Dymphna. ‘I hadn’t taken into account the fact that I can’t stand the sight of blood, not even my own.’

  I laughed. ‘So, what are you doing now?’


  ‘I work in an office in Grafton Street.’

  ‘That’s close to St Stephen’s Green, isn’t it?’

  ‘Just along the road. If it’s warm enough, I eat my lunch over there.’

  ‘I go there a lot with my friend,’ I said.

  ‘Would that be a boyfriend, or a girlfriend?’

  ‘His name’s Joe and yes, he’s my boyfriend.’

  ‘I’m pleased for you, Nora. So, you don’t miss Ballybun?’

  ‘I missed it like mad to start with and I was all for getting the next train home but I’ve got used to it now. I’m going home for Christmas, I can’t wait to see them all.’

  ‘I’m going home too,’ said Dymphna. ‘We could go together, if you like.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ I said.

  Dymphna was great company; she was funny and she was clever. I had never given her a chance when we’d been at school – in fact, I may have been guilty of laughing at her along with the others.

  ‘By the way,’ she said, ‘I’ve changed my name.’

  ‘You’re not Dymphna anymore?’

  ‘I’ve always hated the name – it’s comical and people always made fun of it. I’m known as Erin now – it’s my middle name.’

  ‘Erin’s a lovely name. Erin Duffy, there’s an elegance about it.’

  ‘I never felt like a Dymphna and I was glad to get rid of it.’

  ‘What about when you go home?’

  ‘I shall tell them that my name is now Erin and if they want Christmas presents off me, they’d better remember it.’

  I laughed. ‘I wish you luck with that.’

  Suddenly Dymphna looked serious. ‘I’ve been wanting to say something to you for a long time, Nora.’

  ‘That sounds serious,’ I said.

  ‘Nora, I’m sorry I ate the face off you the last time we met – I shouldn’t have done that.’

  ‘I think we deserved it.’

  ‘You didn’t persecute me like most of them. I always wanted a best friend and maybe I was jealous of you and Kitty. You didn’t seem to need anyone else.’

  ‘That doesn’t excuse us, and I’m truly sorry, Dymphna.’