When he brought the suit downstairs to show her, Jerry found Alice’s indignation hard to understand. Was it because he had worn it when he had married Bernadette? He couldn’t have been less bothered about that; for all he cared, a suit was a suit. He hadn’t enjoyed wearing it on the day he had married Bernadette and he was sure it would be equally uncomfortable this time around. Jerry had no emotional attachment whatsoever to a suit, which rubbed his neck and made him feel as though he had a wooden coat-hanger stuck down his back. One reason for dragging Bernadette away from their wedding so quickly hadn’t just been about ripping her clothes off as fast as possible; it had been about getting out of his own too. His suit hadn’t made it as far as the bedroom and he remembered it had been strewn on the stairs along with Bernadette’s dress.
‘That suit can go on the rag and bone man’s cart in the morning,’ said Alice, her nose and lips visibly turned upwards, ‘and we will go into town, when you finish work, to have you measured for a new one.’
Jerry was in shock; this took some digesting.
‘I know exactly where to go,’ continued Alice. ‘Some of the guests who stayed at the hotel often needed to have a suit run up quickly. The concierge knows a Jewish tailor on Bold Street who would run one up in forty-eight hours. I will get a good price for it too.’
She didn’t even look at him for his approval. As far as Alice was concerned, she had spoken. It was done. Jerry’s expression was the same as if he had been told the following afternoon’s football match had been cancelled.
‘I don’t have the money for new suits, Alice,’ he replied very quietly and firmly.
An extravagance like that was not in his scheme of things. Jerry liked to live within his means. He saved half a crown every week and always had, but that money wasn’t for him, or to be thrown away on suits. Even in the weeks he never quite made half a crown, he always managed to put something by.
Alice had found a new confidence since losing her virginity and receiving a marriage proposal, a confidence that was not to be challenged. ‘I have some money saved, Jerry, and we will use it to buy the suit,’ she said with an air of finality. ‘I won’t be embarrassed by either of us not dressing for the occasion.’
Was Alice, a woman, proposing to buy him a suit? Jerry was bombarded by a new set of uncomfortable emotions that he had never before experienced. He felt torn between wanting to keep Alice happy and being affronted at her telling him what to do. He and Bernadette had never operated like that. Throughout their daily lives, every decision had been taken by mutual agreement. Or so Jerry had thought. For the last couple of years, he had made every decision alone. Some had been challenging and far more difficult than others but he had grown used to that.
He looked at Alice and silently, almost submissively, nodded. This was all very new and for now, he decided to avoid a scene. Alice smiled briefly as she folded up the old suit and laid the bundle by the back door, ready to be thrown to the rag and bone man when he came down the entry the following morning. As she flung the suit down, she shuddered and walked over to the sink to wash her hands.
Jerry looked at the garment he had never before much liked. He now wanted to grab it off the floor and smell it. He wanted to hold it to his face and breathe in deeply the happiness of weddings past. Instead he lit a cigarette. Five minutes ago he hadn’t given a fig for the suit; now he was fighting to overcome an almost overwhelming desire to rescue it from the rag and bone man and tell Alice it was this suit or none. Deceitful notions were dancing in his brain: of pretending he had thrown it out and hiding it in Tommy’s house. Jerry dragged deeply on his cigarette. These new feelings were confusing and he had no idea what to do with them.
‘Jeez, I’m just a bloke, what do I know,’ he said as he shrugged his shoulders. He had given in. Alice had shifted herself into position.
He wore the new suit for the first time on the morning he and Alice were married. He had never felt more uncomfortable in his life.
‘I’m trussed up like a bleedin’ turkey,’ he confided in Tommy with a hint of anger. ‘Why would she be wanting to spend so much money on a suit for a register office?’
‘Aye, yer look like one too,’ responded Tommy, which made Jerry feel no better. Jerry and Nellie had arrived at Tommy and Maura’s house for breakfast, before they left to go into town for the not-so-big day.
Alice was taking a cab from the hotel, an extravagance Jerry failed to understand. The register office was a ten-minute walk down Church Street. It would never enter his mind to take a cab if the destination was within walking distance, or if you could jump on the bus.
Tommy had more to say about the suit, without being asked. Maura had taught him well.
‘Look on the bright side, ye will never be stuck for money again. Ye could always get a few bob for that suit, when it runs in and out of the pawnshop, and ye could always sell it, if times were tough. After all, ye can’t eat a suit now, can ye? Alice is buying an investment, as well as summat to wear, though I’d never let no woman buy me a suit and that’s for sure.’
Jerry looked at himself in the long dressing mirror in Tommy’s bedroom. He didn’t look or feel right and Tommy’s comment, brutally honest as it was, niggled him. There was nothing he could say or do now. The die was cast.
Tommy and Jerry left the house to carry Nellie down the road to the green to play with Kitty. She was already looking after the twins and Angela and would be taking care of Nellie for the day. Jerry and Tommy were quieter and more subdued than they would have been on a cold morning heading off to work.
‘Good luck, Uncle Jerry!’ shouted Kitty as she ran to greet him and threw her arms round his waist.
Jerry loved Kitty and even he knew it was because she had been Bernadette’s favourite. Quite often, right up until she died, when Kitty was still a little tot Bernadette would bring Kitty home from Tommy and Maura’s house to stay with them for the night and play mothers and daughters. Each year since Kitty had been born, Maura had delivered a new set of twins and two new sisters, making a grand total of seven children in five years. It was a huge treat for Kitty to be in a house that was quiet and tidy and not full of smaller children expecting her to do things for them. Bernadette would fuss over her, paint her tiny nails in bright-red nail varnish and buy her special treats for the night. Kitty had cried a lot when her Auntie Bernadette had died. She was only little and had no idea what death meant, but she sensed it was a tragedy.
‘You’re getting married today,’ Kitty sang, and all the little ones followed her lead and began laughing and singing. ‘You’re going to get married today, you’re going to get married today,’ they chanted, as they jumped up and down on the spot around Jerry and Tommy.
Tommy laughed at the kids, as Jerry watched his Nellie grab hold of Kitty’s hand and try to copy the other children, by taking her thumb out of her mouth to jump up and down and sing. She did so with both feet on the ground, bobbing around, trying to jump, although all she achieved was to bend and straighten her knees. Nellie had no idea what she was singing about, but she grinned from ear to ear, looking from her da to her heroine, Kitty. It was the first time Jerry had smiled all morning, seeing his Nellie infected by the excitement.
‘Thanks, Kitty, ye are a grand lass,’ shouted Jerry, as he and Tommy walked away to collect Maura. ‘Thanks, kids,’ he shouted and waved his hand above his head. They all crowded round to wave goodbye.
‘Who’s he marrying?’ asked Kitty’s brother, Harry.
‘Mammy says it’s a witch,’ replied Kitty, watching her da and Jerry walking away.
All the children stopped laughing and running about. This was big news. Jerry was marrying a witch? A witch was coming to live on their street? In unison, they all looked first towards Jerry’s house and then at Nellie, who followed their lead, looking at the house and then seeing their reactions. She put her thumb back in her mouth. Something was up.
‘Poor Nellie,’ said Harry. ‘What will happen to her?’
‘I dunno, but it’s strange, so it is,’ replied Kitty.
‘Never mind, Nellie,’ said Harry, as he took hold of Nellie’s hand. ‘I will look after ye and save ye from the witch.’
Harry was only two years older than Nellie. Nellie took her thumb back out of her mouth and grinned up at him appreciatively. Nellie already truly loved Harry, who always looked out for her. As Harry took Nellie’s hand, his hair gently ruffled and blew in the breeze, a soft kiss landed tenderly on his head and a warm cloak of protectiveness wrapped itself around his shoulders. Harry didn’t feel a thing, but Nellie did and smiled.
Jerry and Alice had struggled to find witnesses for the day. Alice had no friends. Jerry didn’t know a single person in Liverpool who wasn’t an Irish Catholic and for a while they thought they might have to ask two strangers on the street to come in and stand for them. No God-fearing Irish man or woman would attend a wedding that wasn’t a nuptial mass, held in a church and witnessed in the eyes of God and every saint that a day had been named after.
When Father James from St Mary’s got wind of what was happening, he had called round to the house and given Jerry hell, without him having had to live a life and die for it. The women on the street could hear the priest’s voice booming out of the front-room window and bouncing off the cobbles, and slowly they began to gather round. Within an hour, everyone in every house on all four streets knew every word of the conversation.
‘The windows rattled and shook with such a force they almost broke with the sound of his voice,’ said Peggy, which of course wasn’t true, but this was Liverpool; no story was worth telling without a good dollop of exaggeration.
In the end, Maura and Tommy had agreed to stand witness, Maura for no other reason than she wanted to know exactly what was occurring and wanted, self-importantly, to relay back to the other women every detail of the event. Knowledge was king and, with it, she would be queen of the streets, if only for a day. Tommy agreed, because he was a decent man who would do anything for his mate and, once Maura had decided, he would also do anything for a quiet life.
Jerry, Maura and Tommy took the overhead railway, known as the Dockers’ Umbrella, into town to meet Alice. It ran along the full length of the docks, looking down on a panorama of containers, crates and cranes, with stack upon stack of timber strapped together, waiting to be collected and dispersed to timber yards across the country. The murky horizon was sharply broken by the sight of billowing red ensigns, the merchant navy flags on the docked ships that were having their loads lightened and on the ships sat out at the bar, patiently waiting for the pilots to guide them in.
For the first time since setting foot on Liverpool’s soil, Jerry longed deep down inside to return home to Ireland. It was a longing that had crept into his chest earlier that morning and had now settled in for the day.
His view from the window of the overhead railway made him feel low and depressed. A mist was rolling up the Mersey like a bolt of grey chiffon being randomly unfurled above the surface of the water and there was not a blade of grass in sight. As they passed by large areas of wasteland and rubble, interspersed by rows of blackened brick-terraced houses, much of the area looked as though the bombs had dropped only yesterday. The bleakness was made vaguely opaque and eerie by the combination of the grey mist and yellow smoke spewing from the chimneys of the factories, workshops and pump rooms, as well as those homes that could afford to keep a fire lit all day.
Since Jerry had vented his anger that fateful night, he had thought about Bernadette daily. He could remember everything as though it were yesterday. He knew now that he could let her in and dwell on his memories, and that afterwards he would still be whole in body and mind. He could think about her and not go insane. He wouldn’t fall apart.
As the train moved slowly on past each dock, Maura and Tommy chattered away. Jerry imagined what the small farm his parents owned would look like this morning. He leant his head against the window and closed his eyes for a minute. The jolting of the train made his head loll backwards and forwards against the glass, but he went with it and didn’t move or open his eyes. Within his own dark world, he could replace the smell of dirt and damp and cold steel with the rich, wet grass and peat of Ballymara.
The contrast between the view from the railway carriage and the image of home was intoxicating and dragging him in. He could see his father returning from the milking shed, with his faithful cows on their way back to the field. The cap on his head that he had worn for the last thirty years, a stick in his hand, the crazy dogs barking at his heels and the sun rising behind him, making the same journey he had every single morning of Jerry’s life. The gentle rain was falling in the sunshine but, as always, it fell soft and pure as only Irish rain did.
He could hear the Moorhaun River tripping over the pebbles as it skirted Bangornevin and passed round the back of the farmhouse, which stood only two hundred yards from the banks. He heard the plopping of the salmon, jumping as they made their way upstream. And his heart clenched, as the sadness in the pit of his belly deepened.
In his longing thoughts of home, Bernadette drifted in. How different would their life have been if he had met and married his Bernadette back in Ireland, instead of in Liverpool? The farm wasn’t big enough to feed two families and, for sure, there were plenty of siblings, as well as Jerry, to feed. But he liked to imagine that he could have found a way to have reared his Nellie in Mayo. To have lived with his Bernadette on the farm. To be living a very different life from the one he was today. For the last four weeks, each time Jerry felt low or down, he had escaped to an imaginary other past, full of Bernadette and Nellie. He knew such thoughts were crazy just when he was about to wed another.
Tommy suddenly nudged him in the ribs. ‘Ready, Jerry, we’re here.’
Jerry dragged himself back from the farm and Ballymara. He left his da locking the gate to the field and his mother walking up the path, carrying a pail of unpasteurized milk, straight from the milking shed into the house, battling the midges and wafting them away from her face with her free hand. He left his brothers in the kitchen, making plans for the day and finishing their bacon and tatties; the youngest carrying a large bucket full of brown bricks of roughly cut peat into the kitchen to stack by the fire for the day’s baking.
He left Jacko, the donkey he had ridden when he was a lad, who was still alive today and up to his usual tricks. Jerry took himself up the hill directly opposite the front of the farmhouse and looked down across the fields to find Jacko as he had so many times before, and there he was, two ears stuck up in the field of oats, the rest of his body hidden.
And there was his Bernadette, in her red dress. He had been looking for her and there she was, sitting on the long five-bar gate to the farmyard, the gate she had sat and swung on every time they went back home. It disturbed him that she looked so sad. Sadder than she ever had when she was alive. He closed his eyes and attempted to draw her smiling image back into his mind, to look into her eyes – as he often did now. Today, she refused to be drawn.
Tommy nudged him again. ‘Come on, off, now!’ he said with a sense of urgency.
Tommy was worried. Never before had he seen a man less enthusiastic to attend his own wedding. Maura linked Tommy’s arm in hers as they walked up into town and tried to make happy chatter. They were meeting Alice at the register office doors in fifteen minutes.
‘Have we time for a quick one?’ whispered Tommy to Maura. ‘We need to put a smile on yer man’s face afore she sees him or we’ll be taking the blame for making him look like he’s going to a feckin’ funeral.’
‘Don’t talk about funerals, or ye’ll set me off, and sure if I start, I won’t stop,’ replied Maura, as they both turned sharp left and up the steps of the Grapes pub. Jerry silently tripped along in their wake, deep in thought and looking for all the world like a man heading to the gallows.
Alice had tucked herself away at the bottom corner of the square, with the doors of the register office in sight, giving
herself good warning of when the others entered the square from Water Street. She did not want to be standing alone outside. She knew she looked conspicuous in her wedding attire and couldn’t help wondering how many women had stood in this same spot, dressed for the biggest day in their life, only to be humiliated in public as office workers looked out of their windows and saw them walk away, alone. She was far from sure that Jerry would turn up. This was her final concern. She was quite convinced that Maura and Tommy would do anything in their power to persuade him that he was making a mistake.
Alice had spent her life as a bystander, observing the lives of others, and today was no exception. She felt a familiar sense of continuity as she watched shoppers, office staff, sailors and businessmen bustle across the square. Here she was, ironically, on the day her life was to change, doing something that was second nature, watching others. The knowledge didn’t make her feel as good as it could. Narrowing her eyes, she peered into the distance as she pulled herself back from the edge of her reverie, aware that time was ticking by. Her heart was beating so fast, she could feel it thumping against her ribs and her mouth was abnormally dry. Had Jerry stood her up? They were due to be married in six minutes and she still couldn’t pick him out across the square.
Suddenly, she felt her anger rise inside her like vomit, as they came into sight and she saw the three of them together, Maura in the middle and Tommy and Jerry each holding one of her hands, running up the ginnel that fed onto the square. The ginnel was dark, deprived of light by the tall buildings on each side. At first Alice couldn’t believe it was them but there they were, suddenly bathed in light, as they broke cover and ran into the open square. If she hadn’t seen them with her own eyes, she wouldn’t have believed it. All three were running as if the wind were chasing them, with Maura squealing and laughing loudly as she tried to shake Jerry and Tommy’s hands out of her own so that she could slow down to a walk and catch her breath.
The Four Streets Saga Page 11