by Anna King
‘Oh, well, excuse me.’ Annie looked without sympathy at her son and husband. ‘If I’d known I was disturbing ye, I’d’ve been quieter; what with all the hard work ye’ve put in the day.’
Josie and Jane stood in the kitchen doorway, grinning as the irate woman berated the stricken men.
Groaning, Paddy heaved himself out of the armchair.
‘Enough, woman, enough,’ he whimpered piteously. ‘Sure an’ it’s New Year’s Eve. Everyone has a drink on New Year’s Eve, me darlin’, even you.’
‘Aye, I know well enough what day it is, Paddy Flynn. I should do, ’cos we have the same conversation every year. ’Tis true I’ve had a drink or two, but I’ve never drunk meself unconscious. Now you an’ Rory get Shaun up to his bed… No, wait a minute.’
She leaned over her youngest son, her head turned to one side as she pressed her ear against the slim chest. Satisfied he was still breathing, she straightened up.
‘G’wan then; get going… And lay him on his belly, just in case he’s sick during the night,’ she shouted up the stairs after the bleary-eyed men.
‘And what are you two grinning about?’ she demanded of the two smiling women.
‘You, Mum… just you!’ Jane’s mouth opened into a wide yawn. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Josie. Do you mind if I go to bed? I feel exhausted.’
Stirring herself, Josie said quickly, ‘Yeah, me too, Mum. I keep forgetting I don’t live here.’ Shrugging her jacket on, Josie was doing up the buttons when Annie stopped her.
‘I wish ye did, love. With all me heart, I wish ye did.’ Annie’s voice took on a softer tone. ‘How in God’s name our Rory could reject a lovely young woman like you, an’ take up with that… that…’
Josie caught hold of Annie’s hand.
‘It’s all right, Annie, it’s all right. We can’t help who we fall in love with.’ She gave a nervous laugh. ‘I should know, shouldn’t I? Anyway, I’ll be getting off home.’
‘No, wait a while, love. I know it’s late, but just stay for a cup of tea and a bite to eat. There’s still some cakes left. I put them by just in case we felt peckish after cleaning up.’
Josie hesitated. There was nothing she would like better than to stay in this warm, happy household, not just for the night, but for the rest of her life. The temptation to remain a little while longer instead of returning to her own cold house was too appealing to resist.
‘All right, Mum. I’ll just nip home and put some more coal on my bedroom fire. I meant to go over earlier, but I was having such a good time it went clear outta me mind. It’ll make it nice and warm for me. I’ll even put me hot-water bottle in me bed. There’s nothing worse than climbing into a cold bed on a dark winter night.’
The simple words tore at Annie’s heart and her eyes involuntarily looked to the ceiling above. Suddenly she realised just how lucky she was. Paddy might be drunk, which meant he’d be in and out of bed all night to relieve himself in the chamber pot, and he’d be letting off wind all night too, but what did that matter? She didn’t need a hot-water bottle when she had his back to warm her feet on.
‘You get off then, love. I’ll have the tea and cakes on the table by the time ye get back… Oh! And come in by the back yard, would ye, love. I don’t want anyone to see ye and think the party’s still going on.’
Annie put the kettle on and unwrapped the cakes left over from the party. And they certainly wouldn’t have been left if Annie hadn’t had the foresight to hide them.
Her thoughts still on Josie, the older woman’s face softened. She was a grand girl, so she was. The kind of woman any mother would want for a daughter- in-law.
Annie shook her head wearily. It was bad enough having one eejit for a son, without producing two, for Pat too had taken up with a flighty piece. Well! He may have married the woman, but Annie would never accept her into the family, because in her eyes they weren’t married. She closed her eyes tiredly and sent up a silent prayer. Please God, don’t let Freda become pregnant. It had always been Annie’s wish to have a grandchild – and not just one, but as many as God sent her – but not from a marriage that was not recognised by the Church. Any children that resulted from that union would be looked upon as bastards. And what would she do then? Pretend they didn’t exist? Deny them the love of their grandparents through no fault of their own!
She could never do that, and neither could Paddy.
Realising she was becoming maudlin, Annie set about laying the table. Josie should be back soon. It didn’t take that long to fill a stone water bottle, and put a few lumps of coal on the fire. But a hot-water bottle was no substitute for a warm body to snuggle up to on a winter night such as this. And Annie wasn’t just thinking about a man’s body. Being one of eight children, she had never had the luxury of a bed of her own; she had always had to share. And not with just one of her siblings either. As the family grew, so did the number of occupants of the bed. None of the children had ever queried the arrangement, simply because they had never known any other way of life.
Annie paused, one of her best china cups in her hand. In fact, come to think of it, she’d never had a pram of her own either. Looking back down the years, she could see herself crammed into the confines of the large pram, and from there squashed into the ever decreasing bed space. She chuckled at the memory, then a sadness came over her plump, homely face. Her family had always been so close; now she doubted if she would ever see any of her brothers and sisters again.
She and Paddy had only been back to Ireland twice since coming to England, and both times it had been to attend funerals on Annie’s side of the family: Bridget, her elder sister, and Michael, the baby of the family. The rest had scattered. Two of her brothers had emigrated to Australia over twenty years ago, then her two remaining sisters had followed them over once they had settled. Now she had only the one brother left in Ireland, and she had been promising herself for years that she would save the boat fare and go over and see him. But each time she managed to put a few bob by, something happened and she’d had to break into her savings.
She let her eyes sweep around the empty kitchen and wished Josie would hurry up. Annie wasn’t used to being on her own with nothing to do. For one thing, it gave her mind too much time to wander down memory lane. At least she received regular photos of her nieces and nephews every Christmas, but it wasn’t the same as seeing them grow up.
‘Josie gone home then?’ Rory ambled into the kitchen, his unruly red hair sticking up at the back of his head, his hand rubbing his chin absently. ‘Oh, good. You’ve got the kettle on. Give us a cup, Mum. Me mouth feels like a sailor’s armpit.’
Annie struggled to her feet, tutting, hiding the feeling that washed over her every time Rory walked into a room. She loved all of her children, but there was just that extra bit of love she felt for Rory; even when she could cheerfully strangle him.
‘Ye’ve picked up some disgusting sayings since ye started working on that building site… And just how d’ye know what a sailor’s armpit feels like?’
Rory grinned, then, in an exaggerated affected tone said, ‘Wouldn’t you like ter know? Then again, it’s best yer don’t.’
Annie flicked a tea towel at his head.
‘Ye think you’re a funny beggar, don’t ye… And get your hand off them cakes.’ The towel came down across his knuckles as he reached out to the plate. ‘Those are for me and Josie. She’s just away across the road to make sure the fire hasn’t gone out in her bedroom, and to put a hot-water bottle in her bed so it’ll be nice and warm for her when she leaves here.’
Rory looked up at his mother through bleary eyes, his forehead creased.
‘She’s coming back! What for? It’s the middle of the bleed— blooming night.’
Annie’s lips pursed in annoyance.
‘Is it deaf you’re going? Sure, haven’t I just been after telling ye… Oh, never mind.’ She flapped her hand at him. ‘It was my idea, if ye must know. With all the shenanigans going on tonight, I barely mana
ged to say a few words to her – not that it’s any of your business; or is it? Ye seemed to be paying a lot of attention to Josie tonight. And don’t ye try to deny it.’ She pointed a finger at him. ‘Why d’ye think our Shaun drank himself into a stupor the night, the poor divil. He’s mad about Josie, an’ ye know it.’ Pulling up a chair, she leaned over the table. ‘Now look, lad. Ye know how I feel about young Josie, an’ after seeing the way ye was fussing over her tonight, I thought maybe—’
Rory jumped to his feet as if he’d been scalded.
‘Hang on a minute, Mum. There’s nothing like that going on. I like Josie, I’ve always liked her. And yeah, I admit, there was a time when I thought that maybe things might become serious. But then I—’ He broke off, his teeth nipping his bottom lip, now fervently wishing he’d gone straight to bed.
There was no warmth in Annie’s voice now as she spat out, ‘Aye, I know what changed your mind. The whole street knows about your trollop. I’ll tell ye something else while I’m at it. You used to be respected around these parts, but now you’re a laughing stock.’
‘Mum, leave it, please. We’ve been over this a hundred times. I love Cathy. I wish I didn’t, ’cos she’s brought me nothing but trouble, but I can’t stop feeling the way I do about her. Look, Mum… ’Ere, sit down a minute, please. At least let me have me say… Mum!’ Rory pleaded.
After a moment’s hesitation Annie sat down, but her expression remained cold.
Pulling up a chair, Rory sat down and stared at Annie across the kitchen table. Wetting his lips nervously, he tried to find the words needed to help her understand how he felt; even though he knew no words would ever endear Cathy to his indomitable mother. Still, he had to try.
The atmosphere in the small kitchen was so highly charged it could have been cut with a knife. If the two people concerned hadn’t been so wrapped up in their own conversation, they would have heard the back door opening.
* * *
Josie closed her front door and hurried across the street, humming beneath her breath. The whisky she had consumed earlier, added to the memories of Rory’s attentions, warmed her body against the biting cold. Her steps light, she hurried towards the Flynn household. She couldn’t remember ever being so happy as she felt right at that moment. She knew the whisky had a good deal to do with her state of mind, but no amount of spirits could have made her feel this good. Still humming, she pushed open the back gate and walked the few short steps to the scullery door. As she stepped into the small room she could hear voices coming from the kitchen. Her face broke into a wide smile as she recognised Rory’s deep, familiar voice. Turning the kitchen doorknob, she stepped into the room, her evident happiness shining through every pore of her body, lighting up her face from within. Then the smile faltered as she heard Rory’s words.
‘… and I’ll tell yer something else, Mum. Josie’s a lovely girl, and there’s nothing I’d like better than if her and Shaun got together. But even if Cathy wasn’t in the picture, it wouldn’t change me feelings for Josie.’
Just a few steps away, Josie stood rigid, hardly able to believe what she was hearing. She knew she should make her presence known, but she had to hear what Rory had to say. Even though every fibre in her being was screaming at her, warning her it would be better if she didn’t know, she stayed where she was. And with each word he spoke, it was like a knife piercing her flesh. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. It was as if she had been turned to stone.
‘I don’t love her, Mum. I’m very fond of her, but I don’t love her and I never did even when we were together. I’m really sorry I hurt her, but there it is. So if you’ve any ideas about us getting back together, you’re wasting your time, ’cos—’
‘Then ye shouldn’t have got her hopes up, should ye?’ Annie broke in, her voice bitter. ‘Ye knew how she felt about you, yet ye played up to her. I never thought I’d say this, Rory, but you’re a cruel bugger, God forgive me for swearing. Now get out of me sight—’
‘It’s all right, Annie. Don’t upset yourself, he’s not worth it.’
Both heads turned towards the voice, their faces registering shock at the sight of Josie framed in the doorway, her face white.
Her eyes sought Rory’s as she said in a low voice, ‘Don’t worry, Rory. I admit tonight I almost felt that maybe… But I know different now, don’t I? So like I said, don’t worry. I’ll get over you. I only hope Cathy Meadows really does love you, because I wouldn’t wish what I’m feeling now on me worst enemy.’
‘Josie, love…’ Annie started to her feet, but Josie stopped her.
‘It’s not your fault, Annie. If anyone’s to blame it’s me for making a fool of meself. I won’t stop for tea, thanks. I’ve suddenly lost me appetite.’ She turned, then stopped, and without looking back said, ‘I’m sorry I won’t be able to visit any more. I think, in the circumstances, it’s for the best. Good night, Annie.’
* * *
As the door closed quietly behind Josie, Annie slumped back on to her chair, her eyes filling with tears. Out of all that had happened, what was hurting her the most was the fact that Josie had reverted to calling her by her first name.
‘Mum…’
Rory was staring down at his mother with concern. Then she looked up at him and he found himself backing away. For in Annie’s eyes was a look he had never imagined would be levelled at him; it was a look of pure hatred.
Through gritted teeth Annie growled, ‘Get out of me sight, Rory, or by Christ I won’t be held responsible for me actions.’
Rory continued backing away, knocking over a chair in his haste to escape. He knew only too well what his mother was capable of.
Annie heard him running up the stairs. When she was sure no one would be coming back down, she spread her arms on the table and lowered her head into the warm flesh, and let the tears she’d held in check fall freely.
* * *
Across the road Josie lay wide awake, staring at the flickering light from the fire dancing on the ceiling. Unlike Annie, her eyes were dry. She was too hurt and angry at herself to cry. How could she have been such a fool? Every time she thought of the way she had acted she squirmed with embarrassment. But never again. Oh no, never again. There would be no more false hopes where Rory was concerned. She didn’t need him. She didn’t need any man. She could cope very well on her own.
Her eyes began to dose and she pulled the heavy quilt up around her neck. But even with the fire alight in the grate and the hot stone bottle nestling under her feet, she couldn’t stop shivering.
Chapter Sixteen
‘Two eggs, sausage, bacon and chips, twice. Oh, and fried bread, for table four, please, Mum,’
Annie slipped another four rashers of bacon and two slices of bread into a huge frying pan containing half a dozen sizzling sausages and five rashers of bacon. Turning the sausages over to brown, she then broke four eggs, one at a time, into a mug before pouring them into a separate pan. When everything was ready, she wiped her hands on the print apron she wore, picked up two clean plates from the pile stacked on the draining board, dished up the order and handed it to Jane.
‘Sorry, Mum. Two mugs of tea as well, please.’
‘You get that to table four while it’s still hot. I’ll bring the tea out.’
Annie poured the tea with one hand, while filling the space left in the frying pan with more bacon and sausages. This meal was the most popular with the market traders, and Annie always made sure the pan remained full until three o’clock, that time being the latest the traders had their dinners. It all depended on how busy they were.
As Jane left the kitchen, Josie entered.
‘Blimey, it’s like a madhouse out there today, Annie. Still, mustn’t complain. We’ve only been open four months and already the business is making a profit. If it carries on like this, you and Jane will be getting a pay rise. And it’s all thanks to you.’ Josie sat down for a moment’s rest and looked fondly at the small, plump woman. ‘I must have been mad to
think I could run a tea shop down an East End market. I’d’ve gone out of business in a month, if not sooner. Which reminds me…’ Josie smiled. ‘Table seven want three cups of tea – cups, mind you, not mugs. And a selection of your delicious cakes, of course.’
Annie turned from the stove and grinned.
‘Let me guess now. Could that order be for the Slater sisters, by any chance?’ When Josie nodded in amusement, Annie’s grin broadened. ‘By, but ’tis a strange coincidence they only ever come in here on a market day, isn’t it? What with them being ladies, and the place always full of men on those particular days. Lord love them, they’re game women, I’ll give them that. Sure and the youngest of them will never see forty again, but they’re not going down without a fight.’
Annie threw back her head and roared with laughter. The infectious sound brought a chuckle from Josie’s lips and she had to clap a hand over her mouth to stop herself from making too much noise.
‘Stop it, Annie, please,’ she pleaded with the older woman, who was now holding her stomach as if she were in pain. Wiping tears of mirth from her eyes, Annie nodded.
‘I’m sorry, love. I shouldn’t make fun of them, poor souls. But truth be known, if a man did as much as put a hand on any of them, they’d probably faint clean away.’
Still chuckling, Annie reached up to the cupboard where the china was kept.
‘Here, I’ll get it.’ Josie got to her feet. ‘You’ve got enough to do.’ Laying out a silver tray, she remarked good-naturedly, ‘You’re a bleeding marvel, Annie. I don’t know how you do it. I mean, what with cooking for the stallholders and passing trade, you still manage to find time to bake those lovely cakes. Then when you leave here, you go home and cook dinner for the family. It puts me to shame, it really does. I haven’t half your energy; how on earth do you do it?’
