A Nest of Singing Birds

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

  Anne told Joe that Dominic and Desmond had joined Victor’s with Terry and Stephen. ‘They got thrown out though,’ she said. ‘You know what they’re like. They played all sorts of tricks while they were learning and then when they came upstairs Victor was doing an exhibition dance, a tango. He takes it very seriously too.’

  ‘And what did they do?’ Joe asked, smiling.

  ‘They’d got a tail off a fox fur and pinned it on the back of Victor’s coat just before he started the dance. It looked so funny, Joe. Victor holds his neck stiff and keeps a sort of stony expression on his face, sort of supercilious, and this tail was swinging out behind him.’

  ‘I’ll bet he was mad,’ said Joe.

  ‘Everybody was roaring laughing. They couldn’t help it. And when Victor realised what they’d done he was furious. He said he’d had other complaints about them and barred them from the dances. They don’t care though. They don’t care if it snows, that pair.’

  ‘It’s only when they are together, though. Aunt Carrie said Desmond is a real good worker when he’s on his own with his dad, and Dominic seems to behave himself at work,’ said Joe. ‘It’s only when they’re together they get up to their tricks, but there’s no harm in them.’

  ‘It’s lucky that Des showed a flair for Uncle Fred’s leatherwork and Dom didn’t then,’ Anne observed, and Joe agreed.

  ‘At least Bridie won’t have that trouble with her twins,’ said Anne. ‘Aren’t they lovely, Joe, and both so different? Monica’s like a little blonde doll.’

  ‘I liked the way the older boys each seem to have adopted one of the twins,’ Joe said.

  ‘Yes, Danny with Monica and Teddy with Michael,’ Anne laughed. ‘It was funny to see it when the babies started to crawl and the boys watched over them. Always paired off the same. Lovely to see them all so happy, isn’t it, Joe?’

  * * *

  Joe met John Redmond and arranged to go with him to Victor’s Academy and both enjoyed meeting and talking as much as the dancing instruction. Other members of their families were upstairs dancing, and afterwards they all walked home in a group.

  Anne found John Redmond beside her, gazing intently at her but only talking about dancing. What’s wrong with him? she thought crossly. It’s one step forward and one back all the time with him. The way he looked at her made her feel that he was attracted to her, yet always he seemed to draw back.

  Always optimistic, Anne felt sure that now that she would see him regularly at the dance, she would soon find out how he really felt about her, but it was not to be. At the next dance an announcement was made that Victor’s would close during the summer months for alterations and re-decorating.

  Although Joe had been careful not to criticise Chris to Maureen he felt indignant with him. All right, the fellow has his troubles, Joe thought, but why has he involved Maureen in them? If he really loves her he would have kept away from her. He decided to try to see Chris while he was still free during the day before starting work.

  It was rare for a man to shop in a grocer’s but Joe could think of no other way to see Chris Murray. He only knew that Chris worked on the grocery side of the shop, and wondered how he would know him, but his problem was soon solved.

  He walked into Lipton’s and stood behind a fat woman who immediately said, ‘Ee are, Chris, serve this chap. I know you fellers don’t like waiting.’

  Joe saw a man with a pale lined face and thinning brown hair who said quietly, ‘Yes, sir? Can I help you?’ Conscious that the fat woman had seated herself on a stack of biscuit tins and was listening avidly, Joe said ‘Er, I want to take some groceries to an old lady. Can you tell me if this is right?’

  He had written something on a scrap of paper and folded it over at the bottom. Within the fold he had written, ‘I am Maureen’s brother. Can I speak to you?’ Even before Chris had unfolded the note he had looked at Joe and some colour had come into his pale face.

  ‘Tea and sugar’s what you want, lad,’ the fat woman said, leaning forward eagerly. ‘Maybe some Bovril if you’ve got the money.’ But fortunately another assistant had arrived. ‘Can I take your order, Mrs Jones?’ he said, and as she turned away Chris leaned over the counter and said quietly, ‘I finish at seven o’clock. Can we meet outside?’

  Joe agreed and to satisfy the fat woman who was watching curiously, bought tea and sugar, a jar of Bovril and a tin of cocoa. The fat woman said approvingly, ‘That’ll be just what she wants, God luv her. You’re a good lad.’

  Joe left the shop blushing and as soon as he was safely away from it, gave the brown paper parcel to an old woman who shuffled along, her worn shoes held together with a large safety pin. She clutched a black shawl above a patched and shabby skirt, her eyes sunken in her gaunt face, and on an impulse he put half a crown in her hand and hurried away. He was back at seven o’clock, waiting round the corner from the shop.

  When Chris came out they turned away down a side street and Chris said immediately, ‘I knew you were Maureen’s brother as soon as I saw you. You’re so like her. I’m glad to meet you.’

  ‘Maureen doesn’t know I’m here,’ said Joe, ‘but she told me all about you. I know you’re going through a bad time, but my main concern is Maureen.’

  ‘And so is mine,’ Chris said eagerly. ‘I’d do anything to save her from pain.’

  ‘Then don’t you think you should break this off?’ Joe said. ‘What future is there for Maureen in this situation? She has too much integrity, she’s too scrupulous, to have any happiness with a married man. And I’m not going to stand by and see her hurt.’

  ‘You’re absolutely right, I know,’ Chris said. ‘But we’ve tried and Maureen can’t bear to finish any more than I can. God knows I tried when I realised what was happening to us, although it was like a starving man walking away from food for me. I love her. I never thought it was possible to love anyone as much as I love Maureen.’

  In spite of himself Joe was impressed by the earnestness in Chris’s voice and said less forcefully, ‘I know it’s easy for me to talk, I’ve never been in this situation, but what’s going to happen? You say you don’t want Mo to be hurt, but she’s bound to be if this goes on.’

  ‘What did Maureen say?’ Chris asked.

  ‘She was very upset at first,’ Joe said. ‘She’s troubled about the moral aspect of it, and she’s worried about you, but she did say you were happy sometimes,’ Joe admitted.

  ‘We are,’ Chris said. ‘When we meet at the Landing Stage and have even half an hour together, it just makes life worth living. It sets us up. Makes us able to face things.’

  ‘I don’t know much about your life,’ Joe said, feeling that they were becoming too emotional. ‘Maureen seems to think your marriage is a bit of a sham and you were tricked into it. Is that true?’

  ‘I might have been,’ Chris said. ‘It’s all rather complicated and I don’t really know, but whatever happened in the past I have an obligation to look after Beryl. I made a promise and she needs me. She’s an invalid.’

  ‘What is it, the illness?’ Joe asked.

  ‘The doctor thinks the condition is partly hysterical, nerves really, but she’s not malingering. He went into her family history and said it explained a lot. He wants to take her into the Royal Infirmary for tests.’

  ‘Do you mean she inherited some disease?’

  ‘No, but her mother and father lived in the same house and never spoke to each other for over thirty years.’

  ‘Good God!’ Joe exclaimed.

  ‘You can imagine the sort of childhood Beryl and her sister had. They were terrified of their father and even more of their mother. Perhaps she did trick me but, well, I can see why she was frantic and why she’s as she is.’

  They walked in silence for a few moments then Chris said, ‘Maureen thinks I should hate Beryl. I do hate her sometimes, very often in fact, but not all the time. I can see why she’s like she is. My trouble is I can always see both sides, and I see she’s what life has made her.’<
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  ‘I can understand that,’ Joe said. ‘I’m a bit like that myself. Always seeing the other person’s point of view.’

  They stopped at the corner and Chris said anxiously, ‘I’m afraid I’ve said all the wrong things, seemed to dwell on my side of things. Believe me, none of this was planned. Maureen and I – we thought we were just friends. We slipped into loving each other before we realised what was happening.’

  ‘I know. I realise that.’

  ‘I suppose that’s when we should have called a halt, but now I don’t know how either of us could bear it.’

  ‘But it must be done,’ Joe said firmly. ‘I know it’ll be hard but it’ll be better for Maureen in the long run. I think you should be the one to do it, Chris. You might think I’ve got a cheek to interfere but someone’s got to look after Maureen. She never thinks of herself.’

  ‘I know you’re right. I’ll do my best,’ Chris said wretchedly.

  Joe held out his hand, they shook hands and walked away from each other, Joe feeling that he had done what he could to save Maureen from wrecking her life and suffering years of pain but troubled by sympathy and liking for Chris.

  In the excitement of his new job and other things that were happening he pushed the thought of Chris to the back of his mind until he realised that Maureen looked red-eyed and unhappy.

  At the first opportunity he drew her aside. ‘What’s up, Mo?’ he asked. ‘Why are you upset?’

  ‘Chris wants us to break up,’ she said, her eyes filling with tears. ‘I couldn’t bear not seeing him again.’

  ‘But it’s the sensible thing to do, Mo,’ he said gently.

  ‘Sensible! You’ve never loved anyone or you couldn’t say that,’ she exclaimed. Joe was silent for a moment, holding her close, then he asked what Chris had said.

  ‘He’d been avoiding me, I knew he had, then I met him and he said it was time to finish,’ Maureen wept. ‘He tried to say it was too much worry for him but I know him too well to believe that. Then he said I was too innocent to realise how hard it was for him just to see me for half an hour and a kiss and cuddle.’

  ‘But, Mo, he’s right. There’s no point in it. No future for you, only pain.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ she said passionately. ‘Don’t you understand, Joe? I don’t care about the future. Half an hour now with Chris means more than anything in the future.’

  ‘I’m only thinking of you,’ he said. ‘Now you’re confused by your feelings, but just think. His wife could live for years.’

  Maureen’s head jerked back. ‘You don’t think I wish her dead? Truly I don’t. She’s gone into hospital and it might mean she’ll get better but I don’t wish her harm, Joe, even though she doesn’t deserve to be happy.’

  ‘And what have you decided, you and Chris?’ he asked.

  ‘He admitted in the end that he was suggesting the break for my sake, and I told him how I felt about that. We’re going to meet tomorrow after he’s been to the hospital and take a tram somewhere and talk.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘I know you think I’m mad, Joe. If it was anyone else I’d think so too. I just can’t explain how I feel, but we’ll have to pray we’ll be guided to do what’s best.’

  ‘You have your talk tomorrow night,’ he said, giving her a hug. ‘Then decide to do whatever makes you happiest. You’re not taking anything from his wife that she wants. She only wants a home.’

  Maureen looked at him in surprise and he said hastily, ‘That’s how it sounds to me. And you can tell Chris that’s what your brother thinks.’ He laughed and Maureen said, ‘Oh, Joe, I’m so glad you’re home.’ She gave him a quick kiss before running upstairs and Joe felt guilty. I wonder if she’d say that if she knew I was to blame? he thought. Talk about fools rush in. I’ll have to learn to mind my own business.

  A couple of days later Maureen whispered to him that she and Chris were going to meet as before and just take every opportunity to be together.

  ‘It’ll be the crumbs that fall from the rich man’s table,’ she said gaily. ‘But who cares?’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Anne had saved a copy of the Daily Sketch to show Joe the photographs of the coronation of Pope Pius XII in March. She took it from the cupboard and as usual became engrossed in the other pages of the newspaper.

  ‘That girl would read tissue paper if there was nothing else,’ exclaimed Carrie who was visiting Julia.

  ‘Some interesting letters in it, Aunt Carrie,’ Anne said, laughing.

  ‘I’ll take your word for it. I haven’t time to read newspapers,’ Carrie laughed.

  The letter that had caught Anne’s attention was from a girl who said she earned one pound seventeen shillings and sixpence a week. She gave her mother fifteen shillings for her keep, and had more than a pound left to spend on herself.

  ‘Why should I marry and become the slave of a man earning four pounds a week?’ she asked. ‘I prefer to keep my dignity and freedom.’ Anne looked thoughtful. Was that why John drew back from a closer relationship? Did he think he should not start courting on a labourer’s wage? Yet he had been offered a foreman’s job and refused it. I give up, thought Anne. I’ll never understand him.

  There were two other letters that she thought might interest John, one on the subject of salary being paid during illness, and suggesting a code of employment, and the other about National Health Insurance.

  Joe had become friendly with John Redmond, and they still met occasionally even though the dance hall was closed. Joe was interested in John’s tales of his time in Spain, but when he spoke angrily about the condition of the poor in Liverpool, Joe said mildly that he thought things were improving.

  ‘Look at the way some of the slums are being cleared and council houses being built in Norris Green and Huyton and other places,’ he argued. ‘Good houses too. Well designed. Wide roads and gardens front and back, and bathrooms and indoor toilets. Working hours are being reduced in some trades too.’

  John disagreed. ‘I’m talking about the very poor,’ he said. ‘People at the bottom of the heap. Kids who never have a chance from the day they are bom. My grandad fought for them all his life, but the things you’re talking about, they’re only scratching the surface.’

  Joe had smiled at his vehemence and John had laughed too. ‘I’m on my hobby horse again,’ he said ruefully.

  Joe was thinking of John as he walked through to Everton Road one day. He cut through Reservoir Street into Cresswell Street where on one side high railings surrounded the playground of Steer Street School. The Pools were working summer hours so although Joe was off it was a school day.

  The playground was empty but he could hear the sing-song voices of children reciting tables as he paused by the railings. A boy ran across from the toilets to the drinking fountain in the centre of the playground from which hung an iron cup on a heavy chain.

  He was a bullet-headed child whose shaven hair showed that he had recently been sent to the cleansing station as verminous. He wore the police issue of corduroy clothes and heavy clogs, but when he saw Joe watching him he struck a pose, one hand on his hip and the little finger of the other crooked genteelly beside the iron cup.

  Joe laughed and the boy grinned back. Then Joe called him to the railings and handed him sixpence. ‘A tanner!’ the boy said in incredulous delight, ‘Ta, Mister.’ He thrust the coin among his clothes and started to run away but turned back to say, ‘You a Yankee, Mister?’

  ‘No. A Liverpudlian like you,’ Joe said, and the boy gave him a thumbs-up signal as he ran back to his classroom.

  Joe walked away, smiling. Not much to worry about there, he thought. Maybe the lad was at the bottom of the heap, but his spirit had not been broken. He’ll fight his way up or I’m a Dutchman. How quick the kid had been to recognise that his suit had been bought in New York.

  Joe talked about the incident at home and was surprised at Anne’s interest and her questions about the boy. There was a lot of deep feeling in his little sister, Joe though
t, in spite of her gaiety and light-heartedness.

  Anne and Sarah were true to their pledge to enjoy every moment of their lives after their fright the previous September. They ignored the talk of war which they heard and concentrated on their pleasures. In August Sarah was invited to a dinner dance by a commercial traveller who came to the shop.

  Anne thought often about Sarah and her sophisticated partner on the Saturday night of the dinner dance. She knew that Sarah planned to wear a midnight blue taffeta dress, with silver sandals and her mother’s diamante clips and fur cape. Her own visit to the cinema with an inarticulate young man from the West of Ireland seemed very dull by comparison.

  She went to Sarah’s house on Sunday to hear details of the evening but found her friend very subdued. She told Anne that the man, Ronald, had sent a taxi to take her to the dance and had bought her a casket of chocolates as they went in, but she had felt uneasy several times during the evening.

  ‘It was the way his hands kept roaming round when we were dancing,’ she explained. ‘Then when we were sitting down he kept trying to stand on my foot.’

  ‘On your new sandals?’ Anne said indignantly.

  ‘I should have been warned, I suppose,’ Sarah said. Then, blushing, she told Anne that when they had left Reece’s and were walking up Parker Street Ronald had suddenly pushed her into a shop doorway and attacked her. She had brought the casket of chocolates down on his head and run away.

  ‘And he seemed such a gentleman!’ Anne exclaimed.

  You wouldn’t have thought so if you’d heard him shouting after me as I ran away,’ Sarah said. ‘And he tried to put his tongue in my mouth and when he pulled me in the doorway he – he unfastened the front of his trousers.’

  ‘The dirty thing!’ Anne gasped. ‘Wait until I tell Mabel. He’ll get no more orders in our shop.’

  ‘I think we should stick to the lads we know in future, Anne,’ said Sarah. ‘It was horrible.’

  ‘Never mind,’ Anne consoled her. ‘We’ve got to live and learn. You’ll be coming to the caelidhe tonight, won’t you?’