The House By Princes Park

by Maureen Lee

  ‘And you don’t give a damn what Brendan thinks, how he feels?’

  ‘He’s only eight. He’ll soon get used to things.’

  Brendan threw himself at the woman who claimed to be his mother and began to beat her with his fists. ‘I’m not eight,’ he screamed. ‘I’m only seven. You don’t even know me birthday. I’m not going to Ireland with you.’ He stamped his foot. ‘I won’t.’

  Ruby lost her temper. ‘Now see what you’ve done, you foolish girl. You must have been at the back of the queue, Ellie Donovan, when the Lord handed out good sense.’ She pulled Brendan away, clasped the heaving figure in her arms, and could feel his heart beating madly against her own. It was a long time since she could remember being so angry, but if she let rip to her feelings, it would only distress Brendan more.

  Ellie had the grace to look uncomfortable at the upset she had caused. She laid her hand on Ruby’s arm. ‘I’m sorry, Gran. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but he is mine. You must have realised this might happen one day. I’ve got plane tickets for tomorrow. I thought it best not to say anything before. He’ll soon grow to love me, won’t you, kiddo?’ She ruffled Brendan’s hair, but he tore himself away.

  ‘I’ll never love you,’ he hissed. ‘Never, never, never.’

  The most mind-shattering things in life always happened suddenly, without warning. One minute everything was normal, next minute things had changed and would never be the same again. Jacob had deserted his family to join the Army, Arthur Cummings had died, the lads had been killed. Yet still life continued, sometimes better than before, sometimes worse.

  During the sleepless night that followed, Ruby discovered she wasn’t as hard as she used to be, not quite so confident. The thought of life without Brendan was scarcely bearable. Nothing and no one would ever take his place. Even so, had the circumstances been different, had she known he would be happy with his mother, she would have resigned herself to his going. But what made it even more unbearable, was knowing he would be desperately unhappy with Ellie. He would never grow to love her as she hoped.

  Next morning, she went downstairs, her head thumping with tiredness. To her surprise, Heather was already up and looked at her with concern.

  ‘I heard you tossing and turning all night, Mam. How do you feel?’

  ‘How d’you think, love?’

  ‘I wish there was something we could do to stop this.’

  ‘There’s nothing, Heather,’ Ruby said wearily. ‘You’re a solicitor, you should know. Everything Ellie said was right.’

  ‘Legally right, but morally wrong. Does our Greta know she’s going?’

  ‘Greta’s coming later to say goodbye.’

  When Brendan appeared, he was accompanied by Ellie and rather surprisingly wearing the new shirt. ‘He put it on without a murmur,’ Ellie said jubilantly.

  ‘That’s because he’s a good boy.’ Ruby held out her hand, praying she wouldn’t cry. Brendan took it without a word.

  Greta arrived alone. Saffron was at playgroup, she explained. Four generations of O’Hagans sat in the living room making stilted conversation, waiting for the taxi to take Ellie and her son to Lime Street station to catch the Manchester train, from where they would fly to Dublin. Brendan’s clothes and toys had been packed the night before.

  At exactly one minute past eleven, the taxi sounded its horn...

  Brendan hardly spoke on the way to Manchester. His mother kept pointing things out through the window, as if she thought it was the sort of thing mothers were supposed to do. He acknowledged her comments with a brief nod of his head. She offered to buy him a can of drink when a trolley of food was pushed through the carriage, but he refused.

  All Brendan could think of was Bee. Bee’s face when he’d left her, Bee stroking his head when he felt sick, Bee singing him to sleep, reading to him, playing cards, watching football on the telly and screaming encouragement for the wrong side, then Bee’s face when he’d left her yet again. Bee was his world. He didn’t like his mother and never would.

  The journey to Manchester didn’t take long. They were catching a coach to the airport.

  ‘I want to go to the lavvy,’ he said when they went through the barrier.

  ‘Say lavatory, kiddo. Or toilet’s even better. You should have gone on the train.’

  Brendan made a face behind his mother’s back. ‘I want to go to the toilet.’

  ‘That’s better. There’s a Gents over there.’

  ‘I’d like a drink now, please.’

  ‘What sort?’

  ‘Any sort.’

  ‘They sell them in the newsagents. I’ll meet you there. Don’t get lost now.’

  ‘No.’ Brendan trotted into the Gents and re-emerged almost immediately. He saw his mother disappear into a shop and sped towards the platform where they’d just got off the train. A man in uniform caught his collar as he went through the barrier.

  ‘And where d’you think you’re off to, sonny?’

  ‘I’m going to Liverpool with me mam,’ Brendan explained nicely. ‘I’ve lost her.’

  ‘Well, you won’t find her on this train. The next train to Liverpool’s on platform 2. Where’s your ticket?’

  ‘Me mam’s got it.’

  ‘You’d better get a move on, or you’ll lose her altogether. It’s leaving in a minute.’

  Brendan found platform 2 and ducked under the barrier when no one was looking. The train was only half full and he easily found a seat from where he could see the platform, ready to hide if his mother came looking for him.

  It took twice as long to return to Liverpool as it had to go the other way, or so it seemed to Brendan, whose heart was in his mouth for the entire journey. He kept changing his seat, dodging into the lavatory whenever anyone in uniform appeared.

  At last the train drew into Lime Street station where, to his utter astonishment, he found an anxious Bee waiting for him by the barrier. He’d thought he’d have to walk all the way home.

  ‘Brendan!’ She held out her arms. Her grey hair was waving all over her face and she had on the frayed jeans she wore to do the housework and a giant T-shirt that almost reached her knees, but in Brendan’s eyes she had never looked so beautiful.

  ‘Bee!’ He flung himself at her. ‘How did you know...?’ He couldn’t find the words he wanted. How did she know to meet the train, that he’d be on it? But Bee knew what he meant.

  ‘Your mother rang, love. She was terribly worried, but she guessed you were on your way home.’

  Brendan’s heart returned to his mouth. ‘Is she coming after me?’

  ‘No, love.’ Bee took his hand. ‘Seeing as we’re in town, would you like to go to McDonald’s for a hamburger? It’s a lovely day.’

  ‘No, ta, Bee. I’d sooner go home.’ He didn’t want to be seen for longer than necessary in the dead horrible shirt.

  ‘So would I,’ Bee said comfortably.

  The phone call had come about an hour ago. Ellie had sounded frantic. ‘Gran! Brendan’s disappeared. He went to the Gents and was supposed to meet me in the newsagents, but he never came.’

  ‘Did you send someone into the Gents to look for him?’ Ruby said sharply.

  ‘Yes, but he wasn’t there. One of the ticket inspectors or something said a boy sounding like Brendan tried to get on the wrong train. He directed him towards the right one. He must be coming home.’

  ‘What time does the train get in and I’ll meet it?’

  ‘Two thirty.’

  ‘And what happens then, Ellie, when I’ve met the train?’

  Ellie sighed. ‘Nothing, I suppose. It doesn’t seem such a good idea, taking Brendan to Dublin. I’ll have his luggage sent back. Felix is going to be disappointed. He thought the world of him when he was a baby.’

  ‘If it’s your intention to make a life with Felix Conway, Ellie,’ Ruby said gently, ‘then it shouldn’t matter whether you take Brendan with you or not.’

  ‘Oh, Gran!’ Ellie wailed. ‘I desperately want to be ha
ppy.’

  ‘Don’t we all, love. Don’t we all.’

  Within a week, Brendan was his old self again, full of life, and inviting his mates home to play in the garden. Dublin and his mother had been forgotten.

  But the incident had shaken Ruby. For some reason, she felt fearful, jumping at the least sound, always expecting something terrible to happen. She felt like a creature that had lost its outer shell and was now vulnerable to dangers never known before. Whenever the telephone rang, she’d get a sickly sensation in her stomach. It could only be bad news, though it never was.

  Daisy had her baby, another boy. ‘He’s beautiful,’ Heather reported from London. ‘And she’s going to call him Robert, after her father.’

  Moira rang to say she and Sam were expecting another baby at Christmas. ‘Me and Daisy are having a race, Gran. I’ve bet her I’ll be the first to have five.’

  Ruby was beginning to feel better, when something else happened, trivial when compared to losing Brendan but, for a while, she thought she was losing her mind.

  It was August, sizzlingly hot, and she and Brendan had had a wonderful day in Southport, where they’d built castles in the sand, spent a fortune in the fairground, wandered along gracious Lord Street, and had tea in a glass-roofed arcade. While they ate, she told Brendan about Emily, who’d brought her to the very same place more than fifty years before. ‘We could even have sat here, in this same spot.’

  ‘And you were young, like me?’ Brendan asked through a mouth full of cream cake, as if he couldn’t conceive of such a thing.

  ‘Older than you, fourteen.’

  ‘What did you look like then?’

  ‘Pretty. Everyone said I was pretty.’

  ‘You’re still pretty,’ Brendan said loyally.

  Ruby laughed. ‘Thank you, love. During the war, me and Beth were evacuated to Southport, though we only stayed a few days. Your mam was three – I mean your gran.’ The two small children she’d brought to Southport were now grandmothers! Despite all that had happened since, it seemed little more than yesterday that, on a similarly hot day, she’d waited by the station for Beth and Jake. She shrugged herself back to the present. ‘I feel like buying things,’ she said. ‘A nice new summer frock for me. What do you fancy?’

  ‘A goal,’ Brendan said promptly.

  ‘A goal?’

  ‘You get them from Argos. A boy at school’s got one. I went to his house once and it’s the gear.’

  ‘Will it be heavy to carry?’ Ruby looked doubtful.

  ‘I’ll carry it, Gran. Don’t worry,’ Brendan said stoutly.

  They returned happily to Liverpool; Brendan with his goal in a cardboard box and Ruby with a crushproof two-piece from Marks & Spencer that would never need ironing, to find the house had been burgled.

  Not much had been taken; Heather’s portable television, the Chopper bike Brendan had got for his birthday, Ruby’s jewellery box which contained little of value, a few ornaments that had been gifts from people over the years. The burglar or burglars had left a mess behind – perhaps annoyed to have found so little of value in such a large house. The contents of drawers had been thrown on to the floors, dishes had been broken, a mirror smashed, chairs upturned, cupboards emptied.

  The police were very sympathetic, but didn’t hold out much hope of the goods being recovered. Ruby was advised to fit deadlocks on the doors and windows and have a burglar alarm installed.

  ‘This place was a cinch to break into. Once they’d established no one was in, they merely kicked in the back door.’

  For the first two days, Ruby was very calm. She concentrated on putting everything back where it belonged. The bike and the television were covered by insurance and would be replaced. Heather was arranging for the deadlocks and burglar alarm to be fitted.

  It was when she began to list the contents of her jewellery box that something broke inside her. The police wanted details, ‘In case an item’s offered for sale. We provide jewellers with a list of stolen property.’

  ‘But it was hardly worth anything,’ Ruby cried. She’d never possessed a precious stone in her life.

  ‘It could have been kids who burgled your home, Mrs O’Hagan, and they could still try and sell it. All we’re asking for is a list. The stuff might even turn up at a car boot sale.’

  Most of her jewellery had been presents from the girls; a tiny amethyst pendant on a silver chain with earrings to match were the first things that came to mind, bought when the girls had not long started work and couldn’t have afforded more than a few pounds; gold stud earrings, very small; a silver cross and chain; a silver and amber bracelet brought back from Corfu. There was a brooch from Beth, a cheap thing that had gone dull with age.

  As she wrote the things down, each brought back its own particular memory, when it had been given, why – a birthday, Christmas, or for no special reason at all. There was a scarf ring, she remembered, with a huge green stone which would have been worth thousands had it been real. Greta and Heather had bought it the day they’d met the lads. ‘For being such a lovely mam,’ Greta had said at the time.

  Ruby felt as if the memories had been taken away and soiled. Her house had been soiled, her life had been invaded. A stranger or strangers had walked through the rooms touching her things, Heather’s things, Brendan’s.

  Then she recalled the jewellery box had contained the ring Olivia had given her, the ring that had belonged to her father. ‘It’s my grandpop’s wedding ring,’ he’d said when he gave it to Olivia – she remembered the words exactly, she told Ruby. ‘And the way he said it. I remember every single thing about that night.’

  ‘Ruby to Eamon. 1857,’ Ruby said aloud, and began to cry. She’d always meant to buy a gold chain and wear the ring around her neck, but had never got round to it. And now she didn’t have the ring. It had been stolen.

  She would never feel safe in the house again. What’s more, she’d never be able to leave the house again. The thought of finding the rooms in turmoil a second time, their possessions strewn on the floor, made her feel physically sick. She was frightened to stay in, frightened to go out.

  Ruby went into the kitchen and began to clean the room from top to bottom, wiping every surface, including the walls, so there would be no trace left of the intruders. Every single inch would have to be cleansed of their touch and the places where they’d breathed. There was a robotic urgency about her movements, and a slightly mad look in her eyes.

  She worked herself to a standstill, but forced herself to start on the living room. As soon as she’d finished cleaning, she would wash everything; their clothes, the bedding, the curtains, all the things that had been contaminated by the thieves.

  That night, she hardly slept, thinking of all the work that had to be done, listening to the creaks and groans of the old house, familiar noises that had once been comforting, but which she now found sinister. She got up twice to make sure Brendan was safely asleep in his bed and hadn’t been murdered.

  ‘Have you decided to spring clean in August, Mam?’ Heather enquired a few days later when she came home from work and found Ruby up a ladder in her room cleaning the picture rail.

  ‘I suddenly realised what a state the place was in. It needs a thorough going over.’

  ‘It looks all right to me. Anyroad, since when have you cared what state the place was in? You look worn out. Would you like a cup of tea?’

  ‘Please, love.’ Heather didn’t realise how hard she’d been working. Ruby hadn’t told anyone how she felt. ‘The meal’s in the oven, it’ll be ready soon. Brendan’s round at a friend’s house.’

  Heather returned a few minutes later to report there was no tea. ‘I’ll just nip round to the shops and get some.’

  ‘I could have sworn there was a packet in the cupboard,’ Ruby said vaguely.

  ‘Well, there isn’t. I won’t be long.’

  ‘While you’re there, will you get some sugar? We’re nearly out of that too.’ They were running out of all sort
s of things. She usually bought the groceries on Thursdays, but was waiting until the weekend when Heather was home and the house wouldn’t be left empty.

  When she climbed down the ladder, her legs were shaking. She felt exhausted, yet there was so much to be done. Upstairs still hadn’t been touched. She was working herself into the ground, hardly sleeping, all on account of a burglary in which not much had been taken. Far worse things happened to people on a daily basis – they’d happened to her – I but she’d never felt like this before, completely gutted.

  The phone went. It was Angela Burns, Daisy’s mother-in-law, a pleasantly brisk woman with a finger in all sorts of pies. They’d met just once at the wedding. Angela wanted Heather. The two got on like a house on fire, although Angela was nearer Ruby’s age. After a brief chat, she said she’d call back later when told Heather wasn’t in.

  Later, when Angela rang, Ruby shamelessly eavesdropped during the conversation with her daughter. It seemed Heather was being offered a job in London, a good one. She sounded excited, but then her voice dropped and Ruby had to strain to hear.

  ‘I couldn’t possibly leave just yet. I told you we’d had a burglary, didn’t I? Well, it’s badly affected my mother. She’s in a bit of a state, though she pretends not to be, and I pretend not to notice. She hates to be thought weak.’ There was a pause, then, ‘Yes, yes. As soon as I can. I’m looking forward to it.’

  When Heather returned, Ruby was innocently watching Top of the Pops with Brendan.

  ‘Angela said Rob’s thriving. You two must meet up again one day, Mam. You’ve never been to London, have you?’

  ‘No, love.’ And she never would. She couldn’t possibly leave the house.

  Later still, when Brendan and Heather were in bed, Ruby stayed up and watched an old film, knowing she’d never sleep. Would she ever sleep peacefully again? The film finished and for some reason, her eyes were drawn to Daisy’s painting which still hung over the mantelpiece, though she’d been intending to move it for ages.