A Billy or a Dan, or an Old Tin Can

by Paul Kelly

  Willie ignored the reprimand and went on with his enquiries.

  “Did she want you to do it, Charlie?”

  Charlie bashed his pillow and shoved it under his head as he lay back, with one lean arm sprawled across his chest.

  “Cathie Coutts knows more ways to have sex than you’ve had hot dinners, wee boy. The time of the month only puts a stop on ONE way for her. Goodnight Willie?”

  Willie drew in his breath between his teeth and scowled as he turned to look at his brother.

  Maybe Wattie was right he thought ... Maybe it would be a good thing to become a priest after all ... he thought again ...and he lay awake for a long time thinking.

  “Charlie?” he called out in the dark. “Charlie ... Are you asleep?”

  “Yes, I am Why?”

  “Goodnight Charlie ...I still wish I had the bed to myself.” he said and rolled over, taking the blankets with him.

  ***

  Meggie came into the small living room, beaming with her good news. She had been accepted by the W.R.N.S and had to report to the Rosyth Training School by the end of the month. The family were excited for her, but Mary Blair had the natural anxieties of a mother and could not refrain from showing her concern for her lovely daughter, but if Mary knew just how Meggie felt, she would have been more at ease, for all the thoughts and affections for Ross Schofield had been put to rest. She had got over her crush on him and she was sure he was not pining in the least over her.

  The weeks passed quickly and soon she was on the train for Rosyth and the family were tearfully waving her good-bye on the platform. As the train pulled away, Meggie waved frantically from the carriage window and Mary Blair fingered her crystal beaded Rosary in her hand bag and dabbed her face with her handkerchief.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Tom Carey knocked on the door and turned slightly to see Rita Watt’s curtains moving. He smiled. He knew he could never commit a crime as long as Rita was around and Mary opened the door.

  “Hello Mary. How are you this evening?”

  “Oh! I’m fine, Tom. Just fine, thank you. Will you come in and have a cup of tea?”

  Tom did not need a second invitation.

  “Hello Aggie. Are you alright?”

  Aggie was standing in the kitchen as Tom spoke to her.

  “Yes thank you Tom. Nice to see you again ... I’ll just put the kettle on.”

  He sat down comfortably in the arm chair near the fire and left his ‘little parcel’ on the table.

  “You’ll make us all as fat as pigs, you will. You know you needn’t do this Tom. We enjoy your company. You don’t have to bring something every time you visit us.”

  Tom Carey stretched his legs complacently. He knew he was welcome at the Blair household and he loved being there.

  “I know that Mary, but I enjoy seeing you all and in fact, I have come for a very special reason this evening.”

  Mary was curious.

  “What’s that Tom?” she asked as she untied his parcel.

  “I’d like you to come to a dinner and dance with me, Mary. Some of my pals in the trade are having a celebration and we are invited. You will come, won’t you?”

  WE, Tom,” Mary quizzed and Aggie put on her coat, diplomatically after she had made the tea and set out two mugs on a tray, with the usual ginger snaps that Tom liked so much.

  “I’m off to the library, Mammy,”

  She kissed Mary and said Goodnight to Tom as she left the house and Mary turned her attentions to Tom again and to his spur-of-the-moment invitation.

  “I couldn’t go to a dinner and dance with you, Tom. I’ve never done anything like that in my life. Well, not since I got married.”

  “Then it’s time you started doing it again, young lady.”

  Mary laughed.

  “You are a charmer Tom, but you do make me feel good. Now let’s have that cup of tea. Oh! Aggie hasn’t put the cups out and I never use mugs for visitors. I’ll get the china cups if you wait just a minute.”

  “No you won’t. I don’t regard myself as a visitor I’m like one of the family now I hope and besides, I like a mug. You get more tea and it keeps it hotter, so sit down and forget the china cups, but I will have a ginger snap, if I may?”

  Mary giggled and assured Tom that she would scold Aggie when she came back from the library for her oversight.

  “Mary, please say you’ll come with me to the dance. I’ve got no-one else to take with me and no-one else I would rather take. You must believe me. Please say you’ll come.”

  “You are kind Tom and I do appreciate the offer, but firstly, I haven’t danced in years and secondly, apart from this apron I’m wearing, I’ve only got one other dress and that was fixed up for the school open day, so you can imagine how I would fit in at a dinner and dance.” She looked around the room and sighed as she studied once more the wrap over apron that served as a dress, for most of the time. “Oh! I’m not complaining Tom, please don’t think I am, but I’d look a poor sight for any man to take anywhere.”

  Tom had been smiling as she was speaking, but the smile slowly left his face as he looked deeply into Mary’s eyes.

  “You should never talk like that, Mary “ He hesitated and looked away before he went on as he swallowed hard and kept pulling his index finger nervously. “You are, without doubt, the loveliest person I have ever had the privilege to meet, Mary Blair.” He hesitated again, too shy to face the woman to whom he had made one of the most important and sincere statements of his life and he continued to speak without looking at her. “You know, of course that I have been married before, but I truly mean what I say Mary. I’m telling you that I love you.”

  Mary’s face puckered in her embarrassment and she was about to speak when he turned around to face her and put his finger on her lips.

  “I know your circumstances Mary and I know you had a very happy marriage ... your beautiful children are proof of that.” Tom looked away again and sighed deeply. “I wasn’t at all happy in my marriage, Mary and there were no children.”

  Mary went to stop him saying any more, but he insisted.

  “My wife’s name was Frances. She was a beautiful looking lady but she knew it and so did every man around at the time when she was alive.”

  Mary put her hand on Tom’s arm.

  “Tom, please don’t say any more. I understand how you feel and I am happy. I am flattered, but I am in a situation where I cannot say any more than that. Come ... let’s have another cup of tea.”

  “Mary, please let me tell you of my feelings. I have wanted to tell you since the first time I saw you in my shop doorway. Please listen to me Mary. I need you to listen to me. You are the most important person in my life and I am only happy when I am near you.”

  Mary shifted shyly in her chair and felt inadequate to cope with the situation. She wanted Tom to be happy and she was very fond of him, but she was afraid of the consequences of her feelings. Tom relaxed as he put his mug down and settled back in his chair.

  “I tell people that I was happy in my marriage, Mary, primarily to keep the memory of Frances intact and to let people think she was the wife I wanted her to be, but she wasn’t that type of person at all. She would not have children and every penny I earned in the business went on her clothing, her holidays and her associates. Yes, I loved her in my way and for that reason, I kept going and kept silent about the circumstances as they were, but I truly dread to think what would have happened to us, had she lived.”

  He sat quietly for a few moments and stared into the fire, uncertain as to whether he hadn’t already said too much.

  “I’m sorry Tom. I did not know any of this and I find it hard to believe that someone could treat you in this way. You are such a good man and I cannot understand why any woman wouldn’t appreciate that goodness.”


  He smiled gently at Mary and took her hand.

  “It is a terrible ...and maybe a wrong thing to say Mary, but I was relieved when Frances died. I could drop all the pretence after that and she could be thought of as I wanted people to think of her, as a good, faithful and dutiful wife. I was sorry I had not made a better marriage and bitterly resolved never to marry again. She was ill for nearly two years and I nursed her as best I could, but even in her illness, she would say things that were meant to hurt me. I knew she was dying so I allowed her that indulgence, although I couldn’t understand what joy or happiness she could derive from her attitude. I used sometimes to look at her as her beauty was fading and I would wonder what more she wanted from life. She had all the material things I could have given her and what happiness had it brought her in the end?”

  Tom rose from his chair.

  “I think I had better go now, Mary. I have depressed you. I can see that and I am sorry. I had no right to presume on your kindness and understanding.”

  “No Please don’t go Tom. I want you to stay. I only want you to tell me what you feel you must, but I do understand, believe me, I really do.”

  He sat down again and looked pensively into the fire.

  “I have never ever spoken about this to another living soul, Mary Nor did I ever intend to do so, or even think that I would.”

  Mary poured another cup of tea as tears welled up in Tom’s eyes and he appeared to have difficulty in speaking any more. He swallowed hard and pulled at his fingers.

  “Frances cursed me as she died for my neglect,” he said and broke down.

  Mary’s eyes widened as she put her mug down on the table. “For years I despised myself for being so weak and feeble-minded. I told myself I should have been more demanding; more assertive in every way, but that’s not in my character, Mary and so my life was dominated by the circumstances of that time.”

  Mary could think of nothing to say. She knew what she should do, as a woman, but she was afraid. Afraid that her natural feelings of tenderness towards Tom Carey would betray her own fidelity to her dead husband as Tom continued.

  “When Frances died, I felt a yoke had been lifted from my shoulders, but it was nearly two years at least, before I could plan any future, as it took me that length of time to settle all her debts. Then one day, Frances really and truly died in my heart and I was free. I resolved not to go any more to the cemetery, although she was cremated, as was her wish so the only debt I owe to her now is in the attention to a little rose bush where her ashes lie.”

  He could see that Mary had taken out her handkerchief to dab her eyes.

  “Mary, don’t cry. Please don’t cry ... All that time in my life is gone now gone ... and gone forever. I don’t know why I have been rambling on about it when I promised myself I would bury that era entirely. I’m sorry Mary. Don’t pay any attention to my gabbling on ... now what about that dinner and dance, eh?”

  Mary heaved a sigh of contentment and peace. She was pleased that Tom was able to put that part of his life into the correct perspective and had decided to bury the ghost and get on with his life and she reflected on her own marriage, which had been so different from that of her friend. Willie Blair had been a wonderful man and she had been so happy with him, but there were times, since he had died tired and weary times of longing and wishing when she had cried so much and to no avail, for an ocean of tears would never bring him back.

  She was happy that Tom had spoken to her as he did and like him, she thought it best to forget the unhappiness of the past and look forward to the future, but that future didn’t include a dress that she could wear at a dance No way.

  “Tom, I would love to go with you, but I can’t. You must understand that.” she said but he contradicted her.

  “No, I don’t understand Mary. Why can’t you come with me? You are free and your children would not object ... I am sure ...”

  She wanted to tell him about the dress or lack of it, but she knew his mind and how kind he was.

  “I wouldn’t like your friends to see me, Tom. I might disgrace you as I’m not used to being in company and haven’t been for a long time.

  “I won’t take no for an answer, Mary,” he proclaimed as he spun round with the exuberance of a school boy and thrust some notes hurriedly into her apron pocket as he made towards the door. “Get yourself a nice dress Mary I LOVE YOU.”

  “Tom Come back. I can’t take this money,” she called out after him.

  “You will do as you are told, lady,” he answered and at that moment, bumped into Aggie who had returned from her visit to the library.

  “Tell your mother, I love her Will you Aggie. She won’t listen to me.”

  With that he left the house.

  Aggie touched her head scarf as she closed the door behind her and Mary blushed as she ran into the kitchen. Aggie followed her, pulling her scarf from her head.

  “Aggie, please don’t take any notice of what that man says. He ... He’s just a wee bit lonely, that’s all. He’s a good man and his intentions are well meant but ...”

  “I think his intentions are very good,” Aggie replied, “Excellent, in fact and I think this matter is self-explanatory, Mammy and I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

  “Aggie ... What do you mean?”

  “Mammy Tom is a good man. We all know that and he loves you. He has just told you that and he wouldn’t say it if he didn’t mean it, would he ... and I know that whatever you say or think YOU LOVE HIM TOO. Mammy, you are a lovely lady; still young and attractive. You have given all of your family, all of your life, through the years. It is time you started thinking about yourself and your happiness. We all love you and Tom too, so where’s the problem?”

  “Go on with you, Aggie Blair. You’re reading too many romances. That’s your trouble,” said Mary “But he is quite quite, assertive, isn’t he?” she added and giggled quietly to herself as she washed the tea mugs.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  It was the practice of Catholic families, living above the shops in this street, which housed their place of worship, to store refuse and rubbish of all kinds, for months before the event of The March, as they knew that the Band would commence its playing, so that it would march past the Catholic Church around 6.30pm, when the Benediction would be about to begin. The timing was made perfect and it was estimated the March would take approximately half and hour of slow marching, very loud music to reach the church, give or take a minute or two, but no more and the solemnity of the quiet intonations of the Benediction would be drowned in the beat of the many drums and the fast blasts of the piccolo.

  The signal was given ... The base drum was struck and the music began as each member proudly stepped out to the beat.

  ‘It was green and white, with an orange stripe,

  The sash my father wore.’

  The Band leader battened his way out in front, occasionally throwing his baton into the air and catching it a few feet on, with practised agility. The sight was indeed glorious and the people followed in great excitement. Children with their parents, sang the chorus and the sound could be heard for miles around. All were in good voice and the Band had marched about one hundred yards along the street, when two ladies, clad in their tartan shawls and who had recently enjoyed a little spiritual revival of the intoxicating kind, began to join in the singing.

  “Give us a song there, Maggie. You know the one we want to hear.”

  “Come on Maggie. Let’s be ‘avin’ ye.”

  “Hold yer tongues an’ give ‘er a chance, will ye?”

  Maggie was happy to oblige and delivered the required aria, quietly as though the Band did not exist. Her toothless, musical orifice delivered the rendering with dulcet, if quivering notes, as she heaved her chest forward, closing her eyes and clutching her shawl more closely to her th
in little frame.

  ‘Kevin Barry was no coward,’

  Her tones were deliberate and profound under the magnificence of the hard-beating drums that surrounded her, but Maggie was oblivious to everything and everyone around her as she performed her mission. Her whiskied breath activated the words as her eyelids dropped heavily over her pale blue eyes. She hiccupped as she sang and tripped on her lisle stocking which had ridden down her scrawny leg, but the incident of the stockingless limb did not deter as she went on with her song.

  ‘Though there’s no-one can deny,

  She wavered and quivered the last syllable with an expertise that astounded many.

  ‘As he went to death that morning,

  He proudly held his head on high. ‘

  Her friend, Ida would not be outdone, as she took over the plaintive tones in her own rite.

  ‘Just a lad of eighteen summers,’

  CRUNCH! ... It was then that it happened. The collected garbage fell as heavily as rocks and everyone was covered in shit ... The Band slid about the slimy street, still playing defiantly, if with obvious distorted soundings. Maggie’s face was unrecognisable under the pollution that fell on her and her musical orifice was temporarily indisposed as she gasped and choked to relieve the situation surrounding her.

  “Don’t move, Maggie. Don’t move a muscle. Leave it there till I get the Polis,” shouted Ida as Maggie tried in vain to remove the offensive matter from her mouth and she was in no position to argue, as she tried without success to finish her rendition of ‘Kevin Barry’

  ‘He proud ....proudly held. His ... h ...h ...head on high ...’

  Maggie gasped and then fell to the ground and passed out, but the players skated about the street, making every attempt to keep the music going.

  ‘The sash my father wore.’