A Long Way from Heaven

by A Long Way from Heaven (retail) (epub)

  ‘Oh, not so bad,’ answered Thomasin noncommittally, feet rubbing the hearth.

  ‘That usually means not so good. Yon’s chucked y’out, am I reet?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, clever-clogs, it’s t’other way round.’

  ‘Fancy.’ William raised his brow as his wife carried in a tray of cups.

  ‘Aye, fancy,’ grinned his daughter then, with a sly peep at her mother, said, ‘I’m gettin’ wed.’

  ‘Wed?’ William clapped a hand to his balding head. ‘Eh, I’ll go to… well.’

  ‘Aren’t yer gonna offer congratulations, then?’ Thomasin watched her mother’s face.

  It was her father who spoke. ‘Eh, lass ’course I am.’ The hand slid down his face to his whiskered chin. ‘I’m just that tekken aback, like. By, tha could knock me over wi’ a corpse’s breath. Hannah, didst hear what lass said?’

  Thomasin’s mother showed reserve. ‘When is the wedding going to be? If I am permitted to ask of course, only being your mother.’

  ‘As soon as possible.’ Thomasin experienced his arms around her.

  ‘You’re not?’ breathed Hannah.

  ‘Don’t be daft, Mother,’ replied Thomasin calmly. ‘There’s no bairn on t’way. We just want to be together, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, that’s a relief,’ muttered Hannah as William contributed to the exchange again.

  ‘Eh, lass!’ It was not merely emotion that boosted his tone, William’s voice was always extremely loud. ‘I’m reet glad tha’s found somebody. By, it’s quick though, in’t it? Where’d tha meet him? What’s lad’s name?’

  ‘Patrick, Patrick Feeney.’ She was so pleased he had taken to her announcement.

  The teapot lid crashed to the floor. ‘An Irishman?’ Her mother was horrified. ‘Oh no, don’t do this to us, Thomasin. This is terrible.’ She ignored the broken china at her feet, growing paler by the second.

  ‘D’yer know, yer can be such an obstroculous bugger sometimes, Mother,’ sighed Thomasin. ‘There you were, dead set against me livin’ in sin, as yer so delicately phrased it, I thought yer’d be pleased now I’m gettin’ the proper documents.’

  ‘Pleased?’ Hannah was amazed. ‘Am I supposed to be pleased when my daughter is marrying a ditchdigger? At least this Roland fellow was well-to-do.’

  ‘Don’t be such a bloody snob,’ William chastised, at the same time thinking – bloody hell, a Paddy for a son-in-law, I hadn’t bargained for that!

  ‘It’s too bad of you springing it on us like this, Thomasin,’ sobbed Hannah. ‘It is customary for a gentleman to pay court to a girl and then ask her father if he will consent to the marriage.’

  Her husband and daughter’s response to this was to break into hoots of laughter. ‘It’s a bit academic now,’ snorted William. ‘’Ave I got right word there? I mean, she’s hardly a virginal young maid. She’s been livin’ over t’brush for t’past six months. It’s a bit late for ’er to start behavin’ like a lady.’

  ‘How can you sit there and laugh about it beats me,’ said Hannah between sobs. ‘Any father worth his salt would have put his foot down years ago, but not you, you’re as bad as she is, not one moral between the pair of you.’

  Thomasin and William exchanged pitying looks, then the former said, ‘Er, I’m not sure I liked your insinuation, Father, too late to be a lady indeed.’

  William grinned and slapped her knee. ‘Nay, I meant nowt. Now then, away, less o’ this palaver, when are we gonna meet this fella?’

  ‘Well,’ replied his daughter. ‘I’ve asked ’im to come for tea actually.’

  Her mother paused in her lamentations to prick her ears. ‘When?’

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh, Thomasin!’ Hannah sprang into action, pushing William out of his chair to plump up the cushion and flick her apron over the pot dogs. ‘What on earth will I give him to eat?’

  ‘Well, yer could try pickled armpits or…’

  ‘Don’t be so revolting!’ admonished her mother.

  ‘Well, what d’yer think he eats? They’re not cannibals across the Irish Sea, yer know. He’ll have same as us an’ like it. Any road, yer don’t ’ave to make a start on it right now, d’yer?’

  ‘I have to get the place looking respectable,’ puffed Hannah, darting from pot dog to aspidistra. ‘I can’t have the man thinking we’re all as common as you. Look at the condition of this place! It’s like a rubbish dump.’

  ‘Tell him he can come if he brings his own shovel.’ William gave his daughter a knowing smile. It was typical of Hannah that one minute she classed the Irish as vermin and the next one would think it was the Prince himself who was coming to tea. ‘An’ are we gettin’ this tea or not? That kettle’s boilin’ its arse off.’

  Thomasin held her hands to the fire’s warmth, the glowing coals emphasising the happiness on her face as she thought of her lover. ‘He’ll be bringin’ his daughter round an’ all,’ she informed them, matter-of-factly.

  Another piece of china hit the floor. ‘Daughter!’ shrieked Hannah and put a hand to her brow. ‘Oh, I’ve come over all faint. Help me to a chair, somebody.’

  ‘Go get that whatsit out o’ cupboard, Tommy,’ urged William, wafting his wife’s face with a newspaper.

  Thomasin reached into the cupboard for the smelling salts and shoved them under her mother’s nose while William still flapped his newspaper.

  ‘Oh dear, I don’t know what the world is coming to,’ whined Hannah, then smacked viciously at William’s efforts. ‘Get out!’

  ‘No need to take it out on me,’ he said airily and resumed his seat.

  ‘He’s a widower, Mother, that’s all,’ explained Thomasin. ‘People’s wives an’ husbands do die, yer know.’

  ‘Wi’ a bit of luck,’ murmured William.

  Hannah groaned. ‘Think what you’ll be saddling yourself with, girl. You’ve seen the way these people live, there are plenty of them around here to illustrate. They’re so… unhygienic – and if his child is anything like the ones I’ve seen… well…’ She shuddered at what the neighbours would say when they saw the Irishman and his daughter entering her spic and span home. ‘Could you not bring them for supper instead?’

  ‘Don’t think I don’t know what’s goin’ through your mind,’ Thomasin told her sternly. ‘Yer think I should bring ’em when it’s dark so no one’ll see ’em.’

  ‘Nothing of the sort.’ But Hannah blushed. Her daughter’s shrewdness could be disconcerting sometimes. ‘I just thought it might be more convenient that’s all.’

  Thomasin, though annoyed at her mother’s attitude, decided to employ a rare diplomacy. ‘All right, I’ll bring ’em for supper then — but I ’ope you aren’t gonna behave like this when they’re ’ere?’

  Hannah straightened her spine. ‘Unlike some people I do know the meaning of good manners,’ she said coolly. ‘I hope I can expect the same of your Intended. For instance, where is he going to take you to live after you are wed?’

  Her mother’s question took Thomasin by surprise. Everything had happened so swiftly. ‘I suppose he’ll be takin’ me to where he lives now; I hadn’t really given it much thought.’

  ‘Typical,’ snorted Hannah. ‘You rush into these things headfirst without a thought of what you may be getting yourself into. Ah well, I suppose it is too late now to change your mind?’ She gave her daughter a hopeful glance, which Thomasin chose to ignore.

  ‘Eh, look at me,’ she yawned. ‘Tired out, I am. D’yer mind if I get up to bed? I’ve had a ’ard day what with ’aving’ to clean t’ouse from top to bottom. Well, I thought it were only right, I couldn’t leave place in a tip, could I?’ She thought of Roland’s gifts to her which she had parcelled up and left in the drawing room with a note of explanation. She had not deemed it right to flaunt these trophies in Patrick’s face. The only concession to this honourable line of thought had been the green satin gown that she had worn to the theatre that last night spent with Roland; it was so pretty that s
he could not bear to parcel it up with the others and had brought it to her parents’ house, where it would stay. When she went to Patrick it would be with only the things she had bought from her own money. She stood and yawned again.

  ‘You’ll have to make up your own bed,’ snapped her mother. ‘We weren’t expecting you.’

  William winked and smiled fondly. ‘Goodnight, lass, sleep tight, mind t’bugs don’t bite.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  He looked a great deal smarter when next she saw him. In his top hat, frock coat and tight, striped trousers she thought it was a stranger who waved to her as she tripped along Goodramgate – their arranged trysting place – until she was close enough to see those twinkling eyes. The clothes had been a necessary purchase; what numskull would go to call on his prospective in-laws in his workaday togs? Even second-hand they had effectively scrambled his savings. He would have to return them to the pawnshop after they had served their purpose.

  Thomasin was well-decked out for the occasion too. The straw bonnet she wore had deep pink ribbons that hung to her waist, breaking the monotony of her white blouse. A similarly coloured ribbon sashed her waist, from where fell a wide, flounced skirt of sage green.

  She showed him the city then, revealing its finer points. Love making him see it through her eyes, it became not such a bad place after all. Truth to tell, he hardly saw anything but his partner, following her dutifully around the narrow streets, missing the minute detail that flavoured its character: the brightly-coloured cigar store Indians with their head-dresses of tobacco leaves, giant boots and brushes that advertised the commodity to be found within each quaint establishment. Then the bigger things: the city’s defences, the Bars where the heads of traitors had been impaled, and the Minster.

  ‘Now tell me York’s an ugly place if yer dare,’ she challenged as they stood in the shadow of the great cathedral.

  He shook his head as if seeing it for the first time. ‘I can’t ever visualize anyone actually building it, can you?’ Surely it had forced its way out of the earth; its gleaming towers raked the sky, making him feel dwarfish, a nonentity. He turned to study her face. ‘Ye really love this place, don’t ye? I can feel it.’

  ‘Aye, I do – but not as much as I love thee.’ It was the first time she had said it. How banal those three words could sound when not backed by physical enactment. She squeezed his arm. ‘Eh, look at us, behaving like an old married couple.’

  ‘Sure, I wish we were,’ he returned the squeeze. ‘’Tis hard work being pure – not that you’d know.’

  ‘Ey,’ she straightened his cravat. ‘That’s no way to get yourself an invitation to supper.’

  ‘Ye’ve done that before,’ he said as her fingers patted the adjusted cravat.

  ‘An’ no more o’ that neither,’ she scolded, seeing the jealous tinge in his eye. ‘All that’s over with, yer not to keep fetching it up. I told yer I’d move back in wi’ me parents an’ so I ’ave.’

  ‘I beg milady’s pardon – an’ what was that about supper?’

  ‘Me mother’s invited us.’ Only a white lie. ‘An’ I thought yer were gonna take me to see where you live an’ to collect yer daughter?’

  ‘So I am.’ He gave a tight smile. ‘Though I doubt it’ll be as edifyin’ as this.’

  Nothing could have prepared her for what lay at the end of that dingy passageway. She stood there, unable to stop the involuntary urge to cover her nose; the smell was atrocious.

  ‘Diabolical, isn’t it?’ said Patrick sympathetically. ‘Though I think I ought to warn ye it might not be as bad as the stink my friends kick up when they meet ye; see, they’re not keen on me marrying an Englishwoman.’

  ‘What a time to tell me,’ she sighed, then lifted her skirts and followed him, attempting unsuccessfully to avoid stepping in something unsavoury. She scraped her boot along the step as Patrick opened the door to Molly’s home.

  ‘Hello to ye, Molly,’ he shouted. ‘Have ye got the water on to boil? ’Tis a nice cup o’ tea I’m beggin’.’ He pushed Thomasin forward into the circle of hostile faces. ‘Tommy, I’d like ye to meet my friends. This is Molly Flaherty.’ Thomasin held out her hand to the angular woman with wonderfully high cheekbones which were spoilt by deeply-set eyes.

  Molly grunted at Thomasin then turned her back and busied herself with making the tea. Patrick tried to curb his annoyance and introduced her next to Jimmy Flaherty who grudgingly shook her hand and would have smiled at the good-looking woman had his wife not ordered him to assist her.

  Patrick then pointed to an ancient crone who peered myopically through milky eyes. ‘This is Bridie O’Hara, another of our neighbours. Bridie, this is my wife-to-be.’

  The wizened old lady puffed energetically at the pipe that was clamped between toothless gums, then held out a clawlike hand despite Molly’s reproachful glare. Thomasin took the hand, grateful that one person at least did not have to be won over. ‘Hello, Mrs O’Hara.’

  ‘Good day to ye, child.’ The voice was surprisingly youthful and seemed wrong for this wrinkled ageing shell. ‘Don’t take no notice o’ her.’ She nodded at Molly. ‘We’re not all agen the English, ye know.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ replied Thomasin. ‘I was beginnin’ to wonder.’

  ‘Ah no, we’re not all like that,’ repeated Bridie. ‘’Tis glad I am that someone’s come to make this wee boy happy; life’s not dealt him the hand he deserved.’

  Thomasin smiled at Bridie’s description of Patrick as a ‘wee boy’. ‘Well, I ’ope things’ll change now, Mrs O’Hara. I’ll do me best to make ’im ’appy, an’ I’d like to think that Pat’s friends can be mine.’

  ‘So they can, darlin’,’ answered Bridie giving Molly a meaningful look. ‘If some o’ them put their narrow minds to it.’ Molly sniffed haughtily.

  Patrick ignored this and introduced the Flaherty children one by one until he came to a young girl with enormous blue eyes – eyes like saucers, thought Thomasin – and long black hair that was tousled and tangled into a bouffant nest.

  Thomasin stared back into those brilliant orbs, so beautiful yet so full of hate and defiance. There was a black, sticky ring around Erin’s mouth which was clamped together obstinately, and she could actually see tiny creatures creeping about in the infant’s hair. How could she take her home to see Mother? That would be the final humiliation. Hastily unclipping her reticule she lifted out the doll which she had hoped might aid the introduction and held it out to Erin, trying desperately to think of something nice to say. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Erin. Yer daddy’s told me a lot about yer. I hope we can be friends.’ Silence. ‘Here, I’ve brought yer a little present.’

  Erin refused to be charmed. Her pride and loyalty to her dead mother refused to allow her to accept the gift that Thomasin still tendered. The Flaherty children sidled round in awe and one of them even had the temerity to touch the doll’s face until Molly chased them all into the yard and slammed the cracked mugs onto the table. Before Patrick could stop her Erin had slipped out also, leaving Thomasin looking disconsolately at the doll.

  ‘She’ll get used to the idea in time,’ comforted Patrick. ‘’Twas very thoughtful of ye to bring it for her.’ She nodded and replaced the doll in her bag. ‘Forget about that ungrateful spalpeen for the time being. Sit down an’ drink your tea.’

  Thomasin examined the grubby, cracked mugs that held the tea then noticed Molly’s defiant expression. She took a sip, much as it disgusted her. ‘That’s the best cup o’ tea I’ve tasted in a long while, Mrs Flaherty.’ Who knew? – maybe flattery might help.

  Molly inclined her head, then held out a plateful of stale-looking bread and butter which Thomasin declined politely. This was going to be much harder than she had thought.

  ‘We’ll be going to see our new home when we’ve finished here,’ ventured Patrick.

  Molly turned to Bridie conversationally. ‘Ye know, people aren’t what they used to be. Everyone used to stick together
an’ not bother with outsiders but now there are some that’re more English than the English. They start movin’ away to fine houses an’ their old friends aren’t good enough for them any more.’

  Patrick shot to his feet. ‘That’s not the case an’ you know it! Sure, ’tis only a few yards away I’m movin’, an’ if you’re not good enough for me than what am I doin’ sitting here?’

  ‘Did I mention any names?’ asked Molly, feigning innocence. ‘Did I, Bridie? Did I mention…’

  ‘I know an’ you know what ye meant! An’ I’m not stoppin’ here to be insulted. Come on, Thomasin let’s go an’ sit for a while in my house where the company’s more polite.’

  Thomasin pursued him into the yard leaving Molly and Jimmy to hang in the doorway.

  ‘She wasn’t so bad,’ muttered the latter, receiving a slap from his wife.

  A fat man with piggy eyes approached Patrick. ‘Oy, I want a word wi’ you lot.’

  ‘Not now, Raper,’ growled the Irishman, trying to move round him.

  ‘I want to make a complaint,’ Raper persisted, barring Patrick’s escape and addressing Molly and her husband also. ‘It’s about time you dirty buggers sorted yerselves out. I can’t ’ave all this ’ere filth clutterin’ up yard, there’s no room for my stock.’

  ‘Huh, I like that!’ Molly stepped forward, her eyes narrowing even further. ‘’Tis you who contributes to the mess more’n any of us. Ye don’t seem to be too concerned about our children gettin’ sick from all the stuff that comes out o’ your slaughterin’ house.’