Another Man's Child

by Anne Bennett

  The noise hit her first when she left the station, the raucous sound of so many people, their voices rising and the stamp of their feet as they scurried quickly for the day was icy cold and murky too. There was the sound of the horses’ hooves and the clatter of the wheels of the carts they pulled over the cobbled streets and the drone and occasional splutter of the petrol-driven vehicles, where the noise of drivers honking their horns impatiently and shouting warnings for people to move out of the way added to the general cacophony.

  Norah found it all just a little disconcerting initially, but as she wandered around the city, though not straying too far from the docks, she became used to it. She didn’t have the nerve to enter any of the more inviting-looking coffee houses though, but she wished she had because the smell emanating from them was tantalising her and it had been many hours since she’d eaten and she was very hungry. But, she told herself, she had limited funds and was not at all sure how long they would have to last her and, besides, she wouldn’t know what to order to eat in a place like that. She’d never even entered a café in her hometown and it might be very expensive. She had also never tasted coffee and, though it smelt very nice, what if she spent precious money on something she didn’t like and couldn’t drink? She’d just have to hope that food was served on the boat and she wouldn’t get so seasick that she wouldn’t be able to eat it.

  She asked directions to a post office as she made her way back to the docks and found it hard to understand the woman she asked as her accent was so strong. She worked it out, however, and it was as she popped the letter in the pillar box she faced the fact that, despite the time and effort she had spent on the letter, it was extremely doubtful that she would be made welcome in her home ever again. She had worded it with care and apologised for what she had felt driven to do, but there was no way of lessening the blow that another daughter had fled their home.

  The post office also changed her dollars into pounds. She thought there were probably facilities on the boat to do that, but couldn’t take the chance of arriving in England with money she couldn’t use. She felt more secure leaving the post office with some pound notes in her purse, knowing that she could support herself for quite a few days if it took a while to locate Celia.

  She turned for the docks again and joined the queue to board. She had been told the canteen would not be open straight away so she decided to stay on deck for a while and she stood at the rail and watched the choppy grey waves slapping the side of the boat, causing it to list from one side to another. Then came the call for those not travelling to disembark and she watched people scurry down the gangplank. And when the last was off, the gangplank was raised, the thick ropes around the bollards were unwound, the ship’s hooter gave a screech and black smoke billowed from the funnel as the engines began to throb. Norah found she was more excited than nervous as the boat pulled away from the dock and headed off to the open sea. She turned and watched the shores of Ireland recede and wondered how long it would be before she was ever to see her homeland again and knew it might be never if her parents chose not to ever forgive her. That thought did sadden her, but she told herself firmly that there was nothing she could do about her parents’ reaction and she didn’t want to start out on the most exciting journey of her life full of trepidation.

  ‘I’m hungry that’s all,’ she thought to herself and she knew life was always viewed in a more positive light when one had a full stomach, so she headed off to the canteen as the boat picked up speed and sailed into the open sea. The canteen at least was warm and welcoming and she ordered Irish stew and a pot of tea. And how she appreciated that delicious meal and felt almost content at the end of it, which was strange as she had been unhappy for ages. Without Celia, she had been incredibly lonely and when she lost the chance to go to America she had felt very desolate.

  She had also lost the love of Joseph O’Leary too, for when he realised Norah had helped Celia escape, he knew straight away why she had done it – to prevent her sister from going to America, hoping to leave the field open for her. He’d felt amazed that she would go to such lengths, even endangering Celia, for McCadden was not that well known to them, just so she should have her heart’s desire. It pointed to a flaw in her nature and a heartless one, the one that had rejected his love time and again. He also knew that if Norah’s plan had worked she would have thrown his love back in his face once again and left for America without a backward glance and he suddenly felt that she had made a fool of him long enough, just as his friends had been telling him for ages. This time the humiliation and hurt had gone too deep for him to forgive her and he told her so when they met in the town the Saturday after Celia left.

  His words had shaken Norah, for she couldn’t remember a time when Joseph O’Leary hadn’t loved her and so she’d thought he would continue to love her whatever she did. His friends said he did right to finish with her and it was about bloody time. Not long after, Norah saw him walking out with Siobhan Clancy, the big buxom daughter of a farmer who had been a school friend of hers, and she was surprised that she had been so hurt by that.

  The point was all the other chaps thought she had done the dirty on Joseph once too often and they weren’t to chance their hands themselves, so she had been snubbed by more than one or two, which was just what Peggy had prophesied would happen. Even some of the girls were no longer friendly when she met them in Donegal on Saturdays, so when Dan vetoed her going to the dances any more, she scarcely cared, for she didn’t want to risk sitting by herself all night and never being asked up to dance. It did mean though that her life was very mundane and boring and then, when that worrying letter had come from Andy, she had been filled with guilt and knew whatever happened afterwards to her didn’t matter half as much as finding her sister alive and well.

  She left the canteen warmer and replete and rejected the now rain-washed deck, which was peopled mainly by those who were not such good travellers as she was proving to be, and she turned into the first saloon. It didn’t smell very sweet for there was a certain odour from many bodies in damp clothes closeted together. Mixed with this there was also a tangy smell of whisky and the malty smell of Guinness and even a slight whiff of vomit from the unfortunate few who hadn’t made it outside quick enough. But the most prominent stink pervading everything else was the smoke from many cigarettes that hung in the air like a blue-grey fug.

  Almost from the minute Norah came on board the boat, there had been speculation about her from many of the other mainly Irish passengers for few young girls travelled alone. Norah was well aware of it, had even semi-expected curiosity, but some of the single men were looking at her in a way that she found quite perturbing and it brought the priest’s words into focus. Peering through the smelly miasma she saw with a little dismay that there were a fair few of these ogling single men in the saloon she had stepped into. For a moment or two she was unsure what to do, for she had an idea that wherever she sat they could home in on her and even the thought of that made her feel quite intimidated.

  However, her progress was also watched by three Irish sisters. It was obvious to them that Norah was a country girl from her boots and her shawl and Mary, the eldest sister, reasoned it was probably her first time of travelling for she looked nervous and unsure of herself and so she called her over. Norah was pleased to see three such respectable women and approached them eagerly.

  She wasn’t a bit surprised that they were sisters for they all had vibrant red hair and green eyes and looked really similar. They introduced themselves as Orla, Bridget and Mary and Norah worked out that while Orla might be near her age the other two were older. They told her they had been in Ireland at that unseasonable time to attend a family funeral.

  They were openly curious as to what she was doing travelling the Irish Sea alone – and unmarried, they were quick to notice. No way could Norah admit the whole truth, not to these women who would be shocked to the core, so she told them instead the tale she was going to tell the priest when she arrived in
Birmingham later.

  ‘I have a younger sister, Celia, living with an aunt in Birmingham,’ she said. ‘But she has fallen ill and our aunt wrote and told us, but our parents were away in Inishowan when the letter came, seeing my young brother off for he was bound for the States.’ And then, noticing the puzzled looks on the listening women’s faces, she explained, ‘They have to go out in the tender from Moville pier for the liners are anchored in the deeper water of Lough Foyle.’

  Mary nodded. ‘Ah yes, I did hear tell of that. Never seen it myself, but Inishowan is the back of beyond, isn’t it?’

  Norah nodded. ‘It is even from us in Donegal Town, for all it’s still classed as Donegal.’

  ‘Ah but Donegal is a big sprawling county, isn’t it?’ Bridget put in.

  Norah nodded. ‘You’re right, but I have another sister, Katie, and she married an Inishowan man and is now living in Greencastle, which is apparently the next village up the hill from Moville, and no one has seen her for ages, well not since the wedding, and now she has a wee boy that none of us have seen either. So Mammy said that going so far they could go a little further and stay with Katie for a day or two. Even Daddy could be spared from the farm this time of year, especially with my eldest brother Tom there anyway. She even took my little brother and sister as well so they could meet their nephew and she was so excited about it and I knew it would help her to see Katie and her grandson for it would be hard for her to say goodbye to Dermot.

  ‘And so, when the letter came, not long after they left, we deliberated a bit but then knowing that it was from my auntie in Birmingham, where my younger sister Celia is staying at the moment, we thought it might be important and opened it. It told of the illness of Celia but gave no details and so, rather than sending a telegram to my sister for Mammy, which would have frightened her to death and sent them all running straight back again, Tom and I decided that I would come first and see how my sister was before telling Mammy.’

  ‘I think that is very brave of you to come alone,’ Mary said. ‘And I suppose no point worrying your mother unnecessarily.’

  ‘No indeed,’ said Orla. ‘Your sister might be well over what ailed her by now and could be as right as rain when you get to see her. And you’re bound for Bir-mingham now you say?’

  ‘Yes,’ Norah said.

  ‘Well now isn’t that just grand?’ Mary said. ‘For that’s the very place we’re going to as well so we can go together. More fun and safer than travelling on your own.’

  ‘It is,’ Norah said. ‘And thank you, I would be glad to travel with you.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Mary said and Orla put in, ‘Tell you, I’ll be glad to be off this boat though, cos I am frozen to the bone. And I can’t help feeling a wee bit sorry for your brother too for early December is no time to cross the Atlantic.’

  ‘No I suppose not,’ Norah said. ‘But we have a farm, you see, and his help was needed through the spring, summer and autumn.’

  ‘If your father needed his help so much I am surprised he let him go at all.’

  ‘Oh, Daddy was all for it,’ Norah said. ‘Told him he had to take the opportunity offered to him. Because he’d have to make his own way eventually as only my eldest brother, Tom, will inherit the farm.’

  ‘Aye, that’s the way of it all right,’ Mary said, nodding her head in agreement. ‘Women in Ireland wear themselves out rearing big families. I mean, there were nine of us. I was the eldest and well remember how my poor mother was run ragged with us all and one by one she saw her children take the emigrant ships, me included because there is nothing for us in Ireland. Only my eldest brother is left.’

  ‘Nothing much there for people wherever they go these days,’ Bridget remarked. ‘For England and the States are going through a slump as well. And it breaks my heart to see clusters of the unemployed everywhere.’

  ‘And the homeless bedding down wherever they can,’ Bridget said. ‘There are so many of them and I think it’s scandalous.’

  ‘Think the government will lose any sleep over that?’ Mary burst out. ‘If a few freeze to death there will be less for them to worry about. “Land fit for heroes”, my arse.’

  Icy fingers of trepidation trailed down Norah’s spine as she said, ‘So I take it it’s difficult to get work in Birmingham at the moment?’

  ‘Difficult!’ Mary exclaimed. ‘Bloody impossible more like.’ And then she peered a little closer at Norah and said, ‘You’ve gone very pale all of a sudden. Are you all right?’

  Norah was far from all right. ‘No,’ she said as she struggled to her feet. ‘I’m feeling a little sick.’

  ‘Maybe you need some air,’ Orla said. ‘I was just thinking how muggy it is down here.’

  ‘Yes, I think I’ll go on deck for a bit.’

  ‘See if you can spot land yet,’ Orla called and Norah waved her hand as she opened the saloon door and stepped out onto the blustery deck.

  Although drizzly rain was falling and the wind was fierce, Norah was glad of the cold for she hadn’t lied when she said she felt sick but it wasn’t seasickness, or even the stale air in the saloon, but the dreaded fear she had of what had happened to her sister if the job situation was as bad as Mary said it was. She crossed to the rail and held on to it so tightly her knuckles showed white and she peered through the deepening dusk, for the short winter’s day was almost at an end, but she could see a blurred landmass in front of her and she was glad. The sooner she could reach Birmingham and start searching for her sister the better she would like it. She knew if anything bad had happened to Celia she would never ever forgive herself for as long as she lived.

  ‘Well, you look as if you have lost a pound and found a sixpence,’ said a voice beside her and she swung around to see Mary standing there looking at her in a concerned way. ‘I was a bit bothered about you,’ she said. ‘Have you been sick?’

  Norah shook her head and Mary said, ‘You often feel better if you can be. Do you still feel queasy?’

  ‘A bit,’ Norah said. ‘But the fresh air helped a lot.’

  ‘It would,’ Mary said. ‘And is that all that’s bothering you?’

  ‘Why? What do you mean?’

  ‘Well something’s upset you,’ Mary said. ‘You’re look-ing right miserable at the moment.’

  Norah had a great desire to confide in this motherly woman, telling her everything and feeling sure that she would understand much better than her own mother would. But she knew she could tell no one. It was her burden to carry and yet she had to say something and so she said, ‘I’m a bit concerned that I did the wrong thing in not telling my mother about Celia’s illness. It seemed such a simple decision at home and Tom agreed with me, but what if it is serious? The sooner I see Celia the better I’ll feel.’

  ‘I understand that,’ Mary said. ‘And it won’t be long now till we land.’

  Norah lifted her head and saw that Mary was right. Land was much closer, close enough to see the twinkling lights in people’s houses like pinpricks in the darkness.

  ‘We’ll be standing out in this again to disembark soon,’ Mary said, indicating the rain coming down heavier. ‘So if it doesn’t make you feel too sick it would be better to go back to the saloon and stay dry as long as we can.’

  ‘I feel better now anyway,’ Norah said. ‘And my shawl is quite soggy enough. You go ahead and I’ll follow you.’

  The train to Birmingham sped across the now dark night through countryside, vast areas which were black as pitch or murky grey and then they would run by the sides of towns and see the lights in houses and dull lights flickered in the carriages as the train pulled up at dimly lit stations. Norah was tired and more anxious than ever and just wanted the journey to be over. The three sisters were aware of her melancholy and, though not truly understanding it, they still did their best to keep her entertained by telling her about the city her sister had lived in for some months.

  They spoke of the shops. ‘More than you would ever see,’ Orla said. ‘And
a fair few of them on many floors.’

  ‘And the traffic,’ Bridget said. ‘That got you in a right spin as I remember?’

  ‘Haven’t you been in Birmingham that long then?’ Norah asked Orla.

  Orla shook her head. ‘A year,’ she said. ‘And getting a job was the best thing I ever did too, because it gave me money in my pocket for the first time in my life.’

  Norah could so identify with that because she never had money of her own: collection money was doled out to her before Mass as if she was a wean and even when she went into Donegal Town on Saturday for her mother, Peggy knew to the penny how much things cost and how much change she might be due. And so Norah said, ‘I can see the attraction of that. I don’t know what it is to have money in my pocket. Was it easy for you to get a job? I know on the boat you said it could be difficult.’

  ‘Lots of people struggle,’ Orla said. ‘But Bridget spoke up for me.’

  ‘That’s how a lot are set on these days, unless you had a good employer before the war and he saves your job for you, like my Pat,’ Bridget said. ‘He worked at Fort Dunlop and he was called up and they promised him that they’d keep his job for him. Well, he was one of the lucky ones and when he came back, sure enough his job was waiting for him and he goes up by canal barge.’

  A memory stirred in Norah’s brain about McCadden taking the Dunlop workers to work and back every morning and night and thought at least McCadden might be easier to find than she’d thought.

  ‘Is the canal far?’ she asked.

  ‘It isn’t from where we live,’ Bridget said. ‘See, we’re in Upper Thomas Street by the HP Sauce works and you just have to cross the Lichfield Road and go down Rocky Lane. Just a step away.’

  Norah stored all this away, determined to try and seek McCadden out as soon as possible the following day.

  The three sisters began regaling Norah with the delights to be had in Birmingham for young people with a bit of money in their pockets and they talked of things beyond Norah’s ken, like the bargains to be had in the Rag Market, the free entertainment on a Saturday night in a place called the Bull Ring and the music hall, which hosted a variety of acts and moving pictures.