‘Oh, the same as usual, you know.’
‘Yes. But I don’t suppose he’ll be the same with me though…I’ll have to do a bit of apologising in that quarter.’
‘Oh, forget it. I’m sure he has, he’s not the one to remember rows, he’s had too many of them.’
‘Well, come on, get your coat on.’ Tony had turned to Mrs Schofield, but now she looked back at him and shook her head, saying, ‘No, you go alone. I’ll come tomorrow. You can come and fetch me.’
‘I’m not going without you.’
‘Now don’t be silly, Tony.’
‘He’s right, it’s Christmas Eve and we’re not going to leave you here.’ Mary Ann bounced her head. ‘And if you won’t come now we’ll just sit down and wait until you change your mind, won’t we, Michael?’
‘We will that.’
Mrs Schofield looked from one to the other, then she turned swiftly from them and went into the bedroom.
Tony went into the hall and collected their coats, and as he handed Mary Ann hers, he said under his breath, ‘I woke up this morning feeling like death and wishing it would come quickly. I was in digs, awful digs, and I thought: Oh, my God, Christmas Eve…But I never dreamt it would turn out like this.’ A quiet smile spread over his white features as he ended, ‘It wouldn’t take much to make me believe that your…Holy Family had been at work, Mary Ann.’
‘You can laugh.’ Her voice was prim. ‘But if it hadn’t been for Father Owen, we wouldn’t be here would we, Michael? So you can say that the Holy Family had a hand in it.’
‘I’m not laughing, Mary Ann, far from it. I don’t feel like it at this moment. Oh, no, I’m not laughing, not when I’ve just been handed two good reasons for living. And the Holy Family apart…thank you, Mary Ann.’
When Tony put out his hand and gently touched her cheek she had a sudden desire to howl her eyes out there and then, for the excitement was over, the good deed had been accomplished. Tony had Mrs Schofield, Mr Lord would have Tony. Sarah had Michael, and her ma had her da. And who was there for her? Nobody. She hated Corny Boyle.
Ten
‘Well!’ Mike let out a long-drawn breath that expanded his chest and pressed his ribs against his shirt. ‘It’s been a night and a half.’
Lizzie, making no pretence to stifle the yawn, said, ‘Night? It’s day again. It’s half past one on Christmas morning. Come on, let’s get upstairs or I’ll sleep until dinner time tomorrow.’ She turned towards Mike who was now standing staring pensively at the two bulging stockings hanging from the brass rail. On Christmas Eve two stockings had always hung in front of the fireplace, no matter where they lived or how little money they had. But this year they were not Mary Ann’s and Michael’s, they were Mary Ann’s and Sarah’s, Michael having thankfully relinquished the childish habit kept up by Lizzie.
Mike had his hand in his pocket and his shoulders were hunched, and after looking at him for a moment longer in silence she said softly, ‘What is it now?’
‘Oh, I was just thinking.’ He raised his head and looked across the high mantelpiece which was covered with a galaxy of Christmas cards, then up to the strings looped to the picture rail which were carrying the overflow, and he remarked, ‘Everybody happy but her.’
‘Now, now. Oh, don’t let’s start that, not at this time.’
Mike turned slowly towards her, and putting his hand out he softly lifted her chin, and his voice held a deep and gentle note as he said, ‘You’re the best in the world, Liz, and I know it, but there are times when I think you’ve got a hard spot in you towards her.’
‘Oh, Mike, that isn’t right, and it’s unfair of you to say it. Just because I don’t go around dribbling, it doesn’t say that I don’t feel for her. I do.’
‘Yes, perhaps you do. I’m sorry.’ His fingers rubbed against her soft flesh.
Lizzie was very tired. Her eyes began to smart and her voice broke as she said, ‘You shouldn’t have said that to me, Mike. Not at this time. Bringing up things like that at an hour when we should all be in bed.’
‘Well, it was in me mind, and you know me. I said I’m sorry, and I am. But I’d mortgage me life at this minute to see her happy. She’s run off her feet all day to put things right for the old man and Tony, and she’s as happy about Mrs Schofield as if she was you. And then the night, at supper, did you see her face when Sarah named the wedding day?’ He now slipped his arm around Lizzie’s shoulder as he said, ‘Our girl is very human, Liz. She’s all emotion, all feelings, and she’s seventeen and a half and she hasn’t got a lad. You know, I feel in two minds about Corny Boyle at this minute. If he was standing afore me now, I don’t know whether I’d punch him on the jaw or shake him by the hand…What would you do, Liz?’
Mike had shot the last question at Lizzie, and he felt her start under his hand. And then she said, ‘You think I didn’t like Corny. It wasn’t that at all. Corny was a nice enough lad. Being part of Fanny he was bound to have good in him. I had nothing against Corny, not as a lad. But somehow I wanted somebody different for her, somebody who could give her things. It is understandable, isn’t it?’ She turned her head and looked up at him.
‘Aye, Liz, I suppose it is. Her mother didn’t do very well for herself, did she?’
‘Aw, Mike.’ She dropped her head now against the strong muscles of his neck. ‘What do you want me to say?’
‘Nothing, nothing.’
‘Well, I can tell you this.’ Her voice was smothered against him. ‘If I had to pick again this minute I would make the same choice.’ As his arm pressed her tighter to him she straightened up, saying, ‘Come on, we’d better get up, and quietly, or we’ll be wakening the house.’
When he released her she did not move away from him, but looking into his weathered, ruggedly handsome face, she said simply, ‘I love you, Mike.’
‘An’ I love you.’ Slowly now their heads came together, and the kiss they exchanged was gentle.
‘Happy Christmas, Liz.’
‘Happy Christmas, Mike.’
Their arms around each other, they went out of the room, Lizzie switching off the light as they went through the door.
It was as they went, still linked together, to mount the stairs, that the unmistakable sound of a motorbike being pulled up in the road outside the house brought them to a halt.
‘That’s a motorbike, and stopping here.’ Lizzie was whispering.
Mike’s ear was cocked. ‘Likely somebody looking for Len and didn’t see the cottages.’
‘They’re not having a do, are they?’
‘I didn’t think so, not till the New Year.’
Simultaneously, they turned from the foot of the stairs and went into the hall again. And although they were both expecting a knock, they were visibly startled when the rat-tat came on the door.
Mike went forward, leaving Lizzie in the centre of the hall, and when he opened the door the exclamation he let out was high. ‘Well, my God!’
Lizzie repeated this phrase to herself when Mike, moving aside, said, ‘Look, Liz. Look what the wind’s blown in.’
As Corny Boyle stepped slowly into the hall, Lizzie gaped at him with open mouth, and her gaping was caused by a number of reasons, not the least was that here stood a different Corny Boyle from the lad she knew. Here, enveloped in a greatcoat, his big head actually on a level with Mike’s, was a man, not the boy she remembered.
Corny Boyle cast his glance between them as he said quietly, ‘I’m sorry I’m so late, but I’m glad I caught you up, I thought I might. I was held up here and there, or I’d have been over sooner.’
‘Well, well, well!’ Mike was gazing at Corny. He too was surprised at the change he saw in him. It was only a few minutes since he had said that if he were confronted by this lad he wouldn’t know whether to shake him by the hand or punch him on the jaw. But he knew now what to do, for his hand went out as he said airily, ‘Don’t worry your head about the time, the day’s young. I’m right glad to see you, Corny. You’re a better sight than
Santa Claus…Mary Ann!’ This last was a bellow up the stairs.
‘Mike! You’ll have the house awake.’ Lizzie’s lids were blinking rapidly.
‘And why not? MARY ANN! Do you hear? MARY ANN!’ His voice was even louder this time.
‘Are they all in bed?’ Corny looked at Lizzie, and Lizzie, not quite sure of her feeling at this moment, almost answered, ‘What do you expect, going on two o’clock in the morning?’ But she managed to be gracious and say, ‘Well, they haven’t been up all that long, but we have Mrs Schofield with us. You remember Mrs Schofield?’
Corny’s smile was the old wide remembered grin, and he nodded his head as he said, ‘I should say I do. Is she staying over Christmas?’
‘Yes.’ Lizzie paused and then added, ‘Yes, she’s staying with us over Christmas.’ It was evident that Corny knew nothing about Mrs Schofield’s affair. Lizzie still thought of the situation as an affair but Corny disillusioned her the next moment by saying, ‘Is Tony with her?’
Lizzie’s eyebrows moved just the slightest. ‘No, not here, he’s up at the house with Mr Lord.’
‘Mary Ann…!’ Mike was at the beginning of another bellow when Michael appeared at the top of the stairs. He was pulling his dressing gown on as he exclaimed, ‘What is it? What are you bawling for?’
‘I’m not bawling for you, anyway. Give a rap on her door or else I’ll be up there.’
But there was no need now to give a rap on Mary Ann’s door, for even as Mike spoke she came onto the landing, and looking down the stairs, she too asked, ‘What is it?’
‘What do you think?’ Mike had pushed Corny towards the wall out of her line of sight, and his face was one large grin as he looked up at her saying, ‘What would you like in your stockin’?’
If Mary Ann hadn’t been sure that she had left her da solid and sober in the kitchen somewhere about an hour ago, she would have sworn he was tight.
Michael had gone down the stairs, and was now standing in the hall under the pressure of Mike’s hand, which warned him to make no comment on what his eyes were seeing, and then Mary Ann came within three stairs of the bottom and she looked from her da to Michael standing side by side, then behind them to her mother. Following this her eye lifted to the side and saw, standing near the wall between the kitchen door and the sitting room, a man who looked like Corny Boyle. Her fingers went to the top button of her dressing gown and pulled on it so sharply that she gulped.
‘Hello.’ The man that looked like Corny Boyle had stepped away from the wall and was speaking to her. She felt slightly dizzy. All the faces rolled together, and before they separated her da’s voice came to her saying, ‘Well, open your mouth. Here he’s come all the way from America on a motorbike.’ Mike laughed at his own joke and went on, ‘And you can only stand and stare. Didn’t you ask Santa for something in your stockin’?…Well…’
‘Be quiet, Mike.’ Lizzie now took the situation in hand. ‘Come on into Sarah’s room. She’s bound to be awake and it’s warmer in there.’ Lizzie pushed open the door exclaiming, ‘Are you awake, Sarah?’
‘I’d have to be dead, Mam, not to hear the curfuffle.’
‘It’s Corny.’ Lizzie was talking into the room.
‘Yes, I’ve guessed as much.’
During this Michael had moved past his mother into the sitting room, and Mary Ann had moved down the stairs and was now standing opposite Corny Boyle.
Corny Boyle…Corny Boyle…But a different Corny Boyle. This was not the boy she remembered, he was almost a stranger. So much so that she felt she didn’t know him.
‘Well, this is a nice welcome. What’s the matter, have you lost your tongue?’
Mary Ann jerked her head from Corny and looked at her da. She stared at him for a moment before turning towards Corny again. And now she did speak. ‘Did Mr Lord send for you?’ she said.
‘No, he didn’t. Nobody sent for me. I come on me own.’
The answer had come so quickly it startled her, and for the first time in the last surprise-filled minutes she recognised in this unfamiliar man the boy she knew.
A laugh now came from the sitting room, and Michael’s voice cried, ‘They’ve started.’
At this Corny too laughed and, turning completely away from Mary Ann, said to Mike, ‘It’s as if I’d never been away, isn’t it? Oh, Mr Shaughnessy, you don’t know what it’s like, this feeling of being back.’
Mary Ann, still looking at him, but at his back now, was thinking two things. He had come on his own after all. That was one. And the other, that although he looked different, and sounded different, for he didn’t talk like he used to, he still called her da Mr Shaughnessy. As she allowed her da to push her into the sitting room, she remembered that for years she had tried to make Corny speak differently, with little success. Yet here he had been gone just over a year, and besides looking like anybody else but Corny Boyle, he was speaking like anybody else but Corny Boyle. There was only one explanation…somebody had worked on him. This thought pulled her round to look at him as he went across to Sarah and took hold of her outstretched hands. Nothing could make him beautiful, nor handsome, yet he looked…She searched for a word, and might have found it, but Mike’s voice cut across her thinking as he yelled up the stairs again, ‘Mrs Schofield!’
‘Oh, Mike, have you took leave of your senses?’ Lizzie was dashing out of the room, and Mike answered her, ‘We can’t have her up there and all this going on.’
It only seemed a matter of seconds before Mrs Schofield’s voice came from the landing, saying, ‘Nothing could stop me coming down. I heard who it was. Oh, I am glad.’
In the sitting room, Mary Ann, seeming to stand apart as if watching a play being acted, saw Mrs Schofield and Corny greeting each other, holding hands and laughing as if they had been lifelong friends.
‘Where is it?’ Mrs Schofield made a pretence of looking behind him.
‘Where’s what?…Oh, I’ve left it in me grip, but I’ll bring it over tomorrow and serenade you.’
Indeed here was a different Corny. His grip…and he would serenade Mrs Schofield. The other Corny would never have talked like that. If this time yesterday someone had said to her, ‘How would you feel if Corny were suddenly to drop out of the sky and into the house, how would you feel?’ she would have drawn a long breath and clasped her hands together, and answered truthfully, ‘Oh, wonderful. It would be the most wonderful thing on earth that could happen.’ And now here he was, larger than life, and she was quite numb. She was even asking herself at this point: Had she ever been mad about Corny Boyle? The Corny Boyle that she had known…and loved…was a reticent person; brusque, Mr Lord had said. But Mr Lord had also said that America was bringing him out…America had certainly brought him out, you could say that again. Sarah turned Mary Ann’s attention away from her questioning thoughts by saying, ‘Oh, Mary Ann, isn’t this wonderful! I’m so happy for you.’
She was holding Sarah’s hand now, and looking down into her great dark eyes. She was envying her again, jealous of her in a funny way. Sarah was happy…she loved Michael, and Michael adored her. Somehow it didn’t seem to matter about her legs. Sarah had said, ‘Oh, I’m happy for you.’ For what? Why was she feeling like this? Things weren’t right.
Mike’s eyes were tight on his daughter now, and the tie between them that had always been stronger than any umbilical cord transferred to him in some measure what the effect of Corny’s appearance was having on her, and so he cried, ‘Look! We want something to celebrate with. It’s either got to be tea, or beer.’
‘We’ll make it tea.’ This was Lizzie.
‘Good enough. Hi, there, Mary Ann! Get yourself into the kitchen and get busy.’
‘I’ll—’
The pressure of Mike’s hand on Lizzie’s arm cut off her words, and he cried again, ‘Did you hear what I said? Get that kettle on, me girl. The sooner you get your hand in the better.’
Mary Ann, relinquishing her hold on Sarah’s hand, went round the bed and
out of the room, without once looking in the direction of Corny. And when she closed the kitchen door behind her, she stood with her back to it and with the fingers of both her hands pressed over her mouth. She stood in this way for some seconds gazing, but unseeingly, at the stockings hanging from the rod, before going to the fire. The kettle was on the hob, but the fire had been banked down and would take too long to bring up again, so she took the kettle into the scullery and put it on the gas stove. Then she returned to the kitchen and put the cups on the tray, and after picking up the teapot she went into the scullery again. She was measuring out the tea when she heard the kitchen door open, and her hand became still as the footsteps came nearer. Then there he was, as she knew her da had planned. And when he spoke there was a faint resemblance to the old Corny by his straightforward approach to the subject.
‘You don’t seem overjoyed to see me.’
She turned and looked at him. ‘Should I be?’
‘Well, what do you think I’m here for?’ His face was straight. ‘It isn’t like getting a bus from Jarrow, popping over from America!’
‘No, no, it isn’t.’
‘Why didn’t you go and see me granny?’
‘Why should I?’ She rounded on him now, her tone sharp. ‘You know, Corny Boyle, you’ve got a cheek. I never hear a word from you for months, and you expect me to be sitting waiting for you coming…to drop in, as me da says, like Santa Claus!’
‘You know that I don’t like writin’ letters, I’m no hand at them.’
‘There’s lots of things I don’t like doing that I’ve got to do…Anyway, you were going to come back when the year was up, but you didn’t. And you didn’t even write to tell me that. No…you had to send some fancy photographs through Mr Lord.’
‘I didn’t send any fancy photographs through Mr Lord. What are you gettin’ at?’
‘Well’—she shook her head slowly as she gazed at him—‘surely you haven’t got a double in America, and Mr Lord was taking the wrong Corny Boyle at picnics, parties, swimming and tennis.’
Life and Mary Ann Page 20
