by Anne Bennett
George nodded. ‘She’s a great woman, Mary.’
Angela nodded. ‘She is indeed and I know that more than most.’
‘But Matt hasn’t got much better you say?’
Angela shook her head and added, ‘You would hardly know what he thinks, because he seldom says anything at all and none of it good since the arrival of the telegram.’
‘No sign of him getting back to work?’ George asked. ‘That might help him get a grip on himself.’
Angela shook her head vehemently. ‘He’s not fit,’ she said. ‘Not physically I don’t mean, though he’s thinner and frailer than he was because he eats so little and has started having pains in his stomach again, but he’s had those pains for ages. Mammy thinks it’s indigestion. But I’d be more worried about his emotional state. Barry thinks he might never work again.’
‘It must be hard for you financially with Barry not out of his apprenticeship yet.’
Angela shrugged. ‘It has been hard but we have managed just about. Needs must and all that.’
‘Well I’m delighted you’re back. The customers have been asking for you. Mrs Maitland has had to come and help me at busy times.’
Angela wrinkled her nose, for Matilda Maitland had scarcely set foot in the shop since she had been working there. ‘Bet that didn’t go down too well.’
George didn’t speak, but shook his head with a smile before going on to say, ‘Well this has decided me. I have thought about it time and enough. I am putting your wages up two shillings to twelve and six.’
Angela gave a gasp. ‘Oh Mr Maitland. Are you sure?’
‘Quite sure, my dear,’ George said. ‘And I will pack you up a big bag of groceries to take home with you today and every Saturday night after we close.’
Tears were standing out in Angela’s eyes and she brushed them away impatiently and determinedly swallowed the lump in her throat as she said, ‘Thank you so much, Mr Maitland. You are very kind.’
George Maitland’s voice was gruff as he answered the girl he had grown so fond of in the two years she had been working at the shop and he said with a twinkle in his eye, ‘Not at all, my dear. I’m looking after myself, that’s all. It’s just a ploy to get more hours’ work out of you, for people can work harder if they are not hungry.’
Angela knew it wasn’t that at all but she didn’t bother arguing, but instead began removing her coat. ‘Shall we make a start then?’
‘Now? You mean start right now?’ George asked.
‘Why not now?’ Angela said. ‘I have to start sometime and it might as well be today as Saturdays were always busy and usually needed two of us.’
Angela spoke the truth as George knew well. He’d actually thought that morning that he’d probably have to ask his wife to lend a hand before the day was out. He hated asking her, because she detested serving in the shop and made that abundantly clear and was so short and abrupt when she served people that she upset some of his best customers. And now here was Angela offering him a solution. ‘Well if you’re sure?’
‘Course I am,’ Angela said. ‘Looks like I’m needed too because there’s already a queue forming outside waiting for you to open up.’
There was and George hurried to open the door. The people poured in, most only too delighted to see Angela behind the counter again.
The day passed swiftly as busy days often do. Though she assumed the family would know why she hadn’t returned home after seeing George Maitland, she found a small boy in the street who agreed to go and tell them for two ounces of monkey nuts. She had no dinner with her, but Mary realized that and sent a sandwich back with the child. Angela was very grateful and ate it in the store room as she always did.
When George returned to the shop he appeared pensive. ‘What are you thinking about so intently?’ she asked with a smile.
‘I’m thinking that it’s madness for me to go upstairs for my dinner every day while you sit in the store room eating a sandwich.’
‘Why is it?’ Angela asked. ‘I don’t mind. I’ve done that since I started here.’
‘I know, for that’s how Matilda wanted it,’ George said grimly. ‘But you will feel more able to do a full afternoon’s work with a good dinner inside you and Matilda is a good cook, I will give her that.’
Angela was quite happy with a sandwich and knew that however good the food, she wouldn’t take full enjoyment of it in the stilted atmosphere there would be, because she’d only be there on sufferance. But then she knew it would save money for them all if she was to be given her dinner at the shop. She would only need a light tea and a meal only had to be cooked for Barry when he came in from work. She knew Mary would as usual see to herself and Matt at dinner time and then they could have tea with her. That surely was more important than Matilda Maitland’s bad humour. And yet she said, ‘Mrs Maitland might not like it.’
‘You leave Matilda to me,’ George said. ‘From now on you will eat dinner with us. Agreed?’
‘If you say so, Mr Maitland,’ Angela said with an impish grin. ‘You’re the boss.’
‘Glad you realize that at least,’ said George, but he had a smile on his face as he turned the sign to OPEN and unlocked the door.
Mary cried when she unpacked the two shopping bags George had filled with groceries for them all. There were three loaves of bread that George said would only go stale if they stayed in the shop, a block of lard, and another of butter and a chunk of cheese. There was the ham and corned beef that had been left at the end of the day and a side of bacon left on the bacon slicer and a dozen eggs, and then he had added a jar of jam and a packet of biscuits. Mary could see the makings of many meals with the food George Maitland had given them and when Angela told her about the raise and the new arrangement Mary felt the nagging worry slide from her shoulders that they wouldn’t have enough to eat, heat the house and pay the rent.
‘You must take a little more for yourselves,’ she said to Angela.
Angela shook her head. ‘I don’t want anything.’
‘Listen to me,’ Mary said. ‘You think you know all there is to know about Barry, but you know him as a brother. You need to get to know him as the man you will spend the rest of your life with and, please God, as the father of any children you may be blessed with and for that you two need to get out more on your own.’
‘We haven’t the money for that sort of thing.’
‘With your increased wages and Barry’s money we have enough,’ Mary insisted, ‘especially if you are guaranteed a hot dinner every day and George sends home groceries every week. Anyway you don’t have to spend a lot. Now and again you could maybe go to the cinema, or the Music Hall, or if money was tight you could just go for a walk, or go down the Bull Ring on a Saturday evening where there is great entertainment to be had I’ve been told.
‘And another thing,’ Mary went on before Angela had time to form any sort of reply, ‘tell everyone about your impending marriage so the two of you can openly go down the street hand in hand, for you are doing nothing wrong.’
‘I know that,’ Angela said. ‘I wasn’t sure about it myself at first, you know, with Barry nearly a brother to me, but he convinced me that it was all above board to feel as we do.’
‘Hmph, and he might have to do some more convincing before he is much older.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Why did you think it might be wrong?’
‘Well I suppose because we had been brought up so closely,’ Angela said. ‘I knew Barry loved me. He said that when I arrived at your house first, though, he couldn’t understand much of it, but he felt sorry for me because he said I looked so sad and he was determined to be the best big brother he could be. And he was and I always loved him. I loved you all of course but there was always a special place in my heart for Barry, my big brother, so when those feelings changed I thought they must be sinful, so sinful I nearly told it in confession.’
‘But you didn’t,’ said Mary with a smile.
�
�No I didn’t because to give voice to it would make it more real,’ Angela said. ‘At the time I was trying to convince myself that I was imagining things. And I suppose I was sort of ashamed.’
‘Well all I’m saying is that others may feel as you did at first,’ Mary said. ‘In fact some around the doors think you are brother and sister. We came here as a complete family and I thought of you as my daughter by then, and you were a wee sister to all the boys, and so many will think these feelings you have for each other very wrong indeed. And so I don’t want you to hide away as if you were guilty of some crime. Hold your heads up high.’
SEVEN
How wise Mary was, Angela often thought in the weeks that followed that little chat, for there was open condemnation from neighbours. George Maitland had been slightly alarmed when she told him as well as being surprised, though he knew they were unrelated because Angela had told him when she first came to work in the shop how it had transpired that she was living with the McCluskys. But he knew what people were like and many he knew would take a dim view of this state of affairs, and the customers in the shop were shocked at first and it didn’t entirely stop when Angela told them she wasn’t Barry’s sister, for some still considered it bordered on an incestuous relationship.
Added to that was what they saw as a lack of respect shown to their two boys drowned in the Atlantic Ocean. ‘There was no decent period of mourning at all,’ women muttered among themselves around the doors.
‘And that cock-and-bull story of her not being related to the McCluskys at all doesn’t ring true to me.’
‘Yes they’re all the same family as far as I’m concerned,’ another agreed. ‘I’m surprised Mary doesn’t put a stop to it.’
‘Wait till Father Brannigan gets to hear. He’ll roast the pair of them alive.’
Some women showed their displeasure initially by refusing to be served by her. Angela found the animosity hard to take for she had never encountered it before; she’d always thought she was well liked.
Mary told her to take no notice, that their news would be a seven-day wonder, that was all, and then it would be someone else they turned their attentions upon. Angela knew that that was probably true, but meanwhile she found it hard to approach a group of chattering women, who fell silent as she grew near and ignored any tentative greeting she offered, and she felt their eyes boring into her back as she walked away. ‘Miss hoity toity,’ someone called after her as she passed. ‘Marrying her brother with no respect for the dead.’
Barry seemed not to notice, or at least not to care. ‘Why worry?’ he asked Angela one Saturday night as they made their way to the cinema. ‘While they’re pulling us to pieces they’re leaving some other poor devil alone.’
But it was almost a fortnight since the news that Angela intended to marry Barry McClusky became public, and just that morning a woman had refused to be served by Angela. She dreaded the day when George Maitland would ask her to leave and although the money she earned as well as the groceries given ensured their survival, she would still be glad not to face the bevy of scornful, judgemental women day after day. She turned to Barry now and said, ‘Don’t you care what they are thinking about us and what some are even saying?’
Barry gave a little laugh as he shook his head. ‘Slides off me like water off a duck’s back,’ he said. ‘It would matter only if it were true, but it isn’t. You and I are doing nothing wrong and you must really believe that, or it will taint the time we have together.’
Angela knew Barry was right and cuddling up tight against him as they walked, she felt safe and secure and it was easy to tell that she cared not a jot for the opinion of the neighbours.
After a while the animosity calmed down a little when George eventually took his customers in hand and assured them Angela was no blood relation to the McCluskys and far from showing lack of respect to the two boys that drowned, they decided to marry early to give Mary some reason to go on, to give her something to look forward to, for she was in danger of falling into depression.
Most customers accepted that. Many of George’s customers were Catholics and went to St Catherine’s and knew the McCluskys to be a respectable family, and no wonder Mary was so very desolate, losing two sons like she had. Giving her a reason to go on would seem to be a good idea. However, over three weeks later another customer, one Edith Cottrell, known for her caustic tongue, still refused to let Angela serve her.
Angela turned away with a sigh and George Maitland saw the tears in her eyes and it angered him. He knew there were plenty of shops on Bristol Street that people could go to if they decided to boycott his shop. And yet he felt that he could no longer stand by and allow Angela to be treated so badly by some of his customers and so he faced the woman and said, ‘Angela must serve you, because I’m busy.’
The woman was affronted. ‘I’m a respectable person I’ll have you know,’ she said. ‘And I am particular and I will not have that hussy serving me.’
Angela’s head shot up and her eyes were no longer full of tears. Instead they flashed fire and her face was flushed as she demanded angrily, ‘Who are you to call me a hussy? Let me tell you my foster mother Mary McClusky would likely wash my mouth out with carbolic if she heard me using that word about another person, especially if it was totally unfounded as yours is. I called Mary McClusky my foster mother because that’s who she is and the fact that people think she is my mother speaks only of her generosity of spirit that allowed her to take into her home the orphaned child of her dear friend, my mother. She cared for me and gave me as much love as she did her own sons. My name is Angela Kennedy, but soon, when I marry Barry, I will be called McClusky and will be proud of that.’
‘Hmph,’ Edith Cottrell snapped irritably as she added, ‘And does Barry McClusky know what a she-devil you are and one with an evil temper?’ She swung round from glaring at Angela to face George Maitland and said, ‘You should take care who you employ, or you’ll find decent people won’t come in here. I’ll go elsewhere and I’ll spread the news, never fear.’
Angela knew by giving way to that outburst, however justified she might have thought it was, she had alienated one of George Maitland’s customers and she knew the knock-on effect that could happen from that. She bitterly regretted risking making life more difficult for such a kind man who had helped her, and therefore the family, a great deal. So she gave a small sigh before saying to Edith Cottrell, ‘You needn’t bother going anywhere because it’s me that’s leaving.’ And she removed her apron as she spoke.
‘What you doing?’ George cried. ‘Put that apron back on!’ And he leaned across the counter and said, ‘Angela will not be leaving, Mrs Cottrell, but you will, for I don’t want your sort in here abusing my staff for no reason and, if any of your friends are of like mind, they can stay away too. Good day to you.’
Edith Cottrell looked from Angela biting her bottom lip in anxiety and still clutching her apron in her hands to the resolute George and she said, ‘I hope you know what you are doing.’
‘I do absolutely,’ George said. ‘And as I said before, good day to you.’
Edith Cottrell had no option but to leave and as she flounced through the door and shut it behind her with a slam Angela looked at George and said, ‘Oh Mr Maitland. What have you done?’
‘Something I should have done a while ago. Never could stand the woman anyway.’
‘But won’t she destroy your business?’
‘She may try,’ George conceded. ‘But the woman isn’t liked whereas you are, by many people, and so I think the majority will have more sense than to heed her. Mind,’ he added with a little chuckle, ‘they may have a peep into the shop to see this she-devil I have working for me.’
‘But, George, they should know me,’ Angela protested. ‘I’ve been working here ages now and, to be honest, I was surprised anyone had any sort of negative reaction when I told them about me and Barry.’
‘It was shock, that’s all,’ George said. ‘And some who moved he
re after you probably did think that Barry was your brother, for you were all brought up like one big family. Most now, knowing the truth of it, are fine, but you always get the odd ones, like Edith Cottrell, who see sin when none exists. Take no heed of her.’
Angela tried to do just that and it was easy enough to do as Edith never went near the shop. Others did though, for George was right. Whatever it was Edith told them, a stream of women entered the shop over the next few days to buy sundry items, but really to see if Angela had overnight turned into the screaming she-devil virago Edith Cottrell probably described.
They found her unchanged and thought it wrong of Edith to bad-mouth her so, for the girl was doing no harm at all. In a way Edith did Angela a favour because after that everyone behaved as they always had towards her and many even offered their congratulations.
Some expressed concern that she was very young to marry but then others put in that it wasn’t as if they didn’t know one another. And it wasn’t as if Barry and Angela would be totally alone starting married life for they would live with Mary. Barry had made that abundantly clear and Angela didn’t seem to mind that either. Truly, if Barry had suggested leaving she would have done her best to dissuade him, for she couldn’t bear Mary to be left alone with Matt, who was so still and silent it was as if the lifeblood had been sucked from him.
There was just about enough money to buy everything needed in the house, but little slack and Barry suggested to his mother that she should see if Matt was entitled to anything as he was unable to work.
Mary shook her head. ‘There’s nothing for the likes of us Barry,’ she said. ‘If you don’t work you starve.’
‘No,’ Barry cried. ‘There’s something called the National Insurance Scheme that looks after you when you’re sick. Dad has been paying in for a year or so. I don’t know much about it because it doesn’t apply to apprentices, but the Gaffer – you know Stan Bishop – said to tell you and for you to have a word with him, like. He’s been on about it since that last time he called to see Dad.’
