‘Mary Kate! Mary Kate!’ The voice again, louder and nearer now, but still she didn’t turn. Bid licked her face, alerting her, urging her to look, his one eye blinking over her shoulder, his face happy. He licked her again, his tongue wet and cold, strangely cold. Jacko pulled on the rope in her hand and shook her arm; he wanted her to turn too.
‘Mary Kate!’
She was losing the ability to stay in that warm, safe place, felt herself being pushed up through the layers of resistance, forced to respond. She turned half around on the rock, with a tightness in her belly, her body stiff with wariness and fear. There was an urgency to the voice that she could no longer ignore. Her legs were like lead weights and her head was almost too heavy to support. The sun was so bright, forcing her to blink, and she could only just make out the shadowy figure running towards her.
‘Mary Kate!’
It was her mammy, Sarah, stumbling in her desperation to reach her, and she was being followed, chased by a woman in a black dress with wild white hair. Finn was still just a baby in her mammy’s arms, and Sarah’s golden-red hair was streaming out behind her as her long lemon skirt and white apron billowed about her legs in a breeze that had seemingly arrived from nowhere. The sun slipped behind a dark, ominous cloud.
‘Mary Kate, come home now! Come home, quick, please! Get up! You must come home!’ Her mammy was shouting to her, seemingly unaware of the woman at her back, who was closing the distance.
Mary Kate’s throat thickened. She had to warn her. She just managed to say ‘Mammy!’ and tried to let go of Jacko’s lead rope as she did so. But Jacko wouldn’t let the rope drop; it was as though it was stuck to her palm, and he kept tugging at her arm. She tried to stand, but she fell back down onto the rock. Pain split her head and as she looked up, she saw her mammy bearing down on her with tears in her eyes and distress etched across her face. She was still shouting and reaching out, but she was melting away, and the woman with the white hair had appeared above her, blocking out the sun altogether.
Mary Kate could no longer hear the voice of her beloved mammy. Her precious soft voice was ebbing away, fading to a whisper, and another replaced it as the cloud swallowed the sun and the light turned gloomy.
‘Mary Kate, can you open your eyes?’
The hand holding hers belonged to the doctor who had come to help her at the dockside. He had two fingers pressed down on her wrist and was staring at the watch on his arm.
‘How are you feeling now?’
She heard his words through waves of blackness. She struggled to open her eyes for longer than a few seconds, found it hard to lift her head.
As her vision adjusted, she realised she was lying on her back. The worried face of Cat hovered somewhere over her feet.
‘Oh thank bloody God. She’s alive then, Doctor.’
‘I think the fact that she’s blinking at us would confirm that, yes. Although she is still rather confused.’
Mary Kate’s gaze followed the voice and she could see the doctor was smiling. His expression changed to one of kindness and concern as he let go of her wrist and patted the back of her hand.
Cat spoke again. ‘We thought you was dead, love. The doctor said you weren’t, though, didn’t you, Doctor?’ Then, calling across the room, ‘Our Betty, go and get her a glass of water.’
‘Yes, it would seem I made a rather miraculous diagnosis.’ Dr Marcus was smiling again.
Mary Kate turned her head and into her eyes peered the anxious eyes of a little girl aged four or five. She had a filthy face and was clutching Mary Kate’s hand in her hot little fingers, her nails embedded with grime.
Betty trotted over to the sink, carrying the wet rag she’d been using to wipe Mary Kate’s face. ‘I can’t reach,’ she wailed. ‘Linda is sat on the chair.’
Mary Kate lifted her head and tried to sit up. The sofa springs were sticking into her back.
‘Better not do that,’ said the doctor, who rose and slid a cushion under her head. ‘If you don’t mind, I would prefer it if you stayed lying down. Can you tell me, do you have any nausea or blurred vision?’
Mary Kate closed her eyes. ‘No, just a bad headache,’ she whispered, so that only he could hear her.
‘Well, that’s something then. But I would still prefer it if you remained on your back, to keep your blood pressure up a little, at least for the next few hours.’
Cat’s face appeared again, this time almost over the doctor’s shoulder. She had a glass of water in her hands. ‘You’ve had a nasty shock, love,’ she said. ‘Come here, let me help you with the water.’ She slipped her arm under Mary Kate’s and across her back, tilted her head and held the cup to her lips. ‘Is this all right, Doctor? How about I get her a nice cup of tea?’
The doctor was retrieving his stethoscope from his Gladstone bag. ‘Not yet – a bit soon. I would love one though.’
‘Betty, make the doctor a cuppa. Sorry, Doctor, I haven’t any sugar and we only have steri milk.’
There was nothing Dr Marcus hated more in the world than sterilised milk, which never went off. He looked at his watch and pulled the earpiece of his stethoscope from one his ears. ‘Actually, do you know, my afternoon surgery starts in a matter of minutes, so I don’t have time, but thank you anyway.’ He sat down next to Mary Kate on the sofa. ‘I just need to place this on your chest,’ he said.
‘Me and Linda will have a cuppa, Betty,’ said Cat as she laid Mary Kate’s head back on the cushion and moved away to let the doctor near his patient. ‘God, my nerves are shot. She scared the life out of me when she fainted. I’ve never seen anyone do that before. What a bang her head made on that pavement.’
She walked over to the sink. ‘Come here, Betty. I’ll do it meself.’ She poured out the tea, then gave a cup to her daughter to take outside to Linda. She was in the back yard chatting to the women who had gathered there, wanting to know what was happening and why the doctor’s car was outside.
The doctor was extraordinarily close to Mary Kate and she could feel the warmth of his body as he slipped the stethoscope under the edge of her blouse. With his face inches from hers, he looked into her eyes. ‘Sorry,’ he whispered. ‘It’s cold.’ He glanced back down to concentrate and Mary Kate’s heart began to pound. ‘I just need to place it on your back now,’ he said, and, threading his arm under her shoulders, he eased her upright.
Someone had removed Mary Kate’s shoes and she pushed her feet into the sofa. She was now fully awake.
‘Oh, hang on, while she’s up, she can have some more water,’ Cat said. ‘Here you go, love, take one sip at a time.’
The water was welcome and cold. Mary Kate tried to speak but couldn’t. Her head was crowded with disturbing images from home, of a sunny day by the Taramore, of her dog and her donkey, of her mammy in trouble. She felt dumb, had no idea what to say, because she was in a house full of people she had never met before and she was in pain and penniless, with nowhere to stay and no means of getting home. She might end up spending her first night in Liverpool on the streets.
Linda came in, cup in hand, and sat on a hard-backed chair at the foot of the sofa. She eyed Mary Kate cautiously, took out a tin from her apron pocket, removed some tobacco and began to roll a cigarette. ‘Want a roll-up, queen?’ she said to Mary Kate. ‘It’ll help get the blood flowing, help you to recover, like.’
Mary Kate offered her handleless mug of water to the girl she assumed was Betty. She was maybe a year older than the little girl who’d been clutching her hand, and equally as dirty. She shook her head and manged a few words. ‘No, thank you. I don’t smoke.’
‘Oh God, did you hear that, Cat? She’s as bog Irish as Bee was. Sounds just like her. How are you and Bee related exactly, love?’
The doctor returned his stethoscope to his bag and snapped the clasp shut. Mary Kate looked around the room. She could tell he was leaving and wondered what she should do. Should she leave also? Her head was still spinning as she tried to remember the events of the da
y. The overnight journey with Declan, the boat, the nice lady – what was her name? Mrs O’Keefe – the doctor… And then it all came rushing back. She’d been mugged, her money had been stolen and Bee had left. Tears ran down her cheeks unbidden and she took in a huge gulp of the stale air to try and stop them. But they fell as fast as summer rain and the sobs caught in her chest.
‘Eh, come on, love, don’t cry. It’s not that bad. You need some tea and sugar now. Come on, Linda, get your fat backside off that chair and go down the road to Edith and ask her to borrow a cup of sugar. Move, Debbie, let me get closer.’ Cat moved the little girl who had returned to hold Mary Kate’s hand to one side, took a very grubby handkerchief out of her apron pocket and began to wipe at Mary Kate’s face. ‘Linda, hurry up, will you.’
Linda blew a cloud of blue smoke over Cat. ‘God, Cat, keep your hair on.’ She slowly raised herself from the chair.
‘Is this young lady all right with you here for a little while?’ The doctor had his coat on and glanced over at Mary Kate as he spoke.
‘Of course she is,’ Cat replied.
‘Excellent.’ Turning his back to Mary Kate, he slid five pounds into Cat’s hand. ‘She had everything stolen,’ he said. ‘I was driving along the Dock Road and saw it happen.’
Cat was speechless. She followed the doctor to the front door, glad that his car was parked out there and that he wouldn’t have to push his way through a yard full of women and children.
At the door he said, ‘I’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll ask the district nurse to call a little later. The money is to get her back on the ferry, and the rest is for you, for food and your generosity.’
‘That’s very kind, Doctor, and I won’t say it isn’t welcome, but I would have done it anyway.’ Moments later she was back inside. ‘Oi, go and get that sugar,’ she said to Linda.
‘Eh, just because you’ve made a few bob from the doctor doesn’t mean you can go ordering me around. How many sugars in your tea, love?’
Linda was portly and dressed exactly like Cat, who was thin. They were wearing almost the same wraparound apron, only Linda’s was green and Cat’s had discoloured to an indistinguishable shade of brown. Linda’s hair was an unnatural jet black, which made her pale complexion look even whiter and drained her grey eyes of almost all colour. They both wore wire curlers in their hair, held in place by headscarves tied around the back of the neck.
Cat scowled and Linda left with the sugar bowl. The back door banged behind her and Mary Kate briefly heard the sound of children playing outside. She looked at Cat through her tears. She’d tried to answer with ‘Two sugars, please,’ but was still confused and dazed. She shuffled to sit up straighter as Cat wiped her face.
‘There, that’s better then, love. Blow your nose, go on. Don’t worry, it’s washday tomorrow. Are you gonna tell me what’s happened? You were crying for your mammy when you were out cold, so do you want me to go to the pub to use their phone and call her?’
Ten minutes later, having perked up thanks to Linda’s sugar and the cup of hot sweet tea, Mary Kate did her best to explain what had happened.
‘Now listen, don’t you be worrying,’ Cat said. ‘Dr Marcus has asked me to look after you for a couple of nights—’
‘Paid you, you mean,’ said Linda, throwing Cat a look that told Mary Kate she was a woman who stood no nonsense.
‘Yes, well, he’s given me a few bob to give you your tea and your bus fare back to the boat so you can get home. And enough for your ticket too, would you credit it. He’s a saint, that doctor. He didn’t want to leave you, but he had patients waiting, so he was going to call into the district nurses’ home on Nelson Street and get one of them to come and check you’re all right. Then tomorrow he’ll come back himself.’
‘Helloo,’ a voice called out from the back door.
‘Oh, there you go, that must be her. That was quick.’ Cat turned towards the door. ‘She’s in here, Nurse. She’s come round now. Linda’s got the kettle on, so you’re just in time. My God, would you believe it? It’s like Lime Street station in here.’
An hour later, Mary Kate was fully upright on the sofa, her third cup of tea in her hand and a portion of chips wrapped in newspaper perched on her knees, burning her thighs through her skirt. Cat’s six children had already demolished theirs, sitting cross-legged on the floor.
‘Come on, eat your chips and that pickled onion, they’ll do you the world of good,’ said Cat. ‘You’ll have to sleep down here tonight, there isn’t a spare inch upstairs. I’ve got Ben’s old army coat, that’ll do as a blanket to keep you warm.’
‘She can always sleep at ours,’ said Linda, who was screwing up the discarded chip paper into tight rolls. ‘They make smashing firelighters,’ she said to Mary Kate by way of explanation. ‘It’s the grease, gets the fire going in a flash, it does.’
Everything had been done for her: a steady refill of the tea in her hand, thanks to Betty; chips laid on her lap courtesy of Debbie, who still hadn’t spoken a word; a thermometer placed in her mouth by the district nurse; and a shawl tucked around her shoulders by Cat. All Mary Kate had done was cry and wring Cat’s handkerchief in despair.
Cat had demanded nothing from her. ‘You cry, love,’ she’d said. ‘But nothing is as bad as it seems. Tomorrow, we’ll have you down the Pier Head and back on the boat to your family, and all this will seem like a bad dream.’
The children had been shepherded into the scullery and Mary Kate could hear their squeals as they got washed down by Cat. The noise was constant. ‘Betty, help me get these kids washed for bed. Arthur, stand still and don’t be giving me none of your nonsense. Arms up. It’s washday tomorrow: I want all those clothes in the basket ready to go to the wash-house. Betty, get that soap out of the water before it disappears altogether. There’s no more until Saturday. You can stink, the lot of you, if we run out.’
Mary Kate allowed herself a weak smile at Linda, who had been left to watch her, and Linda smiled back.
‘Cat’s one of the good ones – she washes her kids every night. I can’t be arsed meself. I get the bath down on a Sunday night, that’s enough. How are you feeling now, love?’ she asked.
Despite the racket, Cat had heard Linda from the scullery. She popped her head round the door. ‘That’s all, thank you, Linda. You can get home now and see to your own kids. They’re the only ones still out on the street, in case you hadn’t noticed, and they’ll be starving hungry, the lot of them.’ She scowled at Linda, then quickly smiled at Mary Kate. ‘Go on, Linda, you live next door, not here – the rent man’ll be charging me twice. And don’t forget to take the chips out of the oven for your kids and the old man.’
Linda was not going to complain. She rose and pushed her chair back under the kitchen table. They had all benefitted from the doctor’s generosity and she was grateful for it. She bent down at the oven door and removed a huge newspaper parcel of chips. As she reached the back door, she turned to Mary Kate. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, love. You’ve almost fed the street tonight. Not a lot happens around here to make everyone happy, but this has. No way we could afford chips on a Monday. You’ll have a good night, queen. That’s Bee’s sofa you’re lying on – gave it to Cat when she left, she did. Only been in Cat’s house a couple of days and you’re on it.’
‘Linda, you still ’ere?’ Cat shouted through the scullery door.
With a wink, Linda was gone.
Mary Kate ran her fingers over the sofa’s knotted bouclé upholstery as Linda’s slippers flip-flapped down the yard. She was in the room alone, the silence more noticeable following the noise from the children only minutes before. The latch clicked and the back gate clattered shut. Mary Kate looked around her. The shovel of coal Cat had thrown on the fire as she’d moved into the scullery hissed and spat on a bed of glowing embers and the tap dripped and pinged into an enamel bowl in the sink as the clock on the mantelpiece ticked the seconds past. This was a room Mary Kate had never stepped foot in before and yet now
it felt like the safest place outside of Tarabeg.
One by one, pink, scrubbed faces marched out of the scullery. First came Arthur, who had objected loudly to not having been allowed to stay out and play football on the street with Linda’s sons. He scowled as he marched past Mary Kate, who he secretly blamed, opened the door at the bottom of the stairs and stomped up the wooden steps one at a time, banging as he went. Then came Edward, who waved at Mary Kate and looked sheepish, followed by Stanley, who was sobbing. ‘He ’ates the soap,’ said Edward, grabbing Stanley by his frayed pyjama sleeve and pulling him forward. ‘Mikey, come on.’
Little Mikey shuffled out of the scullery in a nightshirt, a nappy already falling to his knees, his blond hair damp and dishevelled. He grinned at Mary Kate as he pulled his thumb from his mouth, leaving a long string of saliva attached. Mary Kate’s heart constricted as she thought of Finn and she grinned back at the impish little boy. As if he’d understood, little Mikey ran over to the sofa, buried his head in her lap and threw his arms around her thighs as his feet swung off the floor.
‘Oh God, come on, soft lad. Sorry, miss,’ said Edward, who came back, picked up little Mikey and swung him onto his hip, with Mikey’s legs wrapped around him. ‘He gets tired. Sometimes Mam lets him fall asleep on her lap.’
‘I don’t mind,’ said Mary Kate. ‘He can sleep on my lap if he wants. There’s room for two of us on here.’ She didn’t want to say, but she relished the thought of the company. Someone to look after, and the warmth of a body to comfort her. When Finn was little, she was often woken by him pulling back her candlewick bedspread and climbing into bed next to her. There was no count of the times she had fallen asleep to the rhythm of him winding a lock of her hair round and round between his forefinger and thumb.
‘Do you mind?’ Edward looked over his shoulder towards the scullery. Mary Kate guessed he could be no more than eight years old. Edward hadn’t wanted to say anything, because Cat had whispered to them not to disturb Mary Kate, even though there was hardly any room upstairs for little Mikey, despite them sleeping top to tail.
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