One reason was her shyness and the other that there would be few young men there. The Great War had claimed many of the lads who might have been her partners. When it ended one hundred and eighty of the men of the parish lay beneath the sea or buried in foreign soil.
Girls a little older than Maureen told her wistfully of the days before the war when young men outnumbered girls at the socials, but it seemed that those days would never return.
The few men who were present were discouraged by Maureen’s air of reserve and her friend Hannah said in exasperation, ‘You’ll never click, Maureen, if you don’t smile at fellows and encourage them.’
‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I can’t stand the way some girls throw themselves at fellows.’
‘But there’s no need to go to the other extreme,’ Hannah said. ‘Willie Stone was looking over here but you just looked away.’
‘I’d rather dance with you, Hannah,’ Maureen said. ‘You haven’t got two left feet and bad breath like Willie Stone.’ Hannah laughed and Maureen felt conscience-stricken because she had been unkind.
When Willie Stone looked at her again she smiled at him, and then had to endure two dances with him. I’m a fool, she thought. He didn’t even know I’d said that to Hannah.
Most of the couples were girls dancing together and Maureen was happy to spend the rest of the evening dancing with other girls. Her head was full of romantic dreams but she was realistic too, and knew that the young men at the social were very far from her ideal man.
Someday he would appear, she was sure, and meanwhile she was happy. Most of her social life was centred round the church and she had many good friends among the members of the clubs and confraternities to which she belonged.
She liked her job in the wool shop and was very happy at home. Close to her mother, she enjoyed helping her with the younger children, especially Anne. Maureen was twelve when Anne was born and just old enough to enjoy cuddling and dressing the baby.
Anne loved Maureen too. Her mother was constantly busy, cooking and cleaning for her large family, but Maureen was always willing to answer Anne’s questions or to tell her stories and play with her.
All the Fitzgeralds were happy together. The children rarely quarrelled, and when they did their parents insisted that they made friends with each other before bedtime. Their father quoted: ‘“Never let the sun go down on your wrath.”’
Their mother told them, ‘Don’t keep up quarrels. Just think how you would feel if God took your brother or sister in the night and you had gone to bed bad friends.’ All the children but especially Maureen saw the force of this argument. She was always quick to make up a quarrel and the younger children followed her example.
Carrie Anderson often complained to Julia that her family were always quarrelling. ‘I think we should be called the fighting Andersons,’ she said. ‘The twins are always trying to murder each other and—’
‘But they stand up for each other if anyone else attacks them,’ Julia interrupted. ‘They only squabble with each other.’
‘And our Theresa and Shaun,’ Carrie went on, ‘it’s like a red rag to a bull when they see each other. I tried that about going to bed bad friends, but Theresa said she wouldn’t care if anything happened to Shaun and he said the same about her.’
‘Oh, Carrie, I’m sure they didn’t mean it!’ Julia exclaimed. ‘They must just have been mad at each other at the time.’
‘They’re always mad at each other,’ Carrie said. ‘I don’t know what it is. They just seem to rub each other up the wrong way… And Des and Dom fight and you’d think they’d be good friends being twins. Now even Carmel’s joining in. She bit Dominic’s leg yesterday.’
‘Maybe our boys don’t fight so much because they’re near in age and they’re all so mad on football,’ Julia said. ‘They even took Terry to Everton on Saturday in the boys’ pen.’
They were sitting in Carrie’s kitchen. Carrie poured tea for them then laughed suddenly.
‘The tea reminds me,’ she said. ‘I can’t talk about the kids. We’re as bad, Fred and I.’ She showed Julia a stain on the wallpaper near to the door. ‘I got mad at him the other night and flung my cup of tea at him. He ducked and it went all over the wallpaper.’
‘Good God, I’d be afraid of harming him or breaking the cup!’ Julia exclaimed.
‘Oh, the cup was only a muggan one from the market,’ Carrie said carelessly. ‘I suppose if it had been one of my china cups it would have been in smithereens.’
‘Good job Fred ducked all the same,’ Julia laughed.
Carrie smiled too. ‘We got over the row anyway,’ she said. ‘I just burst out laughing when I saw the look on Fred’s face and he had to laugh too. The cup just bounced along the floor.’
Later Julia told Pat about the episode. ‘Carrie was complaining about the way their kids fight and then she showed me the stain on the wallpaper where she’d thrown a cup of tea at Fred and missed.’
Pat laughed. ‘The first word was always a blow with Carrie,’ he said. ‘I remember her from when I was courting you, the way she’d let fly.’
‘She just throws the first thing that comes to her hand,’ Julia agreed, ‘but the rows are soon over.’
‘Aye, they’re both a bit fiery, but it dies down as quick as it flashes up with Fred and Carrie,’ Pat said. ‘There’s no malice in either of them.’
‘Indeed there isn’t,’ Julia agreed. ‘I wish I could say the same for our Minnie.’ She seemed about to add more but instead said, ‘Did any more happen about Brendan?’
‘No. I told you, me and Fred put the wind up him,’ said Pat. ‘Just forget it will you, Julia? I’m sorry I ever mentioned it.’
She said no more but she was curious about the episode. Fred was less discreet than Pat and a few days later Carrie told Julia what had happened.
Brendan was employed as a messenger boy by the owner of a small grocery business where Carrie shopped. He had occasionally been left in charge of the shop for brief periods and on one occasion the owner, Mr Woodward, had returned suddenly to the shop and found Brendan helping himself to money from the cash drawer.
Carrie was a valued customer at the shop and Woodward decided to inform Fred before sending for the police. He had gone immediately to the shop where he found Woodward furious and Brendan snivelling. The boy said that it was the first time he had taken anything but Woodward said he had suspected him for some time. ‘You know I’m not on a big scale, Mr Anderson, and I’ve noticed me takings were down for a while now, and biscuits and such like missing from the stock.’
Fred had asked how much was involved and the shopkeeper said he was not sure. ‘He only took a little bit at first but then he got more hardfaced when he thought I hadn’t noticed anything,’ he said. ‘I know he’s your nephew, Mr Anderson, but I’ve got to say he’s a real bad penny. I’ve been good to him and this is how he repays me.’
Fred had apologised to the man and made his loss good.
‘It’s a shame that Fred had to go through that when Brendan’s not even a blood relation,’ Julia said. ‘I don’t tell Pat half the things our Minnie says or the trouble she causes, y’know, Carrie. To tell you the truth I’m ashamed for him to know my own sister behaves like that.’
‘I feel the same,’ said Carrie. ‘And I’m like you, Julia. I’m ashamed for Fred to know some of her tricks, and yet if I told him and he said anything about her, I’d stick up for her.’
‘So would I with Pat,’ Julia said with a smile. ‘I suppose blood’s thicker than water.’
‘I just hope she behaves herself on Saturday, that’s all,’ said Carrie.
On Easter Saturday Carrie and Fred always gave a party for all the family, and everyone felt that this was the real start of spring. The Fitzgeralds and the Connollys were invited, and Pat’s mother and sister, Fred’s two brothers and their families, and numerous cousins.
Fred always concealed Easter Eggs around the garden for the children if the weather was su
nny, or around the attics where they were sent up to play if it was wet. The children enjoyed playing in the attics. They could slide down an old mattress propped against the wall or swing from a rope that hung from the ceiling, and they knew that they could scream and shout as much as they pleased and not be heard downstairs in the well-built old house.
On Easter Saturday although he had left school Tony still went upstairs to play with two Anderson cousins who were also fourteen years old and Shaun and Joe who were twelve. Brendan mooched alone round the damp garden.
‘I’m not staying downstairs with him,’ Tony had whispered to Maureen. The other children welcomed Tony, but they were all pleased that Brendan had decided that he was too old at fifteen to mix with them. He had always cheated about his turn on the slide and given sly kicks and pinches to the smaller children.
Maureen and Dympna and two of Fred’s nieces of the same age sat in the small back parlour while the adults gathered in the parlour. Maureen felt that she would rather be with them, or even up in the attics with the children.
Minnie’s daughter Dympna was a lumpen girl with thick glasses and a perpetual cold in the head. She constantly complained ‘It’s not fair’, no matter what happened. Fred’s nieces giggled together about boys they knew, shrieking with laughter when Maureen failed to understand the double meaning of some of their remarks.
Dympna ignored them and slumped in her chair biting her nails. Maureen felt ready to scream with boredom. At length they were called into the kitchen where two long tables were spread with a lavish meal. When it was over Bridie washed the dishes and Maureen dried them, pleased to have an excuse to escape from Dympna and the other girls.
Carrie and Julia laid the tables again for the children’s meal, and when Brendan appeared scowling at the door from the garden, Carrie said quickly, ‘Oh, I was just going to call you. Come on, love, get some food before we’re overrun.’
The next moment there was a noise like thunder as the children clattered down the stairs and into the kitchen and Carrie said laughingly to him, ‘What did I tell you? Like the charge of the Light Brigade.’ But she drew no answering smile from Brendan. She left him alone and helped the younger children with their food instead.
Minnie had stood by as Pat helped his mother from the parlour to a chair in the kitchen, saying, ‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ and shaking her head mournfully. When Pat helped his mother back to the parlour Minnie was there again, sighing and shaking her head. Carrie had followed to make sure that old Mrs Fitzgerald was comfortable and she said sharply, ‘What’s the matter, Minnie? Have you got a pain?’
Anger replaced the melancholy expression on her sister’s face and she looked even more cross when Pat’s mother said with genuine sympathy, ‘Try bicarbonate of soda, girl. It does wonders for me.’ Carrie went back to the kitchen humming cheerfully.
When the children had been fed and the table cleared, everyone assembled in the big parlour and the party took its usual course. Most people had a party piece which the others urged them to perform.
Fred sang ‘The Road to Mandalay’ in a powerful baritone accompanied on the piano by Eileen, and followed it with ‘The Lost Chord’. Joe played a selection of Irish airs on the violin, and his cousin Shaun played ‘The Londonderry Air’ on the flute. The company ignored the mistakes made by the young musicians and applauded them warmly.
Julia had a sweet voice and sang as she worked about the house, but she was too shy to sing in public. Pat sang ‘The Irish Emigrant’ and followed it with ‘The Miner’s Dream of Home’ which drew tears from some of the older women.
Terry and Stephen and some of the other boys had gone back to the kitchen to play games with cigarette cards or tiddlywinks, but Anne sat on her mother’s knee sucking her thumb.
Maureen was sitting beside her mother and she leaned over to take Anne’s thumb from her mouth, but her mother said gently, ‘Leave her, Mo. It’s a comfort to her.’
‘But she doesn’t need comfort, Mum. It’s just a bad habit,’ Maureen protested. ‘You’re happy, aren’t you, Anne?’
She nodded and smiled, and Fred who was moving about filling the men’s glasses said heartily, ‘Isn’t she always happy? Happy Annie, I call her. You’ve got the pick of the bunch there, Julia.’
She looked up to protest, but Pat’s mother who was nearby said quickly, ‘Aren’t they all good children? One as good as the other. You’ve a grand family, thank God, Julia, but sure the youngest is always the pet of the family.’
‘The older children are not the baby for long because the others come crowding after them,’ another woman said. ‘But the youngest is the baby all her life. Remember Baby Hanson? Over fifty when she died but she was still called Baby.’
Fred’s brother began to sing ‘Phil the Fluter’s Ball’, and everyone joined in the lively chorus. There was laughter and an air of gaiety, and Anne snuggled close to her mother, looking around her with delight.
Presently she drifted off to sleep, and knew nothing more until she was lifted in her father’s strong arms from the sofa where she had been placed.
‘A grand “do”, Fred, one of your best,’ she heard her father say, then still half asleep she was carried home through the dark streets.
‘It was a grand do, wasn’t it?’ she murmured as she was slipped into bed. She heard her father laugh and her mother exclaim, ‘Ah, the darlin’ child,’ and she smiled at them and fell sound asleep, still smiling.
Chapter Three
Julia told Pat that Carrie had told her about Brendan’s stealing and asked him to tell her more about the incident.
‘Let’s hope he’s learnt his lesson,’ she said.
‘Time will tell,’ said Pat grimly. ‘God knows we did our best to cure him. I talked to him about taking his father’s place and not disgracing his mother and his sister, but I think he took more notice of Fred.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘Fred knows the Governor of the main Bridewell. He arranged to take Brendan in there and the bobbies showed him the cells and the birch. Even got a lad who’d been birched for stealing to talk to him. Frightened the life out of young Brendan, I can tell you.’
‘I hope it did. That’s probably the best way to cure a lad like him,’ said Julia. ‘Mind you, Pat, I feel sorry for those children for all they’re such an unlikeable pair. No father to guide them and only a bad example from Minnie.’
‘Do you know, that lad didn’t know how his father died or anything about him?’ Pat said.
‘Never!’ exclaimed Julia.
‘As true as God. When I spoke about Francis he said he knew nothing about him. His mother started crying and carrying on if he asked.’
‘Wouldn’t you think he’d have asked one of us?’
‘To tell you the truth, Julie, I think he had the idea that there was something shameful about his dad. When I talked about Francis and what a good man he was, the lad seemed surprised.’
‘God forgive Minnie!’ Julia exclaimed.
‘Aye. I told the lad the way Francis worked every bit of overtime he could get and rode that old bike all the way to the South Docks to save the fare.’
‘You didn’t tell him it was because of Minnie nagging about money?’
‘Give me credit for some sense, girl. I told him the way the bike wheel went in the tramlines and poor Francis was thrown off and cracked his head open, Lord rest him.’
‘I wonder will it make a difference to Brendan, knowing about his dad?’ said Julia. ‘Perhaps he’ll be a better lad from now on.’
‘Maybe,’ said Pat. ‘Maybe.’ But he looked doubtful.
* * *
Soon after the Easter party the time came for Anne to start school. Terry had moved up to the Junior Boys’ School and had decided that he was now too old to be taken to school by a girl, but Anne was happy to go off to school every day clutching Eileen’s hand.
She liked school. The teacher of the infant class was a young woman whose fiancé had been killed
late in the war. She was a gentle girl who poured out the love she would have felt for her own children on the little ones in her charge.
This made the transition to school easy for Anne. She dearly loved Miss Anstey and liked most of the children in the class too. She enjoyed playing with them at playtime. The junior girls’ playground was to one side of the infants’ patch of ground and she could see Eileen playing boisterously there with her own friends and wave to her.
A new world seemed to open for Anne now that she was a schoolgirl. Soon after Easter the church May procession took place and she was now eligible to walk in it. All the Fitzgerald family walked in the procession.
Pat carried a banner for the men’s sodality to which he belonged, and Julia walked with the women’s confraternity. Tony walked with the Young Men’s Society, and Maureen, wearing a white dress and veil and a blue cloak, walked with the Children of Mary. The boys who were at school wore sashes over their white shirts, and Eileen and Anne had new white dresses and wreaths and veils.
There was tremendous bustle and excitement as they all dressed and made ready, but before they left the house Pat said, as he said every year, ‘Remember now, all of you, this isn’t just a matter of dressing up. The procession is to honour Our Lord and His Blessed Mother, and don’t any of you forget that.’
The family all promised but Anne found it hard to remember her father’s instructions in the excitement of forming into lines for the procession and walking round the church grounds.
Next they walked along the aisles of the crowded church, singing hymns, and finally the statue of the Virgin Mary was crowned with a wreath of flowers by the girl chosen to be May Queen. Most of the children carried bunches of white narcissi, and even when she was old the scent of the narcissus Cheerfulness would recall to Anne those days of happy innocence.
A Nest of Singing Birds Page 3
