A Nest of Singing Birds

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

  Two of the committee men from the gardening club had been round to see his vegetables one night and come in for a cup of tea and a sandwich afterwards. The talk had soon turned to the Dominion status of India and Pakistan and the appointment of Viscount Mountbatten as Governor-General of India and Mr Jinnah as Governor-General of Pakistan.

  John had argued that an Indian should have been appointed Governor-General and the argument had become heated. Even when one of the men had tried to change the subject by talking about the ending of the British mandate in Palestine, John took the opposite view to the others.

  Anne, sitting quietly knitting, felt irritated by it all. Why was John always out of step? she thought. And anyway, wasn’t there enough nearer home for them to be worrying about? She hoped that he would avoid these topics at the christening and was relieved that Mick would be home for the weekend. He’ll keep John in check, she thought.

  In the event all went well and it was one of the most successful of Fred’s parties.

  Anne and John were still avoiding another pregnancy for Anne by keeping to the ‘safe period’ and one had occurred shortly after their weekend away.

  Three of the nights had been wasted because John went as a delegate to a weekend conference at Cambridge, which meant that he was away from home on the Friday and Saturday nights and so exhausted on Sunday night that he fell asleep as soon as he was in bed.

  On the Monday Anne went to the clinic with her friend Ena who had a baby of three months old. Anne only took Gerry there now for the free orange juice and vitamin tablets which were available for toddlers and today found a different nurse there, a big buxom woman.

  A woman Anne knew slightly was there with her seventh child and when he was being weighed said to the nurse, ‘Some people are being real nasty about us having another one. They talk as if me husband was a sexual maniac but it’s just he gets a result every time.’

  ‘Don’t let that worry you,’ the nurse boomed. ‘Anyone else says that tell them that well-trodden ground never bears grass.’

  There was laughter from the waiting women and Ena whispered to Anne, ‘It must be true. See Tricia there. She told me they never miss a night and she’s only got two kids. Hannah who’s with her said if it was up to her husband they’d never do it.’

  Anne felt shocked at the public discussion but smiled vaguely and Ena went on, ‘Fancy a woman starting it. I’m only too glad if Harry just goes asleep.’ Fortunately Ena was called before Anne needed to reply. She thought it was a private matter between husband and wife, and would never have discussed the lovelife of herself and John.

  Nevertheless, she wondered what Ena would say if she knew that she and John kept their lovemaking to a week or so in the safe period each month and John had been away for most of the recent period.

  It’s not as if he’s like Hannah’s husband, Anne thought. We daren’t kiss and cuddle in bed for the rest of the month because one thing leads to another and we can’t stop. We can only manage by going to bed separately and saying goodnight downstairs.

  His committees must be very important to him, she thought resentfully, but was ashamed of the thought when she reached home. John was at home and had brought in her washing and folded it and made the preparations for the meal.

  ‘I had a nose bleed while Stan was in the office,’ he explained, ‘and he told me to go home. I was all right in no time but I didn’t argue.’

  He produced a bag of her favourite sweets, buttered brazils. ‘I swopped some cigs for sweet coupons,’ he said. ‘I got a penny bar of Cadbury’s for Gerry too but I’ve hidden it till you think he should have it.’

  It was a warm sunny day and they sat in the garden, sipping glasses of lemonade. Anne leaned back in her chair and stretched luxuriously.

  ‘Gosh, this is the life,’ she said. ‘Our “lines have fallen in pleasant places”, John, haven’t they?’

  ‘A quotation for everything, haven’t you?’ he said, smiling affectionately at her.

  ‘I’m made up I’ve found the Public Library in the village,’ she said. ‘It’s a lovely walk up there and it’s really well stocked.’

  Gerry had fallen asleep and Anne and John lay back in their chairs with closed eyes, enjoying the peace and the sunlight falling on their upturned faces.

  ‘How did it go at the clinic?’ he asked idly.

  ‘Very well,’ said Anne. An innate delicacy prevented her from telling him of the nurse’s comments but she repeated some of the gossip. ‘Hannah’s eldest boy should have left school in July but he’s had to stay on until he’s fifteen.’

  ‘But surely she’s glad he’s having an extra year?’ John exclaimed. ‘You think it’s right the school leaving age is raised, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes. I know this is one of the things you were fighting for before the war, John, but it’s a bit hard on people like Hannah. She said she was counting on the lad’s wages but still she’ll keep the five bob family allowance for him.’

  ‘But the eldest doesn’t get it,’ John said.

  ‘No, but if Bernie had started work, the next child would have been counted as eldest and she’d have lost five bob.’

  ‘You can’t suit some people,’ John exclaimed. ‘I thought everyone’d be pleased for their kids to have the extra year’s schooling.’

  ‘All the women are made up about the family allowance anyway,’ Anne said soothingly. ‘Ena told me that Hannah always had a struggle because her husband never earned much but she got twenty-five shillings family allowance the week it came in and rigged all the kids out in new pumps.’

  ‘You’ll have to tell Mum that story,’ John said, smiling. ‘She used to campaign for family allowances. Supporting Eleanor Rathbone, carrying banners and delivering leaflets and that sort of thing. She was only a young girl at the time so it’s taken a long time.’

  ‘Yes, but they got there in the end,’ Anne said. ‘Sometimes I think you’re a bit impatient, John, expecting things to change overnight. I know a lot of things are still scarce, but things are getting better and at least we don’t have to worry about people being killed and the horrible blackout’s over.’

  ‘Maybe I am too impatient,’ he admitted, ‘but this is the opportunity to get things done and people are so dozy and there’s so much red tape.’

  Gerry woke and John picked him up and sat down again with the child on his knee. ‘Another thing too, Anne,’ he said. ‘There’s always something else to watch. The atom bomb. English scientists discovered it but then they went in with America and now the Americans have taken complete control.’

  ‘But does it matter?’ she said. ‘The war’s over now.’

  ‘This war,’ John said grimly. ‘The Americans have got the money for bigger, more powerful bombs, then someone else will have them. It only means a moment’s madness, someone’s finger on a button, and we’ll be annihilated.’

  Anne felt as though a dark cloud had come over the sun. ‘No one would be so mad, surely?’ she said.

  ‘We can’t take the risk,’ he said. Would anyone have believed before the First World War that Passchendaele could happen? The Somme? Ypres? Thousands of lives thrown away for a few hundred yards of ground. And the last war… bombing cities, annihilating them and everyone there, including women and children. We didn’t know what was being done in our name until it was too late, but this time we do know.’

  ‘But what can we do?’

  ‘Band together. Protest so loudly and forcefully that they’ll have to listen. Unity is strength, my grandad always said, and I believe it. We’ll demand that the tests of the atomic bombs are stopped and they are all destroyed. That’s what the Peace Pledge Union is demanding. Tony’s joined, y’know.’

  ‘Our Tony?’ Anne exclaimed.

  ‘Yes, well, he’s got a child too,’ John said. He lifted Gerry on to his knee and smoothed back the curls from the child’s face. ‘We’ve got to fight for a safe world for them.’

  Anne sat silent, her mind in turmoil. She
thought of items heard on the wireless or read in the newspaper, disregarded by her as odd happenings at the other side of the world. The picture of a mushroom-shaped cloud at Hiroshima, the reports of the devastation and of people dying from the effects years later.

  Suddenly they all came together in her mind and she looked with anguish at Gerry. Why did we have a child? The world’s not fit for children.

  John looked at her face and drew her into his arms. ‘Don’t worry, love,’ he said gently. ‘We won’t let it happen.’

  They slipped their arms round each other’s waist and followed Gerry into the house. John eagerly told Anne of all the protests that had been made and the numerous names that had been collected on petitions, and she privately decided that in future instead of resenting the time he spent with the Peace Pledge Union she would encourage him.

  She managed to put all these dark thoughts out of her mind at the confraternity meeting that evening and came home as cheerful as ever.

  * * *

  Nothing had been heard of the Connolly family since their flight in 1940 but the following evening Carrie and Fred arrived at the Fitzgerald house in great excitement, carrying a newspaper. Pat, Stephen, Eileen and Maureen were all in and Stephen called Joe and Sarah into the kitchen.

  ‘Take a look at this,’ he said. ‘It must be them,’ pointing to the newspaper spread on the kitchen table.

  There were large black headlines, GANGLAND SLAYING, and underneath the account said that the mutilated body of Buster Leyland, thought to be a member of the Brookland’s gang, was thrown from a moving car onto the steps of the White Peacock Club at three a.m.

  The face had been razor slashed and the head almost severed from the body. Police feared this was another gangland killing which would lead to further violence.

  There was a small photograph on the page and Carrie said, ‘It’s him all right, Brendan, isn’t it?’ And the family agreed.

  Although the face was fatter and wore a pencil moustache the photograph was indisputably of Brendan. Stephen read aloud, ‘“He was known to the police for several years, under different names, but they were never able to charge him.

  ‘A police spokesman said, “He was as slippery as an eel and so vicious that witnesses were afraid to give evidence against him.”’

  ‘Good God!’ Pat said. ‘Are you sure it’s him? He was a bad lot all right, but this!’

  ‘Read the rest,’ Carrie said.

  Stephen read aloud: ‘“When our reporter arrived at the luxurious flat where he lived with his mother and sister, two hefty thugs wearing knuckle dusters barred his way. When the police arrived an hour later the thugs had vanished and so had Leyland’s mother and sister. The flat showed signs of a hasty flight.”’

  Maureen crossed herself. ‘Lord rest him! Minnie and Dympna were still with him then. At least he was always a good son.’

  ‘Used them for cover more likely,’ Fred growled.

  ‘“The neighbours were shocked to hear of the double life led by the man they knew as Mr Collins,”’ Stephen read. ‘“They were obviously wealthy but they lived very quiet lives,” said Miss Penelope Morgan. “They used a chauffeur-driven car and went abroad for holidays. They kept themselves to themselves and Mr Collins never said more than good morning or good evening.”’

  ‘Sounds as though she’d have liked to know him better,’ Eileen commented. ‘Maybe she had a lucky escape!’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Stephen said quietly to her, pointing to the next paragraph. She leaned forward and read, ‘“Leyland/Collins also owned a smaller flat in Mayfair where he entertained his men friends who were usually younger than himself. He was never known to have a woman friend.”’

  She looked at Stephen, then glanced to where Maureen was making tea and the others were discussing Minnie.

  ‘Couldn’t put it much more plainly, could they?’ she said quietly. ‘It’s a wonder the police couldn’t get him for that if they knew about it.’ Stephen shrugged.

  ‘Minnie won’t come back here,’ Carrie was saying positively. ‘She probably thinks we know nothing about this.’

  ‘And the gang’ll probably look after her and Dympna,’ Fred said. ‘She’ll have been whisked away abroad somewhere. Ten to one Minnie’ll have made sure she’s got some hold over them.’

  ‘I can’t believe I’m talking about my own sister and nephew,’ Carrie said. ‘My poor ma must be turning in her grave. I wonder if anyone else will have heard about them.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Eileen said. ‘They didn’t have many friends here and her house – most of that street, in fact – was wiped out with that landmine.’

  Anne and John heard about it the following evening. Anne’s friend Ena had been unable to babysit for them since the birth of her own baby, who was delicate and very cross. Eileen had volunteered to take her place and now she came straight from work every Wednesday so that Anne and John could visit the cinema. On this Wednesday she brought a copy of the newspaper to show them and they discussed it during their meal.

  ‘I can’t believe it!’ Anne exclaimed. ‘You read about these things but Brendan! And Minnie and Dympna! People we know.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ Eileen said. ‘Not about that last bit either. Brendan never had a girlfriend when he was here, did he? I always thought he was gay – as well as being a bad hat.’

  ‘Is that what it means?’ Anne said, re-reading the final paragraph.

  ‘Yes, but they have to be careful how they put it,’ Eileen said. ‘I said to Stephen it’s a wonder the police didn’t get him for that. Like Al Capone and the income tax evasion. Get him for something and put him out of circulation.’

  ‘He’s out of circulation now, poor beggar,’ John said. ‘It shouldn’t be a criminal offence though, being like he is. He couldn’t help being born like that.’

  ‘It should be if he was corrupting young boys,’ Eileen said indignantly. John was about to reply but Anne suddenly exclaimed, ‘We’re going to miss the start of the programme. Will you be all right, Eil? I’ve left a drink of orange juice for Gerry in case he wakes up and there’s a piece of pie and some fruit cake for your supper.’

  Anne discussed the affair with John as they walked to the cinema but as they stood in the queue she suddenly giggled. ‘I’m just thinking, John, how we’ve changed since the war. Imagine fellows and girls talking like we’ve been talking with Eileen, before the war!’

  He smiled. ‘Our mums and dads would have been shocked, wouldn’t they?’

  ‘Mum wouldn’t have known what we were talking about,’ Anne said. ‘Neither would I, for that matter. That factory certainly educated me!’

  John laughed and squeezed her hand. ‘Remember our honeymoon,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Remember telling me Penny thought it was very overrated.’ They laughed together and sat close during the film.

  When they left the cinema the air was warm and still and a full moon hung in the sky. ‘A bomber’s moon,’ he said.

  ‘No, a harvest moon,’ Anne corrected him. ‘That’s how I think of it now.’ They walked home slowly, their arms around each other and Anne resting her head against John’s shoulder.

  He kissed her gently. ‘I love you, Mrs Redmond,’ he whispered.

  Anne pressed her lips against his. ‘And I love you.’

  They were almost sorry to reach the house, but Eileen reported that Gerry had been very good. ‘He didn’t cry but I heard a noise and went up,’ she said. ‘He was sitting up in his cot singing “Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star”. I was going to get him the orange juice when he suddenly fell back as though he’d been poleaxed.’

  ‘I know,’ Anne said, laughing. ‘He always falls asleep like that. He was singing “Twinkle Twinkle” in church on Sunday. Every time the choir started a hymn Gerry struck up at the top of his voice.’

  She looked flushed and happy and Eileen stared at her quizzically. ‘You enjoyed the picture then?’

  ‘Yes. It was good. Weekend in Havana. I
like Alice Faye,’ Anne said innocently.

  ‘And I like Carmen Miranda,’ John said. ‘Don’t you think she looks like Anne, Eileen?’

  She laughed. ‘I just wondered how much you’d seen of it, that’s all,’ she teased. ‘I like the paper in Gerry’s bedroom, John.’

  ‘I suppose it’s not really suitable for a child’s room,’ he said, ‘but it’s great to get any paper with a pattern on it.’

  ‘We’re going for the lino on Saturday,’ Anne said. ‘I’ve left the dockets at Cohen’s and they’ll send the single bed when one comes in. He’s getting far too big for his cot.’

  John took Eileen to get the tram to Everton and when he returned Anne was in bed. He soon followed her and took her in his arms. ‘Shall we celebrate Gerry’s room being got ready?’ he whispered. ‘We don’t really want an empty cot, do we?’

  Anne snuggled closer to him. ‘No, we don’t want too big a gap between them.’

  ‘As long as Gerry’s nose isn’t pushed out,’ John said and Anne drew back a little.

  ‘I don’t see why it should be,’ she said, more sharply than she intended, and John hastily drew her close again. They made love with tenderness and passion but after John had fallen asleep Anne lay awake.

  She had longed for another baby since she had held Sarah’s in her arms but if another baby was bom to them, she hoped that John would not see it as a threat to Gerry.

  She thought it would be good for Gerry to have a brother or sister as a companion and that it would relieve Gerry of John’s obsessive love which might in time become a burden to him. Yet she knew she would love the baby for its own sake rather than what it would mean to Gerry and hoped that John would feel the same.

  I’m sure he will when he sees it, she thought and as she drifted off to sleep she smiled, thinking that quite literally she was counting her chickens before they were hatched.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Anne sang as she cleaned windows and polished furniture the following day. She was happy not only because of her hopes for another baby but also because Eileen had seemed like her old, pleasant self.