A Glimpse at Happiness

by Jean Fullerton

  ‘I’ve met Harry,’ replied Josie.

  ‘Charlie’s the devil himself,’ said Sophie with feeling. ‘It was he who attacked my father last year on his own doorstep because one of those poor girls sought refuge in our hostel. The police couldn’t prove anything because the witnesses were too afraid to come forward.’ She spread a generous portion of plum jam onto a slice of bread and gave it to the little girl.

  ‘What do you say, Polly?’ Meg asked her daughter.

  ‘Fank you, Miss,’ Polly answered, spraying crumbs.

  The baby in Meg’s arms woke up and started to whimper. Josie poured some of the milk into the spoon and carefully dripped it into its mouth while Meg held her.

  ‘Do you know Patrick Nolan, Miss?’ Meg asked, looking shyly up at Josie.

  ‘We are old friends,’ Josie replied, hoping her voice sounded neutral

  ‘He’s the one who helped my Tommy, God rest him, get a job in the dock. He spoke up for him to the dock manger. He’s a good man is Patrick Nolan.’ Meg winked. ‘And he’s right handsome, too.’

  To her dismay, Josie felt herself blushing.

  ‘But Ma hates him because he won’t take her pilfered stuff in his boat upstream. But it’s not just that what’s got her riled, it’s the fact that now, with Patrick leading them, lots of the men - especially the Irish who live around the Knockfergus stretch of Cable Street - are saying no to her and she don’t like it one little bit, I can tell you.’

  Josie’s stomach fluttered.

  ‘But, Miss, you want to be careful,’ Meg said in a trembling voice. ‘She’s wild to get him and if you’re a friend of his you could be in danger, too.’

  Chapter Seven

  Patrick and Brian shuffled forward a few paces as the queue for the Tunnel tickets moved. It seemed that the whole of London had decided to follow them under the capital’s river that afternoon. Although it had been open a year, the novelty of crossing from one bank to the other beneath the Thames hadn’t lost its appeal. The north entrance down from Wapping High Street was packed with a variety of people, from smartly dressed men in heavy overcoats escorting elegant women in silk hats and furs to those, like themselves, who were more modestly attired. Brian ran his finger round the starched collar of his shirt and eased it away from his neck.

  ‘Bloody heat,’ he said, mopping his brow.

  ‘If you stood still, you great lummox, you wouldn’t look like a boiled swede,’ Patrick said, grinning at his flushed friend. ‘If you get any redder I won’t know where your hair stops and you begin.’

  ‘That’s easy for you to say,’ Brian replied. ‘You’re not being strangled by your own shirt.’

  Patrick smiled. He, too, was hot in his cheap suit and starched shirt but had learnt in the tropics that remaining still helped to stay cool.

  Brian nudged him. ‘Anyway, man, I thought we were going to the Garrick tonight not to this dog-and-pony show. I can’t think why Mattie wanted to come here to see a hole in the ground.’

  ‘Because Mattie wants to spend time with her friend Josie and I couldn’t see Dr Munroe allowing his stepdaughter to visit the playhouse in Leman Street,’ Patrick explained.

  ‘Is that a fact?’ Brian asked, raising an eyebrow as they took a couple of steps forward. ‘So it’s just that Mattie wants to spend time with Josie?’

  ‘Of course,’ Patrick answered.

  A mischievous tone crept into Brian’s voice. ‘Oh, I see. And there’s me thinking that your sister might have asked Josie along because she’s trying to matchmake.’

  Patrick raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, if that’s what your future wife is about then I hope you’ll put her right.’

  They moved forward again. Despite knowing Mattie had asked Josie to join them for that very reason, he’d agreed to his sister’s suggestion because this outing might be his only opportunity to tell Josie the truth about Rosa’s disappearance before she found out from someone else.

  He should have told her immediately, but he’d been so shocked when he found her in his mother’s kitchen with Annie that he couldn’t think straight. But there was another compelling reason for him to put her right about Rosa - Josie had begun stealing into his thoughts at odd times of the day and he was spending sleepless hours thinking about the shape of her mouth and the way her eyes flashed.

  He was a fool not to put her from his mind because, even if he were entirely free, it would be madness for him to imagine she would even look at him again. Nonetheless, his deeply buried feelings for Josie had resurfaced and he had to tell her the truth otherwise his need to see her might put her good name in jeopardy.

  They shuffled forward again and Patrick glanced over to the wrought-iron railings, where Josie and Mattie stood, looking down to the vast space beneath. Josie caught his look and his heart ignored his sensible mind and thundered in his chest. He tried to smile but she turned away.

  Brian nudged him in the ribs. ‘Miss O’Casey looks sweet, doesn’t she?’

  ‘Aye, she does,’ Patrick replied, unable to take his eyes from her.

  ‘You and her always did make a fine couple,’ Brian continued. ‘I remembered you walking her home after school and how her mam kept a sharp eye on you to make sure you behaved yourself.’

  Patrick gave a half-hearted smile as he continued to gaze at Josie.

  When her cab had arrived at the Tunnel entrance and she’d stepped out to meet them she’d fair taken his breath away. He couldn’t remember her ever looking quite so lovely, but then he realised he thought that each time he saw her. The dark green gown with frilly lace bits around the neckline and cuffs highlighted her clear complexion and, as usual, odd tendrils of hair had escaped from under her straw bonnet and curled around her cheekbones, drawing attention to their shape.

  Not for the first time Patrick’s thoughts started to drift towards what might have been, but he willed them away for such idle speculation was futile and painful.

  Finally they purchased four one-penny tickets and rejoined Mattie and Josie.

  ‘I thought you’d gone to Timbuktu,’ Mattie said, smacking Brian’s upper arm playfully.

  Josie laughed. ‘Oh, Mattie, leave the man alone.’

  Someone pushed into Patrick from behind and he stepped closer to her only to catch the faint aroma of violets as he did. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, smiling down at her. ‘Although she’d nag the ears off a donkey, Brian’ll be fine because he don’t listen to one word in ten my sister ever says.’

  ‘It’s my recipe for a happy marriage,’ Brian told them, catching Mattie around the waist and kissing her loudly on the cheek. ‘Besides, I’m a man of action, ain’t I, sweetheart.’

  Mattie’s cheeks flamed red. ‘Brian Maguire, will you stop that!’

  He kissed her noisily again. ‘You didn’t say that last night, now.’

  ‘Brian!’ She shot Josie an embarrassed look.

  Josie gave a throaty laugh.

  A loud chord sounded from below them and Mattie glanced over the railing again. ‘I can hear the band.’

  It was hard not to as the dome of the Tunnel acted like a megaphone sending the strains of the melody out and upwards, adding its own echoey quality.

  Brian held out his arm with an exaggerated flourish. ‘Miss Nolan, will you do me the h’utmost h’onour and allow me to h’escort you through the river mud.’

  Mattie’s face remained stern for a second, and then she giggled and took his arm. Turning their backs on Patrick and Josie, Brian led Mattie towards the top of the staircase.

  Patrick gazed down at Josie, noting as he did so the sweep of her neck and the delicate blush on her cheek. He was so close they were almost touching and the urge to catch her to him and kiss her swept over him. He held out his arm.

  ‘Will you do me the utmost honour too?’ he asked.

  She gave a restrained smile and rested her hand stiffly on his forearm. ‘Thank you.’

  He guided her down the spiral staircase. He placed her near to the inside han
drail so that she wasn’t jostled. Twice he stepped behind her while bracing himself against people pushing past. Finally, they reached the bottom of the stairs where Mattie and Brian were waiting, and there was more room.

  Josie immediately let go of Patrick’s arm and moved away from him. ‘My word,’ she said, tipping her head back to see the two high arches that formed the entrance of the Tunnel.

  ‘They’ll be building a tunnel to France next,’ Mattie said as she joined her.

  Brian laughed. ‘I shouldn’t wonder at it. Now let’s be on our way before they run out of beer on the south side.’

  Mattie took his arm again and they set off south into the lefthand bore.

  ‘Shall we?’ Patrick asked, offering Josie his arm again.

  This time her fingers curled around his arm.

  The strains of the band were clearer now and certainly added to the festive atmosphere. Inside the Tunnel, temporary booths had been set up to sell coffee and hot potatoes. Bunting fluttered in the cool draught. There were other stalls offering white pottery tubs of eels and whelks, manned by nautical-looking types in canvas trousers and flat caps who shouted enticements such as ‘Swimming this morning!’ and ‘Fresh from the briny!’ The salty sea smell rose up and mingled with the nutty fragrance of coffee and the earthy aroma of the roasting potatoes.

  Along the walkway, vendors flourished song sheets for sale as they sang the latest popular tunes in opposition to the tune being played by the band. Patrick slowed his pace and stopped a few times so that Josie could look at some trinket or another.

  As they made their way towards the other end of the Tunnel, two children with balloons in their hands dashed towards them with a fraught-looking young woman in a navy dress, hard on their heels. Laughing and jumping as they went, the youngsters were set to collide with Josie so Patrick took hold of her elbow and moved her out of the way.

  They stopped by the side to let another party pass. Although he didn’t relish explaining to her about Rosa in the crowded thoroughfare of the Thames Tunnel, at least it was a public place and he wouldn’t sully her reputation if someone saw them, yet he hesitated. He had to tell her of course, but afterwards there would be no more moments alone with her as she would never consider keeping company with a married man.

  Josie stood on tiptoes. ‘I can’t see Mattie and Brian, maybe we should catch them up.’

  He caught her elbow and guided her into the shelter of a column. ‘Not just yet. I have something I have to tell you.’

  ‘If it’s about not telling me that you were married when we met on the High Street, then don’t give it another thought.’ Her eyes darted over his face. ‘Naturally, I was a bit shocked to . . . to realise that you’d gone and married someone, but it’s . . . it’s quite . . . understandable that after the passage of time and with all the exotic places you must have been to that you would find someone special.’ She attempted a light laugh. ‘I mean, we were only children after all when we said we would marry, weren’t we? And I am sorry for your loss, truly I am.’

  ‘Rosa isn’t dead. She left.’

  Josie’s mouth dropped opened. ‘But Annie—’

  ‘We told the children that she’d died to save them from knowing that their mother had deserted them,’ he said. He looked away so that Josie couldn’t see the anger he still felt towards his wife.

  She stared at him for a long time and a faint rosy glow coloured her cheeks. Did she hate him? Was she going to turn and walk away? He didn’t know, but he did know that with her dark eyes on him, he couldn’t have moved from the spot even if he risked eternal damnation.

  ‘When I realised that my last letter hadn’t reached you and you didn’t know, I should have told you straight away. I am sorry,’ he said, regretting more than just his omission.

  She put her hand on his arm. ‘You must have been devastated.’

  ‘I really can’t talk about it,’ he replied. He could live with her accepting his disastrous marriage to Rosa but not with her pitying him for it.

  ‘I understand.’

  Patrick ran his gaze slowly over her face again, taking in each detail as if he’d never seen her before.

  What a complete fool he had been not to have followed her to Boston and found out for himself if she was married or not. Now all they could ever be was friends.

  Without thinking he took a step towards her. ‘Josie . . .’

  She looked up at him and for a second he caught a glimpse of something in her expression which was enough to fire his emotions, but he held himself in check as they stood motionless, staring at each other. The words ‘I love you’ formed on his lips of their own accord but he didn’t say them; how could he?

  A harsh voice cut in between them. ‘Well, fancy seeing you here, Nolan.’

  It was only when Josie’s confused brain recognised the loutish voice addressing Patrick that she realised someone had joined them. Even then, for the life of her, she couldn’t have told you what was said, her mind was still trying to steady itself.

  Patrick’s wife was still alive but she’d left him!

  With his palpable, masculine presence only an arm’s reach from her, Josie couldn’t imagine why any woman would want to leave him, and to abandon her children. She tore her eyes from Patrick’s angular face and then her jaw dropped as she realised that the man addressing them was Harry Tugman.

  Although he’d spruced himself up to take in the wonders of the Tunnel, the brown suit with broad white stripes still strained to keep the buttons in their holes. He had no doubt aimed at an air of respectability by carrying an ornate cane tucked under his right arm but it didn’t quite work - as hanging on his left arm was a trollop with rouged lips, in a gaudy yellow and black gown.

  Patrick offered Josie his arm again and this time she grabbed it, feeling his reassuring strength under her fingers. Drawing her to him he went to guide her past Tugman, but the overdressed, overstuffed ruffian blocked their way.

  ‘It’s Miss O’Casey, isn’t it?’ Harry said, tipping his hat to her. A scraggy lock of hair fell onto his collar. ‘We haven’t been formally introduced. Harry Tugman’s the name and this here is Mrs Curtis, known as Lou to her friends.’

  Lou inclined her head and the black feather in her yellow hat dipped over her right eye, giving her the appearance of a theatrical pirate.

  ‘Don’t they make a lovely couple, Lou?’

  The woman beside him giggled. ‘Yer, just like us, eh, ’Arry.’

  Harry winked at Josie. ‘He deserves a bit of ’appiness after the way that slant-eyed, fast-hips wife of his treated him.’ He gave Patrick a pitying look.

  Josie sucked in her breath. Surely Patrick wouldn’t let Harry Tugman insult the woman he loved.

  Her eyes darted up to Patrick’s face but instead of the fury she expected, his expression was almost indifferent.

  Seeing that Patrick wasn’t going to rise to his bait, Harry’s eyes slid slowly over Josie. The muscles in Patrick’s jaw tightened and he stepped in front of her, shielding her from Harry’s bold scrutiny.

  ‘Get out of my way, Tugman,’ Patrick ordered.

  The good humour dropped from Harry’s face. ‘And what if I don’t?’

  Patrick right hand shot out and caught Harry around the throat. Harry’s piggy eyes opened wide with surprise and he struggled to remove Patrick’s hand, thrashing out with his cane, which Patrick caught with his other hand.

  ‘I’m going to make you,’ Patrick snarled, as Harry clawed at his hand. ‘And if I ever see you casting your filthy eyes over Miss O’Casey again I’ll take your cane and ram it down your throat so far you’ll roll sideways as you sit.’

  People around them were cautiously staring at them as the vaulted arc of the Tunnel amplified their voices.

  ‘Having a bit of a problem, are we?’ a mellow voice asked behind Josie.

  Josie turned and came face to face with a stout policeman. She let out a sigh of relief. Patrick glanced at the officer then released Harry, who st
aggered back, pulled his collar away from his neck and gasped for breath. He glared red-faced at Patrick.

  ‘Tugman was having a bit of trouble with his necktie, Sergeant Plant,’ Patrick said, with an innocent expression on his face. ‘I was just adjusting it for him.’

  The officer tucked his thumbs into his belt and turned to Harry, bent almost double beside him. Lou thumped him on the back to help him clear his lungs but he shoved her aside and started towards Patrick.

  ‘Fecking sod tried to strangle me,’ he choked out.

  Plant stepped between and his eyes flicked over Josie.