As he shut his eyes to pray, he replayed Paddy’s reaction as he’d laid the rolls of money down on the table in the porter’s lodge. Paddy had shot out of his chair and staggered backwards, catching his hand on the waist-high shelf that ran down the side of the hut.
‘Where the feckin’ hell did you get this?’ he said. ‘Here, quick.’ Paddy reached up and pulled down a large brown cardboard box marked 2½" Washers. He shoved the rolls of notes in as though they were burning his hands and then quickly pushed the box back into place.
‘Did you see that?’ he said. ‘Them’s rolls of ponies.’
Lorcan had no idea what a pony was.
‘Fifty-pound notes,’ Paddy explained. ‘Where did you get them, Lorcan? Where?’ Paddy was looking anxiously out of the hut door, his voice raised and trembling.
The hut smelt like the chandler’s shop Lorcan had known all of his life. The familiar scent of oil and rags and linseed gave him comfort. ‘It was in Mammy’s handbag. Someone came to see her today and put it there.’ His voice trembled as he spoke.
‘Who?’ Paddy hissed, trying to keep his voice low and avoid attracting the attention of any passing domestic or kitchen porter. The two other porter’s lads on duty that night were both out, transferring a body from ward seven to the mortuary.
‘I don’t know. Someone with a hat and a beard. I think I might have seen the same man running away the other day, when I was putting the flow meters away.’
Paddy had already reached for the phone on the wall and was dialling out. At night, the porter’s lodge was one of the few places in the hospital where you could call direct to the exchange. As he held the phone to his ear, he nodded towards the mug of tea and tower of toast. ‘Eat, drink,’ he said. ‘We have a long night ahead of us.’ After what seemed to be an age later, Paddy had made a connection. ‘Rory, is that you?’ Paddy was now speaking into the handset of the phone. ‘I need Dessie Horton, is he there? Good, can you put him on now?’ Paddy’s voice had an urgency to it and Lorcan was sure that Rory, the landlord of the Silvestrian, wouldn’t argue with him.
There was silence in the hut while they waited, broken only by the sound of Lorcan munching his toast.
*
While Lorcan prayed in St Chad’s, Biddy was buttering the new Ritz crackers she’d bought specially for the meeting.
‘We need to keep this one tight,’ Dessie had told her when he’d come round the night before to arrange the meeting. ‘Someone is using Mrs Ryan to fence money.’
‘Don’t we just give the money to the police?’ asked Biddy. ‘Sure, we know who it is, don’t we? ’Tis J.T., he’s still on the run.’
‘No, we don’t,’ said Dessie. ‘The police want someone to blame. They will be after taking Mrs Ryan in for harbouring stolen goods or some such claim, as if she even knew the money was there. As long as they get someone, they don’t care who, and what is her defence? She’s not certified as mad. The woman is just puddled. The police will run rings around her. She’s already spent one night in a cell. She doesn’t know what she is talking about from one minute to the next.’
‘She’s improving, I think. I popped in to see her the other day,’ said Biddy.
‘Well, that would be even worse. And this is a fact, if the bizzies have the money but no J.T., no matter who handed it in, they will go after Lorcan next. They will say he got scared or some such ridiculous cocked-up story. If they can’t get J.T., they will take both Lorcan and his mam and pin it on them for colluding,’ he said. ‘They might even take Mrs Ryan in to flush out J.T.’
‘Would they sink that low?’
Dessie raised his eyebrows. ‘Biddy, we are the Irish. They would. And I doubt once they had used her they would admit a mistake and let her out again, head injury or not.’
‘Over my dead body will that be happening,’ said Biddy.
‘We need a plan. This money, it is red hot and whoever put it there will be coming back for it. We can’t put it back in her handbag. If a nurse finds it, Mrs Ryan is as good as spending the rest of her life in jail, especially as the notes and the rolls are numbered with a tape wrapped around them. It looks like they’ve come straight from a bank.’
Biddy’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Jesus wept, do you think it’s from the jump-over that was in the Echo?’
Dessie shook his head. Biddy could see he was worried that they might be out of their depth on this one.
‘If the bizzies come after Lorcan, he won’t stand a chance. He doesn’t have to have been involved in any jump-over or whatever. The money has his fingerprints all over it already and it’s in his hands, that’s enough to put him away.’
Biddy slumped into the chair. ‘Will we ever stop being Irish immigrants?’ she asked him. ‘I’ve been here most of me life and yet they still call us for everything.’
Dessie didn’t answer. He didn’t want to dwell on the fact that the legal system in Liverpool was none too friendly towards the Irish. That time after time they heard stories of gross unfairness and miscarriages of justice, some of which even made the headlines in the Daily Post and Echo. He had more pressing things on his mind than self-pity. ‘Biddy, I can’t keep this money in the porter’s hut. I can’t do that to Matron and look her in the eye. Is your tea chest still in the scullery?’
‘It is.’ Biddy leapt to her feet. ‘And what’s more, ’tis full. We had a nice little delivery from the Cotie only yesterday.’ With J.T. now out of the picture, Biddy had found a new source for her black-market supply of tea from the ships in the docks.
‘Grand. Let’s dig down deep and hide it in the black gold dust then.’
*
At six o’clock on the dot, Noleen and Paddy slipped in through Biddy’s back door.
‘Would you get the cut of you, gadding about on your sticks and with the false leg an’ all,’ said Biddy as she took in the hobbling Paddy. It was the first time he had been in her kitchen since before the war and she was filled with pride at how he had come on since Dessie had sorted a job for him.
‘I’m off to trial for Everton in the morning,’ said Paddy with a wink. ‘They have a position for a goalie. I thought as I’m doing so good, I might as well try.’
‘Who do you think you are then?’ asked Dessie with a grin. ‘George Bargery? He was the best goalie Everton has ever had. Magnificent, they called him. To think that the bank he worked in told him he had to choose between his job and the footie. The day he gave up Everton for his job was a sad day indeed.’
‘Yes, but he had kids to feed,’ said Paddy. ‘What was he supposed to do? They say that the goalie for Accrington Stanley used to try and throw a sickie when he knew they were playing Everton if George was in goal, he was that good.’ Biddy shook her head, perplexed.
‘Jesus wept, are we here to talk about the football?’ she asked. ‘I thought we had something much more serious to discuss.’
Emily was the next through the door. ‘Dessie never stops talking about the footie, Biddy. I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve made a mistake.’ She removed the scarf from around her neck as she spoke, then put her arms out to take Dessie’s coat. As she did so, Dessie planted a kiss on the end of her nose and they exchanged a tender look. ‘And by the way,’ she said as she scooped his coat into her, ‘there’s a big bubble in the parlour wallpaper.’
Dessie put his hand to his head and groaned.
‘That’s an easy one,’ said Paddy, ‘just burst it with a pin, push the air out and then press it down with a bit more paste. Make a little cut if you have to.’
‘What’s this rattling?’ said Emily as she ran the flat of her hand down Dessie’s jacket.
‘Oh, I nearly forgot.’ Dessie grinned as he began to remove bottles of Guinness from the huge deep pockets in his coat. ‘I’ve brought us all some light refreshments.’
Elsie barged through the door next, bearing paste sandwiches, followed by Branna, Madge, Betty Hutch, Maisie and Stan Tanner, Bryan, and then Lorcan himself, straight from church. There was lots of chatte
r and Stan Tanner held aloft a bottle of sherry. ‘Here we go, ladies,’ he said. ‘Courtesy of Rory down the Silvestrian. I got it half price.’
‘Oh, really?’ said Madge. ‘And which ship did that fall off the back of?’
‘The Cotie is in, Biddy, which do you think? Get the tea, did you?’ said Stan as he gave Biddy a knowing wink.
‘Do you have enough glasses, Biddy? Shall I fetch some from next door?’ said Elsie before Biddy had the chance to answer Stanley.
‘I think you’d better. Before you go, Elsie, could your Martha spare Jake for an hour?’
‘Of course she can. I’ll get him to carry a couple of chairs through too.’ Elsie headed out again.
Betty Hutch was looking with disdain at Stanley and Dessie, who were now flicking the tops off the Guinness bottles. ‘I only want tea,’ she said.
‘One day I’ll force a drink down you, Betty Hutch,’ Biddy replied. ‘I know you quiet types, and when that day comes, you’ll be flinging your knickers off and chasing old Dr Gaskell down the wards.’
Everyone began to laugh, except Betty herself, though she almost managed a smile. She had held a torch for Dr Gaskell since 1927 and the mere mention of his name warmed her heart and brought the colour to her cheeks.
‘She would have retired years ago if it wasn’t for him, wouldn’t you, Betty?’ teased Biddy. ‘She only comes to work to catch a word with him. That and waiting for his wife to pop her clogs so that she can jump straight into his bed. Eh, Betty, when you do, ask him to take a look at your varicose veins before he jumps on. He might be too knackered after.’
Biddy chuckled as Betty sat down unperturbed. She was inured to it all after so many years of being ribbed and smutty talk. In her experience, the women who worked at the hospital were worse than the men. As Biddy turned on the tap to fill the kettle, she saw Elsie open the back gate with glasses in her hand. Behind her came Jake, carrying four kitchen chairs stacked one on top of the other. Biddy’s heart warmed at the sight. This is all for Mrs Ryan and Lorcan and it’s what we do best, she thought to herself. We look after our own.
Jake crashed in through the back door and sent a chill through the room as he said, ‘The police are out in the road. Parked at the end. Another car has just pulled up and joined them. Four men, two in each car.’
Emily cast a nervous glance at Dessie, who pushed his cap back and scratched his head. ‘Have you still got that record player in your parlour, Biddy?’
‘I have, but I only have a Glenn Miller to put on it.’
‘Doesn’t matter. Emily, come with me, quick. Let’s light the fire in the parlour and pull the curtains half across. Stan, carry the drinks though. Lorcan, go and get a bucket of coal. Bryan and Jake, get back out into the entry and carry Biddy’s tea chest into your scullery, Jake, just in case. But check no one is looking first. The bizzies obviously know Lorcan is living here. Tell Martha to come over here with the baby.’ Dessie was in his element. ‘This meeting is turning into a party. If they are watching the house, that is what they are going to see. Paddy, we are celebrating your being able to walk down the street for the first time without your crutches, isn’t that right? Elsie, carry the butties through.’
Half an hour later, Maisie and Stanley took a spin around the parlour in step to Glenn Miller and his band playing ‘In the Mood’ and were followed by Dessie and Emily, then Jake and Martha as Madge danced with the baby and Biddy and Elise clapped along. To all intents and purposes a grand time was being had in Biddy’s house. Fifteen minutes later, Bryan pretended he was walking back home out of the front door and down the street so that he could check on the police cars. He returned back down the entry at a run. ‘All clear,’ he said as he raced back in. ‘They’ve gone. We fooled them.’
Everyone was visibly relieved. Dessie was the first to speak. ‘Right, this is what we do,’ he said. ‘We need a rota of visitors for Mrs Ryan. Someone needs to pop a handkerchief or a few sweets into her handbag each day as a pretext for checking that no more money has arrived. Paddy, we need to keep all eyes on the back door to the ward. Someone will be coming back for that loot and we need to know who it is and get them while they are still in the hospital grounds.’
‘And do what with them?’ asked Paddy, wondering how he would manage that with one good leg and one wooden one.
‘We need to let them know the money has been deposited in the Mersey, that’s what. To make sure they know that there is no point in coming back and that it’s lying on the bottom of a muddy bank and gone for ever.’
‘Is that what we’re going to do with it then?’ asked Bryan as he looked up from the cup of Guinness Biddy had placed in his hands.
The room fell silent and then everyone began to laugh. ‘Not on your nelly, lad,’ said Stan.
‘The next thing is, everyone needs to look out for Lorcan. Stick near someone at all times, Lorcan. Don’t be alone. They may come straight for you first. We have to keep you safe. We don’t know what they will resort to to prise information out of you.’
Lorcan looked terrified.
‘And very importantly, no one, not one of you, breathes a word about this to anyone. Especially not to the likes of Hattie Lloyd or any of the gossips. Go to bingo tomorrow as normal. Lorcan, I’m keeping you on nights. Biddy, walk Lorcan to the Tanners’ on your way to the bingo, and Paddy, make sure he sticks by your side all night. Keep the patterns the same and the lad safe. I will put an extra lad on nights for you as well. Right, everyone, one last drink and then we have to go and keep the biggest secret of our lives – so far, anyway.’
Stan began pouring drinks and Biddy proposed a toast. ‘Raise your glasses, everyone,’ she said. And much to Lorcan’s surprise she continued, ‘To Lorcan and his mammy.’
The room rang out with toasts. ‘To Lorcan and his mammy.’
Lorcan felt more cared for, more wanted, more valued and protected than he had at any time before in his life. Tears pricked the backs of his eyes and he felt Biddy place her hand on his shoulder.
‘No time for that, lad. You have to help me wash up when this lot have gone.’ She smiled and patted his back, and Lorcan’s tears melted away.
None of them could have known that things were about to move very quickly indeed. If Dessie had known just how fast, he would have stationed a lad at the back doors to Mrs Ryan’s ward. But as he commented later, none of them could have guessed just how low a desperate man would go.
18
Beth and Victoria were clearing up theatre following a dilatation and curettage when Oliver Gaskell popped his head into the clean utility room. ‘Am I allowed to ask to date you tonight?’ he asked Beth. Then he turned to Victoria. ‘I have to ask permission to ask!’ he said with a grin.
‘It’s Pammy you should be concerned about,’ she replied tartly.
Oliver groaned.
‘Well, as you ask so nicely, I shall say yes,’ said Beth. ‘But I want to be back at the home for nine. We have exams after Christmas and I want to begin revising now.’
Oliver saluted her and replied, ‘Aye, aye, boss. I’ll pick you up in the car straight after work then. I will be outside the door at six. Is that enough time?’
Beth smiled. ‘Plenty, thank you. But no, not outside the door. I don’t want to have to explain you away to either Mrs Duffy or Pammy.’
He placed his hands on the top of the door frame and looked as if he was about to swing himself back and forth. ‘How long is that situation going to last?’ he asked.
‘Until I’ve decided whether or not you’re going to be worth explaining, with all the problems and aggravation that will bring me. That’s how long. Now, will you please leave as we have a neurology op to prep for and the consultant who is doing it is visiting from Walton. The patient is the mother of one of Dessie’s lads. Sister is in a flap and wants to make an impression on the consultant with our new theatre.’
A moment later he was gone.
Beth began to clear away equipment from the top of the trol
ley that Victoria was washing down.
Victoria was on the floor, wiping the wheels. ‘Well, I take my hat off to you, miss. You have him wrapped around your little finger, don’t you? I have to say, I thought he was quite charming at the Grapes the other evening and a great help with Roland. Roland is so embarrassed, though. He doesn’t normally faint.’
Beth smirked. ‘He did seem to be in quite a state when he came round. I’m glad we were there to help.’
Victoria sprang up with the cloth in her hand and threw it into the dirty wash sink.
‘How is he feeling now?’ asked Beth. She wondered when Victoria would confide her news and decided to probe. ‘More to the point, though, how are you? Not so sickly any more?’ She lifted the lid on the Little Sister steamer and placed the curettage spoon and the speculums on the tray inside. Raising the handle, she lowered the tray, fastened the lid and turned the timer to sixty minutes.
Victoria didn’t answer straight away. She turned the tap on the sink, let the hot water rush into her enamel bucket, then threw in two sterilizing tablets. The air filled with the smell of chlorine and the sound of angry fizzing.
Beth turned her head, trying to work out what words she could use to coax Victoria into sharing her secret. ‘You look a bit better anyway.’ Still no reply. ‘Any news of wedding bells? I wondered if Roland had proposed or something and then fainted with shock that you’d said yes.’
‘Oh, that happened a long time ago,’ Victoria said. ‘Actually, Beth, I do have some news. I’m going to tell everyone soon, but… I may have to be married a lot sooner than I planned and I may not be able to get through to finals.’
Beth turned to face her. ‘You’re pregnant, aren’t you?’
Victoria half laughed, half cried her reply. ‘I am. Trust you to be the first to guess, Beth Harper. Is there anything you don’t know?’
Beth put out her arms to Victoria, who willingly fell into them and allowed herself to be hugged. She didn’t see Beth’s smile and she certainly couldn’t hear her thoughts.
If this had to happen to any one of us, Beth thought, it is right that it is you, Victoria. No parents to disappoint. A man of means desperate to care for you. A home of your own to fall back on and money left over from the sale of the Baker estate to keep you in some degree of luxury.
The Mother's Of Lovely Lane Page 34