‘That sounds fishy to me,’ Eileen said. ‘Why did the matron get the push? Chris is a fool to pay money to a set-up like that.’
‘She’s still his wife and he has a moral duty to support her,’ Maureen said quietly and Eileen said no more to her. To Theresa she said that she was sure that Maureen had no idea what she meant about the set-up.
‘She wouldn’t say any different even if she did realise they were lesbians,’ Theresa said. ‘Although she’s so gentle, Maureen’s as hard as a rock where her principles are concerned.’
In August work began on a factory at Capenhurst which was to produce enriched uranium, in spite of protests against it. John was furious about it and the meetings of the Peace Pledge Union seemed to last longer and longer.
At the weekend nearest the opening John and Con and his wife joined a protest against it, carrying banners made by Con’s wife, Dolores.
‘I wish you’d come and show as much interest as Dolores,’ John said to Anne.
‘And who’d look after the children?’ she demanded.
Mrs Rooney was annoyed, although pleased to have Dolores out of the house for the day. ‘She’s a hard-faced bitch,’ she told Anne. ‘I only passed a remark about her name being funny and you should’ve heard her.’
‘She wasn’t pleased?’ Anne said, smiling.
‘She turned round and told me with names like Cornelius and Bartholomew and Isabella Mary in the family, I should keep quiet about her name.’
‘Do you like long names?’ Anne asked diplomatically.
‘It wasn’t me. It was Eddie what chose them. He said if they didn’t have nothing else off us, at least we could give them important-sounding names.’
Although Anne resented the time that John spent at meetings, she was very happy otherwise. Both her children were healthy and happy and John was a tender and loving husband. They were again using the safe period but only until Laura was about eighteen months old. Anne still hoped for a large family so that she could re-create her happy childhood home.
Laura was one year old on 2 September and Sarah brought David and Rosaleen, and Helen brought Moira, to a little birthday party for her.
They left before John arrived home from work but Gerry insisted that the small remaining piece of cake should have a candle stuck in it to be lit by his father.
They all sang ‘Happy Birthday’ again and Gerry applauded loudly. ‘He’s enjoying Laura’s birthday even more than she is,’ Anne laughed and John said with satisfaction, ‘Not a jealous bone in his body as my grandma would say.’
The following week Gerry started school and was happy there from the first day. Although the school was not far away, Anne found the walk there four times a day to take Gerry or bring him home very time-consuming. She still rose early and managed to do some housework or washing before wakening Gerry for school, then after leaving him she went to church for nine o’clock Mass, and then for her shopping. It was impossible now for her to travel back to Everton to shop.
After she had brought Gerry home for lunch and taken him back she sat with Laura on her knee to listen to ‘Listen With Mother’, then the little girl went down for a nap and Anne whirled about doing housework and preparing the evening meal before again collecting Gerry.
It was an orderly, happy existence. She met many of her friends as she walked about and Laura thrived on the fresh air and the exercise as she often walked behind the pushchair instead of riding in it.
At the end of September Stephen and Margaret O’Dowd were married and the family were convinced that this time he had found the right girl. Margaret belonged to a large and boisterous family and several of her brothers and sisters were married with children so the reception was held in a church hall.
‘I’ll need the George’s Hall for the next one,’ Margaret’s father told Anne. ‘Our Josie’s engaged to a lad with nine brothers and one sister.’
‘You’ve just been unlucky,’ Anne said, laughing. ‘Plenty of only children around.’
‘Aye, but not like Stephen,’ Mr O’Dowd said. ‘We all think the world of him. Maybe belonging to a big family has made him the lad he is.’
Eileen and Martin Hanlon waited until after the wedding to announce their engagement. Martin was a dark serious man, totally unlike Whitey as described by Eileen, but with a quiet determination which overcame all her doubt and hesitation.
They were negotiating to buy a house on the estate where Theresa and Jim lived and would marry quietly as soon as the deal was completed.
Stephen and Margaret were buying a house on a nearby estate and Anne was not surprised when John spoke again about finding a better paid job and owning their own house.
‘I don’t think we should move,’ she said. ‘This house is big enough for us and Gerry’s happily settled at school. I’ve got good friends at the church and the clinic and look at all you’re involved in.’
‘I haven’t got the new job yet,’ was all that John said but Anne felt that she had not convinced him.
Gerry and Laura were a source of endless delight to them. Gerry had made good progress at school and at Christmas was chosen to be St Joseph in the Infants’ nativity play. John got time off to accompany Anne to see it.
Gerry was also a member of the class band. The teacher played the piano and the group of children on the platform banged drums, clashed cymbals or shook tambourines with varying degrees of skill but Anne and John had eyes only for their son. He stood at the edge of the group, his tongue caught between his teeth in concentration as he watched the teacher and struck his triangle at her signal.
After the concert Anne went into the cloakroom with other mothers to help the children to change into ordinary clothes and John waited outside with Laura. The headmistress paused beside him. ‘Mr Redmond?’ she said. ‘Gerald is an excellent pupil. He pays attention. It gives a child a good start when he’s been trained at home to be polite and obedient.’
John’s eyes were shining with pride when Anne came out with Gerry and he swung the little boy up into his arms. ‘I’m proud of you, son,’ he said. Gerry was not yet old enough to resent his father’s show of affection and flung his arms about his neck and hugged him.
As they walked home John told Anne about the teacher’s words and she was equally delighted. Gerry loved Laura and played with her endlessly building up blocks which she knocked down with shrieks of delight.
John showed more interest now in Laura but he still gave Gerry most of his attention, taking him about and putting him to bed at night.
Anne sometimes wondered whether she should point out to John that he was making a distinction between his children, which she was sure he was unaware of, but she put it off, hoping that time would rectify matters.
Mick came home for Christmas and told his parents that he now had a girlfriend named Gerda, but would bring her home later as she was spending Christmas with her family.
He showed photographs of Gerda and everyone agreed that she looked a nice girl but Christmas was overshadowed for all of them by worry about Kate.
A letter from Mary, received just before Christmas, told them only that Kate had left her husband and was now staying with her aunt and uncle. ‘Whatever can have happened?’ Cathy wept. ‘Gene seemed such a nice lad and his family couldn’t have done more to make her welcome.’
‘Too much, maybe,’ Sally said grimly. ‘It’d do Kate good to have to rough it a bit.’
‘Mary’s letter told us nothing,’ Cathy said. ‘Except that she was pleased to have Kate staying with her.’
Anne had brought the children to see Mick and now she said hopefully, ‘Perhaps it’s just a storm in a teacup and Kate is back with Gene by now?’
‘Let’s hope so,’ Cathy said with a sigh. ‘She won’t get much good advice from our Mary, though.’
‘Don’t forget Sam’s there,’ Mick said. ‘He’ll soon sort it out.’
Cathy managed a rather watery smile and Sally said briskly, ‘These young ones talk a lot of sens
e, Cathy. Try to put it out of your head, girl, until we know more.’
Cathy tried to take her advice but it was clear to everyone that it was an effort and all the family found that their thoughts were often far away in America.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Anne and John and the children were due to have Christmas dinner at her father’s house but even there Anne felt sad. Before long, she thought, only her father and Maureen would remain in the house which had once been so full of their happy family.
She looked round the kitchen, trying to remember it as it was before it had been wrecked during the ‘May Blitz’. Very little remained the same.
The dresser was still there but the Crown Derby dinner service, her mother’s pride and joy, had been destroyed and now only a few odd dishes stood on the shelves. Patrick’s re-framed photograph still stood there, along with numerous others of weddings and grandchildren.
The long table, scrubbed white, and the wooden kitchen chairs had been replaced by a small polished wood table and upholstered chairs. Her father’s wooden armchair had been mended but her mother’s chair had been smashed beyond repair. Tony had gathered up the pieces and taken them to his own house, Anne remembered.
She remembered too that they had brought a comfortable chair from the parlour for her mother to use, not realising that she would never again leave her bed. Tears filled Anne’s eyes at the memories but she wrenched her mind back to the present.
They spent the rest of Christmas Day with John’s family and the children diverted their thoughts, at least temporarily, from the trouble in America.
A few days later a letter came from Sam in which he said that Kate was well but she became upset if they suggested contacting Gene. He had contacted Gene’s father, however. ‘He was glad to know that Kate was safe with us,’ Sam wrote, ‘but at a loss to know why she left. Gene was very upset. I must confess that Kate’s complaints seem trivial to me, but as I explained to Mr Romero it must have been difficult for her at such a young age to adjust to being a married woman and living in what to her was a strange country, far from her family where she had always been cherished. He is a very reasonable man and took my point. I will let you know immediately of any developments.’
‘Thank God Sam’s there to look after her,’ Cathy said. ‘He’s a rock of sense.’
‘Yes, but it’s not fair that he should be worried,’ said Greg. ‘I must write to Kate and to Gene.’
Later in January John received a letter from a factory in Long Lane, offering him an interview for a job.
‘But you’ve just had your Christmas bonus,’ Anne said in dismay. ‘You can’t leave Johnson’s now.’
‘Fifteen pounds?’ John said. ‘I might earn that in a week. You know yourself a factory is the place to make money.’
Anne was silent. She knew that it had rankled with John that he had been unable to save while a soldier but Anne had had a nest egg when they married. She had never earned less than seven pounds a week in the factory and sometimes as much as nine but her mother would take no more than three a week from her.
‘Sure that’s a man’s wage, child,’ she would say, ‘I couldn’t take more.’ So Anne had put money in the Post Office Savings Bank or in National Savings Certificates. This money was collected in the factory and she saved more because she had so little free time to shop.
‘I’ll offer to return the bonus if I get this job,’ John said. ‘But I can’t turn down this chance, Anne.’
‘But you might hate the factory job.’
‘Not if it pays well,’ he said with a grin but added more seriously, ‘You must see, Anne, that we can’t go on as we are. There’s always month left at the end of our money and I know you keep dipping into your savings to make it up.’
‘Our savings, John,’ she protested. ‘A lot of that money was saved when I lived off your allotment after we were married and saved my wages. The cigar box has only run out once or twice anyway.’
They were both easy-going about money and their system was for John to put his month’s pay into an old cigar box from which they each drew money as they needed it. Anne always felt pleased that they had never argued about money which she felt would be degrading.
She was afraid that John’s father would be upset when he obtained the factory job and gave in his notice but Greg only said quietly, ‘He must do as he thinks best. I hope he won’t regret it.’
John seemed to be in a state of permanent excitement throughout January. In addition to his elation about the job, he was constantly dashing back and forth to the Labour Club as the General Election approached, making speeches, delivering leaflets and canvassing.
America had announced that she would develop the hydrogen bomb, which would be much more powerful than the atomic bomb, and John was conferring with Con and his wife, dashing off to meetings and writing numerous letters of protest.
‘I feel I should tie you down or else you’ll take off like a kite,’ Anne said.
‘Or a hot air balloon,’ he said with a grin. A self-deprecating remark like this could disarm Anne when she grew irritated with his efforts to reform the world single-handed.
In February Eileen and Martin were married very quietly and moved into the house they had bought in West Derby.
Anne had felt queasy during the ceremony but managed to conceal it, but on the following Sunday she fainted in church. She later found that she was pregnant and that the baby was due in October.
‘Well, you found out in good time,’ Mrs Rooney said. ‘And Laura’ll be turned two.’
‘Yes, we’re very pleased,’ Anne said. ‘It’s a little bit sooner than we meant but very welcome all the same.’
‘You’ll soon have your six, girl,’ Mrs Rooney said. ‘That’s if you don’t change your mind.’
Anne soon found that this pregnancy was totally different from the two previous ones. She was sick every day, not only in the morning but throughout the day, and everything that she did required an effort. Milly, the war widow who had accompanied her to hospital when Laura was born, proved a true friend, quietly helping her in many ways.
She found a neighbour whose child attended the same school as Gerry and arranged for him to be taken to school and brought home. Mrs Rooney and other friends were also very willing to help Anne.
John stayed at home nearly every evening but he was restless and Anne felt that he wanted to be elsewhere. The telephone had been installed soon after Laura’s birth and Anne was irritated by the number of people who telephoned John. She grew tired of hearing him say, ‘I’m sorry, I know, but it’s not possible. I can’t leave my wife alone at present.’
‘I don’t know why you don’t go to the meetings,’ she told him. ‘Laura and Gerry never wake once they’re asleep and I’ll be all right.’
‘But you’re sick so often,’ he said.
‘I know, but I’ll go to bed early with a book and I won’t be far from the bathroom.’
‘Well, if you are sure you’ll be all right,’ John said. ‘These meetings are important. We want to get a million signatures for the Stockholm Peace Appeal.’ Twenty minutes later he had put a hot water bottle in the bed, banked up the fire, made Anne a cup of tea and was ready to go.
Like a hound off a leash, Anne grumbled to herself, but then she thought she was being unreasonable when she had urged John to go out. Laura was at a mischievous age but often when Anne rushed to the bathroom because she was sick she found the little girl beside her, patting her leg and saying, ‘Poor Mummy.’
Anne grew very close to her little daughter at this time but Laura was not as well behaved with John. Anne had gone to the monthly Communion Sunday of the women’s confraternity alone, and John had also gone alone to the CYMS Communion Sunday, but on the other Sundays they had gone as a family to Mass.
Now Anne went alone each Sunday to sit near the back and frequently to come out to be sick. After a few weeks the parish priest came to see her. ‘There’s no obligation for you to come to Ma
ss while you are feeling so bad, Mrs Redmond,’ he said. ‘In fact I would say that it would almost be wrong if you did, while you have your duty to your family.’
‘I keep hoping it will pass, Father,’ she said. ‘It’s unusual to be sick for so long.’
‘I’ll say a prayer you’ll soon feel better,’ he said. ‘But remember now, keep indoors and look after yourself and I’ll bring Holy Communion to you. This is the coldest April for twenty-five years, the papers say.’
For a few weeks John took the two children but he complained that Laura was very unruly.
‘She won’t keep still for a minute,’ he said. ‘Pulling the shoes off the woman in front and shouting and crying during the sermon, or climbing over the bench. She distracts everyone around us yet Gerry’s as good as gold.’
‘Leave her at home then,’ Anne said. ‘She’s all right with me.’
The family were all worried about Anne but everyone was busy with their own affairs. Sarah and Joe were preparing to move into their new home but Helen and Tony had to defer their move because Moira was in the isolation hospital with scarlet fever.
Fortunately she made a good recovery and they were able to go ahead with the move. Anne attended the antenatal clinic at the hospital and went to see Sarah for the last time in Magdalen Street.
Anne was very upset after one visit. ‘I know students have got to learn, Sar,’ she said, ‘but I felt terrible. All of them standing round me and I had to ask one of them for a dish because I was sick.’ She wept a little. ‘I felt bad enough with them all there, even without that, but the nurse was very nice. She held the dish and stood in front of me to hide me.’
‘You’d think they’d have the nous to go away,’ Sarah said indignantly.
‘I suppose they don’t know what to do, and it was over in a minute, but then they started guessing what was making me sick and frightening the life out of me.’
‘Take no notice,’ Sarah said soothingly. ‘Like you said, they were only guessing. You’ll be all right soon.’
She hid her alarm at the sight of Anne’s thinness and her white face with dark shadows like bruises under her eyes, but she told her grandmother about her. Sally came to see Anne the next day. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you, girl, with Cathy being ill,’ she said.
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