Maura sliced open Kathleen’s letter. As usual, she scanned the pages and read it herself before she began to read it out loud. This annoyed Tommy intensely.
‘Go on, read it out, stop reading it to yourself,’ he said.
‘Well, sure this letter has dashed all my hopes that Peggy was doing all right without me. She’s been to Kathleen to borrow money for the kids’ teas a few times and Kathleen and Maggie Trott are feeding them as much as they can. Shelagh has been saying she doesn’t know how they are going to pay the rent because Paddy isn’t getting out of bed half of the time and, Holy Mother of God, the carnival is on its knees. Kathleen says the only person doing anything is Eric; he’s painted the float all nice, but there isn’t a scrap of bunting made.’
Maura slapped the letter in the air. ‘I don’t believe it, it’s all bad news.’ She held it closer to her face. ‘Kathleen has the kids over on a Sunday – she’s doing two sittings, Jerry and Alice, Nellie and Joseph first and then she sends Nellie out to get the Nolans from the wasteland and take them back for a feed. She says they would go all day with nothing but bread and dripping if they didn’t. Oh Tommy, God love them!’ Maura looked upset. ‘Kathleen says she’s praying for the Morry to come in or it will be the worst carnival on the streets for many a year.’
Tommy let out a long whistle. ‘As bad as that? Looks like we did the right thing, getting out when we did.’
Maura looked perturbed and sad as she opened the next letter. She had been looking forward to this hour all day and now she felt nothing but concern for families she knew as well as if they were her own. ‘Let’s hope there is happier news in this one,’ she said as she opened out the sheet of paper. This time she read the contents out loud almost as quickly as she read them to herself.
‘This is from the dock and harbour board asking us to sign the rent book back to them. They can’t do that! The rent is paid in full.’ They had continued to pay rent on the house, even keeping their furniture there. They had moved into the Talk of the Town with all they could carry, intending to send for the furniture, but never quite getting around to it. They were both aware, with the housing shortage in Liverpool, that once they signed over the rent book they would never get the house back and, even though the postal order Maura religiously sent to the dock and harbour board every Friday was money she could have well done with as she watched their windfall deplete, she had been compelled never to miss a week.
‘And I’m not sure we should send the rent book back,’ said Tommy.
‘What, you mean not at all, never? We can’t keep paying rent in a house we don’t live in forever, Tommy. Do you know how much money we have left?’
Tommy shook his head; he never did. Money was a mystery to him. All their married life he had handed his pay packet over to Maura. She had given him his spending money back and they had always had a roof over their head, had never gone hungry as many did, thanks to Maura being an expert manager and lucky down at the bingo. It was a system that had worked well and Tommy hadn’t had any intention of changing it until he took it upon himself to buy the Talk of the Town.
‘We have just over one hundred pounds left from the money we got from America and we made one pound and six shilling’s profit here last week,’ Maura said now.
Tommy felt guilt wash over him and in need of another drink. ‘I’m sorry, queen,’ he said.
‘Don’t you be sorry,’ said Maura. ‘We will turn it all around, you watch. I’m not touching that money, though, Tommy. If we had to leave and go back, it’s all we have. And we may have to make a decision soon, for you can’t keep milking Liam’s cows. That’s not a living.’
They sipped their drinks, searching for a way to justify continuing to pay the rent out of the money they had left. They both knew they couldn’t keep it up for much longer. Maura had never wanted her sons on the docks, but she was glad to keep the house for reasons unprobed and unidentified. Now, neither was willing to admit that they had made the biggest mistake of their lives.
‘They must have got wind that we aren’t living there, Tommy. It says here they prefer the house to be inhabited.’ She folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. ‘They don’t like to leave properties empty in case of burst pipes and irreparable and expensive damage.’
Maura shook her head. Her thoughts drifted to her house on the four streets. The carnival was coming. She remembered the excitement that surrounded the day, the games, the march and the knees-up in the Anchor pub when all the kids were in bed and being looked after by a variety of young girls who were allowed to stay up in order to babysit. It was always a highlight of the year. Maura organised the costumes, making a trip to the market for the fabric to supplement whatever fell off the back of the tramp ship.
‘I miss the trips to the market. Do you remember the white silk dresses we had last year? And wasn’t that just the thing, because the girls could use them for Holy Communion after,’ she said aloud as she remembered she and Angela putting their best foot forward for a carnival without Kitty. ‘Oh, Conor must be on his way back. It would be the first time he had let everyone down, so we have to keep paying the rent until then because, as God is my judge, they will need it to hide Conor’s drink in the back and Kathleen will have to be the one to dish it out.’
Maura’s voice had dropped an octave, even though there was no one to hear her. Without a doubt, the carnival would never be a day of fun and memories without an understanding between Captain Conor and the dockers. Just like at Christmas, the carnival fun arrived via wins on the bingo, Green Shield stamps, the butcher’s and the biggest contribution of all, the goods that fell off the back of a ship. Maura had no chance to say any more because Angela appeared in the doorway.
‘Mammy, it’s Harry, he’s really sick.’
Maura put down her glass and jumped to her feet. ‘Is it his chest, queen? Is his breathing not right, is he wheezy?’
‘No Mammy, it’s his arm, it’s hot all the way up and he’s not making any sense.’
*
Maura fought to keep the panic from her voice as she laid Harry down on the settle, his body burning as his mind rambled.
‘Get them off, Mam!’ he cried, swatting at his arms as Maura removed his pyjamas.
‘Tommy,’ she said, ‘go on, run. Get the bike out and get to the Deanes’. Ask Liam to take us to the hospital. Tommy, where is the nearest hospital?’
Tommy shook his head, feeling helpless and trapped. In Liverpool, he would have had Harry over his shoulders in a flash and marched down to St Angelus within fifteen minutes. ‘I don’t know, queen, but I’ll go now.’ And with one quick kiss on his son’s head and the whispered words, ‘Daddy will sort this out now, Harry. It’s a doctor you need and we will have you better in no time,’ he was out of the door and pedalling for his life, back to the Deanes’ farm.
*
Maura had never seen one of her children look so ill and she had sat through many a long night and trips to St Angelus with asthma and bad chests, the curse of living so close to the river Mersey. Her heart raced fast as she filled up a bowl with tepid water and began to wash Harry’s body down to reduce his temperature. Angela padded over to her mother’s side.
‘Angela, get me my rosary from the press,’ Maura barked at her anxious-looking daughter. Angela didn’t need to be asked twice; the sight of Harry’s curls, plastered to his scalp with perspiration, along with his rambling and wailing, set her own emotions on edge.
‘Here, Mammy,’ said Angela as the rosary slipped from her hand to her mother’s. Angela’s dark hair fell long and unkempt down both sides of her face, her eyes were wide, her thumb in her mouth and her precious teddy under her arm. ‘Here, Harry,’ she whispered as she placed her teddy into the crook of Harry’s arm.
‘Good girl,’ said Maura and smiled up at her. ‘Now change this water, would you? Not hot, not cold, we don’t want to shock him, just in the middle, for I have to keep washing him down to try and fight the temperature off.�
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‘Ma…’ Harry opened his eyes. They were glazed and bright and for a moment they held Maura’s.
‘I’m here, Harry. Don’t you be worrying now, just lie there nice and still.’ Her son turned his head and looked about the room.
‘Where’s Da?’ Harry croaked.
‘Angela, get me some water for Harry to drink.’ She knew they had to get fluids into him whilst he could hold it down. She placed her arm around her son’s back and held the drink to his lips. Harry guzzled the water and Maura laid him back down. ‘Da’s gone for the doctor, Harry, he’ll be back in a minute,’ she said, but Harry wasn’t listening. His temperature had rapidly risen again and he began to ramble incoherently once more.
‘Mam, is Harry going to die?’
Angela had laid her hand on her mother’s shoulder. She had never seen anyone that poorly before and Maura felt the question like a slap across the face. She stared at her daughter. ‘No, Angela, he isn’t. The good Lord has taken one from me, he won’t be wanting another.’ But the very thought that that would even be a possibility chilled Maura to the bone and she began to wash Harry down again. ‘This water is hot already, Angela, bring me a jug of fresh.’
It felt to Maura as though the night would last forever as she waited for Tommy to return, raising her son’s limbs one by one and running the cloth soaked in tepid water along each one, whispering comforting words as she did so, while Angela sat in the rocking chair and slowly rocked back and forth, her eyes never leaving her mother or Harry. Maura hardly realised it, but as she comforted her son in the dark and tense atmosphere, with nothing by way of light other than the peat blocks smouldering and a spluttering candle on the stone mantelpiece, her thoughts slipped from where they now lived to the place she thought of as home.
‘Now, when you are better, you will be running straight up to the bombed-out site to play the footie, won’t you? If I hear Jerry shout once more, “Harry takes a corner like Stanley Matthews”, I’ll be on the phone to Bill Shankly meself, do you hear me? I’ll be saying to him, oi, Bill you don’t even know it but your best player is here, knocking a ball about with the lads on the four streets and you haven’t even noticed him yet.’
She stroked the wet hair back from Harry’s forehead with the cloth as he burned up, muttering words that made little sense and she fought the fever bowl by bowl, cloth by cloth, as the clock ticked through the minutes and the fire fell into dust. Without being asked, Angela knew just when she was needed and helped her ma until they heard the sound of Liam’s van pull up outside.
‘Oh, thank you God!’ Maura gasped, her voice catching in her throat and she blessed herself. Tommy took the stairs two at a time and ran into the room with Liam close behind and Maeve, Liam’s wife, staggered breathlessly in after him.
‘Come on,’ said Liam who could see Harry was a very sick boy indeed, ‘Tommy, you carry him down the stairs and we will lay him on the front bench of the van, across yours and Maura’s laps. Maura, come on, down you go. Have you got everything you need? Maeve is going to stay here with Angela and look after the place. We knocked on to Pete Shevlin’s and he’s sent his cowman to do the milking for us. Angela, you go away back to bed and get some sleep before the others wake and you can have a day off school and help Maeve. Tommy, you lift Harry and take him down to the car. Do you need anything, Maura? Do you have your handbag?’
In the midst of the chaos, Maura almost smiled. ‘You are Kathleen’s son, all right, Liam,’ she said, impressed, as she tied her headscarf under her chin.
Maeve helped Maura on with her coat and threw her arms around her as Tommy lifted Harry up and into his own arms. ‘They will make him better at the hospital,’ said Maeve. ‘Sure they will that. I’d say send him down to Bridget on the farm, she has a potion for everything, but you’d never be able to get him there in the dark across the bog and up the bohreen until it’s daylight. That’s the worst of it, where Bridget lives in the sod house – even I can’t find me way and there’s so many goblins sleeping out there at night, one would surely grab at your ankles and trip ye up. Wicked, they are.’
Maura hugged Maeve back as Angela said, ‘Can I come with you, Mammy?’
Maura bent down to her. ‘No, Angela, I need you to be…’ Her voice tailed away. She had nearly said, ‘Be like our Kitty was’, but she managed to stop herself. ‘I need you to be a big girl and show Maeve how we do things and get the kids to school. Can you do that?’
Angela, nodded, knowing exactly what it was that Maura had been about to say.
Maeve took Angela’s hand. ‘Come on, there’s a good girl. Will we make the tea?’
As Tommy walked past with Harry dangling from his arms, his head lolling on his shoulder, the teddy fell onto the floor.
‘Take it,’ said Angela as she bent and picked it up and thrust it into Maura’s arms. ‘He makes me better.’
‘Go,’ said Maeve. ‘Off with you and God speed.’
Moments later, Maura and Tommy, feeling totally helpless, were sitting in the front of Liam’s van as he drove it as fast as it would carry them on the road to Galway. As they passed through Ballynevin, they saw the lights on in the Post Office and Mrs Doyle, with her face up to the window, watching them as they passed.
‘Why is Mrs Doyle up now at this godawful hour?’ asked Tommy.
Maura’s eyes never left her son’s face, but she said, ‘The cowman would have gone there to tell her what was happening and she would have telephoned the hospital to let them know we are on our way.’
Even though she couldn’t see him, Tommy raised his cap to Mrs Doyle in grateful thanks. ‘They are good people out here,’ he said in almost a whisper as he placed his hand over Maura’s and gave it a squeeze.
She looked up at her husband and their eyes met. She would not tell Tommy now, but if she had made a decision in the time it had taken him to get to Liam’s and back – and, if their son survived this, nothing anyone said would change her mind.
She felt the tears prickle the back of her eyes as her son rambled and the van bumped and rattled along the road. She wasn’t even sure if Harry would still be alive by the time they reached the hospital. In each village they passed through they were expected and someone was up and waiting in case they needed help. The jungle drums along the Atlantic coast road had heralded their coming. As they crept into one village, Liam slowed the van down, stopped at a gate, and just as he did, a door flew open and a couple Maura thought must have been at least eighty years old came running down the path. Liam wound down his window.
‘A cool cloth for the boy and a tot for you,’ the woman said, handing a damp cloth in through the window to Maura. Meanwhile, her husband unscrewed the van’s petrol cap and, began to top up the tank from a large enamel jug. Maura was so grateful as she laid the cool cloth on Harry’s brow, but she couldn’t say so, words were beyond her.
‘Here, knock this back, quick,’ said Tommy and, taking the glass, she did just that.
The cloth helped to take the burning heat out of Harry’s forehead and body and Maura wiped it around the back of his neck, down his chest and across the back of his neck again, then she dipped her head and looked out of the window at the old woman.
‘God bless you,’ she said. She wanted to ask how did they know they would be passing? There were no phone lines on this remote road. How did she know what they needed? The woman took one look at Harry and, reaching in, pressed something into Maura’s hand. It was a whittled wooden cross.
‘For the boy,’ she said, watching as Maura put the cross in Harry’s hand and wrapped his fingers around it.
‘Thank you,’ Maura said again.
‘God speed,’ said the woman, ‘and don’t be worrying any more; when this is over, you will be in the place where so many are needing your help right now. ’Tis an awful burden you have to carry.’
Maura’s mouth dropped open and the only sounds in the van were those of Harry’s laboured breathing and the petrol filling up the tank.
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br /> ‘I knew Kitty,’ said the woman. ‘I sent a potion for her when she was here. Sure, the midwife did her best for her, she was a good woman. No one could have done more.’
Maura grasped her fingers and squeezed them tightly. She had asked Maeve so often about what had happened with Kitty. She had delivered her baby in the convent laundry, hidden from view, and following the birth had been taken from there to Liam and Maeve, to give her time to recover and stop the police in Liverpool from making any connection between the murder of the priest and their unmarried, pregnant daughter.
‘Kathleen is waiting for you back at home, ’twill all be over soon. Ye can’t run forever, Kitty told me to tell ye, “Go back, he made a mistake, don’t make him live with it until till the end of his days”.’ She inclined her head towards Tommy.
Maura felt her heart banging against her ribs; her mouth had dried, but there was no time to ask what the woman meant because now there was a bang on the bonnet to let Liam know the tank was full. Liam pulled out the choke, turned the key and within seconds, they were off again. Maura turned her head to look out of the back window of the van as they moved away and the woman raised her hand before she turned and Maura felt the breath she had been unaware she was holding leave her body.
‘Was that the jungle drums as well, Liam?’ she asked. ‘Because they were very specific with the details.’
‘Not really,’ said Liam with a half-smile. ‘That’s Kathleen’s eldest sister, my aunt. There’s nothing about anyone she doesn’t know. She taught Kathleen to read the tea leaves. Has the gift of the sight she does, she’s the local seer. They have no phone – Jesus, they have no running water even. No one told them we were on our way through. She just knew we were coming and I knew I had to stop.’
Coming Home to the Four Streets Page 9