Noleen grimaced and stood up again.
‘And besides, they don’t want to come. They all have better things to do with their lives than to sit here and look at me. What do I have to say? Nothing. Where do I go, eh? Nowhere. I’m nothing and no one. Not any more.’
‘They come to talk about the football, more like,’ said Noleen as she cleared away the mugs of tea. ‘No one, least of all a good man like Stan Tanner, comes out of charity, so less of the complaining now, do you hear me? I won’t be putting up with it and neither will the kids. Besides, look what Stan brought with him, and you didn’t even have the grace to take one.’
Noleen held out a plate of biscuits, freshly baked by Maisie that morning.
With one swoop of his hand, Paddy knocked the plate clean out of Noleen’s grip and the biscuits flew across the floor. Within seconds, the Delaneys’ dog was the best-fed animal on the dock streets.
‘Well, you will wait a long time before I pass you another plate of biscuits, you ungrateful beggar.’
She picked up the broken plate and threw it into the bin. As she did so, she sighed. There was one man who might be able to help and she’d decided already that she would try and have a word with him tomorrow. Dessie Horton. He was the only person Paddy did have time for. They had served together during the war and fought side by side. They had a mutual respect that was born from shared experiences, about which they would never speak in front of Noleen, and rarely even to each other, it seemed. Dessie solved every problem around the dockside streets and Lovely Lane. But as she looked at Paddy, she wondered if this might be the one time Dessie would fail.
Dessie was a hero to local families. Not only for his bravery but for the way he ensured that all the posts for porter’s lads at St Angelus were filled by a boy from a family where the father had fallen or was too injured to work. Bryan had been offered a job by Dessie on his fourteenth birthday and it was because of his income that all the Delaney kids had shoes to wear for school.
As it was, Noleen didn’t have to seek out Dessie down at the hospital. He called at the house less than an hour after Stan had left them.
‘I was just passing and came in for a warm and a cuppa,’ he said. ‘I know there’s always both waiting for me here.’
Noleen smiled. ‘Well, only a stupid woman would argue with that as both are true, especially for you, Dessie.’
Even Paddy smiled.
‘I hear life has taken a turn for the better for you, Dessie. With a certain young lady from the school of nursing.’
Dessie made to protest as he removed his scarf.
‘Oh, don’t even bother trying to deny it. It’s the talk of every house from here to Bootle. Get you, Dessie Horton, you big Romeo! Well, good on you. It’s about time. Ignore all the wagging tongues and I’ll tell you, if I hear anyone giving out, they’ll get the sharp end from me.’
Dessie hung his donkey jacket up himself on the back of the door with a, ‘No, I’ll do it, it’s heavy,’ as Noleen tried to take it from him. He frowned as he did so. Some of the women were beginning to talk openly about his and Emily’s living arrangements and his biggest worry was that somehow Matron would find out.
‘And how’s life down at the hospital? Is it the Mersey you see when you look out of the window of the porter’s lodge, or is it the butterflies and cherubs you see flying past?’ Noleen grinned as Dessie blushed. They went back a long way and no one could be more happy for him than Noleen was.
Dessie took the tea from Noleen as he settled himself down at the table. ‘Oh, you know what it’s like, everyone’s running around like headless chickens. The new theatres have been opened. Matron has invited more dignitaries than you can poke a stick at. A whole week of it before they even use a knife for the first operation. Has the MP coming next, so she does. She’s up to something, but do you know, for the first time ever, no one knows what. Not even Elsie.’
Noleen gasped. ‘Well, fancy that. Elsie is usually the first to know. But surely Madge has an idea? Nothing gets past Madge.’
‘Well, it has this time. It’s all change everywhere, Noleen, and not just up at the hospital. Has Liverpool gone mad or what? They are building new roads, there’s talk of new houses. Whole estates going up out in Speke and Kirkby. A new gasworks being built towards Seaforth for the coal extraction and yet here there are still bombsites all over the place and the houses are falling down. Wouldn’t you think the government would want to look after those who are here first?’
‘They are, Dessie. When those new estates are built, they will shift us into them. Our little community, it will be broken up and we will all lose touch with each other. Awful it will be. We should count our blessings while we can,’ said Noleen. ‘I was speaking to a patient at the hospital who lives off Scottie Road. They still don’t even have lavvies in some of the houses. And the flats on Clare Street, one toilet per half landing, they have. Mrs Green remembers them being built. The first council houses they were supposed to be. At least we have our own outhouses and sculleries, Dessie. I’m not complaining, but as God is my judge, they won’t let us stay.’ Dessie frowned. Noleen was not the first to say this and like many others, he could not imagine living anywhere else. He set his clock by the bore on the Mersey, the klaxon on the docks and the sound of the kids playing in the entry, being called in for tea.
‘No, she leaves all the complaining to me,’ said Paddy with a wry smile, speaking for the first time from his chair in front of the fire. ‘Never stops giving out to me, she doesn’t, and everyone around here calls her St Noleen. If only they knew.’
And for the first time in weeks, Noleen and Paddy laughed together.
After three cups of tea, a potato farl upon which Noleen insisted on spreading the last of the butter, and a great deal of conversation, during which he told them all about Emily, Dessie took his leave. Noleen walked with him down to the back gate. It was a cloudless night and the skyline above the roofs was dotted with smoking chimneys and twinkling stars. The two of them were bathed in the marmalade lamplight that reflected over the entry wall from across the adjacent street.
Noleen stood on the step, leaning against the wooden gatepost with her hands thrust deep into her apron pockets. ‘Well, I can’t say your visit wasn’t welcome, Dessie,’ she said. ‘I have something to thank the good Lord for in the morning. I was planning to pop into the porter’s lodge to see you tomorrow. Fancy, my prayer tonight was answered and I had barely just asked it. See how God works, Dessie? Paddy will have been glad to see you.’
Dessie didn’t want to tell her that it was the mysterious ways of the mafia, or more accurately, Biddy, who had sent him there, not a prayer at Mass. He looked down at her lank hair, tired skin and heavy eyes. ‘You look worn out, love, are you managing all right? You seem a bit down.’
His voice was loaded with concern. The dark shadows under her eyes were always there, but tonight she had struggled to raise her weary voice to speak. He had seen right through the laughter of their conversation.
Dessie’s kindness made the tears spring to Noleen’s eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. Noleen never cried. She was afraid that if she did, she might never stop. She had to stay on the treadmill, keep going every day, all day, and in her case all night too. With a deep sigh, she checked down the entry that no one was walking along the cobbles before she spoke. Even though the entry was empty, she swallowed hard and hesitated, still minded to dismiss his concern with a breezy lie. But then, with her eyes gleaming, she squared her shoulders and looked directly at him.
‘I don’t know which way to turn, Dessie.’ She looked back down at her own hands.
For the briefest moment Dessie laid his hand on the top of her arm and said softly, ‘Tell me, Noleen. I might be able to help.’
She took another deep breath before she looked straight up at him and held his eyes as she spoke.
‘I’m run ragged with trying to work and look after Paddy and the kids. And it’s not that I want him to do anyth
ing, although God knows, there are things he could do to help – there is more our Mary could do too, she never lifts a finger, so she doesn’t. It’s just that I’m worried that he’s disappearing, my old Paddy. He’s fading away before me eyes and I’m frightened. Don’t get me wrong…’
Her eyes widened in alarm and guilt. She felt wrong, confiding in Dessie, but now she had started, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop.
‘The thing is, he does try, he really does try, Dessie, it’s just that there’s no hope. We don’t talk about the future any more. You know what me and Paddy were like before the war, we were always savers and had our big, grand plans. Paddy was always a grafter. I knew no other like him. It’s why I fell for him in the first place.’
A shy smile lifted the corners of her mouth as for a fleeting second an image of a younger Paddy crept into her memory.
‘He couldn’t get down on the docks fast enough and he didn’t hesitate to sign up. But now we have nothing to plan for, nothing to talk about because all we do is exist on my wage and Bryan’s. I worry sick about the future. I love him with all my heart, Dessie, I’d have been just as glad to see him back with no legs at all, and he loves me. I see him changing, though. Every day it gets a bit worse. He’s been too long sat on the same chair in front of the fire. Too long waiting for me to come home from work. He doesn’t feel like a man any more. I know that’s what it is, he just doesn’t say it. It’s the lads too. Jack, Cahill and Finn, they miss out on so much. Cahill tore another hole in his shorts today and I almost screamed at him and that’s not me. It’s not me, Dessie. I’m not a fishwife. I’m not one of those women who complains that I don’t want my kids having to share shoes for school like some of them do. Oh God, would you look at me now. I am. I’m turning into a Dock Road shrew.’
She lost her battle with the tears, which were not far from the surface, and they tumbled down her cheeks and dripped from the end of her nose. Her breath shuddered with sobs she was reluctant to let go. She did nothing to stop them this time. It was Dessie’s kindness, his perceptiveness and understanding. It broke down her normally rigid barriers of self-control and no matter how hard she blinked, they would not be stopped.
Dessie held his arms out to her. He instinctively wanted her to come to him, to accept his affection, rooted deep in the years they had lived side by side and grown to care for each other.
She surprised herself as she willingly fell into them. She let her tears soak into his donkey jacket. She felt the rough texture prickle against her cheek, and the smell of Lysol, oil, coke and smoke and all that was St Angelus filled her nostrils.
For the first few minutes he let her cry and drain herself of the years of pent-up tears and hurt. Then he spoke.
‘I know, love. It’s hard for a lot of women around here. I’m not going to tell you that you should be grateful because Paddy returned, but that doesn’t mean that the day he came home he brought an easy life with him. It must be tough for you both.’
He had seen many women on the streets around Lovely Lane cry, but Noleen had never been one of them. Biddy had been right. When is she not, Dessie thought as he glanced up at the moonlit sky. The Delaney family needed help and he would have to think hard about a way to provide it without causing offence to either Noleen or Paddy, the proudest people he knew.
Yet again he said a silent prayer of thanks to Matron for having given him the power to do what he could to help those families who had suffered most from the war. It was as if she had known from the outset that St Angelus could do much more than heal the sick. Matron had appointed Dessie as head porter when he returned from the war, almost before he’d had time to take his boots off. The bond between them was close. She respected the double row of medals that had gleamed before her when she called him to the hospital and she had been more than happy to grant his one condition. That he should be allowed to employ whomsoever he needed to work as a porter’s lad or help him run the hospital. It would be his domain alone.
He wondered, should he talk to Father Brennan or Sister Theresa about Paddy? They were both, like himself, trusted faces in the dockside streets. The last refuge when all else had failed, when the bailiff knocked or the landlord complained. They helped out at times of crisis, supported families, held their hands through the worst – deaths, illness, poverty – before moving on to the next call for help. But Biddy hadn’t gone to the church, and she would have if she had thought it was the answer, despite her stand-off with Father Brennan. She had called for Dessie and he would never question the wisdom of Biddy. He suspected that what he could do for the Delaneys might be of more practical use.
‘Look, Noleen, the lads and I, the veterans, we are all meeting down at the Silvestrian on Friday. It’s being organized by Stan Tanner, it’s our regimental anniversary. Friday was a special day.’
Noleen didn’t ask what was so special about it. The men had their own post-war secrets and rituals and the women didn’t interfere.
‘He won’t have any choice but to go,’ Dessie continued. ‘I’ll put Stan and Maisie Tanner on the case. We’ll make him go. Let’s make that the first step to getting him out of the door. We can do it together. He’s happy with you and the kids, Noleen, it’s the rest of us he has a problem with. He thinks we are laughing at him, he said that to me. What a load of baloney. Where does he get it from, eh? I’ve never heard anyone say a bad word about Paddy, before the war or after.’
Noleen’s voice broke as she spoke, full of relief that Dessie didn’t think her a fool. That he understood. ‘He hears you all walking down the entry, on your way to work and it eats at him.’ She lifted her head and extracted a handkerchief from her apron pocket. ‘I know he’s a good man, the best father any kids ever had, and you know it, but try telling him that. I don’t know, Dessie. I swear, if I didn’t come home every morning stinking of Lysol and with a pay packet in my hand on Fridays, he would doubt I was cleaning up at St Angelus. I swear to God he would think I was carrying on. He has no faith left in himself. Thinks he’s a burden to everyone, that everyone is against him. He needs a job, but I can’t think of a single thing he can do. He’s wearing me down, so he is, but I can’t let him even see that or say anything to him, because it would just make everything worse.’
Dessie caught Noleen’s eye. This was the first indication that all was not well between the couple he had known for as long as he could remember. A man newly in love himself, he suspected that things were not as they should be in their personal life. Biddy’s words rang in his ears. ‘If everything’s all right in the bedroom, downstairs takes care of itself.’ He had heard Biddy say that so many times. As far as he knew, Noleen had never complained to any of the women. They were the strongest couple he knew and he had just assumed that, despite what had happened, they would survive Paddy’s injuries without any problem.
He let out a deep sigh. ‘Let’s get him to the Silvestrian on Friday, so he can remember what good craic his mates can be, what he’s missing out on by being a miserable old moaning bugger sat at home. And then I’m going to put my foot down. He has to join us for our regular pub night on Fridays – he hasn’t been for months now – and for a game of darts. He needs his arm to throw an arrow, not his leg. I’m sorry, Noleen, I think we’ve all given up on him a bit too soon, but he’s a stubborn sod is your Paddy. I do have an idea of something he might be able to do at the hospital, but I might need to speak to Matron about it first. I don’t want to tell you what’s on my mind yet, just leave it with me. I’ll collect Paddy at six for the Silvestrian, you just get your Mary to make sure he is ready. Tell her Uncle Dessie will have a word or two to say to her if she isn’t pulling her weight. It’s about time that one took some of the responsibility from your shoulders.’
Noleen half laughed as she folded her hankie and wiped her eyes. ‘God bless you, Dessie, you’ve no idea how stubborn he is. You’ve always had more luck with our Mary than me, but I tell you, she’s as stubborn as her father, listens to no one. God bless yo
u for trying all the same, and for coming up with a plan. I can’t begin to tell you, I can’t. But he’s still a wonderful father and a good man. My kids have never known the buckle of his belt, unlike many other kids around here.’
‘I know that, Noleen. I’ve worked with my lads long enough to be able to tell which of them come from good homes and Bryan is one. Anyway…’ Dessie looked down towards his own house as he spoke and, looking herself, Noleen saw the fleeting figure of Emily Haycock, hugging the black shadow of the wall across the top of the entry towards Dessie’s back gate. ‘Let me get him out on Friday. Don’t you worry, Noleen.’
‘I can’t help it, Dessie. I see the man I knew disappearing before me very eyes and it scares me so much. Him having a bit of a laugh with you lot would be a great start. What would happen if I was sick? Who would look after the kids, the house and our Paddy? The worry drives me mad.’ Her voice rose in panic again.
Noleen knew the answer to all of her questions and the answer haunted her daily. It would be left to their Mary. Their only daughter, who couldn’t wash a dish without Noleen having to re-wash it, because surely, one day, Lorraine Tanner would grow up a bit, get her way and Bryan would notice the beauty before his eyes and he would be gone from them.
Dessie put his hand out and gave Noleen a gentle pat on her arm. ‘Shhh, nothing is happening to you. Nothing, Noleen. Nothing is happening to anyone. Everyone is safe. We are all doing the same thing, making ends meet. Struggling from one week to the next. It’s life around here, how it is, but you, you have it harder. Still, haven’t you got the best friends anyone could want, all living on your doorstep, and don’t they all worry about you and want to help? This do, on Friday, ’tis a free bar, so don’t worry about the cost. Stan is inviting all of the porter’s lads along with the vets, most of them lost their fathers in the war, and your Bryan will be there. He needs a night out too. The war is long over now, it’s about time everyone started to enjoy themselves again. We’ve all forgotten how to have a bit of fun, a laugh. Call me fanciful, but I get the feeling that life is going to get easier soon. Just you make sure your Paddy is ready for me to get him down there.’
The Mother's Of Lovely Lane Page 12
