Anne listened entranced and Mrs Goldstein smiled and patted her head one day. ‘You listen with the eyes and the ears,’ she said. Anne often called to see the Goldsteins and four-year-old Becca grew very fond of Anne and clung to her, demanding that she should stay with them.
The days never seemed long enough for Anne with all she wanted to do. Two of her classmates lived in Cresswell Street and she often went there to play with them but continued to visit the Misses Dolan frequently.
Miss Ellen was teaching her to do macramé work which Anne hoped to use to edge a small altar cloth for Grandma Houlihan. Often she went to borrow or return books or to tell Miss Louisa about those she had out from Kensington Library.
‘I hope Anne’s not being a nuisance,’ Mrs Fitzgerald said when she met the Misses Dolan in a local shop.
‘No indeed. We are always pleased to see her,’ Miss Louisa said.
‘She’s shy till she gets to know people, but then she doesn’t stop to think people might be busy,’ Mrs Fitzgerald said. ‘She likes going in to see you but if she’s going too often…’
‘No indeed. We are always pleased to see Anne,’ Miss Louisa repeated. ‘She has charm. There are people who light up a room when they enter it and Anne is one of those people.’
‘But she’s a sensible girl too,’ Miss Ellen said. ‘The two things don’t always go together.’
‘She’s never been any trouble,’ Julia said. ‘And she’s always very happy.’
‘Let us hope she always will be,’ Miss Louisa said graciously.
Anne was eagerly looking forward to Christmas, especially now that she had more money to spend on presents, although this year she would not be able to shop with Eileen.
She arranged to go to town with Carmel and they went immediately to Woolworths in Church Street where Anne had always done her Christmas shopping. They had usually budgeted threepence each for presents for their brothers and sisters, and sixpence each for their parents, and had spent happy hours choosing from the array of gifts at those prices.
Shopping with Carmel was not nearly as enjoyable, Anne found. Carmel had grown into a stolid child, never showing much interest in what happened around her, and chose her own gifts with little thought for those who would receive them.
She simply shrugged when Anne asked her opinion about the suitability of any of the goods displayed, and finally, when Anne was trying to decide between a tie and a fountain pen, each priced at sixpence, for her father, Carmel said impatiently, ‘It doesn’t matter. They always say they like them anyway.’
Anne and Eileen had always finished their Christmas shopping with a visit to the herb shop for a glass of Vantas, but Anne decided not to suggest it to Carmel.
She felt she had had enough of her cousin, and told her mother when she returned home that Carmel was a pudding.
‘I don’t know why. She was great when she was a baby,’ she said.
Her mother agreed. ‘You’d never think her and Theresa were sisters,’ she said. ‘Theresa’s like quicksilver.’
Theresa’s numerous boyfriends were a byword in the family, and Fred declared that she changed them as often as she washed her face. It was all lighthearted and Theresa made no enemies, even among the discarded boys.
Anne enjoyed collecting her Christmas Club more than the shopping. The Fitzgerald children had always saved pennies and halfpennies in the shop on the corner of the street for their Christmas Clubs. The girls usually chose Squirrel Selection boxes, and the boys ‘Pay what you like, have what you like’, which meant that they assembled their own selection up to the value of what they had saved.
Eileen’s favourite in the Squirrel selection was the section of Cherry Lip Gums, crescents of hard red jelly. Anne preferred the cachous, and hung over the box sniffing rapturously when that section was opened.
‘They remind me of the exotic East,’ she said to Eileen.
‘You say that about the Dolans’ house,’ her sister scoffed.
‘That’s only because Miss Louisa smokes Turkish cigarettes,’ Anne retorted. ‘But this smell stays on my breath.’
She tried to make the cachous last as long as possible, and breathed out hopefully after sucking them, expecting someone to comment on her scented breath.
This year she decided to have ‘Pay what you like, have what you like’ and spent a happy hour in the shop choosing what she would have. She had saved three and sixpence and felt immensely rich as the Squirrel selections had only cost a shilling. The shopkeeper was remarkably patient, allowing her to change her mind several times, and then assembling her purchases in a cardboard box.
‘You’ve got enough to last you for a while there,’ he remarked, but Anne smiled ruefully.
‘I don’t suppose it will, Mr Hicks,’ she said. ‘We always say we won’t open our Clubs until Christmas Eve, but we can’t resist dipping into them.’
‘You’ve got a good selection anyhow,’ he said as he put them in the box. ‘Sherbet dabs, Tiger Nuts, cinder toffee, pear drops, Spanish laces and licorice pipes, creamy whirls, Fairy Whispers – are you going courting then?’ Anne laughed obligingly and the shopkeeper picked up a packet of sweet cigarettes and a packet of sweet tobacco. ‘Smoking too. I’ll have to keep my eye on you.’
‘They’re for the little Delamere boys,’ Anne explained.
‘Oh, aye, your Auntie Bridie’s been very good to those poor kids and so was your poor grandma, RIP. No joke growing up without a mother, Anne. I know I had to do it, and my dad wasn’t like Jack Delamere. He was more fond of the drink than he was of me.’
‘Never mind, you’re happy now, Mr Hicks, aren’t you?’ Anne said, and he smiled at her.
‘Can’t grumble, girl.’
She took the sweet tobacco and cigarettes to her Aunt Bridie’s house. The door from the backyard to the narrow entry which ran behind the house was faced with a similar door to the backyard of a tiny house in the next street. Bridie had become friendly with Maisie Delamere who lived there, and when after years of disappointment Maisie’s first child was born, she often brought the baby to visit Bridie and her mother.
Shortly after Maisie’s second son was born, she developed the tuberculosis from which she died when the boys were aged two and four respectively. During Maisie’s illness Bridie and her mother had often cared for the little boys and had done all they could to help Jack Delamere.
His own family had disapproved of the marriage and stayed away, even after Maisie’s death, but her mother decided to move in and take charge. She was a quarrelsome woman and immediately stopped the children from running across the entry and into the Fitzgeralds’ house.
Before long she had quarrelled with most of the neighbours, but Jack continued to visit Bridie and her mother and to do jobs around the house for them.
‘We’re always glad to see you, Jack,’ Mrs Fitzgerald said. ‘But don’t come, lad, if it causes trouble.’
‘I don’t care about her. Let her try,’ Jack always said, but the tiny houses were close together and they often heard raised voices when he went home.
While Jack was at work his mother-in-law often locked the children in a dark cupboard and threatened worse if they told their father, but one day the youngest one was in such distress when Jack came home that he finally learned the truth and had a showdown with his mother-in-law, ending by putting her out.
This was shortly before Mrs Fitzgerald’s death and later he came to offer condolences to Bridie.
‘Your ma was one in a thousand,’ he said. ‘I’ll never forget how kind she was to us when Maisie was ill.’
‘The children brought Ma a lot of pleasure,’ Bridie said, weeping.
‘I’m just sorry I let that cow stop them from coming,’ he said.
‘What could you do? You had to have her there and go along with her. How are you managing now, Jack?’
‘The neighbours have been good,’ he said. ‘And anything’s better for them than being at that old cow’s mercy. If I’d only known w
hat was going on!’
‘Well, I hope you’ll let them come and see me when – when everything’s over,’ Bridie said. ‘I suppose they’ve forgotten me.’
Other people came to offer condolences and Jack left, but after the funeral the children came to see Bridie. There was a bad moment when they looked for her mother but Carrie was there and distracted their attention by giving them sweets, and they never asked again about Mrs Fitzgerald.
They were now aged five and seven and were at school. They stayed with neighbours until Jack returned from work, and often went to see Bridie when she was not in the greengrocer’s shop.
Anne had been to see Bridie one Sunday and was surprised and not very pleased to see young Dan and Teddy sitting with her and playing The Road to Berlin. She hid her feelings and Bridie said cheerfully, ‘Remember when you used to play this, Anne? Your grandma used to love to watch your face when you won.’
‘I think you let me win,’ Anne said.
‘Only at first. You got very good at it,’ Bridie said.
‘I won the last one, didn’t I, Auntie Bridie?’ Teddy said, and she smiled at him.
‘You did,’ she agreed. ‘You’re a clever lad.’
Anne listened in disbelief. Auntie Bridie! she thought, and made an excuse to leave as soon as possible.
Tony was alone sitting reading a newspaper when she went home and Anne sat down on a stool beside him. Since Joe had gone away and Maureen was out more often she sometimes confided in Tony. Now she said to him, ‘I’ve just been to Aunt Bridie’s. Those Delamere children were there.’
‘Teddy and Dan?’ Tony said. ‘Poor little beggars, they’ve been through a lot in their short lives, haven’t they?’
Anne scarcely listened. ‘They were calling her Auntie Bridie and playing The Road to Berlin and they had butties with hundreds and thousands on. I think I was jealous, Tony.’
She expected a few soothing platitudes from him and was amazed when he put down the newspaper and said forcibly, ‘Don’t, Anne. Nip it in the bud now. Jealousy can poison your life, love.’
‘Well, I’m not usually jealous,’ she said defensively.
‘I am,’ he said with a sigh. ‘At least, I suppose it must be jealousy. We’re the odd ones out, Anne. Me at one end of the family and you at the other.’
She looked at him with such amazement that he flushed and hastily picked up his newspaper. ‘Only joking, Anne,’ he said. ‘Take no notice.’
Later, in bed, she thought about Tony’s words. She felt sure they were not intended as a joke. Was she the odd one out as the last of the family? she wondered. And Tony? Perhaps he felt left out because Maureen and their mother were so close, especially now that Joe was away from home.
Eileen and Terry, with only eighteen months between them in age, had always done things together, and Stephen and Terry were united in their love of football and fishing. Anne came back to thinking of her own position. Was she the odd one out?
Maureen had been to the cinema with a girlfriend. Anne heard her return and a little later come upstairs to bed.
‘Mo,’ she called softly. Eileen was fast asleep when Maureen tiptoed into the bedroom. Anne sat up with her arms round her knees.
‘Mo, do you think I’m the odd one out at the end of the family?’ she asked.
‘Now what put that in your head?’ Maureen whispered.
‘I was just thinking about the family,’ she said, ‘and me being the youngest.’
‘You’re the spoilt baby,’ Maureen whispered with a smile. ‘Me and Tony are breaking the ground for you younger ones. You’ll all get away with murder. Go to sleep now.’
Anne knew what her sister meant. Some years earlier Pat had seen Maureen with her small jar of Tokalon Cream and box of Phul Nana face powder, and had been furious.
‘No respectable girl wears that muck on her face,’ he had roared. ‘Painting your face like a – like a woman of the streets. Give them here. They’re going behind the fire.’
Maureen had wept and her mother had intervened in her quiet voice. ‘Sure it was only a touch. She’s used it for years and you haven’t noticed, Pat. All the girls use it now.’
‘Not my daughter. Not respectable girls,’ her father said, but their mother insisted: ‘Respectable girls. You don’t think I’d have allowed it otherwise?’
Her father had given in with much grumbling and Maureen had kept the cream and powder and continued to use them discreetly.
A few years later when Eileen produced a jar of cream and a powder compact, he had said nothing about them.
I suppose I’m lucky really, being the youngest, Anne thought, and soon forgot Tony’s words. But she bought the sweet cigarettes and tobacco to make her feel better about her jealousy of the Delamere children.
* * *
Christmas was a happy time for the Fitzgerald family, marred only by the fact that Joe was away at sea. Trade had improved steadily since the order for the semi-detached houses and in spite of bad times for most small businesses, Pat now had orders for several months ahead.
He unobtrusively helped Jimmy Getty’s widow and children, only bitterly regretting that the improvement in his business had not come in time to save the young man.
Even the bad weather was not too much of a problem to him, now that he had paid off his debts and was paying cash for supplies, so he had no worries.
Terry left school at Christmas 1932 and went to work in the grocer’s where he had been employed as a Saturday lad. Julia often said that God had been very good to them, with everyone having found work.
There was plenty of fun and laughter especially when all the family were at home in the Fitzgerald house, but Julia’s gentle tranquillity made the home calm and peaceful too.
It was different in the Anderson household. Something exciting seemed always to be happening there. The twins were never out of trouble. They climbed lamp posts, fell off roofs, sat down on newly painted seats, and never seemed to be without bandages.
Anne always liked visiting the Andersons, and enjoyed the high drama and even the frequent rows, but she thought she preferred her own quiet home. It was never dull even though there was not the excitement of the Anderson household.
The Delamere children were often in Bridie’s house when the family called to see her, and sometimes Jack was there too. No one was surprised when he came to see Pat and asked if he had any objection to a marriage between Bridie and himself.
‘I’d take good care of her, Mr Fitz,’ he said. ‘She’s a heart of gold and I value her. My little lads love her and they’d be made up too.’
‘I’ve no objection,’ Pat said. ‘As long as it’s what Bridie wants. She deserves to be happy.’
‘I’ll see that she is, Mr Fitz,’ Jack said earnestly, and Pat told him to drop the Mr Fitz. ‘It’ll have to be Pat and Jack if we’re family.’
Julia was delighted. ‘The best thing that could happen,’ she declared. ‘It’s just what Bridie needs – someone to look after. And Jack and the lads have had such a miserable time with that mother-in-law they’ll appreciate Bridie all the more.’
They went to see Bridie and found her very happy and full of plans. ‘I know Dan and Teddy will be glad,’ she said. ‘Remember last October when Jack went on that chara from his work to see the Blackpool lights? The little lads stayed with me then. I slept in Ma’s bed and they had my bed in the back room, and the next morning they looked over at their own house and said they wished they could stay here.’
Julia and Pat glanced at each other and she said gently, ‘There’s not just the children to think about though, is there?’
Bridie blushed. ‘I’m very fond of Jack,’ she said. ‘And he’s not just marrying me for the sake of the boys.’
‘We know that, Bridie,’ Julia said hastily. ‘It was just your side of it I was thinking about. We’re all made up about it. You deserve to be happy, love.’
‘And so does Jack,’ Bridie said. ‘Not only losing Maisie and all the y
ears she was ill, but that time with Maisie’s mother – the bitch!’
‘I like him,’ Pat said, ‘and I like the straightforward way he came to me. You’ll be all right there, girl.’
There was a tap at the kitchen door and Jack came in. ‘Speak of the devil!’ Bridie exclaimed. ‘Where are the lads?’
‘Both asleep,’ he said. ‘Can I sit here, Bridie, and keep my eye on the window in case they want me?’
‘That’s handy, being back to back,’ Julia said.
‘Aye, if they wake up they can look out of the back bedroom window and I can see them from here,’ Jack explained.
‘Where will you live?’ Pat asked.
Jack answered. ‘We thought we’d live here,’ he said. ‘There’s no happy memories in my house for the lads. Their mam sick from when they were babies and then the years with that – that—’ Bridie laid her hand on his.
‘Forget her now, Jack. What’s done is done.’ She turned to Pat. ‘Jack did a bit of decorating when Ma was still here, and he’ll do a bit more now, then we’ll sort out the furniture.’
Everyone in the family was pleased at the news except Minnie. She seemed to feel that all her years of sneering at Bridie’s fantasies had been nullified now that there was to be a marriage. ‘He’s only marrying her for someone to look after those boys,’ she told Julia.
‘You wouldn’t think so if you saw Bridie and Jack together,’ Julia said. ‘We’re made up the way things have turned out.’
Minnie changed tack. ‘Her mother not cold in her grave,’ she said. ‘I won’t be going to the wedding, I can tell you.’
‘Maisie’s mother won’t be either, but she won’t be missed,’ said Julia.
‘And I won’t either, I suppose you mean?’ Minnie said, but Julia only replied calmly, ‘I’m doing the wedding breakfast in our house. Pat will give Bridie away and Jack’s foreman will be best man.’
A Nest of Singing Birds Page 8
