Nora had nodded in agreement, but it hadn’t seemed a satisfactory answer at the time, and thinking about it now it still didn’t satisfy her.
‘Hey, Nora, penny for them!’
‘Sorry?’ said Nora, brought back abruptly to the present by Mary, who was grinning at her.
‘You’re a million miles away!’
‘Sorry.’
‘What are you thinking?’
Nora had told Mary nothing about Liam. She wasn’t quite sure why, but somehow now didn’t seem the right time to explain about her new friend, and how he had made her question things. She looked at Mary. ‘I’m thinking if we don’t get in soon the soup will be gone! Last one’s a monkey’s uncle!’ She turned on her heel, raced ahead of Mary, and ran out the door.
Chapter 5
Awarm breeze blew in off the Liffey, carrying with it the smell of the sea. It was early June, and the sun shone brightly as Liam sat in the tiny backyard of his granny’s cottage in Ringsend, happily dunking a biscuit in his mug of sweet tea. He loved Sunday mornings like this, when he and his father walked together into town and then down the quays to visit his granny.
On their way today, his father had triumphantly pointed out the premises of the big shipping companies that had just lost a major battle with Larkin’s union. It had been a great victory, Da explained, with dock workers now earning five shillings for a ten-hour day. They still did gruelling work, and the men put in a sixty-hour week, but at least now they were being paid a decent rate.
Liam knew that things didn’t always end so well. Only this morning they had received suspicious glances from policemen during their walk, due to Da sporting a black eye. He had taken a punch a few days previously when the DMP – the Dublin Metropolitan Police – had clashed with striking carters. Being a loyal union man, Da had supported the carters when the police had attacked them, and his wife had been horrified when he came home with a puffed-up eye. But Granny had a very different attitude.
Liam looked at her now, a small, stout woman with snow-white hair, but bright blue eyes that still had a youthful sparkle. She put down her mug of tea and looked at her son, a smile playing about her lips.
‘So, this black eye,’ she said. ‘Tell me you gave the peelers as good as you got, Billy!’
Liam’s father smiled back wryly. ‘You can count on it.’
‘Good for you, son. Shower of bowsies, them DMP. Mrs Milligan up in Townsend Street had her stuff destroyed by them. Broke into her room and smashed every stick of furniture.’
‘Why did they do that, Granny?’ asked Liam.
‘Because her Christy is on strike, and himself and the lads laid into a group of scabs.’
‘Scabs’ were workers hired by the employers to do the job of someone who was on strike – and they were really hated. Liam looked at his grandmother and reckoned he knew where Da got his rebel blood. Then suddenly Granny’s mood changed and she turned to Liam, her feistiness replaced by curiosity.
‘So, anyway, tell us the latest on your choir,’ she said.
‘It’s going great. We’ll be taking a few weeks off in the summer, then doing a big concert at the end of August.’
‘Well, fair play to you! And this Brother who’s in charge?’
‘Brother Raymond. He’s gas. He’s mad about music, so if you’re not serious he’ll bawl you out of it. But he’s good fun too. He always says music is for enjoyment.’
‘So it’s not just hymns?’
‘Oh no. I mean, we do hymns. But we do classical pieces, and Gilbert and Sullivan, and Irish airs – all sorts.’
‘Liam’s even brought in a few bob from singing at weddings,’ said his father. ‘Didn’t you, moneybags?’ he added with a wink.
Liam could tell that Da was proud of him, and he smiled. ‘Yeah, I got sixpence at one wedding, Granny, and nine pence at the other.’
‘Me life on ye!’ she said. ‘And your da here was telling me it’s boys and girls in the choir.’
‘Yes.’
She looked at him playfully. ‘I suppose then you’ve got yourself a mot already!’
Why do adults always think it’s funny to ask children if they have a girlfriend or a boyfriend? Liam thought. Over the last few weeks he had gotten to know Nora better, and she was certainly his best friend in the choir. They both liked music, they both liked jokes – though Nora admitted that she wasn’t all that good at actually telling them – and Liam was curious to hear about the world she lived in, that was so different to his own. So yes, she was his friend, and yes she was a girl, but she definitely wasn’t a girlfriend, or as Granny called it, ‘a mot’.
‘Well?’ persisted Granny.
‘No,’ he answered.
‘Are you sure you haven’t got some little one tucked away?’ asked Granny with a laugh.
This was exactly why he had told nobody about Nora.
‘Positive,’ he answered.
‘Oh I believe you. But thousands wouldn’t!’
Liam tried for a smile. But he knew that what he told himself wasn’t entirely true. There was another reason he had said nothing about Nora, and that was the fact that her family was on the other side in the battle between workers and employers. It seemed wrong that it should affect himself and Nora, and yet he sensed that his father would see it as a kind of betrayal if he knew that Liam was friends with someone whose father was a wealthy employer.
Just then they heard the deep sound of a ship’s horn from the river, and his father tilted his head towards the Liffey.
‘You heard that Larkin has the docks completely under his control now?’
Granny nodded approvingly. ‘God bless him. That day was a long time coming.’
‘It’s only the start. But the bosses are furious.’
‘Pity about them.’
‘Absolutely,’ agreed Da. ‘But if we’re only getting started, and they’re already furious – there’ll be murder by the end of the summer.’
‘You think so?’
‘There has to be a showdown.’
‘And can you win, Billy?’ asked Granny.
Da nodded. ‘If we all close ranks and come down hard on scabs and traitors, then yeah, we can.’
His father’s words made Liam think again about Nora, and loyalty, and betrayal, and despite the warm summer breeze, he felt a tiny chill.
‘Knock knock’, Nora whispered to Mary as they sat together at the back of the classroom.
‘Who’s there?’
‘Dwayne.’
‘Dwayne who?’
‘Dwayne the bathtub – I’m dwowning!’
Both girls giggled, though they were careful not to be seen by Miss Dillon, who now rose from her desk and turned to face the class. It was the final day of term and a hot June sun shone in through the classroom window, making the suspended dust appear to dance and shimmer in the air.
‘Your attention, please, girls,’ said Miss Dillon.
Nora looked up expectantly, a little surprised at how serious her teacher appeared. Being the end of term, there was a relaxed air about the school as teachers and pupils looked forward to the summer break. Miss Dillon was a tall, thin woman whom most of the girls guessed to be in her late thirties. Normally her manner was energetic, but for some reason today she seemed subdued.
‘I’ve news to announce, girls,’ she said, and immediately Nora knew that something was wrong.
‘I regret to say that today is my last day with you. I had looked forward to having you next year, but I’m afraid that’s not to be. You’re a wonderful group of students and it’s been my pleasure to teach you.’
There was stunned silence. Looking around, Nora could see how upset the girls were to be losing a favourite teacher. Finally, Mary raised her hand and asked the question that hung in the air. ‘Why won’t we have you next year, Miss?’
Miss Dillon hesitated, then seemed to reach a decision. ‘You’re old enough to know the truth, so I’ll tell you. My contract has been terminated by the school. I�
��m not being employed after today.’
Nora was shocked. Miss Dillon spoke again, presumably aware that some of the girls were close to tears, for now she made her tone brighter.
‘On the positive side, I’ve acquired a post in Yorkshire,’ she said. ‘It’s in a co-educational school in Leeds, quite progressive, by all accounts. So don’t worry, I’m not going to starve.’
Her attempt at lightening the mood wasn’t successful, so she abandoned what Nora had suspected was a brave face, and spoke seriously again.
‘I’ve been told that my values are at odds with the values of the school. I’ve been told that you, my pupils for whom I care deeply, were with me to be taught the prescribed subjects, and the prescribed subjects only. It seems I’ve been raising notions in your minds, notions that upset the social order. Parents and management apparently don’t want girls who are independent thinkers, and so I’m no longer to be allowed “deviate from the curriculum and create mischief”, as it was put to me.’
Nora was horrified. She had assumed that nothing further had come of the discussion at home when her mother had been critical of Miss Dillon’s views. Now she feared that this might not be the case. As if anticipating her concern, Miss Dillon raised a hand.
‘Please, I don’t want any of you to think that you’re the cause of this. It’s entirely natural that you would mention at home things that we discussed in school. I wouldn’t want it otherwise. So none of you is in any way to blame for my situation. This is something that’s probably been coming for some time. Besides, I knew when I started here that my employment was at the discretion of the Board of Management. And now they’ve dismissed me. So be it. But before I go there’s one last thing I want to say to you all, and I’d like you to remember it.’
Nora leaned forward, hanging on the teacher’s every word.
‘There is nothing – nothing – that you are not capable of. They’ll tell you that you are young ladies. They’ll try to use that to disqualify you from voting, from attending university, from fulfilling your potential in all sorts of areas. Do not allow them to succeed! You’re bright, you’re capable, and you have your whole lives before you. Make something of those lives. Each one of you be the best person you can be. And let no one ever convince you that you can’t do something simply because you are a woman.’
Miss Dillon paused, looked from face to face, then spoke with finality. ‘There are no limits to what you can achieve. Don’t allow others to limit you.’ She took her satchel from the top of her desk, then nodded in farewell. ‘Thank you, girls, for sharing this past year with me. It’s been a privilege.’
For a moment nobody moved, then the girls began applauding. Nora had a lump in her throat, and some of the other pupils had tears in their eyes. Miss Dillon gave a small smile in recognition of the applause, which grew louder as the girls rose from their desks, until every pupil in the class stood clapping, as their teacher, struggling with her emotions, nodded once more in farewell and then left the room.
Nora felt angry that Miss Dillon had been sacked, yet inspired by her parting words. There and then she swore that she would do as her teacher had urged. More than that, she promised herself that when the opportunity arose, she would do something bold of which Miss Dillon would be proud. She wasn’t sure what it might be, but she knew, instinctively, that something had changed today, and that her life wouldn’t be the same again.
Chapter 6
‘The three best things about summer? Janey, there’s loads!’ said Liam.
‘But the best three,’ persisted Nora.
‘All right, let me think.’ This was the kind of thing Nora was always asking. What were the nicest sweets in the world? What would you ask for if you had three wishes? What was the best piece of music ever composed? None of Liam’s other friends ever asked stuff like that, but he had come to enjoy Nora’s lists, and it was fun to imagine things like being a king, and deciding what your laws would be.
As he considered his answer, Liam breathed in deeply, savouring the aroma of roasting coffee. They were sitting together in Bewleys Café in Westmoreland Street where they had been brought with the other choir members for tea and buns, as a treat from Brother Raymond before the choir took a summer break. Liam had often passed Bewleys before, but this was the first time he had been inside the café. He liked the soft light from the wall-mounted gas lamps, and the hiss of steam from the tea urns. Most of all, though, he liked the cakes with their sticky yellow and pink icing and their sweet, creamy fillings. Ma and Da couldn’t afford treats like this, and, like all their neighbours, they drank tea, never coffee. Still, he thought, it must be nice to be an adult with enough money to come here and order any cakes you liked, and a pot of that wonderfully-smelling coffee.
‘Come on, slowcoach,’ said Nora, prompting him playfully.
‘All right,’ said Liam, ‘the three best things about summer are: no school, no school and no school.’
‘Liam,’ she said, laughing, ‘that’s cheating!’
‘OK, no school, swimming in Dollymount, and ice cream cones that are just starting to melt and that have loads of that thick raspberry stuff poured over them.’
‘They’re all pretty good,’ agreed Nora.
‘So what would your three be?’
‘Well, no school, I’m with you there.’
‘What else?’
‘Going to Torquay with my family. We go every summer. I love taking the boat to England and then the train journey to Devon; it’s like an adventure.’
‘I’ve never been to England,’ said Liam. ‘Is it nice?’
‘Yes, very nice.’
‘Have you been to London?’
‘We always stay there overnight. And Daddy’s brought us to see different places, like Buckingham Palace, and St Paul’s Cathedral, and the Tower of London.’
‘God, it’s well for you,’ said Liam. As soon as he said it he wished that he hadn’t, because Nora looked slightly uncomfortable. Normally neither of them paid much heed to the fact that her family was much better off than Liam’s. Now he sensed that she was afraid it sounded like she was boasting – although he knew she wasn’t. Before he could say anything further, Nora quickly moved off the topic of London.
‘And the third thing I love about summer,’ she said, ‘is the smell of cut grass.’
‘Yeah?’
‘I love the way the scent hangs in the air on a hot day. That’s the smell of summer to me.’
‘Right,’ said Liam. He couldn’t help but think that in the slums not far from his home the smell of summer was the heightened stench of unwashed bodies and pee-smelling tenement hallways, but he said nothing about this, not wanting to spoil things for Nora.
Just then Brother Raymond tapped a spoon against his cup for attention. The choir members had been allocated an alcove off the main body of the restaurant, and it fell quiet as they ceased their chatter.
‘Boys and girls – singers extraordinaire, your attention please,’ said Brother Raymond. Liam sat forward, listening with interest. He had come to really like the colourful monk. Although he could be very demanding when it came to choral work, he was never boring, and Liam liked the way that he used words like extraordinaire – words that other adults never used when talking to children.
‘A few words of farewell before we have our short summer break,’ said Brother Raymond. ‘In the three months or so since we started we’ve made excellent progress. So, give yourselves a round of applause!’
Everybody clapped and, getting caught up in the fun of the moment, Nora even cried out, ‘Bravo!’
Brother Raymond smiled. ‘Steady on, Nora. It is ourselves we’re applauding.’
Nora smiled back at him, then turned and whispered to Liam, ‘But we’re brilliant!’
‘At any rate,’ continued Brother Raymond, ‘we’re breaking for six weeks, reconvening on Tuesday, August the nineteenth. I hope you all enjoy the summer, but I also want you to remember that in one important respect the
choir is actually like God.’ He looked at them with a sparkle in his eyes. ‘Anybody tell me why?’
‘Because we’re heavenly, Brother!’ said Liam.
Brother Raymond smiled. ‘A good answer, Liam – and suitably lacking in false modesty. But as Catholics you know that though you may go away on holidays, you never take a holiday from God. Likewise the choir. I want every one of you practising your singing during the summer holidays. After we get back in August, there’s a charity concert at which we’ve been invited to sing. We’ll have a limited time to rehearse for it, so I want everyone coming back in good voice and fully familiar with everything we’ve done so far.’
He opened his arms in appeal and looked at them. ‘Can I count on you all to do that?’
‘Yes!’ cried the choir members.
‘Good. I’ll see you all next month then. Meanwhile, those who are being picked up by parents should remain here. Everyone else, safe home, and God bless.’
There was a sudden babble of conversation as those who were leaving stood and said their goodbyes.
‘Are you getting the tram home?’ Liam asked Nora.
‘Yes. Are you?’
‘No, I’ll walk back up Sackville Street. But I’ll come with you as far as your stop.’
‘OK.’
They each said some final farewells to other choir members and thanked Brother Raymond, then Liam followed Nora out the main door of Bewleys and into Westmoreland Street. He breathed deeply one last time, absorbing the heady smell of the coffee being roasted in the front window of the café, before crossing the wide thoroughfare and heading for Nora’s tram stop.
‘That was really nice of Brother Raymond, treating us all like that,’ said Nora.
‘Yeah, he’s a decent skin.’
‘A decent skin?’
‘Yeah. Have you never heard that?’
‘No.’
Liam laughed. ‘You don’t get out enough, Nora. A “decent skin” is someone who’s sound. Like, if you did me a good turn, I might say,’ and now Liam slipped into a strong Dublin accent. ‘Ah, you’re a decent aul’ skin, Nora!’
Across the Divide Page 4
