‘Why don’t you pick a name beginning with M for your sister?’ Maureen said to the boys.
‘Mary,’ shouted Teddy.
‘Too many Marys,’ Danny said firmly. He thought for a moment. ‘I know – Martha.’
‘Ugh, no. I hate Martha,’ Teddy said. They showed signs of coming to blows and Bridie said quickly, ‘I think she looks like a Monica.’ The boys knelt up and peered at the sleeping baby while the girls watched with amusement. ‘Yes, Monica,’ Danny and Teddy said with satisfaction. ‘Michael and Monica.’
The girls had brought fruit for Bridie and sweets for the little boys, and Maureen had brought a parcel of clothes for the babies. She and her mother had each knitted a shawl and Maureen had made matinee coats and bootees. Eileen and Anne had bought tiny nightgowns and embroidered them with feather stitching. Bridie was delighted with the gifts.
‘I’m so glad of them because I only prepared for one baby. And they’re all beautiful. You’re all very handy. I can do anything with a needle bar sew as my ma used to say. I feel very close to her, girls, now that I’m a mother myself.’
Maureen kissed her impulsively and when they had left said to Anne and Eileen, ‘God bless Bridie. I hope she’s always as happy as she is now.’
‘She deserves to be,’ Eileen said. And Anne added, ‘Wasn’t she tactful with the little boys? That’s one story with a happy ending.’
‘Ending! It’s only the beginning,’ Eileen exclaimed, and Anne laughed and agreed.
Chapter Fifteen
Sarah told Anne that John would be twenty-one in September and his parents had suggested a party but he had refused. ‘I think he’s mean,’ Sarah declared, ‘I’d love to have a party.’ And Anne secretly agreed with her.
They both enjoyed the impromptu parties which were held at the Fitzgerald house on Sunday nights. Friends and relations were often invited to tea on Sundays and afterwards they would all gather in the parlour for a sing-song with Eileen at the piano.
Carrie and Fred were usually playing cards in the kitchen with Julia and Pat and would come in later, Pat to sing Irish ballads and Fred to sing ‘Just A-Wearying For You’ and ‘Mighty Like a Rose’.
Stephen had been given an accordion for his birthday and Carrie surprised the younger people by playing it expertly.
‘Unsuspected depths in you, Aunt Carrie,’ Stephen joked and Pat said heartily, ‘Ah, sure there’s a lot we old ones can do that would surprise you.’
‘Hey, not so much of the old ones,’ Carrie protested. Sarah was nearly always there and Anne felt a double pleasure in the parties because she knew her friend enjoyed them so much.
The two girls now had a new interest. Classes in Irish dancing were being held in the parish hall of Anne’s church because of the caelidhes being held at various places in Liverpool.
Anne and Sarah proved apt pupils, light-footed and quick to learn the intricate steps of the dances. They still went often to the cinema, sometimes with each other, sometimes as a foursome with two young men, and sometimes Sarah with Michael or Anne with a young man who had asked for a date.
Now everything except Sarah’s cinema visits with Michael was swept aside by the new interest. They went nearly every evening to the caelidhes which were held at halls and clubs throughout the city.
Grandma Houlihan showed a surprising interest in the dances Anne talked about. ‘God be with the days of my youth,’ she sighed. ‘We danced those same dances at the crossroads in Ireland: “The Haymaker’s Jig”, “The Four Hand Reel” and “The Stack of Barley”. We used to gather there from the villages and farms all around, and I was the fleetest footed of them all.’
‘I hope I’ve inherited that from you, Grandma,’ Anne said.
‘Happy days,’ she sighed. ‘I din’t know then the long hard road before me when I married Jeremiah Houlihan, the good man.’
‘Grandma had a lot of trouble in her young days,’ Anne’s mother said.
‘I did so. We lived on the farm with his brother Eamonn and sure it was nothing but hard back-breaking work for all of us from morning to night, and little to show for it. Poor stony ground it was.’
She looked round the warm comfortable kitchen. ‘Sure I never thought then that I’d end my days in such comfort.’
‘It’s better that way than the other way round,’ Julia said. ‘Hardship is easier to bear when you’re young.’
‘But if I’d had a tenth of this comfort then maybe I wouldn’t have lost my children one after another,’ Grandma said mournfully.
‘Never mind, Ma, it’s all in the past,’ Julia said. ‘Will I make you another cup of cocoa?’
Anne took the opportunity to escape. These old tales were interesting, she felt, but they were ancient history. She felt quite sure that a full and happy life lay before her, if she was careful in her choice of husband.
She was still interested in John Redmond but Sarah said he was very quiet now, and still not showing any interest in girls. ‘I think he’s still going to the club in Byrom Street,’ she said when they had seen John as they waited in the queue outside the Paramount in London Road.
They were with two young men they had met at a caelidhe so Anne was glad that John passed without noticing them. There was an item on the cinema newsreel about a revolution in Spain led by General Franco and Sarah said to Anne the following day, ‘Our John is all excited about that business in Spain. He never goes to meetings now but I’m sure he’s still involved.’
There had also been an item on the news about a man throwing a loaded revolver in front of the king, and Mabel had been at a cinema and seen the Pathé News. She could talk of nothing else the next day.
‘I’m really terrified for him,’ she told customers. ‘It’s ridiculous leaving the Coronation until May when you think of what Gypsy Rose Lee said: “He would be a king but would never be crowned”.’
Anne looked at Sarah and rolled her eyes heavenwards. ‘I wish I could get hold of Gypsy Rose Lee,’ she whispered. ‘She wouldn’t make it to May, never mind the king! When I think of what she’s put us through with Mabel.’
Sarah chuckled and Mabel looked over at them. ‘It’s all right laughing. I know you girls think I’m soft in the head but I believe in these predictions. Some people can see into the future.’
‘I wish I could,’ Anne said. ‘I’d like to know who I’ll marry, wouldn’t you, Sarah?’
‘It’s all very well for you girls,’ said a customer who worked in a nearby shop, ‘saying who you’ll marry and not if you’ll marry. Women of my age didn’t have no choice. The lads we would’ve married were killed on the Western Front.’
‘Were you engaged, Beattie?’ Sarah asked.
‘No, but two lads I’d been out with were killed on the Somme and my own brother too, and later on all the lads round our way seemed to get killed or badly wounded. The lad from next door to us is still in a Military Hospital after all these years.’
‘These two will marry,’ Mabel said. ‘Spoiled for choice they are with all the lads they go out with.’
Anne hoped that John might change his mind about the party but Sarah said he was adamant. ‘Mum thinks it’s because he couldn’t bear to have a party without Grandad there, but I think it’s more than that.’
‘I wonder why?’ Anne said.
Her question was answered late in October. Sarah told her that John had told his mother he was going to Paris for the weekend, but later had admitted he was making his way to Spain to fight with the International Brigade.
‘I knew he was still involved with that crowd,’ she said. ‘That’s why he wouldn’t let Mum and Dad give a party for him, because he knew he was deceiving them. It all has to be secret until he’s abroad, Anne, so don’t tell anyone, will you?’
She promised, but could not resist asking questions about all that had happened.
‘There’s nothing much to tell,’ Sarah said. ‘I was surprised at how calmly Mum and Dad took it. Mick says he had an idea and he thinks Dad
did, and you know I said John was still full of barmy ideas.’
‘Was it a shock to your mum?’ Anne asked, and Sarah nodded. ‘She said he must do what he believed was right, though, and Grandma was calm about it too. John told me she said he hadn’t been right all year and maybe this would get it out of his system. He laughed and said she’d cut him down to size. I must say he seems very happy, Anne.’
Before long a postcard arrived from John who was in Paris, and Anne felt that there was now another bond between herself and Sarah. They both watched eagerly for letters from their brothers who were abroad.
Joe wrote regularly to his mother and father, and to each of his brothers and sisters in turn. Anne had just received a letter from him in which he told her about flying fishes and other strange sights.
‘The moon has risen and it looks enormous. Very romantic! How are your romances going? Are you and Sarah still playing havoc with the affections of all the young men in Liverpool? Sarah’s brother sounds rather an idealist, but no worse for that,’ he wrote, and Anne took the letter to show her friend.
‘I do miss our Joe,’ she said. ‘I always felt I could say anything to him or Maureen and they’d understand.’
‘But you’ve still got Maureen to talk to anyway,’ Sarah said, and Anne nodded and changed the subject. Maureen was as gentle and loving as ever, and as willing to give advice, but to Anne it seemed that certain subjects were taboo. She no longer felt as close to her sister as she once had.
She thought about her family that night when she was having a rare evening at home. She had washed her hair and was putting it into Dinkie curlers and her mind wandered back to when she was a child. Then she had thought all her family were the same, part of a united loving whole.
Now that she was older she realised that they were all individuals, each different from the other in spite of the surface harmony. Children of the same parents and with the same background yet totally different in many ways.
Eileen and Maureen – who would believe that they were sisters? Anne wondered. Maureen so quiet and reserved, so devout and with moral scruples which made her unable to speak ill of anyone. Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil, that was Maureen, thought Anne. Yet she was always ready to join in family fun and enjoyed life in her own quiet way, mostly in activities connected with the church.
Eileen’s way was completely different. A big boisterous girl, her favourite expression was: ‘I don’t give a damn.’ She played netball and hockey, swam and skated, and was never without an escort for anything she wanted to do.
She had learned to drive on a two-ton lorry which one of her boyfriends drove for a haulage firm and was pressing her father to allow her to buy a motorcycle. But she could be sensitive, too, and was miserable because of the unkindness of another girl in her office.
Tony seemed to have outgrown his moody fits since his twenty-first birthday, Anne thought, and was always having a good time, with money in his pocket, a job he liked and plenty of friends. Yet even Tony… Somehow there was always a hint of sadness about him when he was sitting quietly at home.
Anne caught sight of herself in the mirror and laughed aloud at her solemn expression. Good job they don’t know how I’m picking them apart, she thought. I’d never live it down. Yet later she thought again about her family.
Was everyone more complex than they seemed? Was it possible ever to know everything about a person? She and Sarah were such close friends, but she had thoughts that Sarah knew nothing about, and probably the same applied to Sarah. I suppose it’s only when you are married that you really know everything about someone else, she thought.
* * *
On 1 December Dr Blunt, the Bishop of Bradford, spoke of the king’s need to be aware of his responsibilities. None of the stories about the king and Mrs Simpson that Joe had told them had appeared in the British newspapers, but suddenly the floodgates were opened and every paper carried the story. Mabel was inconsolable.
At first all her anger was directed against Mrs Simpson. ‘She should be run out of the country,’ she declared. ‘The scheming creature! Two divorces. The king should be protected from women like that.’
‘But what can they do if he wants to marry her?’ Anne asked. She was strongly tempted to remind Mabel of the way she had almost called Joe a liar, but felt too sorry for her to pursue it.
‘She’s just a gold digger,’ Mabel declared. ‘You see those sort of harpies on the pictures and men haven’t got a chance against them. But someone should do something.’
Within a few days her anger had turned from Mrs Simpson against Stanley Baldwin and the Government who were insisting that the king must choose between Mrs Simpson and the throne.
‘My newspaper says he could have a morganatic marriage,’ she said.
‘She could be his wife but not queen. They say other kings have done it.’
‘But who’d be queen?’ Sarah asked.
‘There doesn’t have to be one,’ Mabel snapped. ‘I’m disgusted with them all going on about morals. Hypocrites! What about Edward VII and all his women? No better than prostitutes some of them, but you didn’t hear no moaning over them.’
Both girls sympathised with Mabel in her distress, but were less interested in these events because other things occupied their minds. Sarah told Anne that another letter had arrived from John and he was now in Lyons. ‘Mum’s very worried about him, but he seems happy.’
‘I suppose he’s doing what he thinks is right,’ Anne suggested. Sarah had brought in a photograph of John taken before he left for Spain, wearing an open-necked shirt and shorts, with a rucksack on his back.
He looked happy and carefree, and Anne also thought that he looked very romantic. She hoped that Sarah would say more about the letter but instead she spoke about her sister Kate who was sulking because she had not been chosen to appear in Puss In Boots.
Many of the customers agreed with Mabel and there was universal condemnation of Mrs Simpson but great affection for the king, especially when it was realised that he would be forced to give up his throne.
On 10 December a woman brought a special edition newspaper into the shop. ‘Them lot in London have won,’ she said dramatically. ‘The king’s going to make a speech on the wireless tomorrow. He’s abdicating.’
Mabel snatched the paper from her. ‘It can’t be true!’ she cried. Everyone began to talk at once. ‘That Yankee faggot,’ one woman said. ‘She must’ve bewitched him.’ And another declared, ‘It’s that lot in London. It suits them to get him out because he was going to do something about the miners. God forgive them.’ Mabel was in tears and so were many of the customers.
For the next week Mabel could talk of nothing but the Abdication speech by Edward VIII and spoke bitterly of the new king and queen, but gradually she warmed to them.
‘At least she’s a good respectable woman, even if she hasn’t got Royal blood,’ she said. ‘And the little princesses are lovely. I wonder if it’s true that Princess Margaret Rose is deaf and dumb?’
Because they were fond of Mabel, Anne and Sarah humoured her and listened patiently to her constant references to the Royal family, but their interests lay elsewhere.
A week before Christmas Michael asked Sarah if he could see her that evening. She was about to refuse but he said quietly, ‘I’d like to explain something, Sarah. Perhaps we could go to a cafe and talk?’ She agreed, and later when she told Anne they both tried to guess what he would say but neither could guess the truth.
The following morning Sarah told Anne that Michael felt he had a vocation for the priesthood. ‘A priest!’ Anne gasped.
‘Yes. He said he had almost decided he had a vocation, but then he met me and was attracted to me and thought it was a sign that he was not called to be a priest. All this year he’s been pulled two ways and couldn’t decide.’
‘So what decided him?’ asked Anne.
‘When I told him I had a date and he didn’t feel jealous. Then he thought he wasn’t being f
air to me. He’s been to the parish priest for advice and soon he’ll be going to the Seminary at Upholland.’
‘I can just see him as a priest somehow,’ Anne said thoughtfully.
‘Yes, we always felt there was something different about him, didn’t we?’ Sarah said.
‘Are you upset, Sar?’ asked Anne, but she shook her head. ‘No. I told Michael I’m glad to know that there’s nothing wrong with me to make him so cool.’
Mabel thought it was a waste for such a handsome man to become a priest but Sarah said quietly, ‘It’s not the outside that matters if he feels like a priest inside, Mabel,’ and the older woman said no more.
Although all the family missed Joe they enjoyed Christmas. Their mother seemed better in health, and he had written that he was determined that this would be his last Christmas at sea.
Grandma Houlihan was still with them, but now she spent most of her time in bed. She came down for Christmas dinner then returned to her room. The family found it easier to carry trays to her and to stay to talk or read to her than to have to be constantly watchful while she was downstairs, in case anything they said or did offended her rigid standards.
On Boxing Day a lady from the church came to sit with her while the rest of the family went to a party at Carrie’s house. As usual friends were also welcome and Anne invited Sarah. She arrived wearing a tiny gold watch which she said had arrived on Christmas Eve from her rich aunt in America.
‘I wish I had a rich aunt,’ Eileen said, examining the watch. ‘This is exquisite.’
‘I don’t like her though,’ Sarah said. ‘I suppose I’m a hypocrite taking the watch, but I couldn’t resist it.’
‘That’s not being a hypocrite. It’s being practical,’ Eileen said with a grin before moving away.
‘I think your family are lovely, every one of them,’ Sarah whispered to Anne, and she felt a glow of pride.
Bridie and Jack had arrived with their family, and the twins were passed round and admired. They were placid babies and made no protest, but Teddy and Danny followed them, watching anxiously over the babies.
A Nest of Singing Birds Page 18
