Maybe This Time

by Anna King

  Annie turned to her daughter.

  ‘C’mon now, let’s be getting home afore we fall asleep right here.’

  ‘That’s all right, Mum, at least we’ll get an early start in the morning,’ quipped Jane, trying to lighten the atmosphere, for she hated any form of tension or unpleasantness.

  Josie reluctantly got to her aching feet.

  ‘Mum’s right, Jane. We’d best get going, I can hear me bed calling. It’s a bit of supper and an early night for me. I’ve got a lot to think about.’

  Josie was putting her coat on before she noticed the silence.

  ‘What’s up?’ she asked, her forehead furrowed.

  Jane and Annie looked at each other, then Jane said, ‘You just said Mum’s right, not Annie.’

  Josie froze midway through buttoning up her coat.

  ‘Oh, did I?’ she said awkwardly. ‘Sorry, Annie, I didn’t…’

  The plump figure walked over to the embarrassed young woman and took hold of Josie’s hands.

  ‘Don’t ye be apologising to me, love. Why, there’s nothing I’d like better than to be called Mum by you, ’cos I’ve thought of ye like a daughter for years. So if ye want to call me Mum, that’s fine by me.’

  Now it was Annie’s turn to feel awkward as Josie just stared at her in bewilderment.

  ‘Of course, if ye’d rather not…’ she stammered.

  A lump formed in Josie’s throat as she held tight to the plump hands.

  ‘I’ve thought of you as me mum for years, even as far back as me school days. I just… I just didn’t want…’ Her voice cracked with emotion and she dropped her head.

  Annie patted Josie’s hands.

  ‘Well, now that’s settled we’d best be getting ourselves home.’ She pointed at the wall clock, adding,

  ‘Would ye look at the time. Bejasus, the men’ll be starving, but I’m not doing any more cooking the day. We’ll pick up some fish ‘n’ chips on the way home.’

  Out in the street, the women shivered and linked arms against the bitter chill of the evening air. There were still a few stallholders packing up their goods, and they called out a cheery good night to their new acquaintances.

  ‘Don’t forget, missus,’ one of the men shouted over to them. ‘Sausages an’ mash tomorrow. Those little cakes ain’t no good ter a working man, ain’t that right, lads?’

  The other men agreed and waved, and the simple words and gestures brought a feeling of warmth and camaraderie to all three women. Josie looked at Annie and squeezed her arm.

  ‘Now that we’re both working,’ Jane said suddenly, ‘you’ll have to tell Dad and the boys they’ll have to start learning to cook their own meals.’

  Annie’s face took on an expression of horror.

  ‘Have ye taken leave of your senses, girl? Sure and your father’s never cooked a meal in his life.’

  ‘Well then, maybe it’s time he started—’

  Josie put pressure on Jane’s arm, and shook her head in warning.

  ‘Let’s leave it, eh, Jane? Besides, me and your mum have a lot to talk about, haven’t we… Mum?’

  “That we have, Josie love.’ Annie smiled. ‘That we have.’ Then, turning to Jane, she said lightly, ‘Maybe ye was right, Jane… About your dad, I mean. If we’re going to make a go of the shop, we’re going to need all the cooks we can get.’

  This comment brought Josie and Jane to an abrupt halt. They looked at each other and then at Annie. Seeing the stunned expression on their faces, Annie threw back her head and roared with laughter; mostly at the idea of seeing her Paddy wearing an apron. Her laughter was infectious. Without quite knowing why, Josie and Jane began to laugh too, and as they walked on, their combined laughter filled the cold evening air.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Christmas had come and gone, and now preparations were being made for the New Year. Josie had celebrated Christmas dinner with the Flynn family, an occasion she had both looked forward to and dreaded. But she needn’t have worried, for Rory had gone out of his way to make her feel at ease, and for two glorious hours she had enjoyed his company. As usual the Flynn men had kept up a constant stream of jokes and anecdotes, and Josie had laughed so much she’d ended up with indigestion after the huge turkey dinner.

  The only blight on the occasion had been the presence of Pat’s new wife Freda. Poor Annie had gone through torment with the knowledge that her son was, in her eyes, living in sin, as he’d braved her wrath and, without telling anyone, married Freda in a registry office instead of the Catholic church, just a month before Christmas. Josie had been apprehensive that Freda might flaunt this fact in Annie’s face, but the normally loud-mouthed, opinionated woman had been on her best behaviour. And even though Annie was still hurting terribly at what she perceived to be her son’s betrayal, she had put on a brave face, determined not to spoil Christmas.

  After dinner, with the crackers pulled and the last of the Christmas pudding demolished, they had sat around a roaring fire while the Flynn men continued to entertain the company. Yet even as they had laughed, there had been an underlying strain in the merriment, caused by Freda’s stony-faced presence. Pat had tried his best to draw his wife into the festivities, but to no avail. So it had come as a mixture of relief and regret when Pat announced they had to leave to visit Freda’s parents. It was at that point that Rory had taken the opportunity to leave too, accompanying his brother and sister-in-law from the house, much to Annie’s distress and Josie’s disappointment – for both women knew the reason for his hasty departure.

  With Rory’s leaving, the convivial atmosphere had soon fallen flat. Paddy and Shaun had tried their best, but despite their efforts they were no match for Pat and Rory’s quick-witted humour. With their bellies full and the numerous tots of whisky taking their toll, both men had soon fallen asleep in front of the roaring fire. Josie had made her excuses and left not long after, politely refusing Annie and Jane’s invitation to stay on for tea.

  Now, as she dressed for the New Year’s Eve party being held over the road, Josie stared hard at her reflection in the dressing table mirror and smiled. If she did say so herself, she scrubbed up quite nicely.

  At Christmas she had deliberately dressed in a simple outfit, new but plain, not wanting to take the chance that Rory would think she was flaunting her new business stature in his face. But tonight she had no such scruples. Why shouldn’t she dress nicely and make the most of herself; she’d worked hard enough for it. Her old wardrobe had slowly been replaced by new outfits, plain but quality made, until her old image had been erased for ever. Yet up until now she hadn’t had the chance to wear the outfit she’d bought at that wonderful woman’s shop in the summer, and she hadn’t paid out all that money to let the best outfit she’d ever owned moulder away in her wardrobe.

  Her hand went to her throat to make sure the jet necklace was fastened securely, then did the same with the earrings. Finally she put on the close-fitting jacket and glanced at the hat nestling forlornly on the bed. She smiled wryly. It was a pity the party was just across the street. She couldn’t see any reason to wear the hat without appearing to show off. It wasn’t as if it was practical, for it barely covered her head, yet it would have been nice to wear the whole ensemble.

  Her stomach fluttered at the thought of appearing in front of her neighbours in the grand outfit. But Annie had promised she would wear her grey costume, so at least Josie wouldn’t feel completely out of place. Her neighbours were still getting used to the new Josie Guntrip, for after watching her grow from childhood to adulthood, too timid to stand up to her tyrant of a mother, it was hard for them to accept the smart, confident woman Josie had become.

  Taking one last look in the mirror, she left the house.

  She shivered as the cold December air hit her in the face. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the net curtains move in next door’s window and stopped. As far as she knew, the invitation to the Flynns’ party was open to everyone in the street. And judging by the loud laugh
ter and music already blasting from the house, it seemed as if it had been taken at face value by all the neighbours. Yet, knowing the history between Ida Black and Annie, Josie could understand Ida’s reluctance to go over to the house on her own. On the other hand, Annie, formidable as she could be when roused, had a kind heart. Josie was sure she wouldn’t want Ida to see in the New Year on her own; even if she was a miserable old cow.

  Hesitating only for a few seconds, Josie knocked on Ida’s door. A minute went by and the door remained shut. Josie’s teeth began to chatter. Banging the knocker harder, she bent down and called through the letterbox, ‘Ida! Come on, I know you’re in there. Open the door, I’m freezing out here.’ There was still no answer. Josie shrugged. She had tried. If Ida didn’t want to answer her door, that was her look-out. She was turning to walk away when she heard the door being opened.

  ‘Who’s there?’ Ida’s croaky voice called out.

  ‘Who the bleeding ’ell d’yer think it is, Jack the Ripper?’ Josie answered impatiently while hugging herself tightly against the cold.

  ‘What d’yer want?’ came back the reply.

  Cold and becoming increasingly annoyed, Josie pushed the door open, knocking a startled Ida into her narrow hallway.

  ‘Stop playing silly buggers, Ida. Are you coming over to the party? If you are then I’ll wait for—’

  ‘You taking the piss, Josie? Yer know as well as I do Annie can’t stand the sight of me – or the rest of the street for that matter. Did she put yer up ter this? Get old Ida over ’ere so I can kick ’er out. That’d give yer all a good laugh, wouldn’t it? Well I ain’t that daft, an’… and I know we’ve ‘ad our differences in the past, but… but I’d never ’ave ’ad yer down as being spiteful.’

  Josie stared in amazement at her neighbour. The lamp Ida was holding at shoulder level showed clearly the misery etched on the thin, pinched face, and Josie felt a jolt of shame as she saw the faded blue eyes glisten with unshed tears.

  Her voice gentler now, she said, ‘I’m a lot of things, Ida, but I ain’t never been spiteful, and Annie ain’t either. Now then, you coming over or not? You might as well, ’cos you ain’t gonna get much sleep with that racket going on.’

  A spark of hope flickered in Ida’s eyes.

  ‘You sure Annie won’t mind?’ The question was asked in a defensive tone and the thin body remained stiff with tension. It was as if Ida was bracing herself for rejection.

  ‘Course she won’t mind. I said so, didn’t I?’ Josie was taking Ida’s coat off the hall stand. ‘Get this on, it’s bleeding freezing out. Lucky we ain’t got far to go, ain’t it?’

  Before she could protest further, Ida found herself out in the street, walking towards her adversary’s house. The nearer she got, the more she shivered; and not just from the biting wind.

  The door was ajar and Josie stepped inside as confidently as if she were entering her own home, dragging Ida in with her.

  A battered piano had been borrowed for the occasion from someone in the street, and an elderly man whom Josie knew by sight but couldn’t put a name to was playing an off-key rendition of ‘Danny Boy’, accompanied by loud, raucous voices, also off key.

  ‘Bleeding hell! What a racket,’ Josie shouted at Ida, but the older woman made no comment. Josie could feel the tension emanating from Ida’s thin frame and tried to put the frightened woman at ease. ‘I wish I’d worn something plainer now. Talk about being dressed up like a dog’s dinner. You wait, someone’s bound to make a comment soon.’

  Looking through the haze of smoke, Josie saw Jane pushing her way through the crowd towards them.

  ‘Hello, Josie. Oh, you look lovely.’

  Josie smiled.

  ‘Thanks, love, you don’t look too bad yourself.’

  Jane ran her hand self-consciously down the front of the blue dress Josie had bought for her. Then she looked at the woman by Josie’s side, and, sensing Ida’s obvious discomfort, said warmly, ‘Hello, Mrs Black, I’m glad you’re here. Mum said if you didn’t arrive with Josie I had to come over and get you. So you’ve saved me from having to brave the cold. Here, give me your coat.’

  Ida said nothing as Jane helped her off with her coat, but when a glass of sherry was put into her hand she began to relax. Fifteen minutes later, with another two drinks under her belt, she wandered off, her gait uneven, and approached a small group of women she knew.

  ‘Thank Gawd for that,’ Josie sighed. ‘I thought I was gonna have to baby-sit her all night.’ Giving Jane a nudge, she asked, ‘Did your mum really say she was gonna send you over to fetch Ida, or did you make that bit up?’

  Jane grinned impishly.

  ‘Well… I might have exaggerated a bit, but it was in a good cause. Anyway, I’m glad you decided to wear that outfit. It took me nearly two hours to talk Mum into wearing the suit you bought her, though she drew the line at the corset. She said she wasn’t going to spend the evening trussed up like a turkey, especially on New Year’s Eve, and I can’t say as I blame her. What’s the point of having a party if you can’t eat, drink or have a good old knees-up?’

  Jane’s eyes darted over Josie’s shoulder, then, leaning closer, she whispered, ‘Dad said if she wore the corset it would stop her falling over like she normally does when she’s had a drink. But she’s been like a cat on hot bricks since we got home from work. She’s really been dying for the opportunity to wear the suit again. She had hoped to wear it to Pat’s wedding, but…’ Jane smiled sadly and shrugged. ‘Anyway, she wore it to Christmas Mass and you should have seen the looks she got.’ She giggled. ‘Even Father Murphy nearly dropped the chalice when she went up for Communion.’

  Josie burst out laughing, but it was a nervous laugh. She was painfully conscious of the looks she was getting. Even after all the years she had lived in the street, she still didn’t know her neighbours very well. It would have been easy to blame her mother for this fact, but the truth was, she herself had never made the effort to form friendships. She had been too wrapped up in her own misery to realise that these good, simple people could have been a comfort to her. But she’d had the Flynns, so she hadn’t bothered to try and form new friendships.

  Now here they all were, packed into the small terraced house, their eyes darting in her direction then sliding away uneasily. Josie knew they were thinking that she was showing off her new-found wealth, and she squirmed with embarrassment. Her face burned and she had a fleeting desire to turn round and head back home to change into something more inconspicuous.

  ‘Are you all right, Josie?’ Jane’s voice had changed to one of concern, and she glanced from her friend to the gathering of neighbours. Sensing Josie’s discomfort, she squeezed the satin-covered arm. ‘Don’t worry, Josie. Mum got the same stares when the neighbours started arriving. But you know me mum. She was scared stiff of the reaction she might get, but she braved it out, you know, made a joke about it. She even gave an impromptu fashion parade. I wish you’d seen it. She had the whole place in stitches.’

  ‘I didn’t have to see it, I can imagine Annie doing something like that. But I’m not like your mum, Jane. I don’t have that gift of making people laugh.’ Josie smiled wryly at Jane. ‘I ain’t Irish. Maybe one day I’ll go over to Ireland and kiss that famous stone I’ve heard so much about. D’yer think it’d work on me?… What’s so funny about that?’ Josie asked as Jane put her hand to her mouth to smother a laugh.

  ‘I’m not laughing at you, Josie, just the thought of you kissing the Blarney Stone. You could try it one day, I suppose, that’s if you don’t mind being held upside down and lowered into a well by your ankles.’ Jane giggled at the image that had sprung into her mind. ‘And even if you were brave enough to try it, you’d have to make sure you were first in the queue, ’cos by the afternoon the men in charge of the tourists have usually got a good few Guinnesses under their belt.’

  Heads again turned in their direction, but this time drawn by Jane’s infectious laugh.

  ‘Come on
, Janie, let us in on the joke,’ Maude Cooper, the Flynns’ next-door neighbour called out. Seeing an opportunity to ease Josie’s discomfort, Jane gently pulled her friend towards the group, and recounted the story of the Blarney Stone.

  ‘Bleeding ’ell!’ Arthur Cooper exclaimed loudly. ‘Every Irishman I’ve ever spoken to ’as bragged about that stone. But the way they told it, I thought it was lying on the ground an’ yer just ’ad ter bend over ter kiss the bloody thing. ’Ere, yer ain’t making this up, are yer, Janie love?’ the grinning man asked, winking at his companions. ‘’Cos we all know what you Irish lot are like fer stretching the truth, don’t we?’

  They were all laughing now, and Josie began to relax. Then Sadie Smith nudged her, saying, ‘’Ere, Josie. If yer ever do go over the water, you’d better borrow a pair of my Alf’s trousers if you’re thinking of kissing that stone. You’d soon lose yer dignity being held upside down with yer knickers showing fer all the world ter see.’

  Then Arty Jones said loudly, ‘Now that’s something I’d pay good money ter see.’ All the men present roared, apart from Arty Jones, who was nearly knocked off his feet by a hefty clout around the head from his wife.

  ‘Oh, yer would, would yer? Well, if you’ve got money going spare, yer can pay me. I’ll show me knickers fer a few bob.’ She glanced around the grinning group. ‘Well! Any takers? Come on, I ain’t fussy.’

  ‘No thanks, Maude. I’ve seen yer knickers ’anging on the washing line for the past twenty years, an’ they’ve got bigger every year,’ a man shouted above the din.

  Josie felt a drink being pressed into her hand and looked up to see Shaun by her side. She smiled gratefully. Too late she realised she had made a mistake in the warmth of her smile, for it bolstered Shaun’s courage enough to place an arm around her waist – a gesture which didn’t go unnoticed by the inebriated crowd, who gave each other knowing glances, nudges and sly winks. It was all done without malice, but nevertheless Josie felt embarrassed.