A Nest of Singing Birds

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

  ‘We’ve come for my poor uncle’s things,’ the woman said, dabbing her eyes with a black-bordered handkerchief.

  ‘Your uncle?’ Mrs Cullen gasped. ‘He never spoke of a niece. No one ever came to see him.’

  ‘He fell out with me dad,’ the woman said glibly. ‘But we’re his next of kin and we want his stuff.’

  ‘You can’t just walk in and take his things,’ Mrs Cullen protested.

  ‘Why not?’ the man said aggressively, and the woman added, ‘I suppose you had your eye on them?’

  ‘Indeed I didn’t,’ Mrs Cullen said, but another man had appeared, and before she could gather her wits, the cart was swiftly loaded with Billy’s furniture and goods and driven away. Too late she realised that she had no proof that they had any connection with her lodger. The undertaker told her that this form of theft had happened to others also.

  Chapter Eleven

  Anne watched her mother anxiously, wondering that others in the family were not more worried about her. Her hair had gone grey at the front, and to Anne it seemed that she had never before looked so tired and drawn.

  She mentioned it to Eileen one day when they were stoning raisins for the bunloaves and their mother had gone upstairs.

  ‘Don’t you think Mum looks ill and tired, Eil?’ she asked, but Eileen shrugged.

  ‘It is Christmas after all,’ she said. ‘There’s a lot more to do.’

  ‘I’m surprised Maureen hasn’t noticed it,’ Anne said.

  Eileen laughed. ‘Our Maureen’s in a world of her own these days,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I think she must be in love.’

  ‘Who isn’t?’ Anne said. ‘Sarah from the shop is in a dream world – although she still pulls her weight at work,’ she added hastily.

  ‘I’m not and you’re not, are you?’ Eileen said.

  ‘No, but I thought you might be, all the boy friends you’ve got.’ Eileen laughed again. ‘That’s just what they are, friends who happen to be boys,’ she said. ‘Except when I go out in a foursome with Theresa and two lads. Then it’s all romantic and lovey dovey.’

  ‘I can’t imagine you being romantic,’ Anne said frankly.

  ‘Watch it!’ Eileen exclaimed. ‘I can be as romantic as the next if I want to. It’s in the air when I’m out with Theresa.’

  Anne felt comforted by Eileen’s attitude. Perhaps her mother was just tired because of the extra work at Christmas, and surely her father and Maureen would have noticed if she was ill? Until Eileen spoke of it she had not noticed how dreamy Maureen was at times, but when she made a joking remark about it to her sister she was amazed by her reaction.

  She had spoken to her twice and Maureen seemed too lost in thought to hear her, but when Anne said flippantly: ‘What is it, Mo? Love’s young dream?’ Maureen blushed and said furiously, ‘What’s that got to do with you? Mind your own business.’

  Anne could never recall being spoken to like that before by Maureen, and said huffily, ‘All right, keep your hair on. It was only a joke.’ Maureen put her hand on Anne’s arm. ‘Sorry, love. I’m touchy these days,’ she said.

  ‘That sounds more like you,’ Anne said, smiling at her, but she thought that Eileen must be right. Only being in love could account for Maureen’s changes of mood, from dreamy happiness to sadness.

  Sarah was also sad, as her affair with Michael made no progress, but on Christmas Eve he came into the shop and gave her a Christmas card and a brooch. Sarah was delighted to receive them but told Anne that she wished she had known about them sooner so that she could have bought a gift for him.

  ‘Pity he didn’t have the nous to give it to her sooner,’ Mabel said to Anne, out of Sarah’s hearing, and Anne agreed.

  ‘Michael seems a bit of a wet Echo, doesn’t he?’ she said. ‘I think Sarah deserves better. I like Dennis more.’

  ‘Yes, but bank clerks can’t get serious too soon with a girl,’ Mabel said. ‘The bank won’t let them marry until they’re twenty-six, in case when they have a home to keep they get the bank’s money mixed up with their own.’

  Anne admired Sarah more and more and felt that only the best was good enough for her. A few days before Christmas an ex-servicemen’s band stood in the road outside the shop to play. There was one man playing a mouth organ, another badly scarred playing a flute, and a blind man and a man with one leg singing.

  The weather was bitterly cold and Sarah said impulsively, ‘Can I take pies to them, Mabel? I’ll pay for them.’

  ‘Take them damaged ones. You can have them for nothing,’ she said, but Sarah looked doubtful.

  ‘I wouldn’t like them to think they were getting the throw-outs.’

  Mabel answered impatiently, ‘For God’s sake, Sarah, they’d have to break them to eat them.’

  Sarah smiled but Anne noticed that she dived into the storeroom for her purse and carefully selected pies with only the rim of the crust broken. She put them in separate bags and the men received them gratefully and went round the corner to eat them. Mabel gave an expressive shrug. ‘That’s her grandfather’s influence,’ she said.

  ‘My dad and uncle know him and they say he’s a very good man,’ Anne said.

  ‘He is,’ Mabel said emphatically. ‘But I’m just saying that’s why Sarah’s like that. Her grandad always made them call a man “Mister” if he was out of work and down on his luck, she told me once.’

  ‘I always called Billy Bolten “Billy”,’ Anne said guiltily. ‘I suppose it wasn’t very respectful.’

  ‘I don’t suppose he minded,’ Mabel said. ‘Did you hear any more about those people who took his furniture?’

  ‘No. Mrs Cullen was blaming herself, but everyone said it wasn’t her fault. They just took her by surprise and the police said they were professional thieves. It didn’t matter anyway because Billy knew nothing about it. He was already dead so it couldn’t hurt him.’

  Sarah came back into the shop and went through to the storeroom with her purse and Mabel whispered to Anne, ‘She’ll have given them what she saved by not paying for the pies. No use trying to help her.’

  On Christmas Eve the shop was never empty from opening time until just after five o’clock when everything had been sold. Mr and Mrs Dyson came into the shop and Mabel said, ‘I didn’t think we’d shift all that. I didn’t think there was the money about but it’ll be people’s Christmas Clubs and Tontines.’

  ‘Nothing left on our hands anyway,’ Mrs Dyson said with satisfaction. She produced a bottle of port and glasses. ‘We had a drink with the bakehouse staff and now we’ll have one with you,’ she said, and also gave them each a Christmas card containing a ten-shilling note.

  A combination of tiredness and port wine made Anne feel quite lightheaded as she walked home, and Sarah, who was with her, carrying the card and brooch from Michael, seemed speechless with happiness.

  Most of the family were in when Anne arrived home and the house was filled with the savoury aroma of roasting pork. Mrs Fitzgerald always ordered a turkey and a leg of pork for Christmas for her large family, and cooked the pork on Christmas Eve.

  When Anne arrived and showed her gift of ten shillings, her mother said, ‘I don’t doubt you’ve worked hard today, love. Why don’t you go and lie down and I’ll call you for Midnight Mass?’

  Anne agreed to go and Stephen said jokingly, ‘I think I’ll do the same. Take myself out of temptation. The smell of the pork is driving me mad.’

  Christmas Eve was a day of fasting and abstinence and the Fitzgeralds were unable to eat meat, but always had some of the pork when they returned from Midnight Mass. Anne said, ‘I’m sure I’ll enjoy it more when we come back from Mass. I’m too tired to eat now anyway.’

  She fell asleep as soon as she lay down, but with the resilience of youth felt completely refreshed when Maureen woke her at eleven thirty.

  It was the first time that all the family had attended Midnight Mass. In previous years the younger children had gone to Mass on Christmas morning with their mother,
even after Anne as the youngest had stopped believing in Father Christmas. This year Anne felt that she was now accepted as an adult by the family.

  Even Uncle Fred who was at Midnight Mass with Shaun and Theresa and the twins made no comment on the fact that Anne was with the family, except to say, ‘You’re able to come to this Mass now, Julia. Carrie still has to stay back with Carmel and Grandma. We’ll see you all on Boxing Day.’

  Pat always provided ale for the males in the family to drink with their Christmas dinner and cherry wine for his wife and daughters, and this year for the first time Anne was included.

  Her father poured her a glass of cherry wine mixed with water then raised his glass. ‘To the family’ he said. ‘All of us here and the two who are not with us, Patrick and Joe.’ Anne saw the momentary sadness on her mother’s face and leaned forward and clinked her glass against her mother’s, smiling at her and receiving a smile in return.

  ‘Will you look at that now?’ her father exclaimed. ‘To the manner born. I hope that’s the first drink you’ve ever had, queen.’

  ‘No, I had a glass of port in the shop last night,’ Anne said with a blasé air that caused laughter from everyone.

  After the dinner was cleared away and the dishes washed and put away presents were exchanged among the family then Julia lay down on the sofa and Pat went up to lie on his bed.

  The others went into the parlour where a bright fire was burning. Eileen drifted over to the piano but she played softly, so that her parents were not disturbed. The rest of the family were content to lounge about, examining their presents and talking. One of Anne’s presents was a box of chocolates and she opened it and passed it round, but everyone said it was too soon after dinner.

  ‘No Selection Box this year, Anne,’ Tony teased with a smile.

  ‘No, all that seems a long time ago,’ she said.

  ‘Hark at Methuselah,’ Stephen broke in. ‘I suppose methylated spirits is more your taste now.’

  ‘It’s true,’ Anne said indignantly. ‘It does seem a long time since I left school. I said that in my letter to Joe and when he wrote back he said it was because so much has happened to me this year.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Maureen agreed. ‘Did you manage to see Kathleen O’Neill again, Anne?’

  ‘Twice,’ she said. ‘But she was with her mother and brother every time, so we just said hello.’

  ‘I wonder what Joe’s doing just now,’ Stephen said idly.

  ‘Probably working hard,’ Terry said. ‘Rob Sykes’ father is on a cruise ship like Joe and he says there’s all sorts of festivities for the passengers but it just means more work for the crew.’

  ‘I wish he could have got home for Christmas,’ Maureen said with a sigh.’

  ‘I tell you what,’ Stephen said, ‘it’s strange Brendan didn’t come home for Christmas. He’s a real mystery man, isn’t he?’

  ‘He just seems to have vanished into thin air,’ Tony agreed. ‘Perhaps he’ll turn up for the party tomorrow.’

  ‘I think that’s the last place he’d want to show up,’ Stephen said. ‘Imagine the comments from Uncle Fred.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to the party,’ Eileen said, leaving the piano and coming to sit on the rug before the fire. ‘It’s always a good do at the Andersons’ and I’ll be able to use my Christmas presents.’

  She had received bath salts and soap from Maureen, Californian Poppy perfume from Tony and an embroidered blouse from her parents, among other presents. ‘I’ll look like a gypsy and smell like a flower garden,’ she declared amid laughter.

  Maureen slipped away into the kitchen after a while and came back to beckon Anne and Eileen. ‘Mum’s asleep,’ she whispered. ‘I think she needs it so we’ll get the tea ready quietly before she wakes up.’

  The three girls crept about laying the table with pickles and celery and bread and butter and bunloaf and mince pies. Pat Fitzgerald came downstairs and Maureen met him in the hall and spirited him through to the back kitchen to cut platesful of turkey and pork and ham.

  Just as the preparations were completed Julia woke up, declaring that she felt better for the sleep and delighted that everything had been done.

  After tea she was installed in an armchair near the parlour fire with a footstool for her feet while the family gathered round the piano. They sang ‘Silent Night’ and ‘Away in a Manger’, then the Irish ballads that their mother loved.

  When they sang Kathleen Mavourneen Anne thought of Kathleen O’Neill and remembered her saying that the Kathleen of the song was not a girl. ‘It’s about Ireland really, Kathleen na Houlihan, from the days when people daren’t sing songs praising their country.’

  What sort of Christmas was Kathleen having? Anne wondered. She had hoped to see the family at Midnight Mass, but thought it more likely that Mrs O’Neill had taken them to the six o’clock Mass, to have them safely home before most people were about.

  She looked over at her mother who was lying back with her eyes closed, looking white and tired, but as though she felt Anne’s eyes on her Julia opened her eyes and smiled and Anne was reassured.

  Hailstones beat against the windows but Anne felt warm and happy safe in the circle of her family. Maureen’s arm was around her waist and her father’s hand on her shoulder. I like being grown up, she thought suddenly, looking ahead to her growing friendship with Sarah, to flirting with the young men in the shop and being included in more outings with the family.

  The family were all due to return to work the day after Boxing Day, but Maureen woke Eileen and Anne to tell them she was staying at home. ‘Mum’s had a bad night and her temperature is 101,’ she said. ‘Dad’s gone for the doctor. Will you take a note to the shop for me on your way to work, Anne?’

  She had to leave for work before the doctor arrived, and spent a miserable morning. Mabel had spent a happy Christmas with relatives of her late husband and Sarah declared that her Christmas was the happiest she had ever known.

  They told Anne not to worry about her mother, she was probably just rundown, and asked about her Christmas.

  Anne knew that they were trying to be kind and to take her mind off her worry about her mother. She tried to remember items to tell them but found it hard to concentrate, or to serve customers.

  Mabel sent her to the storeroom to cut squares of tissue paper and Anne was free to think. To keep her mind from her fears she thought back over Christmas. It had been strange, she thought. On the surface very enjoyable, but with the worry about her mother like a dark undercurrent beneath.

  At times she had felt grown up, at other times like a child again. I’m just betwixt and between as Mum would say, she thought, but that brought her mind back to her fears again.

  She was glad when her lunch hour came and she could race home for news of her mother. Maureen said that the doctor had been and there was some internal trouble causing pain, but mainly she was simply overtired.

  ‘He said that she must have felt unwell but struggled to carry on normally and now nature was taking its toll,’ Maureen said. ‘She has to stay in bed and rest.’

  ‘He’s sure it’s not TB, isn’t he?’ Anne asked fearfully.

  ‘Of course not. What put that in your head?’ Maureen exclaimed.

  ‘That’s what most people die of, isn’t it?’ Anne said and Maureen said crossly, ‘Don’t talk soft. Mum’s not going to die.’

  ‘A woman in the shop said her daughter had a high temperature and I know she died of TB,’ Anne said.

  Maureen looked at Anne’s worried face and slipped her arm round her sister’s waist. ‘Lots of things can cause a high temperature, love,’ she said gently. ‘The doctor said Mum’s a bit anaemic as well so she’ll have to have lightly cooked liver.’

  ‘She hates liver, doesn’t she? But at least she can have it cooked,’ Anne said. ‘A girl in our class had pernicious anaemia and she had to eat platesful of raw liver.’

  ‘Did it cure her?’ Maureen asked.

  ‘I don�
�t know. She left to go into hospital and didn’t come back, at least not before I left,’ Anne said.

  She crept in to see her mother but Julia was deeply asleep and Maureen said that the doctor had told her that sleep was the best medicine for her mother at present. Anne went back to work feeling much more cheerful.

  Later when Julia awoke she seemed to be in pain and asked Maureen to bring her a bottle labelled Female Complaints which was in the cupboard in the bedroom.

  Maureen hesitated. ‘The doctor asked what you took, Mum, and when I told him he told me to throw it away.’

  ‘You didn’t, I hope?’ Julia said in alarm.

  ‘Not without telling you,’ Maureen said. ‘But the doctor gave me pills for you to take instead. He said the medicine was only opium and you could get addicted to it.’ Her mother’s face suddenly twisted with pain. ‘Get me the medicine, love,’ she said. ‘I’ll try the pills later.’

  Maureen brought the black bottle and measured out a dose into a glass. Her mother drank it thankfully. ‘There’s three more bottles in the cupboard, Mum,’ Maureen said with a worried frown when her mother had taken the medicine and was lying back on her pillows.

  ‘I know. The fellow’s not always in the market, so I get some whenever I see him,’ Julia said. ‘Sometimes these quacks just disappear and I don’t want to be without it.’ Maureen still looked worried and her mother patted her hand.

  ‘Don’t worry, Mo,’ she said. ‘Never mind what the doctor says. I know what eases me and I only take it when I need it. Don’t say anything to Dad or anyone.’

  Maureen promised. Her mother slept again and when she woke said that she felt much better, but the doctor had insisted that she must rest. Carrie had called and said that she would come the next day so that Maureen could return to work, and Dora Duggan had been engaged to come for the following weeks.

  * * *

  Dora Duggan was a tiny person with a curved spine, which gave her a hump on her back, but she was a sweet-natured woman and an efficient housewife. She had run the house for a few weeks before, when Julia’s babies had been born. She and Julia greeted each other like old friends. ‘I wish it was a baby you were in bed with,’ Dora said and Julia laughed and agreed with her.