by Anna King
When the door burst open and Danny shouted, ‘Dad, Dad, where are you? We’ve been playing with Granddad, and we’re going back for tea next week,’ he felt his heart leap. She’d done it! She’d made it up with the auld fellow, and in doing so had opened up a whole new world to him. And it couldn’t have come at a better time, for he didn’t fancy the idea of spending the rest of his life slaving away in someone else’s garden for a pittance. He thought again of the measly amount the old girl had left to Ruby, and grimaced. Spite, pure spite, it must have been, and yet he still couldn’t believe her capable of such a deed.
‘Michael? Are you in there?’ Ruby called from the door.
‘Aye. I’ll be out in a moment!’ he called back as he straightened his jacket, then stretching his neck within his starched collar, he thought grimly, ‘Next Sunday for tea, was it? Well now, he wasn’t going to appear too eager. No, begod!’ He was no puppy that could be treated badly one minute and be expected to lick the hand that had meted out the punishment the next. Smoothing down his trousers, he assumed a nonchalant expression, then, taking a deep breath, he sauntered into the sitting room.
‘Ah, there you are! I thought for a moment you had gone out,’ Ruby said over her shoulder as she helped the children off with their coats.
Before he could say anything, he was nearly bowled over as the children rushed headlong into his arms. ‘Dad, Dad, I want to tell you about Granddad’s house! It’s lovely, Dad, and we saw Nan and Aunt Lily, and Uncle George will be there next week, but not Uncle Bertie. Uncle Bertie doesn’t go there any more, does he, Dad? Doesn’t Granddad like him either?’
The innocent question posed by his son brought Michael’s head up swiftly as he looked sharply at Ruby, standing with her hand to her throat.
‘Danny, that’s enough now,’ she said crossly, ‘It’s getting late, and you’ve both had a long day. Take your sister upstairs. You can play for a bit while I talk to your dad. Go on, I’ll be up shortly.’
‘Oh, Mum!’
The plea came from both of them, and gritting her teeth, she snapped, ‘Do as you’re told, both of you!’ Her head was beginning to ache in anticipation of the argument that was going to ensue as soon as the children were out of earshot.
Seeing the look on their mother’s face, the two forlorn figures began to make their way towards the stairs.
When she heard their bedroom door close loudly, she turned reluctantly to Michael. Rubbing her throbbing temple with both hands, she said, ‘Well, aren’t you going to ask me how the visit went?’
Michael was standing in front of the blazing fire, his hands clasped firmly behind his back, a stance he often assumed when he was about to lay down the law. Rocking backwards on his heels, he gave a ‘Huh’ of a laugh before answering. ‘Begod, you ask me that? You’ve been gone for nearly four hours, and you come back looking the picture of happiness. Well, the children looked happy enough. And all this talk about “Granddad” now, and him never setting his foot over the doorstep since the day they were born. Jasus, a blind man could see how the visit went! Did you not spare a thought to how I might be feeling, left alone for the best part of the day with no one to talk to but the four walls?’
Fighting back an angry retort, Ruby answered wearily, ‘Michael, I haven’t seen my dad for nearly nine years. Surely you didn’t expect me to walk out on him after a few minutes? Yes, I know, I know.’ She held up her hand to forestall the usual reply. ‘He knows where we live, but he’s a proud man, Michael. I understand him, more than even my mother does. He’s been suffering all these years for what he did to me that night, but it’s over now. And I’ll be going back again, as – as often as I can. So if that’s going to be a problem for you, we’d better talk it out now, because I don’t think I can bear the thought of having to endure an argument every time I wish to visit my parents.’
As the import of her words sank in, Michael began to feel very apprehensive, and he swallowed twice before asking, ‘This invitation for tea next Sunday; is it for all of us, or am I to be left at home again?’ He held his breath as he waited for Ruby’s reply, then, seeing her bowed head, he felt the familiar anger and disappointment. Bending over her, he roared angrily, ‘So that’s the way of it, is it? I’m still not good enough for your precious father! Well, let me tell you, if I had been invited, I would have said no. Do ye think I’d sit with a man who’s treated me worse than a mangy dog you’d find by the roadside? Do you?’
‘Michael, please!’ Ruby pleaded, as the pain in her temple worsened.
‘Give him time! And it’s not only you. Bertie hasn’t crossed the doorstep since that night, and he’s his own son! I— I’m going to work on him, to try to bring him round, be— because I know in my heart that he misses Bertie, but he’s afraid to make the first move in case he’s rebuffed. Leave it for a few more weeks, please? Maybe…’
‘Shut up! Do ye hear me? Shut up! What do I care about Bertie? He’s as bad as his father, always looking down his nose at me whenever he comes round here, and him a lousy peeler.’ He leaned closer until his face was only inches from her own, a fine spray of spittle on his lips. Ruby drew back in alarm as the violent anger contorted his features. ‘Now I’ll tell you something else, and you’ll listen! I’ve never hated a man in me life before, but I hate your father, and that snooty upstart of a brother. And if the pair of them died the morrow, I’d dance on their graves! While I’m on the subject, you’ll not be going visiting any more, because if I’m not good enough for your miserable bastard of a father, then neither are me children.’
Ruby stared unflinchingly into his wild eyes, and then whispered, ‘I’ll take my children wherever I wish, and nothing you say will stop me. And don’t you ever speak about my father in that fashion again. I won’t tolerate it, I won’t!’
When she saw his hand coming out towards her, she cried out sharply, ‘You lay one finger on me, Michael, and I’ll leave you and take the children with me! I’m warning you. I’d do it, so don’t put it to the test!’
Slowly Michael lowered his arm, then standing upright, his fists clenched by his side, he stared at her, his eyes filled with loathing. ‘Don’t worry! I’ll not bring meself down to his level. I’ve never hit a woman in me life, and I’ll not start now.’ He flung himself away from her and, grabbing his coat, made for the door. Wrenching it open, he gazed out into the garden, then declared, ‘Damn your family! Damn the whole rotten bunch of them! And damn you too for putting them afore me!’
Ruby watched through pain-filled eyes as the door slammed behind him. It was too much! She was still grieving for Mabel, and Michael knew how upset she was, and yet he had still gone for her, putting his own feelings first as he had always done. Was it merely insensitivity, or deliberate cruelty?
‘Mum, what’s happening? Why are you and Dad shouting?’ Danny’s frightened voice floated down the stairs. ‘Me and Florrie are scared!’
Limping heavily, she walked towards the stairs. ‘Nothing’s wrong, son. Go back to your room, I’m coming up.’
Chapter Twenty-four
Along the one mile of Whitechapel Road from Commercial Street to Stepney Green there were no less than 48 drinking places, and it fell to the Metropolitan Police Force to patrol these areas, day and night.
On this Friday evening, Sergeant Bertie Chadwick and a new constable named Charlie Smithers were making their rounds down Whitechapel Road when they spotted a man very much the worse for drink staggering in their direction, proclaiming at the top of his thick fuddled voice his love for a certain ‘Molly Malone’. Left to himself, Bertie would have bypassed the man, for it was nearly the end of his shift and he was anxious to get home, but not so the newly recruited constable.
‘Looks like ’e’s ’ad a skinful, Sarge. Best get him back to the station before he causes any trouble,’ Charlie Smithers said eagerly.
Bertie glanced at the young constable with annoyance. If they took the man in, he would be stuck at the station for who knew how long, and that w
as the last thing he wanted, especially tonight. Walking on briskly, he came to a firm decision. ‘The man’s not doing any harm, Smithers, and while I admire your enthusiasm, you’d be better off learning to curb it. If we were to run in every man found drunk on these streets, the cells would be bulging night and day.’
‘All right, Sarge,’ the constable answered sulkily, still eyeing the swaying man who was now leaning against the door of a tenement.
They had gone only a few steps when the man started up his rendition again, this time accompanied by a frantic hammering on the dilapidated door. The man’s voice made Bertie falter for a moment, then, his eyes like steel, he marched on. ‘The drunken bastard!’ he thought furiously. Why in God’s name had Ruby married the man? Even as he asked himself the question, he knew the answer. When Michael O’Brien was sober, he was a charming, witty person, and his powerful personality had at times even broken through his own dislike of the man. He had known for a long time that his brother-in-law liked a drink, but this was the first occasion he had encountered him in such a state. He wondered briefly what had sparked off this drunken spree, and then hot on the heels of this thought came another. Was Michael the type of man who turned violent when drunk? And, if so, would Ruby and the children be in danger if he found his way home? He stopped suddenly in his tracks. Looking back to where Michael now lay half slumped in the doorway, he doubted if he would, but he couldn’t afford to take that chance, not with Ruby’s safety at risk. Turning back, he said to the surprised Smithers, ‘You may be right, Constable. Get him to his feet if you can and we’ll take him in, just to be on the safe side.’
Charlie Smithers stared at the hard face of his sergeant for a moment, wondering what had brought about this sudden change of mind. ‘Now, Constable!’ Bertie snapped.
‘Right away, Sarge,’ Smithers cried, as he walked quickly back to where Michael lay. ‘Come on, mate, on yer feet! We’ve got a nice warm cell for you. Come along, we don’t want no trouble.’
Michael looked up into the young fresh face and shook his head, trying to clear his fuddled brain. He couldn’t remember where he was or how he’d got here, he just wanted to get home. Rising unsteadily to his feet, he was about to answer the policeman as civilly as he could when he noticed the other officer behind him. Bertie stood under the street lamp, his features clearly visible, and at the sight of the hated face Michael lunged forward, shouting wildly, ‘Bastard, lousy scum of the earth! It’s all your fault, you and yer high-and-mighty father. Who do you think you are, eh? Bloody peeler, that’s all you are, looking down your nose at me. I’ll teach yer! I’ll show yer who’s the better man!’ Swaying drunkenly, he advanced upon the impassive Bertie, swinging his fists wildly.
Bertie watched him coming, his face full of distaste, then scornfully he stepped slowly aside so that Michael sprawled head-first in the gutter. ‘And that’s where you belong!’ Bertie whispered between clenched teeth.
Constable Smithers watched the scene with a startled expression. He had never seen the sergeant look so fierce. There was something odd going on here, and he was at a loss as to how to cope with the unexpected situation.
‘Get up, you drunken scum!’ Bertie said harshly, the tip of his heavy black boot only inches away from Michael’s head.
‘’Old on, Sarge! What’s going on? Do yer know ’im?’
‘Mind your own business, Constable, and help me get him on his feet.’ The two men bent down and with some difficulty managed to get Michael standing. Then, to Bertie’s further disgust, his brother-in-law started to cry.
‘Never gave me a chance, none of you, never even gave me a chance. And the auld bitch spoiled all me plans, she did, all of you against me! S’not fair. S’not fair!’
Bertie heard the maudlin self-pity in Michael’s voice and felt anger rise in him again. Whom was he referring to when he spoke of the ‘auld bitch’? Surely it wasn’t his mother, for she had always gone out of her way to show kindness to her unwelcome son-in-law. And then he realised: Lady Caldworthy must have died. Oh Lord, if that was the case, then Ruby would be feeling very low, because she’d been very fond of her employer. He watched with detachment as Michael, helped by Smithers, struggled to his feet, then staggered back as the Irishman threw himself against his shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. Fighting down his revulsion, he came to a quick decision.
If it were up to him, he would have no compunction in throwing Michael into a cell for the night, but if he did that, he would have to inform Ruby of what he had done. Knowing her, she would insist on coming down to bail her husband out. He dismissed the idea. He thought too much of his wilful sister to put her through such an ordeal, so, holding on to the limp form, he turned to his constable.
‘I’ll deal with this, Smithers. My watch is nearly at an end, so you go on ahead to meet Sergeant Burrows. He’ll be waiting at the Flying Horse in the Commercial Road. Tell him… Tell him I’ve had to deal with a family emergency.’
‘Very well, Sarge. You sure you can manage ’im on yer own?’
‘Yes. Yes, of course. This man is my— my brother-in-law. I’ll see him safely home. Go on now. Sergeant Burrows will be waiting.’ When the reluctant constable had moved on, he hoisted Michael to his feet, wrapped his arm round his shoulder and began walking.
* * *
‘Amy? Amy, are you there?’ Bertie called out hopefully as he entered the dark house. When no answer came, he sighed, then, half dragging, half carrying the semi-conscious Michael, he pulled him across the room before depositing him on the settee. Leaving the man sprawling, he hurried into the bedroom, where he prayed he would find his wife asleep, although even before he threw open the door he knew she would not be there. Making his way to the bedside table, he turned the lamp up, then slowly, as if fearing to look, he turned round to see the empty double bed and the half-empty wardrobe, its doors hanging open as though it had been cleared in a hurry.
Chewing worriedly on his bottom lip, he carried the lamp into the other room, and after a brief glance at the still figure on the settee, he walked past him and into the tiny kitchen.
With his elbows on the table, he stared bleakly into space. So she had done it! After all the months of threatening to leave, she had finally kept her word. Where had he gone wrong? He had tried to be a good husband, had given her everything he could, within his power, but it hadn’t been enough. Bunching his hand into a fist he crashed it down heavily on the table. God damn it! She could have tried harder to make it work, but no, she had become bored with married life very quickly, and like the child she was had thrown their lives together away as easily as a discarded toy.
A retching sound from the next room brought his head up sharply. Damn it all to hell, that was all he needed! He should have left the drunken bastard in the gutter. Blowing out his cheeks impatiently he quickly walked into the sitting room. ‘Here, not on the carpet! Oh, blast it! Come on, get on your feet. I’m getting you a cab, that is if I can find one willing to take you home in your state.’ Satisfied that Michael was in no fit state to harm Ruby, Bertie pulled at his limp arm to heave him from the settee, but it was hopeless.
‘Sorry, Bertie. Didn’t mean it to be like this,’ Michael muttered thickly, his sodden features contorted with pain and shame. ‘Just wanted to be friends, that’s all. Just friends… Never even tried to like me… did you? Had a down on me as soon… as soon as you clapped eyes on me. And your father… treated me like I was scum… only your mother made an effort… But even she doesn’t really like me. Why? What did I ever do, except… except to fall in love with Ruby?’ Screwing up his eyes, he glared at Bertie, then, with a tremendous effort, he added, ‘Did you know that Ruby went to the house the day? Came back like a— a dog with two tails, she did. Made it up with the auld fella… Invited back to tea next Sunday. But not me… Oh no, not Michael O’Brien. I’ve to stay where I belong… in the background, like— like a bad smell. You’ll be back next… all you have to do is knock… Knock on the door, and you’ll be welcom
ed back with open arms. Now, won’t… won’t that be grand? All one big happy family again, and where will that leave me, eh? I’ll tell ye where! Out on me arse, that’s where… That’s where I’ll be, out on me— me arse.’ His head rolled back as he sank once more into a stupor.
Bertie stared at the prone figure with a look of stunned disbelief. Ruby and his father together again after all this time? What could have brought that about? Well, whatever the reason, he was glad of it. If only… No, get that idea out of your head, he told himself sternly. He’d tried to make amends by sending his father an invitation to his wedding, only to receive a stilted letter saying that as they were on strained terms he thought it prudent not to attend the ceremony for fear of causing any unpleasantness. And now Ruby had been taken back into the fold… Maybe…? He shook his head sadly, then, as the smell of vomit assailed his nostrils, he wrinkled his nose in distaste before hurrying from the room to find a cloth to clean up the mess.
An hour later he was still waiting, watching the front door as if by the power of thought he could conjure up his wife, but it remained firmly closed. He couldn’t believe that she had really left him. She was probably trying to give him a fright, but for what purpose he didn’t know. She’d soon be back, dragging with her the large suitcase she’d packed a dozen times during their short marriage, but what then? He didn’t know what she wanted from him. He didn’t think she knew herself.