Many a Tear has to Fall

by Joan Jonker

  ‘Yer mother was right, Dolly Flannery, so she was.’ Although it was over thirty years since Dolly was a young girl, Bridie was feeling pity for the poor man. ‘Sure, isn’t it a sin to mock a man who is afflicted?’

  Dolly’s laughter filled the room. ‘Bridie, if yer think me mam, God rest her soul, was an angel, wait until I tell yer what she did.’ Leaning her bonny arms on the table, she went on, ‘I came home from school one day, I must have been about eight, and me mam said she’d had the house to pieces looking for the hammer. A nail had come out of the woodwork and the back curtains had fallen down. I can see her now, standing in the middle of our living room and scratching her head, wondering what she could do. She’d tried hitting the nail with a shoe, but it had no effect at all. Then she said to me, “Go and ask Harry to lend me his wooden leg to hammer the nail back in.” I thought she meant it and I must have gone as white as a sheet. “Go on, move yerself. And don’t forget to say please.” Now, because she was in such a temper and likely to belt me one, I was between the devil and the deep blue sea. I could either defy her and get a crack, or knock on Harry’s door and get a crack off him.’

  ‘With his wooden leg,’ Milly said, hugely enjoying the proceedings. ‘And that would have hurt more than yer mam’s hand.’

  Dolly, pausing for effect, noticed the men were sitting on the edge of their seats listening to what she was saying. So she piled the drama on. ‘I ran into the street, sobbing me heart out and wishing me dad would come home from work and save me from a fate worse than death. I could see me mam watching me through the window, so I started to walk up the street to where this Harry lived. Me knees were knocking, me hands shaking and the tears were running down me cheeks. Then I had an idea. I wouldn’t ask Harry if we could borrow his wooden leg, I’d ask for the loan of a hammer. So, feeling very clever, I lifted me hand to knock on his door. I was just inches away from it when I felt a hand grab me by the scruff of the neck and pull me backwards. It was me mam, and I could tell by the smile on her face she’d been pulling me leg all along. “That gave yer a fright, didn’t it?” she said. “I hope it’s taught yer a lesson, yer stupid article. Perhaps next time yer see Harry yer’ll give him a smile instead of shouting names after him.” And d’yer know, I never once called after him after that. And if any of me mates did, I used to chase them.’ Dolly’s mouth was dry with all the talking, and she drank her milk stout in one go. ‘So there yer have it. The story of Peg Leg Pete.’

  ‘After all that,’ Ann said, ‘how did your mother manage to knock the nail in?’

  ‘The nail had never come out! Me mam had staged the whole thing to teach me a lesson. And her and me dad spent the whole night laughing at me for being stupid enough to believe she really wanted to borrow the wooden leg. The whole street got to know and me mates pulled me leg something shocking.’

  ‘My mam sent me out once for a pennyworth of elbow grease.’ Milly chuckled at the memory. ‘The man in the corner shop nearly split his sides laughing. I felt a right nit.’

  ‘When I first started work,’ Norman said, ‘I was as green as a cabbage, didn’t have a ruddy clue. The bloke I was put to work with was a right character. Nothing to look at, mind, he was tall, as thin as a rake and his face had this grey pallor. He reminded me of someone who’d risen from the dead. Anyway, one day he asked me to run back to the factory and ask the foreman for a bubble for the spirit level. And like a bloody fool I did as he asked. I didn’t doubt him for a minute, ’cos he wasn’t one for telling jokes. Well, the boss’s face was a picture. He didn’t know whether to laugh or tell me off for being away from the job. Anyway, he sent me off with a flea in me ear, and it was only when I got outside his office that I heard him laughing so much he must have done himself an injury.’

  ‘I often think of the old days in Ireland, when I was a youngster,’ Bridie said. ‘We were very poor, but so was everyone else, so we thought nothing of it. I have fond memories of those days, so I have. We often went hungry, but when yer have a loving family and many good friends, sure, the rumbling of yer tummy doesn’t seem so bad at all.’

  ‘Why did yer leave Ireland, Paddy?’ Ken asked. ‘It must have been a wrench leaving your family behind.’

  ‘There was no work there and people were starving. My mam and dad were only in their early fifties when they died, and I swear they died because they’d lost the will to live. There was poverty all around, so there was, and no sign of anything better in the future.’ For his size, Paddy had a quiet voice, and with the lovely lilt of Irish mixed in with a Liverpool accent, it was pleasing to the ears. ‘When me and Bridie got married we stayed on to look after her mother. The poor woman was sick, and there was no one else to care for her. Our two boys were born in Ireland, but they remember little of it now. Anyway, when Bridie’s mother passed away, there was nothing to keep us there. No future for our children. So we scraped together enough money for the fare to England. We’ve made a good life for ourselves and the children, but sure, haven’t we left a bit of our hearts in the dear Emerald Isle? No matter how far in the world yer travel, yer never forget the place where yer were born, and that’s a fact. Even the bad times yer remember with fondness.’

  ‘We were poor when I was a kid,’ Lizzie said, a finger circling the dimples in her elbows. ‘I can remember being hungry and having holes in me shoes. But most of all I can remember the laughs we used to have. My ma was a real case, always had a smile on her face and no money in her purse. But somehow she always managed to have a dinner of some sort on the table.’ Her eyes went from the women around the table to the men. ‘I don’t know whether I should tell yer this, ’cos me ma, God rest her soul, would turn in her grave if she heard. But it’s an incident I’ve never forgotten because it made me realise more than anything what me ma had to go through to keep us fed and clothed. As yer know, Friday is always a hard-up day for everyone, what with getting paid on a Saturday. Well, one Friday I got home from school and me ma was in a right state. She didn’t have a slice of bread in the house, never mind a dinner. She’d tried to borrow off the neighbours, but they were as skint as she was. Anyway, she tells me not to take me coat off ’cos I was going to the shops with her. I can remember as plain as day asking her how she could go shopping when she didn’t have a bean. And she chucked me under the chin and said, “Ask no questions, girl, and yer’ll be told no lies. And while we’re out, you keep yer mouth closed no matter what I do.”’

  Lizzie sighed and laced her fingers before laying her arms flat on the table. ‘She did no more than march me down to Irwin’s shop and stood at the counter as bold as brass with her basket over her arm. My knees were knocking, but me ma had a smile pasted on her face. And as true as I sit here, she asked for a large loaf, two ounces of margarine and a quarter of brawn. I was hoping the ground would open and swallow me up. I mean, how was she going to pay for the stuff? Anyway, as the assistant was putting the things in the basket, me ma moves away from the counter and says, “Bloody hell, I’ve dropped me shilling! Get on yer knees, girl, and find it for us, it can’t have gone far.” So there was me, on me hands and knees, looking for something I knew wasn’t there. And I was joined by the girl assistant, who was very kind and sympathetic. She couldn’t see any sign of this missing shilling . . . well, she wouldn’t, would she? Then the manager came over to see what was going on, and me ma told him, with tears in her eyes, that the shilling was all the money she had in the world. I can still see him patting her on the shoulder and telling her not to worry because the shilling must have rolled under one of the counters. Then he got down on his knees as well. And after ten minutes, when even customers were helping by this time, he must have felt a right nit and told me ma she could take the groceries as they were bound to find the shilling when they were brushing up after the shop closed.’

  ‘Ay, your ma had a head on her shoulders,’ Ken said. ‘I think what she did was very clever. Very funny too, ’cos it must have looked hilarious with the manager and everyone on hands an
d knees looking for a bob that never was!’

  ‘Oh, not everyone was on their hands and knees, Ken. Me ma just stood and watched! And on the way home, with the goods safely in the basket, she looked down at me and said, “I couldn’t get down on me knees, Lizzie, ’cos I’ve got a bleedin’ big hole in the sole of me shoe. And after all, I do have me pride.”’

  Amid the laughter that followed, Norman said, ‘Yer must take after yer ma, Lizzie, ’cos you can get blood out of a stone.’

  ‘You can’t leave it there, Lizzie,’ Ann said. ‘What was the outcome?’

  ‘Well, as soon as me dad got in with his wages on Saturday dinner time, she was off like a shot, with her basket over her arm. She didn’t ask me to go with her this time, so I only know what she told me. The manager was very apologetic and said they’d searched high and low and couldn’t find the shilling. He asked if she was sure it was a shilling she’d dropped, as they’d found a sixpence which had rolled under the counter.’

  Paddy’s deep chuckle rumbled. ‘And did yer ma tell him she could have sworn it was a shilling but she could have been wrong?’

  ‘No, she said she’d told enough lies and wasn’t about to add to them by saying the sixpence was hers. So she told the manager that she was sorry to have caused such a nuisance, and it was her own fault for not being more careful. And she paid him the money she owed for the few groceries he’d let her have.’ Lizzie leaned towards Ann and pointed a stiffened finger. Then, wagging the finger, she repeated what her ma had said. ‘“Not one word do yer say to yer dad, understand? He’d have me guts for garters if he found out.”’

  ‘And you never told anyone, Lizzie?’ George asked.

  ‘Not a soul until now. But I learned a lesson that day which has stayed with me all me life. My ma had no intention of fiddling the shop out of the money, she did it out of desperation. All so she could put food in our bellies. Times are hard now for some poor buggers, but they were a damn sight worse in those days.’

  ‘I can remember when I was a lad there were a few times I went around barefoot ’cos me ma couldn’t even afford a pair of second-hand shoes from the market,’ Frank told them. ‘She used to take in washing and scrub floors to earn a few coppers. Me dad was a docker, and it was worse on the docks then than it is now. He was lucky if he got two days’ work in, which barely paid the rent. If it hadn’t been for me ma, we’d have been thrown out on the street and ended up in the workhouse.’

  Lizzie nodded. ‘The women were the mainstay of the families in those days, God bless them. That’s why very few lived to a ripe old age, they were worn out with work and worry.’ Then she banged a clenched fist on the table. ‘This is supposed to be a bleedin’ party, George, what’s happened to the drinks?’

  ‘They’re on their way, Lizzie.’ George caught his brother’s eye. ‘Come on, our kid, give us a hand. The sooner they get their drinks, the quicker they’ll be drunk enough to enjoy themselves.’

  Half an hour later Paddy was persuaded to give a song. And he chose one that was very popular called ‘Maggie’. He had a powerful voice, and the haunting melody and sad words had Lizzie wiping away the tears. Under her breath she croaked, ‘This bleedin’ song always makes me bawl me eyes out.’

  There was a ripple of applause for Paddy when he’d finished, and requests for an encore. But he wasn’t to be coaxed. ‘Let one of the ladies give a turn now.’

  His wife whooped. ‘Paddy Hanrahan, yer know I’ve got a voice like a foghorn, right enough, so don’t be expecting me to make a fool of meself.’

  Lizzie could see by Ann’s face that they didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting her on her feet. Then she had a bright idea. ‘I know, the ladies will all sing together and the men can harmonise. Come on, girls, on yer feet and we’ll do the job properly.’

  ‘Lizzie, I don’t know any songs,’ Ann wailed. ‘I’ve never sung a song in my life.’

  ‘Oh, yer’ll know this one, queen, it’s the song the drunks sing when they’re being thrown out of the pub at closing time.’

  Dolly was all for it. ‘Come on, girls, let’s show the men how it’s done.’ She pulled a face at Bridie. ‘Even the voice of a foghorn isn’t going to get yer off the hook, Bridie. And you, Milly, I don’t care what yer voice is like, get on yer feet. As for you, Ann, yer have no choice. As the hostess ye’re obligated to entertain yer guests.’

  The table was quickly pushed back and the women formed a group. There was some whispering, then Lizzie said, ‘On the count of three, girls. And if yer forget the words, just hum.’ Then she waved her hand as though she was carrying a baton. ‘Now!’

  ‘There’s an old mill by the stream – Nellie Dean,

  Where we used to sit and dream – Nellie Dean,

  And the waters as they flow, seem to murmur soft and low,

  You are my heart’s desire, I love you – Nellie Dean.

  Sweet – Nellie – Dean.’

  The men harmonised all the way through the song, and they did it well. ‘I think we stole the show there, gents, don’t you?’ Ken’s face was flushed with the effects of beer and the warmth in the room. And he was thoroughly enjoying himself. ‘Let’s have another song. What shall it be this time?’

  George made his way over to his wife. She had kept up valiantly with the other ladies and was both surprised and pleased with herself. ‘You did well, love, and you seem to be enjoying yourself.’

  ‘George, I’m having the time of my life. Who would ever have thought I’d stand up in front of people and sing? Well, I won’t say “sing” because that would be flattering myself. I was humming most of the time until I got used to the words.’

  ‘You look lovely,’ he said softly. ‘And I can’t resist a kiss.’

  Ann’s hand went to her mouth and her eyes widened. ‘You can’t kiss me in front of all these people! What will they think?’

  ‘They’ll think I’m a man who loves his wife very much.’ George cleared his throat before facing the neighbours. ‘My wife is of the opinion it shouldn’t be done in public. But I am of the opinion a kiss should be given when the need is there. So, if you’d kindly close your eyes, folks, I’d like to kiss my wife.’

  There were whistles and cat-calls, and Ann’s face was the colour of beetroot. But the action found favour with the ladies. ‘Can yer imagine my feller kissing me like that?’ Lizzie folded her arms, a sure sign she meant business. ‘I bet he’d rather kiss the bar counter in the pub than kiss his wife. The woman that he married and said he loved. And what about those promises to look after me in sickness and in health? Ay, and what about the bit that said yer had to honour me with thy body?’

  Norman was in stitches. ‘How can I look after yer in sickness when ye’re never ruddy well sick, missus? And as for honouring yer with me body, how can I do that when yer turn away as soon as I get down to me singlet?’

  ‘Ay, now, that’s enough!’ Lizzie bristled. ‘There’s no need to start getting personal just ’cos yer can’t be arsed getting up to give me a kiss.’

  Norman was up like a shot. ‘Never let it be said that my loved one is going short in the romance department. Come here, wench.’

  Frank looked across at Paddy. ‘I think we’d better make the effort, otherwise our dear wives will take exception to being left out. And when Dolly gets a cob on, she usually reaches for the rolling pin. Unless the poker is nearer to hand, like, ’cos she’s not really fussy.’

  Paddy got to his size sixteen feet and held his arms wide. ‘Bridie, me darlin’, would yer not be giving yer loving husband a kiss?’

  Frank didn’t have to move from the spot, because his wife came to him. Putting her hands around his waist, she lifted him off the floor. ‘Ah, we can’t leave you out, can we, light of my life? Give us a kiss and make it a real sloppy one.’

  ‘Ay, we’ll have none of that,’ Lizzie said, her arms wrapped around her husband’s waist. ‘Ann runs a respectable house.’ She began to laugh. ‘What a pity she hasn’t got respe
ctable friends to go with it.’

  ‘Would yer mind speaking for yerself, Mrs Woman?’ Bridie stuck her nose in the air. ‘I’ll have yer know that me and me husband are altogether respectable, so we are. Yer could take us anywhere and we’d fit in.’ Hanging on to Paddy’s arm, she lifted her hand and waved grandly, as she’d seen royalty doing on the Pathé News at the picture house. ‘We’re at ease with the wealthy, the hoi polloi and even tramps.’

  ‘We don’t belong with the first two,’ Dolly said. ‘That leaves us with the bleedin’ tramps! Isn’t that nice, coming from someone who’s supposed to be a friend?’

  ‘Don’t be getting yer knickers in a twist, Dolly.’ Lizzie eased herself from Norman’s arms. ‘Come on, George, ye’re the slowest bartender I’ve ever seen. Get yer skates on and dish out the drinks. Then we can have another sing-song instead of standing here all lovey-dovey like lovesick sixteen-year-olds.’

  Ken was following his brother to the kitchen to give him a hand with the drinks, and when he was passing Lizzie he asked, ‘What song are we having next, girl? Just so I can tune me vocal cords, like.’

  ‘I thought a lively one this time, Ken, to get us all going. How about “Wait Till The Sun Shines, Nellie”?’

  ‘Just the job that, girl! Sound as a pound! I know all the words to that so I’ll give yer a solo if yer like.’

  ‘No, we’ll all sing it together, lad. It’s that sort of song, yer see. If yer were singing it on yer own, we’d all join in anyway ’cos we know the words. But later on yer can sing a nice romantic one for Milly, she’d like that.’