Spit Against the Wind

by Anna Smith

  ‘Holy shit!’ Tony said. ‘Holeee shit! He’s a goddamn Nazi! Jeeesus, man. The Polack’s a goddamn Nazi! The bastard! The murdering Nazi bastard! God! I can’t believe this! Wow!’

  We were almost speechless. We could scarcely take it in.

  ‘Jesus, Tony,’ I said breathlessly. ‘I can’t believe that. The Polack … he’s really a Nazi! Jesus! This is like a movie! Can you believe this? Look! He’s got a rifle over his shoulder, just like the one he uses now when he’s out shooting rabbits!’

  Jamie and Dan were shaking their heads, their eyes wide open.

  ‘What a lying, cheating scumbag!’ Jamie said. ‘Do you think your mum knows, Tony?’

  ‘No way … no way. He told her his family were Jewish and got gassed in the camps and he was left an orphan. He said he became a Catholic when a Polish family took him in after months of living on the streets. What a lying shite!’

  Tony looked further into the box. There were Nazi medals and ribbons, all with the Third Reich inscriptions. And more newspaper clippings showing the Polack, again with his SS uniform on. One was in what looked like a camp and the headline was Kovnow, Lithuania.

  ‘He must have been some kind of Nazi hero,’ Dan said. ‘Look at all the stuff.’

  Tony sat back on his heels. He was trying to decipher any words that sounded familiar so he could understand what the clippings said, but it was no good.

  ‘A Nazi! My God! It all makes sense now,’ Tony said. ‘I mean, he’s such a bullying, evil bastard. He obviously got plenty of practice.’

  We were mesmerized and trying to take in what we were witnessing when suddenly we all jumped together as we heard the front door slam.

  ‘Shit!’ Tony said, stuffing the papers back in the box. ‘Shit! Shit!’

  ‘Hullo! Hullo! Anybody home?’ It was unmistakably the Polack’s gruff voice.

  ‘Oh shit, Tony! We’re done for! He’ll kill us! Jesus!’ Dan was on his feet.

  ‘Sssh! Sssh! Stay quiet as a mouse. The first thing he does when he comes home is go to the fridge and drink a pint of milk. We’ve got time. We’ll slip into my room. Now slowly. No noise.’ Tony deftly put the box back and like a cat burglar slid open the drawer and replaced the key.

  We crept in a thin, terrified line into Tony’s room. In a second he had a game of Ludo open on the floor and we were rolling the dice as if we had been there all day. We heard the footsteps coming up the stairs and our stomachs turned over. At the same moment as the Polack pushed open the door, Tony roared: ‘Oh yeah! And it’s the nation’s favourite Tony Keenan who wins hands down again!’ We looked at him, marvelling at his improvisation.

  The big Pole looked around the room. We were scared to look up from the board.

  ‘Tony,’ he rasped. ‘What’ya doin’ in here? Does your mother know you have all these people in here?’

  ‘Sure. She said it’s all right. She even made us some sandwiches,’ Tony said innocently.

  ‘What’ya doin’ up the stairs? I hope y’not pokin’ around anywhere y’shouldn’t be or y’know what y’ll get, boy.’ The Pole stood scratching his belly.

  We glanced up at him, then back to the board, praying he couldn’t see our guilt.

  ‘No, no. We’re just playin’.’ Tony got up. ‘In fact, now that I’ve won again, I think we’ll go out and play some football. C’mon, let’s go, guys.’

  We were up like a shot. I thought I would burst if I didn’t get out of that room. We clattered downstairs and into the kitchen, pushing each other to get out of the door.

  To our amazement Tony stopped dead at the back door. He turned to face the closed kitchen door and gave a Nazi salute with his finger across his top lip. ‘Heil Hitler! You Nazi bastard!’ he whispered, and we all piled out of the door.

  Chapter Ten

  I could hear my mum crying in the night and I put my hands over my ears to make it stop. There had been movement and talking coming from their bedroom all night and I could hear Dad’s voice, soft and gentle, as if he was trying to comfort her.

  I knew it was about Ann Marie. She had been packing her bags for days, getting ready for her trip to Donegal. Almost every night I was wakened in the middle of the night by the sounds of her sobbing into her pillow. I lay scarcely breathing, wishing I could say something. But I wasn’t sure if she knew that I knew she was having a baby. She wasn’t all that fat, just a kind of bump at the front, but I noticed she didn’t undress when I was in the room. She was also wearing a lot of baggy shirts belonging to Dad, or one of Mum’s bigger blouses, so she didn’t look pregnant. I suppose that was so that nobody outside would find out.

  I hadn’t spoken much to her about going to Donegal, except to talk about the times we used to go there on holiday to live with Auntie Nora and her family. It was only a small village, with a few bed and breakfast places and some pubs, but it was by the sea and everything always smelled great and fresh. Sometimes the winds would nearly whip you off your feet and you could be walking along the beach bent over against the gale, trying to get back to the house. Then the rain would come on so hard that it wasn’t even landing on the sand but was going straight back up because the wind was so fierce. It fascinated me, and even though I was frozen stiff by the time I got into the house, I felt great. You could nearly fall asleep in front of the peat fire, and I used to get drowsy listening to Aunt Nora’s husband Uncle Eamon telling stories at night. He was Irish and she married him after meeting him on a weekend bus trip to Bundoran. Dad was thrilled that she was going back to her roots, and I only vaguely understood what that meant. Mum and Dad were both born in Scotland and so were their parents, but their grandparents had come over on the boat. Dad used to say the only time he felt right in his heart and soul was when he put his foot back in Ireland. He said he couldn’t really understand why he felt so strong when he wasn’t born there, but he said it must just be in his blood, or maybe his soul had a memory. Sitting listening to them talking about stories carried down the years made me feel the same. If I ever wanted to go anywhere to live it would have been there. Sometimes there would be men who Uncle Eamon said were from the North and they would be staying for a couple of days. I never knew who they were and we never spoke to them, but when they came, he used to take them into the kitchen and they would talk for a while. Sometimes they just stayed one night, and we were told to say nothing about it.

  Now here was Ann Marie talking about going and saying there was a job she had in the village and it was going to be great, but I think it was all just to convince herself everything would be fine.

  Then there were the visits from Father Flynn. I was growing to despise him. He would come into the house and I would be motioned by my parents to leave the room. Father Flynn would always playfully ruffle my hair or pinch my cheek on the way out, but I could always feel myself glowering at him. I knew things about him that the rest of them didn’t. They would faint if they knew what I knew.

  One evening when he came in, it was just Mum, Dad, Ann Marie and me who sat in the living room. They must have been expecting him because Mum had bought a packet of gyspy creams and I was told not to touch them. I opened the door to him when he arrived.

  ‘Hallo, Father,’ I said, stepping aside to let him across the threshold.

  ‘Kathleen! Howyedoin’?’ His big Irish voice boomed as he strode past me.

  He didn’t wait for my answer. He was full of business.

  I came into the living room and deliberately sat on the couch until Mum and Dad’s faces were contorted trying to signal to me to leave the room. Eventually I got up and slipped out, unfortunately close enough to Father Flynn so he could grab my hair.

  But I didn’t go upstairs. I made some noises on the stairs by climbing two or three, so that they would think I had gone to my room, then I sat in the hallway listening at the door. There was a silence, then finally Father Flynn spoke as softly as his voice would let him.

  ‘Now!’ he said, and I could picture him leaning forward the way he al
ways did, with his hands clasped, when he was making a point. ‘Now! And how’re tings, Ann Marie?’ She didn’t answer. Maybe she just nodded.

  ‘And you, Martin and Maggie? Are ye all right?’

  ‘As well as could be expected, Father … under the circumstances.’ Dad sounded like he was trying to pick his words.

  There was another silence. The air must have been thick in that room. I could feel the tension.

  ‘Right now! Right!’ Father Flynn began. His voice grew soft and I could barely hear.

  ‘Now, Ann Marie, it’ll not be long till it’s all over and you can get yourself back to normal and, God willing, put this little, shall we say, fall from grace behind you.’ I could imagine them in the room, sitting looking at him, anticipating his every word.

  ‘About the parents,’ he continued. ‘They’re getting pretty excited across the water now that the wee one is only about … what’sit … three months away. Oh yeah! Sure, they’ve a little nursery all painted and everythin’. They’re goin’ to be great parents, Ann Marie, and you’ll never have to worry that the … er … the little one will want for anything.’

  There was a silence in the room and I wondered if anyone was going to ask questions or even suggest that this should not happen. But no. I heard some papers being rustled.

  ‘Now what you’ve to do, Ann Marie, is just sign here, which in effect is you giving up the child to its new parents … God bless them for relieving you and your loving parents from the burden … and then that’s it. You can come back home when the time is right. And well, you know, your penance will go on for a long time, but you’ll have saved your poor mother and father the shame of bringing an illegitimate child into the world.’

  Silence. Then Ann Marie spoke.

  ‘And … er … Father … er … will I ever see it again … the baby? Will I ever know how it’s getting on? I mean, will I hold it or anything when it’s born?’ I knew by the sound of her voice that she was close to tears. She was stuttering and struggling with her words. I could picture Mum and Dad glaring at her. They knew she was hurting, but they knew that the priest was right. She couldn’t have a baby out of wedlock.

  Father Flynn cleared his throat.

  ‘Ah now, Ann Marie! Ann Marie, Ann Marie! You know the situation. I’ve dealt with this in the privacy of the confessional, and you know the enormity of the stain on your soul for that … well, that yielding to the temptation. Now this is, if you like, how you must face your punishment … if you know what I mean. Nobody is going to look upon you any different. You’ll just have to buckle down now, girl, and get on with it. You’re paying the consequences. Now that’s the way it is, girl. There’ll be another opportunity for you. You’re a young girl and you’ll get a husband in the future. Even though you’re no longer a virgin, somebody’ll want you for their own and love you and give you many more children. Now let’s look at it that way, Ann Marie. Come on now, none of your crying. You should have thought about that six months ago.’

  There was another silence in the room and I heard the papers being rustled again.

  Father Flynn spoke. ‘Right! That’s it. Now that’s a good girl. That’s the stuff. Yes, blow your nose, girl. Well, that’s that done! Now, Martin how’re things with you? And Maggie! How’re things at that chicken factory? You must be worked awful hard down there. They tell me people are doing twelve and fourteen-hour shifts. Is that right?’

  ‘Yes, Father. It’s not easy, but you just bash on.’ Mum’s voice was weak as though she was finding it hard to speak. I heard the clatter of cups and I knew they would be coming through the hall to go to the kitchen. I dived on to the stairs and swiftly raced to the top and into my bedroom.

  Ann Marie’s suitcase was all packed and lying open at the bottom of her bed. I peeked inside it. Her blouses and bras were packed as well as her skirts and a pair of jeans that she couldn’t get into at the moment, and her favourite yellow wool cardigan. There was a big baggy cheesecloth smock dress. Then underneath, tucked away, was a little white crocheted woollen baby jacket with silk ribbons woven through the collar. It was beautiful. I eased it out of the case and brushed it against my cheek. It felt soft and fluffy. I pictured a little baby with its pink face and tiny fingers and toes. Ann Marie’s baby. But she had to give it away. It would have a new mum and dad who had a nursery all painted and ready. It wasn’t fair.

  *

  Tony had a devilish glint in his eye when I opened the back door to him, and I knew straight away he had been up to something.

  ‘Hi, Kath. What’s doin’?’ he said as I closed the door behind me and stepped outside.

  ‘Nothing. It’s boring. Saturdays aren’t the same when you’re on school holidays.’

  ‘Not today, Kath. We’re goin’ out for the day, you, me, Jamie and Dan. We’re takin’ in a movie, then it’s down to Luigi’s for chips, ice cream, the lot.’ Tony stood hands in pockets, a wide smile on his face.

  ‘Aye. Dream on, Tony. What did you do, rob a bank?’ As soon as I said it, I was thinking that he probably had.

  ‘Not quite,’ Tony said, as he dug into his pocket and pulled out a ten-pound note.

  ‘Jesus!’ was all I could say.

  ‘I took it from Hitler’s box. Fat old bastard won’t even miss it.’ He grinned. ‘C’mon, let’s go and get Jamie and Dan. We’re going to have a feast of a day.’

  I didn’t even look back at the house in case anyone was watching me and asked me where I was going. We were off together down the road, just two kids like any other you would have seen on a Saturday morning walking in the street. Except we had secrets they could never even dream of. And better than all of that, we had a tenner between us. I couldn’t wait to tell Jamie and Dan of Tony’s latest exploits. I broke into a run with Tony chasing after me, both of us giggling at the sheer cheek and madness of it all.

  *

  When we got to Jamie’s house we automatically slowed down because you never knew what you would find there. The back door was open and Jamie was in the kitchen with his young brother and sister who were getting out of their pyjamas. He was washing their faces and trying to get them dressed. His brother was screaming that there was soap in his eyes.

  ‘Shut it. You’ve got to get washed,’ Jamie said, rubbing their faces till they were pink.

  He looked embarrassed at us catching him like this.

  ‘Mammy’s not well. She’s in bed. But she’ll be up in an hour,’ he said quickly. The kitchen was like a bomb site and he hurriedly tried to tidy when he saw us glancing around.

  ‘We’re goin’ to the movies, then the café,’ Tony said.

  ‘Me come too! Me come too! Me want to go to the café! Chips!’ The wee brother’s eyes opened wide.

  Jamie quickly came out the back door.

  ‘I’m skint. I can’t go anywhere.’

  Tony produced the tenner once again and held it up triumphantly.

  ‘Don’t worry, the Nazi’s payin’,’ he said.

  ‘Jesus! Jeesus, Tony, you’ll get us all locked up,’ Jamie said.

  ‘Well? Are you in? Or are you going to sit about here all day like Julie Andrews?’ Tony said, shrugging his shoulders and grinning as he spread his hands in front of him.

  ‘Give me two minutes.’ Jamie opened the back door and pushed past the children as he barged through the kitchen.

  Seconds later his mum appeared in her dressing gown, looking awful. Her face was pasty and her eyes were shadowy. Her hair was sticking up and she was holding her ribs as she walked. Tony and I glanced briefly at each other, the same thought flashing through our minds. Jake had been at it again.

  ‘Hi, boys,’ Mary McCabe said, trying her best to sound cheery. She turned on the cold tap and banged the kettle under it. She winced as the simple effort of lifting the kettle seemed to hurt her ribs.

  ‘I’m all sore today. Must have pulled a muscle,’ she said, but by the look on her face she knew we didn’t believe her.

  The bathroom door at the
end of the hall opened and Jake McCabe emerged clutching a newspaper under his arm.

  ‘Shut that fuckin’ door!’ he growled, then broke into a racking cough which sounded as though he was about to spit up balls of tar.

  Mary slammed the hall door on him. We watched, nervous of what might happen next.

  The door was kicked open. Jake, his face crimson from coughing, came in with his eyes blazing. He walked up to Mary, who looked as though she was about to collapse.

  ‘Don’t push your fuckin’ luck!’ He spat the words out. Tony and me shrank back.

  Jake shot us a glance.

  ‘Fuck are you lookin’ at? Piss off!’ He slammed the door in our faces. We stood silently, scared.

  Minutes later Jamie came out with his hair all slicked back and a clean T-shirt on. His face was shining. He looked lovely, but his eyes were sheepish.

  ‘Christ, it’s the Brylcreem boy!’ Tony joked, making a grab for Jamie’s hair, but he dodged out of the way.

  ‘Let’s have a walking race to Dan’s house,’ Jamie said and was walking on already with his arms swinging and hips swaying in that exaggerated way of the men in the walking races at the Olympic Games.

  We all raced after him, walking as fast as we could, and for the moment we tried not to think what was going on back inside that kitchen.

  *

  Dan was hanging bed sheets on the washing line of his back garden and didn’t see us as we approached. We stopped yards from him, crouching behind the wall, sniggering as we watched him carefully drape the sheets over the rope. He had a clothes peg in his mouth and his little sister stood by his side handing him pegs from a bag she had strapped to her waist.

  ‘Seen any old knickers wi’ a hole in them? I know somebody who lost a pair,’ Tony said as we jumped out on Dan, startling him when he turned and saw us. He looked worried and tense at first but laughed when he saw the joke. He quickly put the stretcher on to the rope and pushed the washing up high. We watched as the candy-striped sheets billowed in the wind.