With Love From Ma Maguire

by Ruth Hamilton

‘You’re going . . . to see her?’ His face was white. ‘Down at the infirmary?’

  She nodded. ‘And I’m telling you now, this is the last time I’ll be cleaning up your leavings. I dare say your sister feels much the same road.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know. She doesn’t talk to me any more—’

  ‘What did you expect? Hero’s welcome and a band, happen a few flags strung up between doors? It’s you as wants flaming stringing up! Nay, you’ll be lucky if that girl walks the same side of the street as you from now on. She’s disgusted with you! And so am I!’

  Molly stepped back, turned and took her coat from a peg on the stairway door. Dear God, how could it be possible to despise your own child while all the time you knew you still loved him? She wanted to open her arms and draw him close, comfort him, lessen his pain. Like another pain years ago – sobbing and weeping in a courtyard, moonlight on stable roofs, shadows, a thin coat and nowhere to go . . . Except here. To all this. Charlie bloody Swainbank! She pulled the coat on angrily.

  ‘Mam?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Tell her . . . tell her . . . oh, I don’t know—’

  ‘Neither do I. I don’t know what to tell a seventy-odd year old woman with a broken skull. She could finish up like your gran did after that clot – you might have crippled her for ever. No, I can’t think of one single sensible word to say.’

  ‘Then . . . don’t go.’

  ‘Take the coward’s way out, is that it? Shut me eyes and pretend nowt’s happened, carry on as if we were just a normal family with a nice lad as the eldest? I can’t. It’s not in my nature, Joey Maguire.’

  ‘Then create it, Molly!’ They both turned to find Ma in the doorway of the best room. She walked slowly forward a few paces and lowered herself into a dining chair. ‘Whatever, you can’t let the boy down.’

  ‘What?’ yelled Molly. ‘After what he’s done?’

  ‘He is your son!’ The voice arrived strong and firm. ‘Fifteen years old next Wednesday! They make mistakes, Molly! Did you never make one?’

  Molly stared hard at Joey. ‘Yes, I’ve made mistakes. And I’ve paid for them.’

  ‘Got round them, you mean. Just as we all do. Forgive him, Molly.’

  ‘I’ll do me best. Just like I’ve always done me blinking best!’ She grabbed her bag and flounced out of the house.

  Ma gazed across the table at her grandson. No matter who Joey really was, no matter what his name should have been, he was still her grandchild. From the day in the church with her hands covered in soda, these twins had been hers morally and actually. ‘Follow your mother, Joey.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Go to the hospital, see Miss Leason. It is your duty.’

  ‘I can’t. I daren’t . . .’

  Carefully, she removed the tiger’s eye brooch from the front of her shawl. ‘Take this, Joey. It’s not magic, but it helps somehow. I mind the times it’s helped me . . .’ She placed it on the table. ‘Go and do what must be done.’

  He picked up the brooch and stared at it. ‘You’re talking proper now.’

  ‘Yes. Look at me, Joey Maguire. I am going to tell you something now, something I have kept from the rest of this family. Before I had the stroke, I was alone one day in this very kitchen when a knocking came at the door. I found a man from the prison over to Manchester. He had with him several policemen who were dressed in ordinary clothes. They carried a paper allowing them to search my house from top to bottom.’

  Joey swallowed audibly. ‘What . . . what were they looking for? I hadn’t done nothing . . .’

  ‘They were searching for Seamus Maguire. Do you want to be like him, Joey? Running all your life, escaping from prison on the back of a muck-cart with all the pig-feed in your hair, hiding, stealing, doing wrong? The worst part is that I don’t really care what happens to my own husband. If you continue, then nobody will mind you or look out for you. Is that any way to live at all?’

  A tear made its way down the boy’s thin cheek. ‘No.’

  ‘Then go and make your peace. If Sarah had wished it, you would have been with the police long before this. There is nothing to fear except fear itself. Start today with the truth and do the best you can with all the tomorrows, see each morning as a clean start with no black marks to it. I ask you to do this in return for my support, Joey. And if you need to get back your mother’s respect, then go down now to that hospital.’

  ‘She . . . hates me—’ He was sobbing now.

  ‘Away with your bother, man! Molly Dobson never had a hateful bone in all her body! She loves you. ’Tis love that took her this day to the infirmary with the pride swallowed, love makes her fight and hope for you. Sure she’s a bag of wind at times, sounding off about this, that and t’other thing as if the world was about to finish in a puff of smoke. But I tell you honestly now, your mother got that from me and from her own mother too. We were a right pair together, meself and Edie Dobson, plain-spoken and hurtful at times. You’ve a good mother, so away now this minute and make peace.’

  ‘I’m . . . I’m sorry, Gran—’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Calling you an old biddy, cursing me dad as useless, stealing all that money—’

  ‘But you didn’t hit Sarah Leason. I know you didn’t, son. Go on now. Take Uncle Porrick’s brooch in your pocket and keep your hand on it. The little people are on the side of whoever holds the brooch – and aren’t Sarah and Molly knee-high to a grasshopper the both of them?’

  He stumbled to his feet. ‘Thanks, Gran.’

  ‘Don’t mention it.’

  He was gone, the tiger’s eye tucked safely into his trouser pocket.

  Ma stared at herself in the brass-framed mirror. An old lady gazed back at her and smiled grimly. She must find her black dress, the teeth, the good black shoes, that box, all the papers. Tomorrow had finally arrived, nothing could be put off now. She was armed, shielded by the almost complete return of her faculties, stronger, wiser, richer in spirit because of this latest brush with death. She exhaled loudly. It was time to take on the world.

  Chapter 10

  They stood outside Cowley’s General, the grocery store that used to be Freddie Chadwick’s clog shop. Molly dabbed a suspicion of moisture from her eyes, then turned as if to study a pyramid of soapflake boxes in the window. ‘I’ll just nip in here for a quarter of potted meat.’

  ‘Didn’t our Janet fetch some this morning?’

  ‘Aye.’ She grimaced to hide her emotion. ‘Bloody Yorick ate it – paper and all. That was for your dad’s butties. He’s fetching a herd over from Chorley tomorrow. Flaming dog!’

  Joey grinned, though his eyes remained sad. ‘You shouldn’t talk about your husband like that, Mam.’

  ‘Don’t start! You know what I mean, Joey Maguire. Are you waiting or walking back home by yourself?’

  ‘I’ll hang on.’

  She touched his arm almost hesitantly. ‘I’m . . . I’m proud of you, lad. Prouder than I was this morning anyroad. It took guts, did that, coming down and facing the woman . . .’

  Pleased and embarrassed, he tapped the ground with the heel of his clog. ‘What was she going on about though? All that about sleep and knitted sleeves? Have they got her making jumpers through the night?’

  Molly began to giggle quietly, the sound echoing an inner hysteria that had simmered all day. ‘Eeh Joey! That was her bit of Shakespeare, love. It’s summat to do with a good kip making things better – and she’s getting no sleep. According to that there Sister – the one as Miss Leason calls Dragon – old Sarah sat up till all hours in the lavvy singing Rock of Ages. She said it was an appropriate hymn ’cos it matches her bed. They’ll be chucking her out any day, can’t cope with her. She makes your gran look like the Archangel Gabriel at times, does Miss Leason.’

  ‘Gran’s on the mend, isn’t she?’

  Molly nodded. ‘Aye. Fur and feathers will fly any minute, Joey, you just mark my words. She’ll launch herself with a bang, not a whimper.
I’ve never known her do anything quiet. I’m told she used to be a bit on the shy side as a girl, a bit backwards at coming forwards, but I’ve got me doubts about that. Happen we should pin a notice on the front door to warn the neighbours.’

  ‘Mam?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m going to . . . well . . . try and put things right.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘If you straighten it with Miss Leason, I could use some of her money for a bit of distemper and paper – get the house nearer to scratch. And our Janet might help me.’

  ‘She might.’

  ‘Will you have a word?’

  ‘I will. Now wait there till I get a few odds and ends.’

  While Mr Cowley patted butter with two wooden bats, Molly made polite conversation, her eyes straying towards the door where Joey lingered, a look of despair and self-loathing on his usually mischievous face. Yes, he’d had a hard lesson, but – God willing – the lad had learned from it. With his right side in shadow, he was the spitting image of Charlie Swainbank, the same expression too, the way Charlie had looked that night in the stable yard . . . Mr Cowley dashed round the counter and helped her to pick up the dropped change. ‘My, you fair shivered then, Mrs Maguire. Somebody walk over your grave, lass?’

  ‘Aye. Thanks,’ she stammered.

  ‘Got everything you need?’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’ Yes, she had everything. Except peace of mind . . .

  When they arrived back at the house, Molly and Joey found almost total disorder. The two younger children spilled out at the front door, yelling and pulling at their mother’s coat. ‘Wait till you see, Mam! Just you wait!’

  ‘Wait for what? What the blinking heck’s going on, Michael?’

  Bella Seddon stepped on to the pavement, arms folded, lips clamped together beneath the blackest of frowns. ‘There’s been a fair din from your house just lately, Mrs Maguire,’ she pronounced. ‘Happen I’ll have to have a word in the rentman’s ear – old Leatherbarrow doesn’t like rumbustious tenants in his houses.’

  Molly pushed her children away. ‘Hang on a minute while I get this sorted,’ she muttered before turning to face the offending neighbour. ‘Have you nowt better to do, Bella Seddon? Nothing in the pot, no fish to fry?’

  The woman’s mouth fell open. She wasn’t used to a lot of backchat from Molly Maguire, though lately there’d been a thing or two said out of place . . . ‘How do you mean?’ she asked eventually, her back straightening with self-righteousness. After all, them bloody Maguires needed fetching a peg or two down.

  ‘What I mean is, Bella Seddon, how come you’re always watching me and mine when you should be keeping an eye to your own business by rights? Have you nowt at all to be getting on with, no lodgers to cater for?’

  Bella Seddon blushed a deep and rather unbecoming purple. God, would she never live that down? Just a couple of paying guests for a week or two twenty years back? ‘There’s things going on in your house,’ she said loudly. ‘Like living next door to bloody bedlam, it is, what with your old feller singing his head off half the time and them kids out of hand all day long. I don’t see as how I should have to put up with it! Now. I’ve said me piece and I’ll say no more.’

  A head appeared at the open upstairs window of the Maguire house. ‘That you won’t, ye old besom! And move out, why don’t you? Get off on a midnight flit over to the grand end of town with the toffs, see will they put up with you! Whatever – leave us in blessed peace, woman!’

  Everyone stared skyward as if fascinated by some unprecedented phenomenon. Molly stepped back and shielded her eyes. So this was the cause of the two youngsters’ excitement. ‘What are you doing with that bucket?’ she shouted.

  Ma put her head on one side. ‘Breeding goldfish,’ she snapped.

  ‘You shouldn’t be cleaning windows!’

  Ma muttered something inaudible, then fixed her eyes on poor Bella who slowly backed away, a fist clenched over her heart. Dear God – she was up! The woman’s magenta hue faded slowly to a sickly white. Now there’d be hell to pay, right enough. Why, when Ma Maguire got her paddy up, there was no doing anything to mend it. It had been said, over the years, that dogs stopped barking, birds stopped singing – even the bloody fleas gave over biting once Ma kicked off.

  With her bucket balanced on the window ledge, Ma leaned out, her eyes skimming the street methodically – no doubt looking for evidence of bad housekeeping – and Bella shot a quick glance over her own day-old donkey-stoning. She was back! No more slacking, no more gossip – not with her coming home from the mill every night to look for dirty curtains or neglected flags, nosey old cow!

  ‘Things have not improved,’ said the voice from on high.

  ‘’Tis as well I am out of me bed at last.’

  ‘You’re . . . better then?’ Bella managed with some difficulty.

  ‘I am mending, Bella Seddon. And I suggest you do the same, for I have not seen a step so bad since the Zeppelin came over and left us a bomb or two. I think herself the other side of you could do with a wipe at the same time – is she ready for confinement? In which case, Missus, you should better go and see does the poor girl need a hand. Howandever we have not the time to spend here talking over the what’s-to-be-dones and the wheres and whyfores with the likes of you.’ She turned her attention to the children. ‘We shall go this minute and thank the Lord that your Granny is spared and has not left you to the sort who takes in lodgers ten to the bed and never a mind for the neighbours.’ She slammed the window and began to polish its inner surface furiously while the rest of the Maguires ran indoors, leaving Bella Seddon with her face almost down to her chest.

  She looked furtively along the street to assess how many had heard the heated exchange, but all the doors remained closed. The old troublemaker! Ten to a bed? Never more than two and then it was just to help the war effort, giving them as made uniforms and bullets somewhere to put their heads at night. Aye, that one needed no bullets, did she? Mouth on her like one of them automatic machine-guns, she had. Oh yes, the stroke had slowed her down a bit, but she could still rattle off nineteen to the dozen, that nice soft Irish voice – like a velvet cover over barbed flaming wire, it was! They could have done with her during the war. She’d have broken through the lines for them – there’d have been no need to get them there tanks invented, because any sensible German would have run up a mountain to get away from that!

  Oh well, nowt else for it, she thought as she went in for bucket, scrubber and stone. Best get on with it before she got reported.

  Inside the Maguire house, joy reigned supreme. Molly, overcome completely after her outing to the hospital, sat howling her eyes out at the kitchen table. Daisy performed an impromptu clog-dance in the scullery doorway while Janet poured a glass of parsnip wine for Ma who glared across the table at her daughter-in-law. ‘Would you ever take a look at that now, Janet? If that’s a picture of happiness, sure I’d settle for a pig-killing every time.’ She glanced over her shoulder at Joey and Michael. ‘And behind me I’ve a pair of apes grinning like they’ve found out which dock the banana boat comes into. Pull yourself together, Molly Maguire, or I’m away just now to have another stroke and a bit of quiet!’

  Molly looked up. ‘Oh Ma. You don’t change, do you?’

  ‘Would you rather I should? Will I go out and come in again as the organ-grinder’s monkey and cheer you up? Where’s me other animal?’

  Yorick pushed his large head on to Ma’s lap and she fondled the soft yellow ears. ‘The dog has you all beaten for sense,’ she declared. ‘He takes me as I am, doesn’t mind whether me legs are back to front or dropped off altogether. Daisy, would you stop that clogging? You’re wearing out the floor and me head’s bursting with the noise of it.’

  ‘You talk a bit slower, Gran.’ Janet refilled the ample glass.

  ‘Ah well, there’s a reason for all that now. In the first place, I had a clot in me head the size of a tennis ball and in the second place, where’
s me snuff? I have not had a good clear-out of the nasal passages in all this long while.’ Janet dashed off to find the box as Ma continued, ‘During which long while not everybody came to see me regularly. Those who did will be remembered. Those who did not will also be remembered, but on a separate list altogether.’

  ‘Oh Ma . . . Ma . . .’ Molly didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘I’ve missed you!’

  ‘I can see I’ve been missed, for isn’t the place in a sorry state and me just off the critical list? Where’s the Zebo for heaven’s sakes? When did that grate last see a bit of spit? And me brasses have a bloom on them like the flowers in June. Ah now, ’tis a good girl you are, Janet Maguire.’ She took the tiny box and emptied a liberal portion of yellow-brown powder on to the back of a clenched fist. ‘See? Both hands!’ she proclaimed before inhaling deeply. The pepper-like substance caused several sharp sneezes followed by a long sigh of relief. ‘There now, isn’t that better? I can walk, talk and breathe at last, so we must get on with things. Joey – away and do the grate. Janet can clean me brasses while you two little ones might help your mammy by scraping some praties. Molly – you and I have matters to discuss.’

  Ma rose and walked towards the best room, the damaged leg trailing slightly as she moved. Molly turned towards her children, shrugged in a gesture of helpless submission, then followed her mother-in-law into what had become her bedroom.

  They sat in twin straight chairs by the window.

  ‘Well now, Molly. And how was Sarah Leason?’

  ‘Causing bother.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘Won’t stop in bed, has the poor ward sister up the pole and the rest of the patients on strike over their food. There’s talk of force-feeding and Sarah’s got everybody to sign a petition or summat.’

  ‘Good. Sounds like she’s on the mend.’

  ‘Joey came. Did you send him?’

  Ma studied her wedding ring. ‘Joey does what he wants to do.’

  ‘Happen he’ll get over his bad ways, Ma.’

  ‘Indeed. Give the money back after she’s home from the infirmary.’