Coming Home to the Four Streets

by Nadine Dorries

  They all turned as the back door flew open and Alice thought she was imagining things when Angela burst into her kitchen and then, with tears springing from her eyes, ran to Nellie and threw her arms around her and began to wail. Then the rest of the Doherty children filed in, Maura and Tommy behind them.

  ‘Maura! Tommy!’ Kathleen exclaimed. ‘Feck, I think I’m going to faint!’

  Seconds later the noise in the kitchen was so loud, Kathleen could hardly hear herself think and Joseph, who had woken, thundered down the stairs.

  ‘Is that Captain Conor’s ship in the dock?’ said Tommy to Alice as Kathleen fussed over the kids and Maura.

  ‘It is, Tommy, and you can guess where Jerry is?’

  ‘What a night to come home. Is the haul waiting to come up?’

  Alice had picked Niamh up and rocked with her on her hip. ‘Not yet. It has a list and needs to go into dry dock after it’s been unloaded. Jerry reckons there’s nothing wrong with it, that Conor’s overdone it with the barrels of dark rum from the Caribbean and he’s gone to see him down the Anchor.’

  Tommy winked at Alice, then said, ‘I’m off to the pub, Maura, to see a man about a dog,’ and without another word he was out of the door and down the backyard, whistling as he went.

  ‘Tommy!’ Maura stood at the back door with her hand out. Tommy knew exactly what she was there for, the money from the sale of the Talk of the Town. He slipped his hand inside his jacket and, removing the money, placed it in her own. ‘Away with you,’ she said, grumpily, but Tommy could feel her warm smile on his back as he almost ran through the gate.

  *

  Back in the kitchen, with tea in her hand and Nellie and Alice feeding the children with griddle scones, Maura felt as though she could relax for the first time in days.

  ‘Sit down, Maura, leave them to us,’ Alice had said as she mixed the batter in the bowl. ‘They are far too excited so they need to get it out of their system and then, when they are done, I’m making some to take down to Peggy’s.’

  Kathleen was on her knees at the press and, staggering to her feet, held a bottle aloft. ‘We definitely need a bit of this in our tea – Golden Knight, you can’t beat it. Maura, I can’t believe you are here, so much going on that I’ll tell you about when this lot are asleep. Speaking of which, you can’t sleep over the road, it’ll be freezing.’

  ‘We’ll be fine, Tommy and I, especially with this inside me, but could the kids spend the night here, Kathleen? Do you mind, Alice?’

  ‘Of course I don’t mind! They can all squeeze in together and we can put extra blankets down on the floor. It may not be the most comfortable night they will ever spend, but it will at least be warm and they will sleep after the journey they have had. Are you really back for good?’

  Maura sipped and winced. ‘Jesus, that’s just taken the lining off my stomach, Kathleen. We are, Alice, and I’ll tell you this, we are never leaving again.’

  Half an hour later, the kitchen table was filled with the crumbs from the scones and Maura was drying the faces of her children, lined up in a row, with a warm towel. Then Alice said, ‘Say goodnight to your mam,’ and Maura hugged each of her children.

  ‘Mammy, can I go and see Paddy?’ Harry muffled into her chest. ‘I’ve slept all the way home.’

  Maura looked up at Kathleen, her eyes asking what she should do. Kathleen, alight with the excitement of having Maura back, said, ‘Go on, Harry, you go with Nellie and Angela and take the griddle scones.’

  Minutes later, as the last of the murmurings came from upstairs, the three women sat before the fire, warm, alcohol-laden cups nursed in their hands. It only took seconds before the conversation turned to the shocking state that Peggy and Paddy were in – and the horrifying news to Maura that Frank the Skank thought he was about to move into her house. But it was the news about Peggy that concerned her the most.

  ‘Frank the Skank might think he is, but I’ve paid the rent, I still have the rent book – and what’s more, I have rights,’ said Maura. ‘Kathleen, are you sure the letter said the bailiffs were coming on Friday?’

  Kathleen dug deep into her apron pocket. ‘See for yourself, I brought it back with me because I wanted to speak to Peggy about it myself.’

  Alice gasped. ‘Kathleen, you didn’t!’

  Kathleen held the letter out to Maura. ‘I did, Alice, because I knew that something was badly wrong. When did Peggy ever disappear from her own house? Or faint down at the rent office, eh? She’s quite obviously not been managing, but she never breathed a word, Maura. I knew things couldn’t be right, but they didn’t seem to be that wrong. Nothing that her fat lazy arse of a husband couldn’t put right with a bit of hard work. I think she’s been lost without you, Maura. You understood her better than any of us.’

  Maura opened the letter. ‘She fainted at the rent office? I’ve never known Peggy to faint at all. She’s as strong as an ox.’

  ‘Exactly, that’s what I said to Dr Cole. She was a nervous wreck. I thought she must have been down at the office, paying the rent. And this morning she was shaking like a leaf when she came to ask for a loan for food.’

  ‘Did you give her one?’ asked Maura.

  ‘Of course I did, but I’ve been giving her a loan every week and she’s not paid a penny back. I gave her one and six for food. Paddy hasn’t worked a full week since you left and I think it’s just all got on top of her.’

  Maura fell quiet as she read the letter. ‘It says the arrears are over a month?’

  Kathleen nodded. ‘You have that look in your eye, Maura, do you have a plan?’

  Maura drained the last of the whiskey-heavy tea in her cup. ‘Have you ever know me not to, Kathleen?’

  *

  Peggy had made her way along the lower dock wall. It was so dark, she could barely see. She thought of the kids as she looked up the steps to the houses above, feeling lost and bewildered.

  ‘Oi, what are you doing, missus?’ a woman called out to her from the shadows of the administration building, which was now in darkness. ‘Come here!’

  Peggy peered through the gloom and knew straight away that the voice belonged to a woman of the night. A professional, who knew what she was doing and seemed none too pleased to see Peggy invading her patch. She wondered should she retrace her steps and go back home. Maybe she should take what money she had left from the pawnshop and throw herself on Mr Heartfelt’s mercy… Even as the thought entered her mind, she knew it was useless, she had no time. They would be turfed out by the bailiffs and the door would be locked and boarded up behind them so that they couldn’t possibly return and everyone would know. No, she had nowhere to go and every day the problems piled higher and higher. If she didn’t drown in the Mersey, she would do so under the weight of despair – surely this was better for the kids? Mr Heartfelt would never be so mean as to turn her children out onto the street after their mother drowned. This way, she would be so much more use to all of them. A cold, watery grave for Peggy would give her family a reprieve and then, surely, big Paddy would realise that he had to work, for the kids would be his responsibility.

  Turning from the woman with the unfriendly stare, Peggy looked towards the dark, uninviting water which lapped against the edge of the dock. It would only take one minute and then she would know nothing. There would be no more shame, no more trying so hard and always failing. It would be a sin, but could eternal damnation be worse than how she felt right now? How could she take a newborn baby out onto the street? She took a step towards the water, could hear the distant sound of men’s voices from somewhere inside the ships.

  ‘Oi! I said, come over here!’

  Peggy had never been a woman who was easily intimidated and yet now she felt herself begin to tremble with fear. She decided to approach the woman, to tell her it was a mistake and that she was sorry, that she would be leaving, that it was all a mistake, that there was no point and she knew what it was she had to do. She would move along the dock and find a quiet spot where no
one would disturb her…

  ‘Oi, come here, deaf lugs!’ The woman was older than she’d appeared at first. Her hair was bleached yellow and pinned up in folds and she wore fishnet stockings with long black boots and a white PVC raincoat which was open and revealed a black dress beneath. She was far too old for the clothes that she wore. She glared at Peggy. ‘There’s only one reason any woman comes down here when it’s getting dark,’ she said before Peggy had reached her, ‘so don’t think I don’t know what it is you’re up to. The nerve of you, me and Stella come down here early to get a bit of business from the new ship and a cheeky old slapper like you comes along and thinks she can take our patch? What’s your name and where the hell are you from, up there?’ The woman nodded her head up to the streets and, taking out her cigarettes, lit one. ‘You wait here until Stella gets back, she’s got a bit of business herself on the Morry. Thought you could take us on in a pair of auld slippers, did you? Or did you just forget to get dressed. Drunk, are yer?’

  Peggy could now see that her eyeliner was smudged and that the woman had a faint bruise on the side of her cheek. She took a long drag on her cigarette. ‘Drunken housewife looking for drunken sailor who won’t be fussy about what he’s paying for, is it? Fancy yourself good enough for the game, did you? You’ve got nice hair, I’ll give you that.’ The woman laughed out loud, but the smile disappeared from her face as quickly as it came. She stepped forwards and, with her free hand, jabbed Peggy in the shoulder with her long painted fingernail, making Peggy step backwards and almost stumble.

  ‘The friggin’ state of you. Jesus, the likes of you give us a bad name and that’s saying something.’ As she exhaled the smoke into Peggy’s face, she stared hard. ‘I said, what’s your name?’

  Peggy’s mouth felt dry and the pain in her belly was weighing her to the spot. All she wanted, all she needed, was the water’s edge. She was trapped in a living hell where, minute by minute, everything got worse. The water, the lapping, it was calling her name, Peggy… Peggy… Up it slapped and down it fell, calling her to a dark peacefulness. That was where she had to reach, where the pain, the confusion, the hopeless despair, would all end. The lightness in her head made her dizzy.

  ‘P-p-peggy,’ she stammered.

  ‘Oh, Jesus, she can’t even talk proper! Well, Peggy, you just stand right there until Stella gets back. She’s in charge around here and I’m guessing she will want to have a word or two with you – that’s if you’re lucky. She might want more than a word, get one of the fellas to help out. You see the thing is, Peggy, you can’t just come down here and take someone’s patch when you fancy. It doesn’t work that way, because if you did, others might think it’s easy and fancy their chances, and we can’t have that, can we? I think someone needs to teach you a lesson, P-p-peggy.’

  Peggy shuffled forwards; the water wasn’t that far… if she could just get to the edge… but the woman stood in her way. ‘Oh no yer don’t! You aren’t going anywhere, missus, you stand right there until I say otherwise.’

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Maggie Trott looked in the mirror and checked her newly applied make-up. Cindy had given her a list of essential items and she had made the trip into town and bought her own supplies, to match those Cindy had used. Coty foundation and blusher, Outdoor Girl mascara in a palette with a brush, liquid eyeliner in a bottle, Aqua-green eyeshadow which went well with her hair and Portrait Pink lipstick were lined up before her.

  ‘Rub a bit of the lippy into your cheeks before you put it on your lips,’ Cindy had said. ‘It gives the blusher a boost and really makes a difference.’

  When Cindy had finished restyling her fiery red hair and completed her makeover, Maggie had had to lean forward in the chair to check the reflection was really her. Her hair, which was normally straight unless she had slept in her curlers, crowned her head in ringlets. Her eyes peered back at her, twice as large as usual, and her lips pouted. She had always had good bone structure, but it had never looked as good as it did right now, defined by the powder and blush. Maggie was transformed. She looked thirty-five at the most. Her face had been spared the wrinkles and lines of other women her age, who spent their summers on the front step in a chair, watching the children play out in the street and her complexion was flawless.

  Now she smiled at her own reflection. Her face looked just the way Cindy had made it up, earlier in the week.

  ‘There you go, you look amazing,’ Cindy had said as she spun Maggie around in her chair with a flourish.

  ‘It – it doesn’t look anything like me,’ gasped Maggie.

  Cindy laughed. ‘I know, nothing like you, isn’t it great? Honestly, I’m a magician. Women come in here and a couple of hours later they walk out with new hair and it changes them. Listen, me and our Reg are going down to the Admiral on Wednesday – why don’t you come and join us? Shall I knock on for you at half seven?’

  ‘Oh no, no. People will think I’m trying to be something I’m not at my age, mutton dressed as lamb.’

  Cindy pushed Maggie back down into the chair. ‘Maggie, look at you – you are gorgeous. It’s been time to move on for years. Every other woman widowed in the war from around here has remarried and had a second lot of kids and they’ve moved on, but not you. You’ve carried a torch around for way too long. Everyone knows it and, what is more, you know it too. Look, come out with us, will you? Just once. And if you don’t feel comfortable then, well, my Reg will walk you back, I promise. If you say no, I’ll never do your hair again.’

  Maggie had grinned and felt her resolve weaken. ‘Oh, go on then – but first I’m going into town to get myself some of that tutty you’ve just put on my face!’

  ‘Good, well, we’ll be at your back gate at half seven. Tell you what, if you start coming out at night with us and you keep this look up, you won’t be single for very long. Time for a quick ciggie before you go?’

  Cindy had winked as she pulled the packet of cigarettes out of her pocket and Maggie longed to confide in her, to tell her there was only one man she ever thought she could trust. A man she had known since he was a thin and gangly teenager, about to go to war. A man who was completely unavailable, so Cindy’s prediction would never come to pass.

  Now, as she waited for Cindy and Reg to call for her, she felt excited and nervous at the same time, felt the familiar loneliness seep through her body, compounded by the silence of the house. She thought of Eric, of how she had let her life slip by, worrying about the little things, like making sure the front step was never dirty, that her nets were washed every third Monday. That her windows shone, the cat was fed, the range blackened and that she always had a bit put by. If she carried on as she was, she would wake up one morning and nothing would have changed and she would be past it. No, she could not let that happen. A clean step didn’t make her laugh. The nets couldn’t keep her warm at night.

  Maggie took a deep breath and spoke to her reflection. ‘Come on, you! Woman up, you’re a long time dead.’

  She tried to recall the face of her late husband, to hear his voice. She couldn’t. Hadn’t been able to for some time. He was gone and she was alive and free. Tonight would be a trial run. She would have one port and lemon and then ask Reg to walk her back home. Then she would leave the curlers out tonight and in the morning Eric might look at her through new eyes, might decide to take his cup of tea indoors, instead of on the step, give Annie O’Prey something to really talk about. She had been living only half a life, all this time. Tears filled her eyes for the children she had never known. How had she let this happen?

  She thought of Eric’s face, which sprang to her mind with no effort whatsoever. She thought of the kindness in his eyes, and she knew she was a wicked woman, but just the once, just the once, was that really wicked? And as soon as she had allowed that thought to run riot in her mind, she no longer cared. Whatever happened, it would be worth the confession at mass the following day and she could say, ‘I have sinned, Father, and it will never happen again.’ Be
cause it really would be just the once.

  She heard the rattle on the back gate, Cindy and Reg, bang on time to escort her for her first night ever in the pub as a single woman. ‘I’ll be home in an hour,’ she said to the statue of the Virgin Mary on mantelpiece, as she placed the guard over the fire. In the flickering of the flames, the Holy Mother frowned down at her and Maggie knew it – but for the first time in her life, she didn’t care…

  *

  Eric patted the money in his pocket and glanced down at his polished boots. Gladys wasn’t as sharp as she thought she was; she had been to the stables twice to berate him and hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t wearing his wellies. He patted Daisy Bell, slid the bolt on the stable door as silently as he could and tiptoed across the yard and out of the back gate. In a valiant act of defiance, he was off to the pub to take up Cindy’s invitation to join her and Reg. And one thing he was sure of was that Gladys was all about appearances. She would rather die than be one of those women who sent another man into the pub to turf her own out.

  ‘I’m off to the pub!’ he shouted back over the gate and, as the kitchen door flew open and the words, ‘Oh no you aren’t!’ floated over the wall after him, he was off and around the corner as fast as his legs would carry him.

  ‘Eric, Eric,’ Gladys hissed down the entry, but the entry was clear and Gladys would never shout in case people heard her. Shouting in public would reduce her to the same level as the women on the four streets, or so she thought.

  Eric, heading towards the lights shining from the windows of the Anchor, heard the chorus of noise that escaped onto the street as the door opened and his heart lifted for the first time since his hand had brushed against Maggie Trott’s and Cindy had wrapped him in her cloak of kind words. He thrust his hands deep into his pockets and felt the pound notes crinkle beneath his fingers. He had taken them from the money bag and he didn’t care. He thought of Cindy’s words, of Maggie’s hand which had been warm and soft against his own, of the look in her eye, and he swallowed hard.