Storms Gather Between Us

by Storms Gather Between Us (retail) (epub)

  ‘I’m not a rent collector.’ He extended a hand towards her. ‘Eddie told me to call on you, Mrs O’Connor. My ship docked this morning from Liverpool.’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘Eddie?’ She made a snorting sound. ‘That no-good eejit. If it hadn’t been for him wasting all his wages I’d be able to pay the rent on time. A terrible fella, he is. And now run off over the water instead of staying here with his own kin and supporting his poor old mammy.’ She wiped her hands on her apron and her expression softened slightly. ‘You say you’ve seen him?’

  ‘Yesterday. He was helping load the ship.’ He grinned at the woman. ‘He shared his tucker with me.’

  ‘Tucker?’ She looked aghast. ‘What in heaven’s name is that?’

  ‘His food. He gave me a cheese sandwich.’

  Mrs O’Connor tutted. ‘Cheese sandwiches! And here’s his poor mother too broke to pay the rent man.’ She gave a long deep sigh. ‘Well, I suppose I should be thankful that he’s putting food in his belly and not gambling it all away to some card sharp. And that he’s still full of the Christian values he was brought up to have. A real Good Samaritan he is, giving his sandwiches to a stranger. Right then, mister, you’d better come inside.’ She called over her shoulder as she swung the door open. ‘This fella says he’s a pal of our Eddie.’

  The room was cramped, gloomy and cold – but clean and tidy.

  Will remembered he still had Eddie’s money. He took out the ten-shilling note from his breast pocket and handed it to the woman. ‘Eddie asked me to give you this.’

  ‘Oh, he did now, did he? So, he hasn’t forgotten his poor old mother after all.’ She stuffed the money into her apron pocket.

  ‘He said sorry it isn’t much. He’ll try and send some more soon.’

  She snorted her doubt. ‘He’s a good boy is my Eddie but I’ll believe it when I see it.’ Then she smiled at Will. ‘Look at me forgetting me manners. Sure, you’ll be having a cup of tea, won’t you, mister. Now I didn’t even ask you your name, did I?’

  ‘Kidd. William Kidd.’

  ‘William Kidd – well then, Willy the Kid.’ She gave a loud guffaw. ‘That’s a good one! Sit yourself down. Bridget, put the kettle on. Lads, get in here!’

  As she spoke, a young woman wearing a woollen shawl and a dress of a similar vintage to her mother’s got up from a chair by the unlit fire. Her hair was dark and glossy and hung in curtains either side of a thin, but not unattractive, face. She gave Will a big, beaming smile that revealed a small gap between her front teeth. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mr Kidd, I’m sure.’ She moved to a corner of the room and put the kettle on the hob.

  The men of the family, all evidently younger than Eddie, trooped in and stood, awkwardly, their arms folded in front of them.

  ‘This is Eddie’s friend. A sailor over from Liverpool. Says he saw him yesterday.’

  They each stretched a hand out in turn and shook Will’s, telling him their names: Dermot, Seamus and Liam.

  An awkward silence followed. Will doubted any of them would be accompanying him to the pub. Mrs O’Connor was unlikely to stand for that if money was as tight as she was saying. He felt only relief. The men looked a miserable bunch. Even though the language had been a barrier, he’d communicated more easily with the Tornabenes than he was likely to do with this lot.

  The matriarch pointed to a chair and he sat, accepting a tin mug of tea from a still smiling Bridget. The menfolk shuffled their feet. Will wished he’d never agreed to make the visit. He couldn’t wait to get outside and away from the oppressive atmosphere in the room.

  The older woman leaned forward and studied him intently. ‘Are you a married man, Willy?’

  ‘I’m not.’ He squirmed in his chair under her scrutiny.

  ‘Aye, well. The sea’s a hard mistress. There’s not many women willing to share a man with her.’ She looked at her daughter, then turned to face him again. ‘But you’re a good-looking fella, I’ll say. And every man needs a wife, Willy. Someone to mend his clothes, cook his meals, keep his bed warm and give him children to support him in his old age.’ Again she looked towards her daughter, who looked away, clearly embarrassed.

  Will slugged his tea down, uncaring of the fact that it was burning his mouth. He couldn’t wait to be out of the room. The three brothers were watching him but remained silent.

  He finished the tea and looked around unsuccessfully for somewhere to deposit the empty mug. ‘Well, I’m due back on board soon. We’ve a lot to do and we’re heading back to Liverpool tomorrow.’ He got up. The O’Connor women, like Eddie, were friendly and approachable – but the men seemed dull and inscrutable.

  The three brothers stared at him, but remained silent.

  ‘Goodbye to you all, then. I’ll tell Eddie I saw you.’ He handed the mug to Mrs O’Connor and left.

  Hurrying down the stairway, he was halfway to the bottom when a door slammed above him then he heard the sound of several feet on the steps above. He looked up. The O’Connor brothers were clattering down at speed.

  He waited for them in the hallway at the bottom.

  Seamus waved the ten-shilling note at him. ‘The Mammy must like you. She said we can all have a couple of pints on her.’

  ‘But the rent?’ Will knew it was none of his business yet he couldn’t help himself. He wasn’t sure Eddie would be happy at his hard-earned money being drunk away by his brothers.

  ‘We get paid tomorrow so this is a wee bonus,’ said Liam, winking. ‘Come on, let’s not be wasting valuable drinking time.’ He slung an arm round Will’s shoulders and the four of them set off.

  Will was astonished at the transformation in the three once they were away from their mother. No wonder Eddie had fled to Liverpool. The brothers chattered away to him, explaining that Fintan, their oldest sibling, was sailing somewhere in South America. Another escapee then.

  When they reached the public house, Liam shouldered open the door and ushered Will inside. The place was packed. From the look of the clientele they were mostly other dockers. Big muscly men. Will was swept towards the bar by the O’Connors, who did a round of introductions – they appeared to know everyone. He discovered that there was a Dublin dockland tradition to give each docker a nickname. He was given no choice in his own, as Dermot introduced him as ‘Willy the Kid’. Will groaned inwardly – he had often been called Billy The Kid when on the Transatlantic ships, and had thought he’d escaped it by returning to Europe. At least they hadn’t called him ‘Matilda’ as one of the other dockers suggested, picking up on his Aussie accent. Cormac was known by his co-workers as ‘Cocky Corm’. Seamus as ‘Pockets’ and Liam as ‘Knees O’C’. No one troubled to inform Will as to the basis for these names but it was clear that they were now as familiar to each man as his Christian name – probably more so.

  After a round of Guinness, Seamus clapped a hand on Will’s shoulder. ‘So you’re a single man, Willy? Not even a girlfriend then?’ Will saw the men look at each other.

  ‘No time, lads. As your mother said, the sea doesn’t appeal to many women.’ He didn’t like the direction the conversation had taken. ‘And it looks like you’re all single men yourselves.’

  None of the brothers replied. Will speculated to himself that marriage plans no doubt required the approval of Mrs O’Connor – who was probably unwilling to forgo their weekly wage packets.

  ‘It’s my round,’ he said, breaking the silence, deciding that once he’d discharged this obligation he’d head back to the ship. The O’Connor boys were pleasant enough fellows but he wasn’t comfortable at the exchange of glances between them as though he were the only one not in on a joke.

  ‘Mammy told us to tell youse, you can sleep at our place tonight. No charge. Her guest. She’d like you and our Bridget to get better acquainted.’

  So that was it. His fears were grounded. ‘Thanks, lads,’ he said. ‘But I’ll be going back to my ship after this one. I have to be up at the crack.’

  ‘What’s the name o
f your ship?’ The speaker was a man who’d identified himself earlier as Chins Gilligan.

  When Will told him, the man laughed. ‘Me and Topper here are loading that ship. Do it every week. You’re not needed back till morning.’ He laughed. ‘Plenty of time for some more craic – and maybe a spot of courting.’

  Will was now decidedly uneasy. The prospect of spending a night in the O’Connors home was as appealing as walking the plank. By now he was certain there was a plot afoot to marry him off to Bridget. They were clearly crazy. While he was sure Miss O’Connor was a charming and not unattractive lass, he was hardly about to start courting her on the basis of a ten-minute acquaintance. Will had no intention of courting anyone. Hadn’t he resisted the call of matrimony for all eleven years he’d been at sea?

  Leaving his almost full pint on the bar he went off to the Gents and was about to slip out of the side door of the pub and head back to the Arklow when he felt a hand grab his shoulders. It was Liam.

  Will’s face must have reflected the panic he felt, but Liam burst into peals of laughter. ‘Trying to do a runner were you? Did you think we were about to kidnap you and marry you off to our Bridget?’

  Seamus and Dermot were falling about, holding their stomachs.

  Liam said, ‘Sure, and you thought we were. You did!’ He hauled him back to the centre of the bar where everyone was in tears of laughter.

  ‘The face on you, Willy, lad! Blind panic. Did you think you were about to have a shotgun wedding?’

  Will could feel the blood rushing to his face as the realisation that he had been the object of a prank dawned on him. Relief overwhelmed him and he too began to laugh.

  One of the men handed him a fresh pint. ‘Don’t youse worry, Willy. It’s a standing joke. Every man who crosses the threshold is a potential son-in-law as far as Mary O’Connor’s concerned.’

  ‘And there’s many of us would be more than happy to marry Bridget. But the lass will have none of us.’

  Dermot winked at Will. ‘She’s her heart set on marrying Jesus. Wants to be a nun, a bride of Christ, but the Mammy’s dead against it. She’s been praying up a storm that some man will come along and change her mind. But we know our Bridget. Her mind’s made up. Soon as she’s had her twenty-first birthday she’ll be hammering on the convent door.’

  While relieved that he wasn’t about to be kidnapped and forced into marriage by a crazy Irish family, Will couldn’t help agreeing that it was an awful shame that a young woman like Bridget should embrace the religious life.

  * * *

  When he got back to the ship that night, the bullocks were already on board, having been driven through the streets of Dublin from the main cattle market at Stoneybatter, weaving between traffic and trams, all the way to the docks. The drovers and their dogs were evidently a common sight on the streets and a habitual disruption to the business of north Dublin on market days. Will thought it strange that this should be taking place in a capital city as though it were a rural market town.

  Will’s dislike of live cattle as cargo was not diminished by the return crossing to Liverpool. The sea was lively throughout the eight-hour sail back over the Irish Sea and the cattle bellowed in protest as the ship rose and fell with the surge. His worst fears about the smell were vindicated and he was glad to see the back of the beasts when the Arklow docked on the other side of the Mersey in Birkenhead.

  As soon as they reached Liverpool and discharged the rest of the cargo, Will went in search of Eddie O’Connor. The man owed him a few beers for the prank his brothers had played on him in Dublin.

  But once Eddie heard what had happened, he was having none of it. ‘Come on now, Will, it’s a long-standing tradition to pull the leg of a fella who’s new to Dublin. And aren’t you as green as the grass in Connemara to think me poor old mammy and me little brothers would be off and kidnapping youse and forcing yer to marry me sister!’ He grinned at Will. ‘And what makes you so sure she’d even’ve had you? I tell you there’s far better men than youse that have tried to court our Bridget.’

  Will raised his eyes and nodded his head. ‘Yeah, yeah, I know. But she’s going to marry Jesus. Your brothers told me. The evil bastards.’

  Eddie roared with laughter and clapped Will on the shoulders. ‘You’re right about that. They are evil bastards. But I love the bones of them all. Oh God, Willy boy, I miss the family.’

  ‘Then why not go back to Dublin?’

  Eddie gave a sly laugh. ‘Maybe one day. Now, I’ll be dying of a terrible thirst if you don’t get yourself over to that bar and get me a drink.’

  When they were settled with their beers, Eddie took a long slug then winked at Will. ‘But it’s not surprising the boys were getting a rise out of youse, with you being a bachelor and all. It seems a strange thing that a fella like you doesn’t have himself a wife. You’re not one of those fairies are you? A shirt-lifter?’ He pulled a face.

  Will rolled his eyes and chose to ignore the question. ‘I could as easily ask you the same thing. You and your four bachelor brothers.’

  ‘That’s down to the mammy. Rules us with a rod of iron, she does. It’s why I came over here. There’s a girl I’d like to marry but as long as I’m under the family roof I’ve not a chance to save up enough that I can ask her to marry me. Her name’s Maureen.’ He fished in his jacket pocket and pulled out a photo. ‘Now, isn’t she the prettiest thing you’ve ever clapped eyes on?’

  Will made some appropriate noises, then settled into his pint.

  ‘You still haven’t told me, is there a girl waiting back in Kangaroo-land for youse then?’

  ‘No. Nobody.’ He spoke with a note of finality that must have registered with Eddie, as the docker didn’t argue. In a couple of minutes, the conversation moved on.

  ‘When do you sail again?’

  ‘Tomorrow on the first tide. I’m due back on board tonight.’ He glanced up at the clock. ‘I need to go now in fact. I’m on cargo watch.’

  Eddie put a hand on his sleeve. ‘I don’t suppose you could lend us a few bob? Just to tide me over. And after all you helped the lads drink through that ten shilling note I gave you for the mammy.’

  Will took a note out of his pocket and handed it to Eddie. ‘Don’t drink it all at once, mate.’

  Chapter Ten

  Hannah approached the closed door of her father’s so-called study, terrified. The only reason he would have summoned her was that she must have done something wrong.

  But Hannah was always careful. Most of the time Charles Dawson was likelier to find fault with her younger and more careless sister. Judith seemed to irritate him, so she kept out of his way. Hannah was the favourite, if a man like Dawson could be said to have a favourite. Not that he spoke to her often. Most of the time he shut himself away either in his study or in his office at work. But there was something about the way she sometimes caught him looking at her that made Hannah feel uncomfortable. She couldn’t put her finger on the reason it did – she just knew that he never looked at Judith or their mother in that way.

  She knocked on the door and was told to enter.

  Charles Dawson was sitting in a winged chair in front of the fireplace. A roaring fire was burning in the grate and Hannah immediately felt the difference in temperature compared with the back kitchen where her mother, Judith, and she spent their time. He was, as always, sitting ramrod straight in his chair, his knees splayed apart and his arms folded. As she looked at him, Hannah reflected that she couldn’t remember ever seeing her father laugh.

  ‘Father?’ She heard the tremor in her own voice.

  He stared at her, his face rigid and inscrutable, but said nothing. She could feel the anger radiating off him.

  Hannah’s heart almost jumped out of her chest when he brandished the library’s copy of Weather in the Streets at her.

  ‘You have defied me. I am ashamed of my own child. The fruit of my own loins. This book is filth. Utter filth.’

  Hannah began to shake and felt the t
ears rising in a mixture of fear and anger. Anger at the injustice of it all.

  He looked at her with loathing. ‘I have been reading a few pages and I feel I have swallowed poison. It has contaminated me. Even on the very first page.’ He was shouting now. He held the book in front of him, his spectacles low on his nose as he read from the opening page. ‘“Oh damn, oh hell” – words that speak of the devil, thrown out so casually by this… this adulterous woman. How could you bring such foul depraved matter into this house? You, my own daughter? This book is about a woman having a relationship with a married man. It’s filth.’

  Before she could answer, he began to tear the pages out of the volume and flung them onto the fire.

  ‘But, Father! It’s not mine. It belongs to the library. Please, stop!’

  He continued to tear at the book in a frenzy. ‘I will tell those godless people exactly what I think of the degenerate, immoral, perverted works they are peddling to young women. It’s a disgrace. Is this what I pay the rates for? You will never enter that place again. I am ashamed of you.’ His body shook as though possessed.

  Hannah looked at the fire, watching the crackling flames as they consumed the pages he continued to feed it.

  Until she made an apology and suffered the inevitable punishment, she would be kept standing there in front of him. Hands clutched behind her back, she pressed her fingernails into the flesh of her palms. The words pained her. ‘I’m sorry, Father; I was only curious. I had no idea. I haven’t read any of it yet. I just liked the title. That was all. I didn’t know it was a bad book.’ The lies flowed like a river.

  ‘There is only one good book. All others are the work of the devil.’ He continued ripping the book apart and turned to look at her, his eyes cold and angry. ‘And this book is written by a woman. A sinful daughter of Eve. Jewish too – one who has turned her back on the teachings of the Lord. And you dare to bring this abomination into my home.’