‘I’m glad. Well, as long as you never beat me to a prize!’
‘Only a matter of time,’ answered Liam with a grin.
‘You think so?’
‘Of course. Meantime though, we might have a bit of fun together in this choir. What do you think?’
‘I’d like that,’ said Nora, feeling as though they had made a pact.
‘Of course,’ Liam added, ‘that’s always providing your man Brother Raymond isn’t dead strict.’
‘Do you think he might be? He seemed nice at the feis.’
Liam pointed his finger. ‘I think we’re going to find out.’
Nora looked around and saw the Capuchin friar entering the room from a door at the back. He had flashing dark brown eyes and his grey hair was tonsured – shaved bald on the top of his head, with a fringe left all the way round – like Nora had seen in pictures of monks in her religion book. The rehearsal room had a high ceiling, there was a large crucifix on one wall and two tall windows that let in plenty of light, and Brother Raymond strode confidently to the centre of the room. He clapped his hands for attention.
‘All right, boys and girls, settle down,’ he said in a loud but friendly voice. ‘You’ve all been invited here tonight – no, not simply invited – hand-chosen, to form a new choir. I hope you all feel honoured, just as I in turn feel honoured to have you as members.’
‘You’re welcome,’ whispered Liam, and Nora had to suppress a laugh.
‘We have lots of choirs here in Dublin,’ continued Brother Raymond, ‘but none of them is like ours. This will be the first mixed choir, for boys and for girls. It will be a choir where all that matters is the excellence of your singing. Not whether your family is rich or poor, not whether you’re bright in school or the greatest dunce in the class! What we want here are the best singers around. Because this is going to be the best choir in Dublin!’
He paused dramatically and looked at his audience.
‘What’s it going to be?’
‘The best choir in Dublin!’ they echoed.
‘I can hardly hear you,’ replied Brother Raymond, exaggeratedly putting his hand to his ear, as though straining to listen. ‘What’s it going to be!?’
Nora looked at Liam and they both smiled, their earlier question about Brother Raymond answered. Then they joined in with everyone else and roared, ‘The best choir in Dublin!’
Chapter 4
‘When did you turn into a sissy, O’Meara?’
Liam knew how things worked in the schoolyard. To let a question like this go unchallenged would mean a loss of face. But to challenge too hard in return would mean a fight, which Liam didn’t want either. Certainly not with Martin Connolly. He was one of the toughest boys in the class, and he had older brothers who had reputations as vicious fighters.
Liam’s schoolyard was often the scene of lunchtime fights, always cheered on by boys who weren’t at any risk themselves. Being fairly big for his age, Liam was rarely picked on. Now, however, Connolly had been openly insulting, and Liam saw his classmates looking for his reaction, and no doubt hoping for trouble.
‘I’m no sissy,’ he answered.
‘Then why were you singing like a girl?’
‘What?’
‘My brother heard you sang “Ave Maria” in the Fr Mathew Hall. And that girls were singing it as well.’
‘It was a feis. Everyone had to sing “Ave Maria”.’
‘Everyone who was a sissy.’
‘What would you have done?’ snapped Liam. ‘Swapped “Ave Maria” for “The Waxie’s Dargle”?’
Liam saw several of his classmates smiling at the retort. Maybe humour would get him out of this fix, he thought.
‘I wouldn’t be caught dead at a feis,’ answered Connolly. ‘But if I was singing, at least I’d sing a boy’s song.’
‘But it is.’
‘Ave Maria?’
‘Yeah, “Ave Maria” is a boy’s song.’
‘How is it?’
‘It’s a hymn. If it was a girl’s song it would be a her!’
Several of the other boys laughed, and Liam could see that Martin Connolly was unsure how to respond. If he pushed for a fight now it might look like he couldn’t take a joke. Liam had to take advantage of Connolly’s hesitation, and he glanced past the other boy and saw his opportunity.
‘Break it up, lads,’ he called quietly. ‘Killer’s coming.’
Brother Killeen was a bull-headed teacher who was much feared, and the circle of boys quickly broke up. Liam moved away, relieved that a fight had been avoided. Just as well, he thought, that Connolly didn’t know about his new friend Nora. Or about Brother Raymond’s choir, that so far had nearly twice as many girls as boys. He smiled at the idea. Well, let Connolly be as thick as he liked, he was the one missing out on fun because he couldn’t sing. And nothing, certainly not Connolly and his stupid brothers, would keep him from the choir. Cheered by the thought, he made his way across the yard, then the school bell rang, and he headed for his classroom, softly humming under his breath.
Nora was really looking forward to this evening. Her father had booked a box for the family in the Gaiety Theatre, and soon they would be all going there for a variety show. Dressed in her best clothes, Nora sat back happily on a chair in the living room, her head tilted backwards as her mother brushed her hair. From the hall she heard the sound of the telephone ringing, then her brother David answered the call.
‘Hello, who may I say is speaking, please?’ she heard him say, as Mummy had trained them all to do.
‘One moment, please,’ he continued, then he called their father, who was reading The Irish Times in the drawing room.
‘Hello,’ she heard Daddy say, then after a moment he said, ‘right’ in a concerned tone. Nora sensed that something was amiss, and her suspicions were confirmed when she heard her father say, ‘I’d plans for this evening, but they can be changed.’
Nora’s heart sank. She loved dressing up and going into town for a show. Daddy usually got good seats and he always bought a box of chocolates. Unlike a lot of adults, he had a sweet tooth, and it had become a joke in the family that when they went to the theatre he always said, ‘A treat is not a treat without a box of chocolates!’ Now, however, it sounded like there might be neither chocolates nor a night out.
‘Is there a problem?’ asked her mother, as he came into the living room.
‘I’m afraid so.’
Nora sat up, the hair brushing forgotten.
‘That was the Employers’ Federation,’ continued her father. ‘There’s an emergency meeting called for tonight.’
‘What’s happened?’ asked his wife.
‘Mr Larkin is being troublesome.’
Nora saw her mother purse her lips in exasperation. ‘That man should be kept behind bars.’
‘He’s certainly causing chaos on the docks.’
‘Disgraceful.’
Nora looked at her father. ‘Could you come for even some of the concert?’ she asked.
‘I’d like to, dear, but it’s not possible.’
‘But … could you not fight with Mr Larkin when you’re in work tomorrow?’
‘I’m afraid he doesn’t confine his agitating to office hours.’
‘And why is he fighting with you?’ she asked
‘He’s not fighting with me directly. But he’s fighting the shipping companies, and I have a consignment of wine held up in the docks. Sorry, Nora, I really have to attend this meeting.’ He looked at her in appeal. ‘You understand, don’t you?’
‘Yes, Daddy,’ she answered, but her disappointment must have shown, for her mother patted her shoulder sympathetically.
‘There’ll be other nights, Nora,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ replied Nora, then a thought struck her. ‘Instead of cancelling, could the rest of us go?’ she asked.
Her mother began to shake her head, but Nora got her plea in first.
‘Please, Mummy, I’ve been so looking forward
to this show.’
‘I’m sorry, Nora, but I’m not venturing into town with three children, unescorted.’
‘Supposing Catherine were to go with you?’ her husband suggested. ‘I’m sure she’d enjoy it, and we wouldn’t have to disappoint Nora and the boys.’
Nora’s hopes were suddenly raised. Aunt Catherine was her father’s sister, and she lived in nearby Rathmines.
‘I don’t know, Thomas,’ answered her mother, ‘it’s very short notice.’
‘Oh please, Mummy. Let’s ring and ask her!’ Despite her plea, Nora could see that her mother was still doubtful. She needed something extra to sway her, and Nora racked her brain. Suddenly she had an idea. She turned back to her mother and spoke as persuasively as she could.
‘Don’t let Mr Larkin decide what we can do, Mummy. If we stay home, he’s won.’
Her mother didn’t react immediately, but Nora saw her father giving a wry smile.
‘She has a point, Helen,’ he said.
Her mother considered for a moment, then nodded. ‘Very well, I’ll telephone Catherine.’
‘Thanks, Mummy,’ said Nora, kissing her on the cheek. ‘And rats to Mr Larkin!’
‘My favourite song ever?’ said Liam. ‘Janey, that’s a hard one.’
He was sitting with Nora in the rehearsal room. Brother Raymond had been working the choir hard, but had given them a ten minute break while he slipped out to attend to some business. Nora had been telling Liam about the variety concert she had attended, and so the conversation had turned to singers and popular songs.
‘Well, if I had to pick one song, it would probably be “Alexander’s Ragtime Band”,’ continued Liam. ‘It’s a brilliant tune, I love the way it sort of twists and turns.’
‘Yes, it’s really good.’
‘How about you?’
Nora looked thoughtful. ‘I love “Give my Regards to Broadway”. Once you start singing it, it stays in your head for days.’
‘Did they do it at the variety show?’
‘Yes. And they got everyone to sing along to “Oh, Oh, Antonio” and “There was I, Waiting at the Church”.’
‘Great.’
Nora smiled. ‘Though Mummy said “Waiting at the Church” is slightly vulgar, and not what you’d expect to hear in the Gaiety!’
‘I think it’s a gas song,’ said Liam.
‘I do too.’
‘So why wouldn’t you expect to hear it in the Gaiety, is it really posh there?’
‘You’ve never been?’ asked Nora.
‘No.’
‘It’s very nice, but I wouldn’t call it posh.’
‘You’re lucky to get brought there.’
‘We nearly didn’t make it. Mr Larkin almost ruined the night.’
‘Who’s Mr Larkin?’
‘Jim Larkin, the union man. Him and his blooming strikes! Daddy got called to a meeting, and we almost didn’t get to the show.’
Liam was taken aback. Jim Larkin was a hero to the people that Liam knew, and this was the first time he had heard anyone speaking ill of him.
‘Him and his blooming strikes?’ Liam repeated. ‘Do you know why he calls strikes?’
Now it was Nora’s turn to look taken aback. ‘I suppose…to get more money,’ she answered.
‘Where do you live, Nora?’
‘Leeson Park.’
‘Is it a nice house, with plenty of rooms?’
‘Well, yes …’
‘Lots of Larkin’s men live like cattle. Whole families, ten and twelve people, in one room. Seventy or eighty people in the same house, with just one toilet out the back. My da says if you’re poor and you live in Dublin, your baby is more likely to die than in most other cities in Europe.’
‘Really?’
Liam could see that Nora was shocked. ‘You didn’t know any of this?’ he said.
‘No. I mean, I knew there were poor people in Dublin. But … well, I never knew it was that bad. And what you said – you’re sure that’s all true?’
Liam nodded. ‘My da told me.’
Nora hesitated, then spoke softly. ‘I … I’m sorry, Liam. What I said about Mr Larkin.’
He could see that she meant it and he nodded again. ‘It’s all right. And your da? Is he an employer?’
‘Well, he’s a wine importer. So I suppose he is. But he’s really kind, he wouldn’t be unfair.’
‘Maybe not. But the way things are done is dead unfair. My da says that’s the biggest challenge.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘He says we’ve got to make people see that just because things were always a certain way, that’s not a good reason not to change.’
‘Right. Does your father often talk to you about stuff like that?’
‘Yeah, a bit. Does yours not?’
‘Not really.’
‘He’s not always making a big thing of it,’ explained Liam, in case he had made his father sound like he was always lecturing him. ‘Sometimes we just chat if I’m helping him with an engine.’
‘You work with him?’
‘No, but I give him a hand sometimes. He’s a mechanic in Gibsons, the hauliers, so some nights he’ll bring home a delivery van, maybe show me how to tune an engine.’
‘Brilliant.’
‘Yeah, it’s good.’
‘I’d love to know how to tune an engine.’
Liam laughed. ‘Girls don’t tune engines, Nora.’
‘We could if we were shown how.’
‘Why would you want to do that?’
‘Why do you want to?’
‘’Cause I’m interested in engines.’
She looked at him challengingly, and he felt he needed to say more. ‘It’s just…it’s something girls don’t do.’
‘Because things were always a certain way, that’s not a good reason not to change.’ She looked him in the eye. ‘Isn’t that what you said?’
Liam couldn’t think of a reply.
‘Well?’
‘I suppose it is,’ he answered weakly.
Nora pointed at him and laughed. ‘Got you!’
In spite of himself he had to smile back. She was cleverer than he had realised. But even though she had won this part of the argument he didn’t feel that she was trying to make him appear stupid.
Just then Brother Raymond came back in. ‘All right, everyone,’ he called. ‘Sheet music at the ready, we’ll do the harmonies for Westering Home.’
Liam and Nora took out their music and Liam thought about what she had said about girls and engines. It was something he had never considered before – but maybe she had a point. And despite being rich, she had taken his arguments seriously when they had discussed Jim Larkin. It was an unusual friendship, but he was still glad he’d met her, and he sensed that being friends with Nora was going to be interesting.
‘Well played, Nora. You saved a certain goal in the first half.’
‘Thanks,’ replied Nora to her friend Mary, as they packed away their hockey gear in the pavilion of the school’s sports ground.
Out on the pitch it had been unseasonably cold for late April, but here in the changing rooms it was cosy and warm, and the nuns had arranged for soup and sandwiches to be served to the team in the dining room of the pavilion. Normally Nora took these things for granted, but since her conversation with Liam she was more aware of how lucky she was to come from a well-to-do family, who could send her to a private school.
The things he had said at their last meeting had played on her mind. The idea of babies dying because their parents were poor, and seventy to eighty people all living in one house, seemed really wrong to Nora. She had questioned her father about it last night when she found herself alone with him in the drawing room after her piano practice.
‘Nicely done, Nora,’ he had said. ‘You’ve developed a good feel for Chopin.’
‘Thank you.’
‘All the lessons are paying off, eh?’ he added with a smile.
Her private lessons
, to which she had never before given a second thought, seemed like a luxury now that she knew the suffering going on in her home town. She looked at her father enquiringly.
‘Daddy, why are there so many poor people in Dublin?’
He seemed slightly taken aback, but answered carefully. ‘I’m afraid there are poor people in all cities, Nora.’
‘But more babies die in Dublin than in other cities.’
Her father looked surprised. ‘Who told you that?’
Nora hesitated. After her mother’s comments at the feis in the Fr Mathew Hall she had made no further reference to Liam, or the fact that they were becoming good friends. Better be careful, she thought. ‘I heard someone saying it at choir practice,’ she answered. ‘Is it true?’
Her father nodded his head. ‘I’m sorry to say that it is.’
‘But why is that allowed? And why do they make whole families live in one room?’
‘They’re not made live in one room. But they’re not well educated, so they don’t find well-paying employment. Which means they can’t afford suitable accommodation – so they live in tenements.’
‘That’s not their fault though, is it?’
‘No, I suppose not …’
‘And why do so many babies die in Dublin?’
Her father looked uncomfortable. ‘Not enough medical care, I’m afraid. And then there’s the scourge of TB.’
‘But isn’t there anything being done to help, Daddy?’
‘Well, the government tries to improve things. But every society has poverty; it’s how things are.’
Because things were always a certain way, that’s not a good reason not to change. Nora remembered Liam’s words, but said nothing.
‘I hope they’re not upsetting you at this choir,’ said her father.
‘No,’ answered Nora quickly, anxious not to provide a reason to take her from Brother Raymond’s group. ‘It was just something I heard,’ she said, telling herself that this was only a white lie.
‘The world can be harsh, Nora. We have to be kind whenever we can, and the rest of the time we must be thankful for our good fortune.’
Across the Divide Page 3