The Four Streets

by Nadine Dorries

  Maura placed the box of beetroots across the top of the pram and walked on to the homes in the other three streets that would become communal kitchens for the day. When she reached the door, she called out through the back gate from the entry, ‘I’ve an extra treat,’ and handed over to each one their share of the vegetables and meat, plus eight big beets. ‘Chop them into slices after you’ve boiled them, that way everyone can have a share.’

  ‘Ye got beets for free from that thieving git?’ said Mrs Keating. ‘Well, ye never know, maybe pigs do fly.’

  Now, everyone was happier. They might have had nothing. They might all have been poor, and this morning they had been facing misery and hungry bellies. Some were smoking what was left of old fag ends in dirty ashtrays and, as a result, they were bad-tempered. Now, everyone was pulling together and an atmosphere of something close to joy had settled on the four streets, as the kids played together, wrapped up against the March wind, aware something close to a party was about to take place.

  Kathleen’s kitchen became a hive of activity, as did the three others. As a result of Kathleen’s thinking, each child would go to bed on a full belly of Irish stew. The women tripped in and out of each other’s houses, sharing out the vegetables to be prepared and chopped. Once the beetroots were cooked, they were peeled and put into a large bowl, another gift from a ship’s kitchen, and then the ingredients for the stew were put into the pan to cook. The neck end of lamb needed to simmer all day to soften and then break down into stringy lumps. The carrots were put in at midday and then the potatoes in the last hour before the stew was thickened up with flour and gravy browning. The women had also made soft floury bread, which was still warm and ready to be dipped into the gravy.

  At suppertime each child brought a bowl and a spoon into Kathleen’s kitchen, where she and Alice were dishing up. On the top of each bowl of Irish stew they laid slices of beetroot and on top of that a warm floury cob. You could hardly hear yourself speak for the excited chatter of children sitting on the stairs, as well as all over the kitchen and living-room floors.

  ‘Thank ye, Auntie Kathleen, thank ye, Auntie Alice,’ they all shouted, after they had taken the first mouthful, before getting down to the serious business of eating. As each child slurped and ate, silence descended on the house.

  This was thrilling for the children. They had none of the worry of making ends meet. To them, this was an adventure, a break from the usual routine, underpinning the fact that they were all one big family and would always look after each other. Mothers wove their way among the children, helping the little ones to eat, making sure they were safe and could manage to spoon the food without spilling any. The women exchanged happy smiles with one another. This was a job well done. This was what their community was about. Together, they could beat anything.

  Kitty did her bit to help, but she was feeling ill and the smell of the stew turned her stomach. She had helped to look after Joseph and, earlier in the day, once the pram was empty of vegetables, she and Nellie had taken him for a walk. They both kept looking over their shoulders for runaway cars as they ambled along the cold streets, wheeling Joseph to sleep after his lunchtime feed.

  Nellie had noticed Alice was helping out in the kitchen, peeling carrots, which she thought was nice. Alice didn’t see that Nellie and Kitty had taken Joseph and they didn’t bother to tell her. Nana Kathleen knew where they were, that was all that mattered.

  Nellie knew Kitty wasn’t very happy. She didn’t talk much and she didn’t laugh at Nellie’s jokes. This was unusual and confusing, but then Nellie had a grand idea.

  ‘Kitty, did you know that Nana Kathleen makes everything better?’ she piped.

  Kitty laughed for the first time. ‘Aye, she does that,’ she replied.

  ‘So, why don’t you talk to her and tell her what’s wrong?’

  ‘Who says there’s anything wrong with me?’ said Kitty sharply. Nellie noted that her eyes had filled with tears.

  ‘No one, Kitty, just me. But I knows ye better than anyone and I know summat’s up.’ Adversity had gifted Nellie with wisdom way beyond her years.

  Silence descended upon the girls.

  Kitty wondered, would she dare tell Nana Kathleen? Her mind toyed with the idea. It was a ray of hope. She looked troubled again. How could she tell her, though, if she really would badly hurt her mammy and daddy by telling them what had occurred? Even if they did disown her, maybe a life alone in a convent would be better than feeling like this?

  Last week Tommy had read out a story from the paper to Maura, whilst she was at the kitchen sink. Tommy often did that, now that he was better at reading. There was a time when he could only read the horses. He progressed onto the names and dates on the hatched, matched and dispatched and now he was full of himself and read at least one story out of the paper to them all at least once a day. Kitty had been teaching him and he read her school books with her, when she had brought them home. When she was younger, and Tommy used to put Kitty to bed, she would read him a goodnight story and test him on his letters. No one knew from outside the house and no one ever would. He liked to read items from the paper out loud to show off, especially if Jerry came into the kitchen. Jerry was visibly impressed by Tommy’s reading skills and assumed he must be much cleverer than he was.

  ‘Would ye listen to this,’ Tommy would always begin and waited for silence to descend on the kitchen, for effect. ‘A young woman aged seventeen was found in a house in Boswell Street, Toxteth, hanging from a rope attached to the ceiling, where she had remained undiscovered for approximately eight hours. The police have said that it was an unlawful act of suicide and no one else was involved. Now, why the hell would a young girl, with her whole life in front of her, do that, eh?’

  Kitty had listened intently. She wanted to tell him that she knew a reason, but she couldn’t. She wasn’t sure what was right and what was wrong any more. If it was so wrong to tell her parents about Father James and what he did to her, what on God’s earth was right?

  Her own life was becoming blurred and she knew she wasn’t doing as well with her schoolwork. She no longer had any self-confidence and was snapping everyone’s head off. She knew that, but she couldn’t help it. She carried around with her the darkest, dirtiest secret, which made her feel horrible and sick every day, but if she told someone, she would be a bad person. Nothing that happened any more could make her happy whilst this was the life she had to lead.

  What Father James had done at the hospital had shocked her. She hadn’t seen him since, but she knew if he tried to do that once more, she would rather kill herself – she couldn’t let that happen to her again. She would rather be dead, like the girl from Boswell Street. That would be preferable to carrying round a guilty secret. Over the last three years, he had become bolder and bolder, and now he had done that. Every time she thought about it, she wanted to cry. She was so desperately alone.

  After feeding the entire street Maura and Kitty were helping to clean up Jerry’s house. Jerry had put Nellie and Joseph to bed. Alice had gone up hours ago and Jerry himself was turning in. He and Tommy would be down at the docks early tomorrow, in the hope of a ship coming in and them both being taken on. They wanted a fatter pay packet next week.

  Kathleen put the kettle on for the final cup of tea, while Maura finished scrubbing the big pan with a Brillo pad. Kitty startled Kathleen as she flew past her and down the path to the outhouse, yet again.

  ‘That kid’s not well,’ said Maura to Kathleen, nodding her head towards Kitty as she ran.

  ‘Really?’ said Kathleen. ‘What’s up with her?’

  ‘She has a stubborn tummy bug, which I think she picked up in the hospital weeks ago, and it won’t leave her.’

  ‘I’d take her to Dr O’Cole if I were you,’ said Kathleen, opening the back door and looking down the path to see that Kitty, who hadn’t managed to close the outhouse door, was throwing up in the toilet.

  Kathleen was amazed that Maura hadn’t cottoned on. She
herself had, days ago, but then there wasn’t much that got past Kathleen. She thought she had better make a joke of it, since Maura was obviously blissfully unaware.

  ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say she would be pushing that bug around in a pram in six months,’ said Kathleen, studying Maura’s face for a reaction.

  Maura looked up from the pan and laughed. ‘I know, me too, just shows we aren’t always right, eh?’

  I know I am, thought Kathleen, and you will be too before long, Maura.

  On Saturday night, everyone on all four streets had a wedding to attend at the Irish centre. It was an excuse for a big get-together. Half of Dublin had come to Liverpool for the celebration and nearly every house on the four streets had a guest sleeping over. Mrs Keating’s daughter, Siobhan, was marrying the son of a Dublin republican who owned a pub overlooking the Liffy River and he would inherit the pub from his da.

  The men saw it as one of the most fortuitous matches any child from the four streets had ever made. The blissful thought of it… a free pint of Guinness always ready and waiting on a bar in Dublin, should they ever turn up. It didn’t get much better than that. The four streets buzzed with excitement and those who couldn’t fit into the church lined the path to St Mary’s and the road outside, armed with rice and confetti to throw at the happy couple.

  Early that morning, a crate of Guinness and a bottle of Irish whiskey had been delivered to every house on the four streets so the guests could begin celebrating with the happy couple at breakfast, along with a box of boxty bread and a whole peat-smoked salmon. Tommy thought he had died and gone to heaven.

  Everyone was giddy with a happiness that can be found only in an Irish home where, for every stranger, there are a hundred thousand welcomes.

  The wedding breakfast began at three o’clock in the afternoon, straight after the church ceremony, and carried on into the early hours of the morning. Nellie loved a party. She loved Irish dancing and she and Kitty were part of a group of girls who had put together a number of dances for the wedding party. They had been practising on the green for weeks without any music and had no idea how fabulous the dancing would be on the day, with the band playing behind them and the huge audience stood in front, cheering and clapping them on. As the girls left the dance floor, everyone pushed money into their hands.

  ‘Oh my God, we’re rich!’ shouted Nellie, as they passed through the crowd, and they were indeed. Nellie had never seen so much money before. She put it straight into her pocket to give to her da the next morning; he would put it in the tin in the bread bin where all the savings were kept.

  This was Nellie’s first ever contribution to the tin.

  By ten o’clock, Kitty was feeling dreadful and decided to take some of the little kids back to the street. Nellie offered to help. When she heard they were leaving, Alice said she would walk back with them and put Joseph to bed.

  Jerry was thrilled that Alice had not only agreed to come but had even seemed to enjoy herself, in her own way. He hadn’t even needed to persuade her. One word from Nana Kathleen was all it had taken and when he saw Alice laughing and clapping along to the girls dancing, his heart felt warm. His mother had worked her magic.

  When they reached their own street, Alice took Joseph indoors. Kitty and Nellie put Paddy and Peggy’s kids to bed and then said goodnight with a hug.

  ‘Get a good night’s sleep, Kitty, and ye will feel better in the morning,’ said Nellie.

  Kitty could barely smile as she went in through her back door. Sleep was not her problem; she could hardly stay awake as it was.

  They were all tucked up in their own beds and fast asleep within fifteen minutes, while the adults carried on partying.

  Kathleen might have been a grandmother, but she had staying power. She loved to watch the young ones enjoying themselves and having a dance. The Guinness was flowing, the craic was wild, and she had caught up with some of her friends from home who had come over for the wedding. But having had five glasses of Guinness, she was now beginning to feel exhausted herself. The big feeding operation on Thursday had taken its toll and she thought about heading back home.

  Kathleen couldn’t stop worrying about Kitty, but for the first time in her life she was stumped. The two families were close. She knew Kitty’s movements as well as she knew Nellie’s. What the hell had gone on? Because there was one thing she knew, for sure: Kitty might have only been fourteen, but she was pregnant all right. It’s not a bloody immaculate conception, she thought. Someone put that baby there and I cannot for the life of me think who.

  She had no idea how to approach Maura and Tommy about it.

  They could tell me to get lost, she thought. An accusation like that, especially if she were wrong, could spoil many years of a good close relationship. To be pregnant out of wedlock carried the biggest stigma. It was a shameful thing. Maura’s children were like brothers and sisters to Nellie. Kathleen would have to tread carefully or, even better, say nothing at all, just be there to catch the pieces and clear up the mess the day it did all become clear to Maura and World War Three broke out across the street.

  Kathleen put on her coat and took so long to say goodnight to everyone that it took her half an hour to get out of the door. As soon as she stepped out of the club onto the street, the heavens opened. Kathleen crossed herself and thanked God Nellie had got home with Joseph and Alice before the rain had begun, while cursing herself for having stopped so long and had the extra glass of Guinness.

  She pulled down her hat, tucking her hair tightly in, and then pulled up her collar to stop the water from running down her neck. With hands thrust deep into her pockets, she began to walk the half-mile home. There was no wind and the rain was heavy; the cobbles were black and drenched within minutes. Kathleen’s path home was lit by the yellow sulphur glow from the street lights reflected off the glistening black of the wet path.

  She could smell the river on the air as she lifted her head and breathed in. That mist has washed over Ireland on its way here, she thought, I can smell the peat bogs on the edge of it.

  She could hear the band playing a folk song from back home. It got her in the back of her throat when she recalled that it was a song Jerry and Bernadette had danced to at their wedding. They had all stood in a circle and clapped and cheered while the besotted couple, who couldn’t leave each other alone, danced and held hands. Tears began to escape from Kathleen’s eyes and mingled with the rain as she walked along.

  ‘God, I’m getting soft in the head as I get older, so I am,’ she said to herself, as she took a hankie out of her pocket and wiped her face.

  She missed Bernadette and thought to herself that, if things had been different, she and Bernadette would have been walking home together now, laughing and joking as they used to all the time. She knew her Jerry still went into the yard and talked to Bernadette. She smiled to herself as she thought, maybe she would give it a go and try it herself.

  ‘Bernadette, I need a bit of help,’ she said, into the wet night air. ‘I’m worried about Kitty and I’ve no idea what to do, perhaps ye can show me the way, my lovely?’

  Kathleen smiled. Holy Mother, she thought to herself, I’ve only had five glasses of Guinness and I’m as bad as me son. I’m losing me head already.

  Suddenly, Kathleen knew she wasn’t alone. She hadn’t imagined Bernadette gently slipping her arm through hers. Bernadette was walking beside her, but she wasn’t happy. Bernadette was urging Kathleen to hurry. Kathleen felt as though she were being implored and pushed to move faster and faster, as though she were being propelled along.

  ‘Oh my God, Bernadette,’ gasped Kathleen, ‘I’m an old woman, my lovely, I can’t catch me breath, slow down.’

  Kathleen felt as though she had been flung round the top corner of the entry when suddenly, blinking in the dark and through the pouring rain, she saw a man in a black hat and cape lift the latch to Maura and Tommy’s back gate. She stopped dead in shock.

  ‘Holy Mary, Mother of God, what
’s going on?’ Kathleen whispered to Bernadette, but almost before the words left her mouth, she realized she was once again alone.

  The feeling of a presence, of someone she knew and loved being right with her and by her side, had gone, as had the intense feeling of urgency. She was now truly alone as she slowly walked down the entry and in through Maura’s gate.

  Kathleen didn’t rush, she was too afraid. Her limbs felt like lead and she wanted to move in the opposite direction. Her throat and mouth had become dry with fear and her heart was racing, as adrenaline surged through her veins. The penny had suddenly dropped.

  ‘Poor Kitty, the answer was under me very nose.’

  She lifted the latch and crept into the kitchen. The main light was off, but the lamp had been left on for Maura and Tommy returning. Kathleen noticed that the door at the bottom of the stairs was slightly open and off the latch.

  ‘Oh my Holy God, little Kitty,’ she whispered, feeling like screaming.

  She put her hand over her mouth, frozen to the spot. What should she do? Should she run back to the Irish centre? Should she wake Alice across the road to come? She heard a floorboard upstairs creak heavily and she knew she had no time. She looked frantically around the room for something to help her and picked up the poker, leaning up against the range. Far slower and quieter than the faintest heartbeat, she opened the door wide and crept very carefully up the stairs.

  He never saw her coming, so engrossed in his own lust that he didn’t hear a thing. Kathleen stood still for a moment to let her eyes adjust. The bedroom was pitch black and the only light reflected off the whitewashed wall. She could see his black shape in relief against it and hear Kitty whimpering in terror.

  ‘Please don’t, ye will wake Angela, please don’t do that again.’

  Kathleen felt as if she had no strength in her arm. The poker suddenly felt so heavy she thought she would drop it, but she knew what she had to do. As she raised the poker, she screamed to give herself strength. Just before it came down on the back of his head, he suddenly turned round and, for one second, looked at Kathleen with utter shock on his face before slumping across the bed.