‘Shut up!’ hissed Sonny through clenched teeth.
Dickie, too engrossed in badinage with the crowd to hear him, suddenly felt himself being roughly grasped by the collar and the next minute he was back in the hullabaloo of the fairground. He complained noisily that his weak-stomached brother might at least have allowed him to take full advantage of the extortionate price. But Sonny had vanished round the back of the tent and was splattering his boots with vomit. Angrily the younger boy wiped the tears from his streaming eyes and straightened, rubbing a hand over his strained diaphragm.
‘Come on,’ he said gruffly. ‘Let’s take a ride on the roundabout’ He set off.
‘Are ye sure ye oughtta? I don’t want ye spewing over my best clothes.’
Sonny ignored this. He was desperate to find something that would take his mind from those terrible eyes.
They fought their way through the hordes and Dickie threw his leg over a brightly-painted horse. His brother, still shaken, took the one beside him. The music burbled and the carousel filled up and began to rotate. Sonny embraced the metal pole that supported the horse and leaned his face against its coolness.
Dickie was quick to notice the action. ‘Remember to turn the other way if you’re going to be sick!’ he shouted above the din.
The roundabout gathered speed. The sea of faces that watched its motion became a blurred swathe of colour. Dickie held his hands out before him, showing off as usual and trying to revitalise his brother who had become incredibly dull all of a sudden. He bandied witty remarks with anyone who would participate, tossed his handsome head about and laughed, full of his own self-importance. He was just in the process of placing his feet on the horse’s back when two faces leapt at him from the crowd. He almost lost his balance and sat down awkwardly, straining to look over his shoulder as the faces sailed out of view, hoping that he had been mistaken. But when the merry-go-round completed another circuit and he picked out the faces again his heart sank. There was no mistake.
‘Oh, God I feel sick. Oh, sweet Jesus!’ he muttered, pressing his face into the hardness of the pole. The roundabout had started to slow. ‘Oh, Christ!’
Sonny’s grey eyes held a query that did not extend to words. He watched his brother’s face grow pale as the merry-go-round got slower and slower.
Busy thinking, Dickie took no notice of the questioning look. ‘Listen careful now,’ he said eventually, his voice deadly serious. ‘When your horse gets around to the other side jump off an’ run like hell.’
Sonny came alive. ‘Oh, stab me! What have you got us into now?’
‘Don’t argue!’ hissed Dickie, ashen-faced. ‘Just do it – an’ make sure ye don’t jump off the wrong side else we’ve had it.’ With that he was gone, leaving his bewildered brother to watch him bullock his way through the crowd, pursued by two strapping tinkers.
The carousel whined to a halt and Sonny leapt off. There was still a wide rift in the crowd where Dickie and the tinkers had hacked their passage and Sonny was able to follow without much resistance. By the time he caught up with the trio the tinkers had Dickie cornered in the elbow of a shop wall. He skidded on a muddy patch, noting as he did the look of relief that flooded his brother’s worried face. In one move he had pushed past the tinkers and stood shoulder to shoulder with his kinsman.
‘Ah, now isn’t that nice, Con?’ sneered Garret Fallon softly. ‘He’s brought his nursemaid with him.’ He and his brother were slightly older than the Feeneys. They were dressed alike in drab trousers – Garret’s held up with twine – and jackets that were a size too large, the shoulder-seams coming well past the intended point. Garret was perhaps a trifle more flamboyant than his sibling, with a red neckerchief at his bronzed throat and a gold ring in his right ear. The important factor to the Feeneys, however, was that both looked equally able to use his fists.
‘’Tis a handy sort o’ fella he is, judging by the size of him,’ answered Conor with the same, quiet menace. ‘Handier than the other one wouldn’t ye say?’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that at all, Con. I’d say our friend was real handy in his own little way.’
‘With the womenfolk, ye mean?’ asked Conor.
‘Ah!’ responded Garret.
Conor addressed Sonny. ‘If ye’ve come to save your fnend from a beating I’ve a notion ye’ll be sorry.’
‘If you’ve any argument with my brother then let’s be hearing it,’ said Sonny defiantly.
‘Ah, brother is it? Sure, they don’t look much like brothers, do they, Gary? I mean, the two of us are pretty much a pair – but them? Oh no, they can’t both have the same father, one o’ them has to be a bastard.’ He was looking straight at Dickie. ‘Now I wonder which one.’
Sonny took a step forward. Dickie grabbed him and hauled him back.
‘Ah, we’s got ourselves a fighter,’ breathed Garret, his eyes glittering. ‘Well now, will I tell ye why we’re after your brother before or after ye get your beating? It might as well be before; ye’ll be in no fit state to listen afterwards. See, ’tis like this: this handy fella has been dallying with our baby sister, an’ now he’s left her danglin’ on a thread.’
Sonny turned accusingly to his brother as Dickie spoke up. ‘Will ye make up your mind what it is ye want? I thought it was your wish for me not to bother her in the first place?’
‘So it was, boy! But ye see what we didn’t know when we sent ye packin’ was that ye’d leave her a little souvenir.’
Watching Dickie’s jaw drop, Sonny realised that their escape could only be brought about by dirty methods. The tinkers, versed in the art of street combat, would have to be taken by surprise. He tensed in readiness.
‘I can see ye take my meaning,’ said Garret. ‘So, are ye goin’ to be good and …’ His sentence terminated abruptly in the noisy rush of air that was forced from his gaping mouth as Sonny’s fist sank into his gut. He doubled over, the instant before Sonny’s boot found Conor’s groin, streaking out like a fork of lightning.
Sonny made off, calling over his shoulder, ‘Run, you soft bugger!’
Dickie only tarried to insert his finger into the retching Garret’s earring, ripping it from the lobe and adding to the tinker’s incapacitation, before dashing after his brother. They ran like the wind, angering people in the crowd as they carved their escape route through the packed street, clashing with a pyramid of acrobats and throwing the act into total chaos. They continued to run until their pumping legs had carried them round the corner into Pavement, away from the bright lights, and they were able to lose themselves in one of the many convenient alleyways. Dickie hunched over in the darkness and pressed his hands to his knees, his head hanging down, breathing heavily. When he eventually straightened Sonny saw, amazingly, his eyes gleaming and his white teeth bared in a laugh.
‘That bloody tinker was right!’ he hurled at Dickie. ‘You are a bastard – leaving that poor girl with her belly full. You seem to think everything is a game. You nearly get our heads kicked in and all you can do is laugh! I don’t know why I bothered to rescue you.’
Dickie guffawed loud into the night. ‘Son!’ He slapped his brother on the back, his gleaming teeth rending the darkness. ‘Had I a medal I’d pin it on your chest, but I’ve nothin’ in me pocket save a bent meg.’ He pulled a halfpenny from his pocket, flicking it into the air and catching it ‘But to show me eternal gratitude – an’ if ye can loan me the funds – I’m goin’ to give ye such an evening as ye’ll never forget. This time, boy, we’ll not go home till ye know what it’s all about.’
Sonny shook his head, trying to hang on to his self-control as Dickie lured him towards the maze of public houses. ‘What am I going to do with you?’
‘We’ll find something, brother mine,’ grinned Dickie, wiggling a forefinger on which was looped the tinker’s gold earring. ‘We’ll find something.’
That night Sonny lost his virginity.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The wedding had gone smoothly. The br
ide, as do all brides, looked radiant, the groom uncomfortably smart in his starched collar and top hat. Erin clung to Sam’s arm, deliriously happy as they and their guests spilled from the Gothic church and visited the photographic studio nearby. She couldn’t believe it had all been so easy, so perfect. What had there been to be nervous about? Of course there was still tonight to face, but she was sure that would be dealt with as easily as the ceremony. Things could not have gone better.
Her brothers too had behaved impeccably; model ushers. Dickie caught his brother’s eye as they waited on the footwalk and shared a conspiratorial grin. Sonny was that full of himself! Look at him, with his chest puffed out. You’d think he’d had the entire occupants of a harem instead of just the one. But then Dottie was a nice little piece and Dickie supposed that was the way he himself had acted after his first time.
Sonny tore his grinning face away from his brother’s and fixed his eyes on the photographer’s door, waiting for his sister and her husband to emerge. He still couldn’t believe it – that he’d actually done it at last. He’d heard none of the wedding service. The altar and its figures had blurred into another stage with different players: a bare little garret with a bed, a patchwork quilt, two pillows in plain slips, one sheet on top, one on the bottom, one blanket, one chest of drawers … Sonny remembered everything, every single item in that room. He’d lain there afterwards and soaked it all up, so he’d always remember. He had known from the outset that she was only entertaining him as a favour to his brother and at first had objected to Dickie’s treat. But then, he told himself, it wasn’t as if he loved her and she was so very nice, so kind and instructive and it was after all her job, that he’d wiped aside his priggish doubts and for once had not turned up his nose at his brother’s leavings. And how glad he’d been. He felt himself inside her again, over and over … He had arranged to go back next week – not to participate in some of the same, but to paint her. His brother had roared with laughter when he’d found out. Dottie herself had smiled to show she thought he was cracked. But she had been flattered that he’d found her body so attractive and had agreed to pose naked in order for him to immortalise this important episode in his life – as long as he paid, naturally – she’d made it plain that there’d be nothing else free. He didn’t mind paying for her services as a model, but he wouldn’t be paying for anything else, that would have spoilt everything.
His thoughts went to Agatha then, a naked Agatha that made him blush and he shoved the vision aside. He shouldn’t think of a respectable girl that way. He still felt guilty for the way he’d pushed her from his thoughts on meeting the shallow Annie. Agatha maybe wasn’t as pretty, but she was worth ten of Annie. That was his real reason for inviting her and Rupert over today, to make up for his behaviour and to show how fond he was of her. The naked Agatha crept back into his head.
Someone nudged him and he blushed as he turned to his mother who indicated that the photographic session was over and he should attend to his duties as usher. He began to direct guests to the carriages which hemmed the roadside.
Sam helped Erin into the bridal carriage, then stood with one foot poised on the running board to admire his bride. ‘You look beautiful, Erin,’ he said sincerely. ‘I’m right proud to be sharing this carriage with you.’
Erin, her face a-glow, sat with her skirts puckered around her like a huge gardenia. The landau had been decked with the same spring flowers that garlanded her hair, its impatient, stomping horses harnessed with white ribbons. She felt like Queen of the May. ‘I’m the proud one,’ she replied softly as he climbed in beside her and the driver whipped up the horses. ‘And it’s not only the carriage we’re sharing, Sam,’ she reminded him, ‘it’s the rest of our lives.’
He pressed against her and kissed her cheek, whispering, ‘An’ tonight we’ll be sharing a bed, Erin. Won’t that be wonderful?’
The blush spread like a bloodstain from the scalloped collar of the wedding gown. She veiled her eyes with lustrous dark lashes. ‘Ssh! The driver will hear you.’
‘Eh, I’m sorry,’ he grinned, taking her hand in his. ‘It’s just I love you so much I can’t help thinkin’ about it. I think of it all the time.’
Erin’s face was crimson, yet not without pleasure that he wanted her. She squeezed his hand. She was just a little worried about tonight, that was all. She’d thought perhaps Alice, the maid at the Cummings’ house who’d told her all about ‘it’, might have been wrong. But no, Thomasin had told her much the same last night – at least she’d started to, before Erin, overcome with embarrassment, had told her mother that she already knew. Her mother had patted her hand and said kindly, ‘Ah well, that’s good, you’ll know what to expect, then. I thought I’d just better make sure. I want you to be as happy as I am with your dear father.’ Erin had replied that she was sure she would be, as soon as that was out of the way. Then her mother had laughed as though she’d said something hilarious and said, ‘You’ll learn!’ God, there was so much to think about. Would she make a good wife, a good mother? For she wanted dozens and dozens of children, little Sams running about all over the place … She smiled up at him once more, then clung to his side as the carriage took them home.
Thomasin had engaged two temporary maids for the occasion, much to Amy’s relief. The food had been provided by caterers – there was to be no danger of any of the guests breaking their teeth on Amy’s baking. In the dining room the furniture had been moved and two tables placed together to accommodate the guests. The two maids, Fanny and Sarah, had been rushing back and forth with dishes all morning and now, as the guests trickled in from church, the completed wedding breakfast was spread out in all its glory.
After the meal the ladies retired to the other room while Patrick handed out claret and cigars to the men. He had read about this procedure in the book of etiquette which Hannah had more or less forced upon him but which, in the end, he had been grateful for. It was a shame Father Kelly couldn’t be here to enjoy the fine claret After performing the marriage ceremony he had had to rush off to keep an appointment with the bishop. But with a bit of luck he’d be able to catch the tail-end of the celebrations.
Half an hour later the menfolk went to join their wives and sisters. Hannah was in the middle of a discussion with Sam’s mother when they filtered in and found themselves seats.
‘At what time have you to return home, Mrs Teale? I understand that you live some fifteen miles away.’
‘Sam’s parents are to be guests for the evening, Mother,’ provided Thomasin. ‘I saw no point in them having to spoil their enjoyment of their son’s wedding day by leaving early. They’ll stay until after Sunday lunch.’
‘Oh, then we will be seeing a lot more of each other, as we too are to be guests of my daughter.’ Hannah sipped her sherry and put on her ‘royal’ face as her grandchildren had labelled it. ‘It is fortunate that Thomasin has such a large house, is it not, Mrs Teale?’
Edith Teale, a thin, unassuming woman, smiled uncomfortably. Living in a two-roomed cottage whose roof leaked when it rained, she was unused to these plush surroundings. ‘It’s very grand, Mrs Fenton,’ she said nervously. ‘And so kind of Mrs Feeney to have us stay.’
‘Oh, Thomasin please,’ put in her hostess. ‘After all, we’re family now.’ She had liked Edith, as she had done her son, on sight. It was clear that the poor soul was feeling out of place and Thomasin wanted to do everything she could to make Sam’s mother feel at home. Inside, she found it quite amusing that they were thought of by this humble family as ‘nobs’.
Hannah spoke again. ‘Yes, I expect it comes as rather a treat for you to stay in such a house after what you must be accustomed to. Sam is a very lucky boy to be marrying into this family – I hope you appreciate that, Mrs Teale.’
‘Oh, well… we do,’ stammered Edith, with an uneasy glance at her husband whose face had become a stiff mask.
Hannah forged on. ‘By rights, my daughter could have selected someone far more eligible than Sa
muel – not that he isn’t a dear boy, he is, we all dote on him – but you have to agree that as a butcher’s boy he has not the prospects that I personally would have looked for when choosing a husband for Erin. Still, thanks to my daughter Erin is bringing a splendid dowry to her marriage.’
Thomasin made a gesture for Fanny to refill glasses in the hope that it might relieve the tension. But Hannah was undaunted. ‘I expect your son will rise in the world now that he has Thomasin to guide him; she is a very astute businesswoman you know, Mrs Teale. Oh yes, it is Thomasin who has made that shop the thriving concern that it is.’
Patrick stepped forward, laughed and said bluntly, ‘An’ now y’all know what my mother-in-law thinks of my capabilities.’
There was a ripple of embarrassed laughter and Hannah’s nostrils flared. Erin squeezed her husband’s arm. ‘Don’t pay any heed to Grandma, Sam,’ she whispered as the conversation changed course. ‘Ye’ve heard her before. She’s like it with everyone. I think she could even find fault with the Angel Gabriel ’cause his wings had a feather missing or something.’
Sam remained grim-faced. ‘She can demean me all she likes, but if she keeps on belittling my mother like that I’m going to have to say something, Erin – that’s if Father doesn’t say it first; look at his face. Butcher’s boy indeed! I like that. I’m a qualified tradesman, I’ll have her know.’
Somehow, the topic moved around to the political situation and, with the former danger averted, Thomasin turned her attention to Sonny’s guests, Rupert and Agatha, who seemed to be fitting in very nicely. Rupert was a nice young fellow, well-spoken and very fond of his sister. She studied Agatha, a not unattractive girl, who was hanging attentively onto Sonny’s words. Thomasin, eager for any signs of romance, examined Sonny’s expression. It would be lovely if another of her offspring could find a partner. He did seem to be paying the girl a lot of attention but whether it was out of affection or merely politeness Thomasin could not decide. She rose and went across to the youthful gathering. Sonny offered her his seat.
For My Brother’s Sins Page 31
