*
‘Will the girls be there to meet you?’ Bee had asked him the question once already, but he just stared down the road for the bus, his hands hidden from hers, buried in his pockets. His gaze was distant and he appeared not to have heard her.
Bee and Captain Bob were to part ways in Castlebar. They had spent the night in the hotel and there had been a silence that neither could fill. It had sucked the joy out of what had bound them together for so long, through so much adversity: the way they had stood united, defying their faith and their families, shunning the conventions that forbade them from being together, lying almost every day to keep their secret safe.
The air was heavy between them and Bee knew it for what it was; it was guilt. She had lived with it since the first night he’d entered her cottage and made love to her, and yet it occurred to her that this was the first time it had affected him.
They were standing waiting for the buses that would take her to Tarabeg and him to Ballycroy, and she felt afraid. It was as if the pull of his wife was stronger in death than it had been in life. Lying cold in her bed, no longer able to scold or insult him, she had become inoffensive, remembered only for the smattering of qualities she’d once possessed, her eyes weighted closed, the truth hidden from view. That was the way with death.
Bee stamped her feet, looked around her and thrust her own hands into the pockets of her coat. It had rained overnight. The cobbles were still damp and the weak sun struggled to rise as, partly obscured by departing clouds, it emerged like an orange globe over the market and the roofs of the shops and houses. It was early, it was market day, and the streets were already busy.
‘Do you think the children will be there to meet you?’ she repeated.
It was the third time of asking, but she had to say something and for the first time since they’d got together, she couldn’t think what. His sparkle, his humour, his natural inquisitiveness and interest in everything and everyone were all gone.
He gazed at her and for a moment his eyes held hers, but he wasn’t really looking at her; his head was elsewhere. Then he appeared to shake the thoughts from his mind as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him. ‘Oh, my little Bee,’ he said.
But she knew he’d only done that to shield her from his thoughts. She had no more questions – it was not her way. She would wait for him to return to her; if he ever did. She knew there was a chance he might not. How could she compete with the manipulations of his eldest daughter, who’d spent the last nine years sending letters that one week forgave him for leaving her mother and the next berated him and cast him away like one of his own nets? She had played fast and loose with his emotions, tied him in knots, and all along Bee had known it was the distance that had kept the two of them safe; his inability to run to his daughter’s cunning demands.
‘I’m not so little any more,’ she said as a means to change the conversation, pulling away and looking up at him. She slipped her hand into his and held it fast. ‘Would you look at the size of me! I was a thin woman when we left here – I’m twice the size now. No one will remember me any more. I’m big Bee, not little Bee.’
For the first time he laughed, and she was grateful that she’d reminded him of why she was there. He threw his head back and roared, and she smiled in turn, her heart soaring. She could still do it, she could still make him laugh.
It was a sound she carried with her as they went their separate ways.
Hours later, when her bus stopped on the main street in Tarabeg, Bee took a moment to relish everything around her, everything that had remained unchanged. She was home, and a lump came to her throat. She had to get to the coast and would walk it from there, but not until she had called into the Devlins’ and gone across the road to Malone’s to see her precious Mary Kate and Finn. Finn, who she’d not seen since he was a baby. Maybe Michael would be home and would give her a lift to the cottage and to Rory’s parents. Her own cottage would not be fit to inhabit. But she would start work tomorrow and make it so, if she could, before Captain Bob returned – if he ever did.
‘Jesus, wouldn’t it just be so,’ she said to herself as Philomena O’Donnell stepped out of the post office, stopped dead in the street and stared at her.
‘Bee, heavens above, is that you?’ she shouted down the road.
Before Bee could answer or escape into the Devlins’, she was standing next to her.
‘What are you doing here? Would you look at the size of you! You’re a well-stocked woman now and that’s a fact. Is Mary Kate with you? God in heaven, you’ve done the right thing, bringing her home. Her father has been out of his mind with the worry, so he has.’
Bee blinked as she self-consciously fastened her coat across her midriff to hide her expanding waistline. ‘Philomena, will you tell me, what in God’s name are you talking about?’
11
Mary Kate snapped shut the clasp on her suitcase. She had decided to wear the best dress she’d brought with her, just in case her luck should change and Mrs O’Keefe knew someone who was looking to take on. This wasn’t what she had planned. She had wanted to talk to Bee, enrol at a secretarial college, anything but clean someone’s house. There was no way she could convince Roshine, Declan or anyone else that that was an adventure.
The doctor had just left, and Cat was happier now that he’d given Mary Kate a clean bill of health. ‘You look much better after a good night’s sleep,’ he’d said after he’d looked into her eyes with the torch and taken her blood pressure again.
She was glad that today was the last time she would ever have to see him. The moment he’d walked into the kitchen her heart had done a skip and a leap, and when he touched her she’d felt her blood rise as she blushed. There was a sadness behind his eyes and it moved her. When he looked at her and spoke, it was as though there was no one else in the room.
He’d fixed her with a smile and said, ‘Well, there are two rather large bruises forming on your neck and your head. Are you going to be okay? I’m sure you don’t have to dash off.’
She felt as though his eyes were boring into her soul and she wanted to get away as fast as she could. ‘I’m really fine, and I have a plan,’ she said.
‘Ah, a plan.’
‘I cannot think of anything better. I have to put right what I’ve done wrong. I made a stupid mistake.’
He half smiled. ‘Yes, well, at least it’s a mistake you can put right. Not all mistakes can be rectified quite so easily.’ His eyes lost their light and she wanted to know what he was thinking.
‘You ready, love? Is she all right to go then, Doctor?’ Cat had taken her curlers out and had teased her hair up with a metal spike that protruded from the end of her stubbly hairbrush.
‘She’s as ready as she’ll ever be,’ said Dr Marcus. ‘I have to go now. Good luck, Mary Kate.’
He held out his hand and Mary Kate took it in hers. ‘Thank you. You’ve been a very kind man. I will pay you back the money you gave Cat just as soon as I can.’
‘You don’t have to do that. I was happy to help.’ And with that, he’d picked up his bag and left.
As one door closed, another opened, and Linda walked in. ‘Did I just miss the doctor? How are you feeling now, love?’ she asked. ‘You look a bit better than you did yesterday. What you going to do with her then, Cat?’ She sat herself on a chair and took out her tobacco tin.
Cat smiled down at Mary Kate. ‘Well, we’re off to use the phone to call this Mrs O’Keefe and ask her where the agency is and if she’ll put a good word in for this little lady. And then we’re going to get the bus to wherever it is and go and get her signed on. You never know, they might have something right away.’
‘Oh, imagine,’ said Linda, ‘you could be in a big posh house, like one of them on Duke’s Avenue.’
‘Well, let’s face it,’ said Cat, ‘anywhere will be better than this shithole of a street.’
They were already on their way out the door when Linda called after them. ‘Don�
�t forget to post your letter to Bee, Cat.’
Mary Kate stared at the ground. ‘What letter is that, Cat? Are you writing to Tarabeg?’
Cat took a deep breath, threw a scathing look at Linda and slammed the door. ‘Look, love… Oh, honestly, you know what, sometimes I could throttle Linda. I am writing, but I was anyway – me and Bee, we was good mates. I’m not writing just because you’re here, honest to God. I’m already missing her. I did mention though that you’d turned up at her door and that I’d taken you in. I wasn’t asking her for money, if that’s what you think.’ She folded her arms as she walked and fixed her eyes on the red sandstone pub at the end of the road.
‘I wasn’t thinking that,’ Mary Kate said. ‘Not at all.’ In Tarabeg, palms were more likely to be crossed with goods than silver. ‘I’m just worried what will happen when Bee gets home and they’ve been assuming I was safe with her over here.’
‘Oh, don’t you be worrying about that. Bee knows me – she would trust me with her life, she would. She’ll let them know you’ll be fine. But I’m telling you this: if they say there’s no chance of work soon, you are on that boat back home or I’ll have your da knocking down me door. My Ben would have insisted on that. He was a bit protective himself. Honestly, though, don’t worry. I bet your da will be relieved just to know where you are and that you’re safe.’
Mary Kate swallowed hard. She no longer felt quite as confident as she had when she’d boarded the boat in Dublin.
Ten minutes later, they were inside the empty pub. ‘Dave, can we use your phone, love? Here’s a shilling for your trouble.’
‘Bloody hell, have you come into money then, Cat?’ A burly man stood up from where he’d been kneeling down behind the bar, making Mary Kate jump. He was wearing a shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a brown apron.
‘No, not me, love. Wish I had though. This is Bee’s niece. Turned up, she did, the day after Bee left – can you imagine that?’
‘Well, that’s a rotten thing to happen, queen. I thought you Irish were supposed to be the lucky ones? There you go.’ He pushed a black Bakelite phone down the polished bar towards them. The bell jingled as the receiver wobbled.
‘Right, love, where’s your bit of paper?’ said Cat.
Mary Kate extracted the slip of paper with Mrs O’Keefe’s name and telephone number.
‘Don’t forget to ask her the address for the agency in town. If we hurry, there’s a bus from the top of the Dockers’ Steps in ten minutes.’
Mary Kate began to dial the number. All the time she was wondering what on earth she was going to say to the woman to whom she’d told all her grand plans, sure she would never see her again. Now, penniless and homeless, she was having to ask her for help. Tears sprang to her eyes. This was not at all how she’d imagined her life in Liverpool.
Cat felt the money in her pocket and knew, that the first moment she could, she would send a telegram to Bee, not a letter, before another misfortune befell Mary Kate.
*
Eileen O’Keefe had just completed the crossword in the Daily Post and almost jumped out of her skin when the telephone rang on the table next to her. ‘Oh my giddy aunt,’ she said as she pulled off her reading glasses and laid them on top of the paper. ‘Why do you take your glasses off to answer the phone, you bloomin’ eejit?’ Pat used to say to her. She never wore her glasses in the company of anyone but Pat. ‘They can’t see you, can they?’
The phone didn’t ring very often and when it did it was usually Lizzie to say she was going to be late or was cancelling her daily visit. As a result, Eileen had come to loathe answering the phone; she dreaded the afternoon stretching out before her without a visit from Lizzie.
‘Aigburth 137, hello?’ she said into the receiver, with very little enthusiasm. ‘Lizzie, is that you?’
Five minutes later, she placed the handset back onto its base, just as Lizzie walked through the door.
‘Who on earth were you talking to on the phone?’ said Lizzie as she untied her headscarf. Inserting her ruby-red fingernails deep into her dyed chestnut hair, she pushed it upwards and then patted the back down again. ‘Did someone actually ring you? What for?’
Eileen O’Keefe had been delighted to hear Mary Kate’s voice. As she’d talked, describing the horror of her first twenty-four hours in Liverpool, an idea had flown into Eileen’s mind. It was an indulgent notion and one that made her heart feel light. The gloom that had enveloped her disappeared in an instant. To have Mary Kate live with her, as a companion, someone to share her walks and meals with, and more. Maybe they could visit the Playhouse together, or the new cinema they were building, or go shopping in Church Street. They could take a morning walk in the park to feed the ducks and watch as the seasons changed. And Christmas… She’d be someone to go to the carol service and see the lights in town with and maybe they could book one of those coach-touring holidays. Oh, how she would love a holiday. All of these ideas, all of the things she’d done with Pat at her side and wished she could do again, filled her with warmth. But as Mary Kate continued talking, Eileen knew none of it could be. It wouldn’t be right for Mary Kate, not right for a young woman who was searching for her destiny and adventure, and she could hear Pat’s voice in her ear: ‘No, love, let your Lizzie find her something. She’s a young woman fresh off the boat, just like I was once. Don’t interfere.’
Lizzie stood on the hearth and reapplied her lipstick in the mirror. She dyed her hair deep chestnut every two weeks; no grey hair would dare defy her. She had pale skin and grey eyes that snapped as she spoke. She’d worn the same shade of poppy-red lipstick all day every day for the past thirty years. ‘Gives my face a bit of colour,’ she said every time she reapplied it.
Eileen watched her sister, as she always did, and waited for her to stop speaking. No one interrupted Lizzie mid flow. She thought for the first time how everything about Lizzie was reduced in size: her lips, her legs, her long fingers, her waist and her capacity for human kindness.
Lizzie tightened the ties on the bow of her satin blouse in the mirror and then, with a sideways glance of self-appreciation and a final pat of the curls, she tucked her sharp pencil skirt behind her legs and sat on the chair opposite her sister, who was pouring a fresh cup of tea.
‘I have someone coming to see you,’ said Eileen. ‘She will be here in an hour, so you will have to stay a little longer.’ No one told Lizzie what she had to do – they asked – but Eileen O’Keefe was not about to brook any petulance from her younger sister.
‘An hour? That’s when I leave. Who is it?’
‘It’s a girl I met on the boat coming back from Pat’s grave yesterday. She was robbed and knocked to the ground not minutes after I left her, and everything she had was taken. She was going to visit her aunt, but her aunt has returned to Ireland. Her aunt’s neighbour is bringing her here. She was very good company, she spoke well and was very smart indeed. I’d say she’d be a catch for your agency, so you had better make sure you place her with the right family. And after all she’s been through, I’ll be checking them out myself. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to tell her she can stay here until you can place her.’
‘Stay here? Good grief, Eileen, you mean she’ll be sleeping with Deidra?’
Eileen held out the teacup and saucer. ‘No, I do not. She can sleep in the guest bedroom.’
‘I’m not sure I approve of that, Eileen. Why didn’t you tell her to go straight to Bold Street?’
Eileen raised her head. ‘Because I wanted to see her, Lizzie, that’s why. She has something about her. She’s a good-looking girl, beautiful I would say, but she is also well educated. What do you think you can find for her?’
Lizzie leant over and, reaching out, took the cup and saucer from her sister. ‘For goodness’ sake! I place kitchen maids, cooks, housekeepers, housemaids and the like – they don’t need to be a member of Mensa to do those jobs. The most she’s going to earn with me is seven pounds a week. If she has such a great ed
ucation, why isn’t she training to be a teacher?’
Eileen frowned. ‘A cleaner? Is that the best you can offer her? That’s such a waste of her talent. What about a companion – do you have anyone on your books who needs a companion?’
Lizzie’s eyes snapped faster and she frowned. Her tone would have been no different had her sister asked her to thrust her hand into the fire. ‘A companion? No, Eileen, I don’t place companions. They are for lonely people. I always think that’s a bit depressing – after all, a companion is just a paid friend, isn’t it? Someone to keep you company. Thank goodness you have me.’
Eileen looked over at her sister, who spent her mornings in an office staffed by five young ladies, came to her house in the early afternoon, spent the late afternoon with her daughter for her grandchildren’s teatime, and the evenings with her husband. Lizzie kept everyone in compartments. No one crossed over except on specific days of the year, as arranged by Lizzie. It never occurred to her to invite her sister to visit her niece and great nephews, not unless it was Whit Monday, Christmas Day or Easter Sunday.
‘But I suppose you could pay her and keep her here, if you felt you could do with someone in addition to Deidra.’
Eileen would never admit to Lizzie that she’d thought about doing just that. She took a deep breath. She must be resolute, put Mary Kate first. It would be so easy, but… No, she must not.
The door opened and Deidra’s face appeared. ‘There’s visitors for you at the back door, Mrs O’Keefe. Shall I bring them up?’
‘Oh good, they got here in plenty of time. Yes, please, Deidra.’ Eileen jumped to her feet.
‘How’s she working out?’ asked Lizzie, inclining her head towards Deidra’s retreating back, not waiting for her to be fully out of earshot before she spoke. She removed her cigarettes from her handbag and lit one.
‘Fine. I have yet to hear her speak when she isn’t asking a question though.’
‘They are paid to clean, not have opinions.’ Lizzie exhaled her cigarette smoke high in the air. She had remained seated, with one arm folded across her chest and the hand holding the cigarette suspended mid air. ‘Listen, I was thinking… I maybe could place your girl in a good house. We had a request in today from a professional household. The lady of the house has two little boys and she’s looking for someone to help. We’ve placed a live-in help there already, but she said she needs a bit more assistance with the children. They’ve moved here, onto the avenue. How does that sound to you?’
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