Pack Up Your Troubles

by Anne Bennett

  When Maeve surveyed the flat the following day she felt her heart sink. Never had she seen such filth. It made the house in Bell Barn Road, from which she’d rescued Angela years before, look clean in comparison, and the smell was indescribable.

  Gwen, coming up behind Maeve, said, ‘Awful, isn’t it?’

  ‘I can’t believe people live like this,’ Maeve said. ‘And they had children too.’

  Despite the coldness of the day she strode across to the windows and threw them open. All that day and the next she boiled kettles and scrubbed and bleached at the dirt-encrusted surfaces and the filthy floors. The third day she began washing down the walls and doors, and by the fourth day, the place was once again habitable. She brought Syd up for a look. Most of the lino had had to be ripped up and many of the walls, although clean, looked dingy, but most places then were looking decidedly shabby. There had been little incentive for years and no materials to renovate property. Now people were becoming bored with their dull homes and beginning to decorate again.

  Syd said, ‘That’s grand, Maeve. I’ll give the whole place a lick of paint now, put a bit of nice wallpaper on the living room and fresh lino on the floor. This time, though, we’ll choose our tenants with care, make sure we get someone decent.’

  ‘I should,’ Maeve said. She gave a sudden shiver and a fit of coughing shook her frame. Syd looked at her and saw her eyes were red-rimmed and her cheeks had an unhealthy glow.

  ‘You all right?’

  ‘Bit of a cold,’ Maeve said. ‘Can’t wonder at it: the weather’s been bitter.’

  ‘Aye, and you’ve been working in this icebox now for nigh on four days. I should get yourself away home and into your bed,’ Syd advised.

  ‘No, I’m fine,’ Maeve protested. ‘I’ll just give the gas cooker a good clean.’

  ‘The gas cooker will keep,’ Syd said. ‘Get yourself away.’

  Maeve did feel groggy. She’d been light-headed since she’d got up, but thought she’d work it off. And she could have stayed in bed too. It was a Saturday and everyone had something to do. Jamie was going with a friend and his dad to see the Blues play, and Nuala and Matthew were taking the girls to the Bull Ring. Maeve knew they wouldn’t be back for a good while yet. It was only just after dinner.

  Syd was so concerned about her, he took her home in the van, and she was glad he had because her legs felt decidedly weak. At home it was bliss to lie back under the covers, even in the freezing bedroom, and in a few minutes she’d fallen asleep, still fully clothed except for her shoes.

  When she woke up, dusk had fallen and she felt an urgent need to use the lavatory. She always spurned the bucket in the corner, unless it was in the dead of night, and so she staggered down the stairs, took her coat from the peg and, pushing her feet into her boots, she clattered her way across the yard.

  She hadn’t been in the lavatory very long when she became aware of low voices outside the door and she recognised one as Nuala’s. They must all be back, Maeve thought, and hoped Nuala didn’t need the lavatory, but then she asked herself why else would she be in that dark and secluded part of the yard?

  She was just about to call out that she was in there when she heard Nuala say, ‘It can’t go on, Matthew. It’s wrong, so terribly wrong.’ Her voice sounded urgent and upset.

  Maeve sat frozen on the lavatory seat. Matthew? And it was Matthew – her Matthew – that answered. ‘I know and I’m as sorry as you are. I have every reason to be grateful to Maeve, I know that, and anyway I do care for her. I couldn’t live with myself if I reneged on her now.’

  ‘I wouldn’t let you do that even if you’d been willing,’ Nuala said.

  ‘But, Nuala, I love you so dearly.’

  ‘Hush, you mustn’t say such words to me,’ Nuala said. ‘We must keep away from one another. I’m lodging with the mother of a friend at work from next week, as you know, and that will help. I’ll look for another job as soon as I’m settled.’

  Matthew groaned. ‘I can hardly bear not to see you now and again as we’ve been doing. It’s kept me sane these past weeks – the only good thing to come out of the whole bloody mess I’ve made of everything.’

  ‘We can’t go on this way and you know it,’ Nuala said. ‘You know full well what could happen. Our feelings for one another are such that they could easily overwhelm us. Even when we’re out with the children I have to fight the urge to touch you and I have no right to you at all. You belong to Maeve.’

  ‘I long for you too,’ Matthew admitted. ‘I dream about that one kiss we shared.’

  ‘That should never have happened,’ Nuala said sharply. ‘I love my sister, Matthew, and I will not betray her.’

  ‘I know.’ There was a resigned tone in Matthew’s voice. ‘Then it’s goodbye for us?’

  ‘Yes,’ Nuala said, and added sadly, ‘There will be no more walks together. This is the only way we can deal with this madness.’

  ‘Can I kiss you one last time?’

  ‘No,’ Nuala said, but her voice was husky and Maeve, listening behind the door, heard the longing in it.

  ‘A goodbye kiss?’ Matthew said. ‘To remember through the bad times ahead?’

  Even through the wooden door Maeve heard the sigh and then the rustle of their clothes, as they drew together. She leant against the door, devastated by what she’d heard. She was deeply, deeply hurt that Matthew should talk about Nuala keeping him sane and asking for a kiss to ease him through the bad times ahead! And Nuala – what right had she to entice her man away and her not five minutes away from a life of celibacy? And if she decided marriage and a family was what she wanted, why had she to latch on to Matthew? Wasn’t Birmingham chock-full of available men that belonged to no one?

  And then Maeve was angry. She felt the anger running through her veins till she was almost consumed by it. She burnt with more than a fever. She threw open the door violently, startling the two people clasped together. They sprang apart and stared at Maeve as if they couldn’t believe their eyes. They had no idea she’d be back so soon.

  ‘How long has this been going on?’ Maeve demanded.

  Nuala couldn’t speak. Her mouth dropped open, but no sound came out. She was filled with shame. The only thing she’d shared with Matthew was a kiss and it had shown their feelings for each other better than words would have done. If Nuala had been honest she would have liked it to have gone further and that in itself was a mortal sin. She knew Matthew felt the same and though the age gap between them was great, he was the man she loved and she recognised that not long after she’d arrived in Birmingham. She also knew he was the one man she couldn’t have.

  Matthew saw that Nuala was unable to speak, and guessed at the thoughts tormenting her very soul. From her he looked to Maeve – lovely, generous, kind-hearted Maeve – and he too was filled with shame. He heard the angry words she’d spat at them both and saw her eyes flashing even in the dim light of the yard, and knew he’d dealt her a deep hurtful injury. It was no use lying to her as well.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Maeve,’ he said earnestly. ‘Nuala and I have discovered we love one another. It wasn’t planned or anything like that. It just seemed to creep up on us.’

  ‘It just crept up on you?’ Maeve repeated. She was glad for the support of the door jamb, for her legs were shaking and, despite the cold, she’d felt sweat globules break out on her forehead. She wished she felt more in control, more able to cope with this. ‘Were you going on to marry me and tell me nothing about the feelings you had for my sister?’ Maeve asked Matthew, and he nodded miserably.

  ‘I would have given Nuala up. I would never have cheated on you,’ he said. ‘We were agreed you would never know.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘Now that is up to you.’

  Maeve saw her dreams for the future shatter before her eyes. She’d wanted to be a respectable married woman, living with a man that she cared for in a decent neighbourhood. She wanted a father for her children and to be part of a proper famil
y once more. She wanted a neat little house with front and back gardens where the children could play in safety. Now she knew it would never be and she remembered Elsie warning her about Matthew’s friendship with Nuala. How wise she’d been. Maeve knew suddenly she’d not want to see Matthew and Nuala again.

  ‘You think I’d marry you knowing your heart is with another?’ she spat at Matthew. Turning to her sister she said, ‘I want you to pack up your things and move out of my house now, tonight.’

  Matthew saw Nuala stagger against the wall in shock ‘Ah, will you have some pity?’ Matthew cried. ‘Where is she to go?’

  ‘Pity?’ Rage filled Maeve’s being and she said through gritted teeth, ‘Why the hell should I have pity for her? She’s behaved like a harlot under my very roof and I don’t give a tuppenny damn where she’ll go, as long as it’s away from my house. You can both go to the devil for all I care. Now, Matthew,’ she snapped, turning to the red-faced man before her, ‘you go up to the house this minute and say goodbye to Angela. I’ll look after the child until you can make other arrangements.’

  ‘Maeve—’ Nuala began, but Maeve hissed, ‘Be silent! Don’t even try to say you’re sorry again. I’m away to the house now and then to my bed, for I was sent home sick from the shop today. I will leave it to you to tell the children what you will.’

  And so saying Maeve pushed herself away from the wall and stood for a moment while the courtyard stopped swaying in front of her. A spasm of coughing doubled her over and Matthew realised she was really ill. Had he been able to see her face properly he’d have noticed sooner. He put his hand on her arm. ‘Let me help you,’ he pleaded. ‘You’re in no fit state.’

  ‘Remove your hand!’ Maeve said in clipped icy tones Matthew had never heard her use before.

  He let his arm fall to his side and stood with Nuala, watching Maeve’s shambling and erratic progress up the yard.

  Maeve kept her head lowered and concentrated on putting one foot before the other, and although the cobbles of the courtyard swam before her eyes, she willed herself not to collapse. She couldn’t have borne it if Matthew and Nuala had come to her aid.

  She made it, though she almost fell in through the door, and Bridget turned from where she was filling hot-water bottles for their beds. ‘Mammy!’ she cried, and then, looking at her more closely, said, ‘Are you ill, Mammy?’

  ‘Yes, pet,’ Maeve said. The short journey from the lavatory had tired her out and she sat gasping and coughing in the chair. ‘Get me a cup of tea, Bridget love?’ she asked between coughing bouts.

  ‘You should be in bed, Mammy,’ Bridget said worriedly. ‘I’ll put the bottles in your bed instead of the weans, to warm it up for you.’

  ‘I’ll go up in a minute when I’ve had a cup of tea and got my breath back,’ Maeve promised.

  Nuala and Matthew came in after her and Maeve averted her eyes, but it went unnoticed. Nuala walked past them all and went straight to the stairs and, after making a cup of tea for her mother, Bridget followed Nuala with the hot-water bottles. She watched with astonishment her aunt pushing her clothes into her case.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m leaving,’ Nuala said, and Bridget knew by the catch in her voice that she’d been crying.

  ‘I thought that was next weekend.’

  ‘Aye, well, plans have changed.’

  ‘Are you all right, Aunt Nuala?’

  ‘No, child, I’m not,’ Nuala said sadly. ‘I’ve hurt your mother and hurt her badly and I don’t know that she’ll ever recover from it, and now I must leave here tonight.’

  ‘What have you done?’ Bridget asked, her eyes wide with astonishment.

  ‘You won’t properly understand this, Bridget,’ Nuala said, ‘but Matthew and I have found that we love each other.’

  ‘You can’t love Uncle Matthew!’ Bridget cried. ‘He’s marrying Mammy.’

  ‘No, Bridget, he’s not.’

  Bridget sprang away from her aunt, her eyes wide and disbelieving. Nuala wasn’t interested in men. She’d been a nun! ‘How could you do that to Mammy?’ she cried. ‘You’re disgusting. Matthew was marrying Mammy. What have you done?’ Nuala could only shake her head helplessly, and Bridget said, ‘Well, I’m glad you’re leaving. I never want to see you again.’

  Downstairs, Matthew was having just as hard a time as he tried to explain everything to Jamie, Angela and Mary Ann, and also Grace, who’d stepped through the door from work just as he’d begun. All the children, including Angela, seemed to think it was a crying shame and their sympathies were all with Maeve, who lay fighting for breath in the chair.

  Even Angela was ashamed of her father. Much as she loved him and Nuala too, any mothering she’d got had been from Maeve and she faced her father and said, ‘I’m not going to live with you if you don’t marry Mammy Maeve, and I don’t want to leave here.’

  ‘You must come with me, Angela. You’re my daughter,’ Matthew said gently.

  Angela stamped her foot. ‘I’ll not,’ she cried.

  ‘You can’t impose on Maeve for ever.’

  Angela didn’t know what impose meant, but it didn’t sound a good thing to do, so she said, ‘I’m not.’ She put her little hand on Maeve’s shaking shoulders and said, ‘Tell him I haven’t to go, Mammy.’

  ‘It’s up to your father,’ Maeve said between her gulps for air, though her heart ached for the confused child.

  Angela knew she had to make a stand. Maeve was too sick to help her and she faced Matthew angrily. ‘You make me go,’ she said threateningly, ‘and I’ll hate you for ever and ever.’

  Matthew looked at his daughter’s fierce and malevolent little face and knew she meant every word she’d said. For love of Nuala, he would have to give up his daughter. He knew that if he forced her away from the Hogan family, he would lose any love or respect she might have for him. On the other hand, if he gave in to her now, he might in time be able to build some sort of relationship with her later.

  He gave a sorrowful sigh. ‘If Maeve agrees,’ he said, ‘then you can stay a wee while longer.’

  Maeve didn’t really want a reminder of Matthew Bradshaw in her life. But then she looked at the pleading eyes of Angela, full of fear and confusion, and felt the child’s hand tighten in her own, and knew she couldn’t punish the child because of her father’s actions. She loved Angela as much as her natural children and she smiled at the child, though it seemed to take all her reserves of strength. ‘If you wish to stay, Angela, then you shall stay,’ she said, and Angela gave a whoop of joy and threw herself on Maeve with such gusto that she felt waves of dizziness as Angela squeezed her tightly.

  ‘Leave her, Angela,’ Grace admonished, pulling the child back. ‘Come on, Mammy, away to bed with you. I’ll bring you up a wee bit of supper later.’

  Maeve allowed herself to be led from the room. Bridget and Nuala had come down and stood in stony silence and Matthew, knowing nothing could be salvaged by staying, took Nuala’s case from her.

  ‘Well, we’ll be off then,’ he said.

  No one answered and as the door closed behind them there was a collective sigh of relief. Grace came back into the room and said, ‘Mammy is going to have a wee sleep and I’ll see if she’ll eat something later, so don’t you dare wake her up when you go up to bed. She’s put up with enough already tonight.’

  And all the children agreed she had. Saturday was bath night for them all usually, for there was Mass in the morning, but Grace didn’t feel like tackling that on her own. The heart seemed to have been sucked out of her by the events of the evening.

  She was shocked by Nuala’s actions. They’d been close to one another and yet Grace had noticed nothing and Nuala hadn’t said. Well, Grace thought, it was over between them now. She’d never feel the same about her aunt again. She was a snake; anyone who would do that was a snake. Yet Grace felt a sense of loss, for she’d once loved Nuala like a sister and knew that no friend, and not even her mother, would be able to take her p
lace.

  But she knew her mother’s sense of loss and hurt would be greater than her own. Now Grace knew she’d be trapped in the little back-to-back house all her days. The others would all leave in time, but her mammy would languish there on her own. She gave a sigh, knowing nothing she could say or do would make things better for her mother at the moment. She decided to make a cup of tea for herself and have an early night.

  She usually went out with her friends on Saturday evenings, but she wouldn’t leave her mother when it was obvious she wasn’t at all well. Anyway, she had an idea she’d have a lot of work to do in the morning, because she couldn’t see her mother being one bit better.

  Grace was right, Maeve was quite ill indeed. Dr Fleming, who had to be called eventually, said she had bad bronchitis and must keep to her bed for at least a week and possibly much longer. By then, the whole neighbourhood knew of the sister who’d once wanted to be a nun, who had taken the intended husband of the other. And besides that, the man’s own child was left with the woman he threw over. It was an absolute disgrace.

  Elsie was a tower of strength to Maeve. Maeve knew she’d been disgusted by Nuala and Matthew’s actions, but she didn’t keep on about it. She just said that feelings were funny things and there was no telling where they might light, but that didn’t mean you had to give in to them.

  Maeve let them all talk round her as she lay in bed, a luxury she hadn’t enjoyed for years, deeply hurt by Matthew’s and Nuala’s betrayal. She remembered the plans she and Matthew had made for the future, the way they’d talk in the long evenings by the fireside, and the joy they’d shared in the children. She wondered how and why it had all gone wrong for them. She thought she knew Matthew inside out. Well, that’s it, she decided, she was finished with men. They brought nothing but trouble.