A Nest of Singing Birds

by A Nest of Singing Birds (retail) (epub)

  The school outing to Ainsdale took place next on 29 June which is the feast day of Saints Peter and Paul and was a school holiday. Anne thought it was all wonderful, from the excitement of watching for a red sky the night before as a sign of good weather to the return home, dirty, sticky, exhausted but happy.

  The children travelled by special train to Ainsdale and Anne was speechless with excitement as it drew into the station to squeals of delight from the children and shouts of ‘Hoky Cokey, a penny a lump’ from a man on the platform.

  Eileen had been told to keep Anne with her, and several of her friends had younger sisters to watch over too. The younger girls played happily together making sandcastles while their elders raced about the shore playing tick or rounders, then they all paddled at the edge of the waves.

  A handbell was rung to summon the children to a meadow where trestle tables had been set up. They sat on wooden forms and were given a cup of milk and a bag containing a cheese sandwich, an apple and a sticky bun. It was like nectar and ambrosia to the hungry children.

  Anne and Eileen had been saving pennies for weeks for the day out and their father had made their savings up to two shillings each. Most of this was spent at the funfair which had been set up, and the girls were determined to win or buy a present for their mother.

  They were successful and a gaudy brooch and an incredibly ugly statuette were received with profuse thanks by their mother. She wore the gaudy jewellery about the house for months and put the statuette on the mantelpiece. Both girls were delighted.

  Now that the twins and Anne were at school, Julia and Carrie often went to the shops in town together. The distance was short and Carmel walked between them or rode in a folding go-chair.

  They managed to conceal these jaunts from Minnie. ‘I feel mean leaving her out,’ Julia said. ‘But we’ve got to watch our tongues so carefully since that business with Brendan.’

  ‘And she’d do her best to spoil the day for us anyway,’ Carrie said forthrightly. Minnie still had not been told of her son’s trouble.

  Mr Woodward had refused to take him back, but before Minnie knew he had left there Brendan had found another job. He told his mother that it was a delivery job, and his uncles that he was helping a man who sold goods from a handcart and needed help to wheel it round. He was actually employed as a look-out man, watching for the approach of policemen as most of the goods were stolen. But he was good at the job and it introduced him to people who operated on the fringes of the law.

  Pat and Fred were surprised that the job paid so well and that Brendan seemed flush with money, but he told a plausible story and though they were sometimes troubled by doubts, they accepted it.

  For Anne the weeks seemed to fly past and soon it was time for the school to break up for the summer holidays. Now she was allowed to go to the park with Eileen and Terry and Stephen, with Joe in charge of the family. They took parcels of bread and jam and penny bottles of lemonade, supplemented by lemonade powder which they mixed with water from the tap in the park for extra drinks. Sometimes they went further afield. It was possible to buy a ticket known as a penny return which actually gave four rides for a penny.

  They travelled to the Cast Iron Shore in the south end of the city, to the farmlands of Kirkby and Knowsley, and to Seaforth Sands in the north of Liverpool.

  The red-letter days of the holidays were those when their father and mother took them out for the day. Pat Fitzgerald’s small building firm only employed ten men and a boy, and occasional casual labour, but they worked to a high standard. Most of their work came from recommendation by satisfied customers, and their order book was always full. The business provided a comfortable living for Pat and his family and a good rate of pay for the men. Pat was known as a good employer.

  The days of paid holidays had not yet arrived for most people but he allowed his men two days off each year without loss of pay, in addition to Bank Holidays. He took three days off himself, and used two of them to take the family out during the school holidays. They always had one day at New Brighton and the other day was always to a surprise destination.

  One year it was a day trip to Llandudno, when they were able to go on the tiny railway up the Great Orme, and another year they went to Chester and their father took them on the Dee in a rowing boat.

  Anne had always enjoyed being hoisted on her father’s shoulders to watch for the ferryboat approaching for the New Brighton trip, and being able to see over the heads of the crowds the shipping in the river, but this year she felt that it was wrong. She was a big girl now and she refused to grip her father’s hair as she usually did, and clasped her hands round his forehead instead.

  Pat noticed nothing and when the gangway came down marched on to the ferryboat with Anne still perched on his shoulders, but for her it was a milestone. It was the first time she had ever felt too old for anything, and the first time she had ever felt critical of her father. Why did he have to shout ‘You OK, baby?’ and make everyone look at her and laugh.

  Anne soon forgot her unusual feelings about her father and watched wide-eyed with admiration when he went on the ‘Try your Strength’ machine in the fair. Pat took off his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeves before picking up the hammer and bringing it down with a force that sent the marker to the top of the pole.

  There were murmurs of amazement from the crowd and the man in charge shouted, ‘Well done, sir. Any prize on the stall.’ Pat pushed Anne forward. ‘You pick, love,’ he said and she chose a black doll which she treasured for years.

  He was determined that his children should have a good time, and bought ice cream and toffee for them and allowed them to go on all the different attractions. Later they all went to a cafe in Victoria Road and enjoyed a meal of fish and chips, followed by sticky cakes.

  When Pat gave the children pennies to get chocolate from the Nestle’s chocolate machine, Julia protested, ‘Pat, they’ll be sick,’ and in a lower voice, ‘and you won’t have a penny left to bless yourself with.’

  ‘It’s only once a year,’ he laughed, ‘and they’ve got stomachs like horses.’

  When they reached home, Maureen and Tony had eaten the cold meal left for them by their mother, and were preparing to go out for the evening. Pat gave each of them half a crown. ‘You couldn’t come today and I’d have spent that on you,’ he said.

  * * *

  The first year at school was a happy one for Anne and she was sorry when the class moved up at the end of the year and gentle Miss Anstey was left behind.

  The new teacher was more strict but she was an excellent teacher, and Anne enjoyed learning to form the letters she had been taught into words, and writing simple sentences. With a shock of pleasure she recognised some words in a book that Maureen was reading. By the time she moved into the Junior School she could read and write fluently.

  In this class she was told to share a desk with a silent girl, Kathleen O’Neill, who seemed to be unwilling to speak or be friendly. She was a pretty girl, always neatly dressed, with long fair hair carefully combed into ringlets. Anne saw her walking to school every day with her mother and brother.

  Kathleen was left as near as possible to the entrance gate to the school then her mother went off to deliver her brother to the entrance to the Boys’ School. Anne was always friendly and chattered away to Kathleen who would only say, ‘Mammy says I have to keep myself to myself.’ Eventually Anne stopped trying to talk to her.

  Even at playtime Kathleen shunned the other girls and stood by the railing which divided the boys’ and girls’ playgrounds, holding her brother’s hand through the railing.

  Anne was puzzled by Kathleen’s behaviour but it mattered little to her because so often she was far away in spirit, weaving dreams and paying no attention to what was happening around her. This caused trouble for her one day during a music lesson.

  Anne sat quite still as usual, with her arms folded in the regulation manner and her mind far away, dreaming of rescuing Miss Anstey from terrible
danger.

  Suddenly the sound of her own name woke her from her dream. ‘Why can’t you behave like Anne Fitzgerald instead of fidgeting and talking?’ the teacher was scolding the girl who sat at the next desk. ‘She hasn’t moved or spoken once during this lesson, and you’d better follow her example. Do you hear me?’

  ‘Yes, Miss,’ muttered the girl, Hannah Brady. When the teacher turned back to the blackboard, Hannah put out her tongue at Anne. Her friend who sat next to her did the same and the two girls muttered together.

  Suddenly the teacher swooped on them. ‘Don’t think I can’t see you just because my back’s turned,’ she said sharply. ‘You, Hannah Brady, and you, Kitty Mullen, are a bad influence on each other.’

  The next moment she had tweaked Anne from her seat and thrust Hannah into it then told Anne to sit by Kitty.

  ‘We’ll see if you can behave if you’re separated,’ she said grimly. She returned to the blackboard and Kitty promptly pinched Anne’s leg. She as promptly pinched her back and Kitty squealed and put up her hand.

  ‘Miss, Anne Fitzgerald pinched me,’ she cried.

  ‘That’s enough,’ the teacher snapped. ‘Another word and you’ll all go to Sister Assumpta.’

  ‘Teacher’s pet,’ Kitty whispered to Anne when the teacher was again busy with the class. ‘We’ll get you at playtime.’

  At playtime the two girls grabbed Anne and dragged her to a corner near the toilets. They pulled her hair and kicked her, and although she tried to fight back, she was no match for the two hefty girls.

  The next moment Eileen appeared like an avenging angel. She grabbed both girls and shook them until their hair ribbons fell off, then she smacked their legs.

  ‘Don’t you ever dare to touch my sister again or I’ll kill you,’ she shouted, then gave each of them a hearty smack on the bottom as they ran away.

  Eileen hugged Anne and dried her tears, then helped her to straighten her clothes and pull up her socks. Finally she spat on her handkerchief and wiped the tear stains from Anne’s face. ‘Don’t let them see they’ve hurt you,’ she said. ‘Don’t give them the satisfaction, the bullies. Tell me if they ever threaten you again.’

  Anne slipped her arms round Eileen and kissed her, trying to show her gratitude to her sister.

  Later when Maureen took her up to bed Anne told her of her rescue by Eileen. ‘You’re lucky,’ Maureen said, ‘I was bullied when I was at school but I had no one to stand up for me. That’s where you’re fortunate being the youngest instead of the eldest.’ And Anne could only agree.

  Maureen also explained something that had puzzled Anne. ‘How could Miss Holden see what we were doing when she had her back to us?’ she asked. And Maureen explained that there was a picture hanging on the wall near the blackboard and the teacher could see the class reflected in it.

  ‘That’s good. I thought she might be a witch,’ Anne confessed, but Maureen only laughed and tucked her up.

  * * *

  A few weeks later Anne thought that she was not only lucky to be the youngest but also to be bom into the Fitzgerald family. Family gatherings were sometimes held on Sunday evenings either in the Andersons’ house or the Fitzgeralds’.

  Minnie and her children were invited but often Minnie came alone. Grandma Fitzgerald and Bridie and Grandma Houlihan also attended. One Sunday the gathering was held in the Fitzgerald house. Minnie had arrived with Dympna and Brendan shortly before Fred and Carrie arrived with their family. Fred pretended to fall back in surprise when he saw Minnie’s children.

  ‘We are honoured tonight,’ he said with a loud guffaw. ‘Are you giving the courting a miss tonight, girl?’ Dympna scowled at him and turned away but Fred was unabashed. ‘Have you turned over a new leaf, Brendan? Being the model son now.’

  Minnie suddenly wailed loudly and Carrie snapped at Fred, ‘When are you going to learn to keep your big mouth shut, Fred Anderson? It’s not just a button you need on your lip, it’s a hook and eye too.’

  His face grew red. ‘It was a joke, for God’s sake,’ he said. ‘Why the hell is everyone so touchy?’

  Julia was trying to soothe Minnie, who was pretending to have hysterics, and Carmel became alarmed by the angry voices and began to cry loudly. Maureen picked her up and ushered Anne and Terry and the twins into the small back parlour, while Pat tried to act as peacemaker between Fred and Carrie.

  Julia told Eileen to make a fresh pot of tea and Pat produced beer for Fred and himself, but Minnie continued to weep. Carrie sat down beside her. ‘I don’t know what you’re making such a fuss about, Minnie,’ she said. ‘You know Fred didn’t mean any harm. It was just a joke.’

  ‘Everyone picks on my two,’ Minnie whined. ‘Just because they’ve got no father to defend them.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Minnie,’ Carrie said in exasperation, ‘why do you always have to drag poor Francis into it? He’d have been the last man to look for trouble. He wouldn’t have taken offence at Fred’s joke and neither would anyone else.’

  ‘Oh, everyone’s perfect except me and mine,’ Minnie said with more tears.

  ‘I think enough has been said,’ Julia said firmly. ‘Here’s Eileen with fresh tea so let’s have a cup and forget all the unpleasantness.’ Maureen and Carmel followed Eileen. Carmel carried a bowl of tiny wafer biscuits known as Dinky Wafers for the children and Maureen a plateful of buttered fruit loaf which she handed to her mother.

  ‘Carmel’s the biscuit monitor,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Come on, love. We’ll go and see the kids in the back parlour.’

  The back parlour was unfurnished and used as a playroom by the Fitzgerald children on wet days. A joiner who worked for Pat had made a few wooden toys and stools for the children to keep there, and a pile of wood blocks to be used for building. Desmond and Dominic were cheerfully pushing a cart back and forth when Maureen went in but Anne, who had been as frightened as Carmel by the sudden row, was hunched on a stool looking out of the window.

  She forced a smile and took a biscuit from Carmel, but her face was pale and Maureen crouched down beside her and put her arm round her.

  ‘Don’t worry, love,’ Maureen whispered. ‘Everything’s all right now. It was only a storm in a teacup.’

  ‘But why, Mo? Why was everyone shouting?’ Anne asked.

  ‘It was over nothing,’ Maureen said, putting her finger to her lips and looking warningly at Carmel and the twins. Terry was sitting in a corner reading a comic and when Maureen asked: ‘Do you want to stay here, boys, or come in the other room?’ the three said in unison, ‘Stay here.’

  ‘Right,’ Maureen said. She took the bowl of biscuits from Carmel and put three equal piles on the shelf. ‘Come in to me if you want a drink.’ She gave Anne a quick kiss and took her and Carmel back to the parlour. More visitors had arrived including Grandma Fitzgerald and Bridie, and all was now peace and harmony.

  Anne was still troubled about the row and the following day spoke to Maureen about it again. ‘Why do the Andersons fight, Mo? They’re all so nice and yet they fight with each other. We don’t fight like that, do we?’

  ‘They’re just more lively,’ Maureen said soothingly. ‘Aunt Carrie is a bit excitable and so they’re all the same. In our house, Mum is very quiet and calm and she sets the pattern for us. It’s nothing to worry about. The Andersons understand each other and they know they don’t mean the things they say when they are in a temper.’

  Anne smiled at her. She was not absolutely sure that she understood what Maureen meant, but she trusted her sister and if Maureen said it was all right, it must be so.

  * * *

  Anne never worried about anything for long. There was always so much to do, and so much to see in the busy streets: the pavement artists who drew wonderful pictures in chalk and the street singers and buskers who entertained the queues outside the theatres and cinemas; the escapologist who stood on his head in a bucket; and the many hawkers. There was the man who sold salt from a handcart filled with large blocks, another
who rode a bicycle with a grindstone attached to sharpen knives, and the Mary Ellens who walked with stately tread through the streets with baskets of fish or flowers balanced on their heads and their linsey petticoats swinging about their ankles.

  Even on Sundays women cried their wares in the back entries. Lightcakes and muffins, shrimps and cockles, and a woman with a particularly piercing voice who screeched ‘Kewins, luverly kewins’ every Sunday.

  Even more interesting to Anne were the ragmen who would give a balloon or a small toy for a few rags or jamjars, and the merry-go-round pulled by an ancient horse on which children could have a ride for a halfpenny or two jamjars. The fact that it was so rickety made the ride even more exciting.

  But best of all was the Pier Head, with the Mersey full of shipping and the seamen of many colours and nationalities who could be seen near the docks.

  The lascars went immediately to Paddy’s Market when they came ashore and could be seen walking in single file with two or three hats on top of each other on their heads, and their arms full of unmatched shoes and other oddments.

  Tony told her that the men walked in single file because they were used to walking on narrow paths through the jungle, and Anne thought this must be true. Many of them were marked with tribal scars and they were all pitifully thin.

  As well as the rich life of the streets there was always something interesting nearer home. There were few children in Magdalen Street, but Anne enjoyed visiting her older neighbours. The Misses Dolan, two maiden ladies, lived next door, and had a noisy parrot brought home by a seafaring brother, now dead. Nothing could cure the bird of using the bad language learnt on ship, and Anne was always delighted to be greeted by a squawk of: ‘What the hell’s that?’ as she walked in. She also visited another neighbour, Billy Bolten, an old man with a wooden leg. He had sailed the seven seas, but now lived in a rented room a few doors away.