Secrets of Our Hearts

by Sheelagh Kelly

  ‘It’ll still be a tight old squeeze on top of the mortgage,’ worried Niall. ‘It’s the bed situation mainly – for the kids, I mean.’

  ‘You can have our spare bed,’ offered Reilly immediately. ‘Till you can afford some of your own, anyroad.’

  Niall looked grateful. ‘Nay, we’ll manage somehow.’ Then he smiled at Boadicea, who was sitting next to him on the sofa, and took hold of her hand. ‘The main thing is, I’ve got my house back. Now we can get other things cracking.’ He squeezed her fingers. ‘Have you had any luck with a solicitor, by the way?’ He was not speaking out of line, for she had been open in discussing this with Reilly and Eileen.

  She brightened. ‘Oh yes! Today, as it happens, I’ve found a good chap. Well, he seemed nice enough, but then we’ll only find out if he’s competent when he gets the results. Anyway, he’s begun a search.’

  Niall’s face broke into a wide grin. ‘Ooh, that’s got me all enthusiastic. Tell you what, shall we go into town and have a look at that furniture Eileen was on about? I’m not promising to buy it, mind, only to look!’

  Boadicea jumped up in readiness. ‘Why not? I’ve enough time on my hands.’

  ‘Don’t worry, love,’ he comforted. ‘You’ll soon get another job.’

  She did not seem too concerned. ‘Maybe sooner than we both thought. Mr Yarker says they were run off their feet in the Five Lions last night, so he’s going to put in a word for me. Right, then, let’s be off. Shall we take the kids?’

  ‘You are joking! You thought it was bad enough keeping them in line at the park – oh, that reminds me, I’ll have to pick up my photos from the chemist.’

  Boadicea was only half listening to him, her interest lured by Reilly and Eileen, between whom there had been a whole lot of whispering. ‘What are you two plotting?’

  Breaking away from his wife, Reilly stood and hoisted the leather belt of his trousers, as if about to make an important announcement. His voice was rather grave. ‘Now I’m gonna say summat, I’ll only make the offer once, so be careful how you reply. Me and the missus, we’ve got a bit of money put by, about five pounds or so, and we want you to use it to get yourselves back on your feet – don’t interrupt! I said I was only going to say this once,’ he rebuked Niall. Then he went to fetch a tin, one that seemed heavy and which rattled as he took it from its hiding place, indicating that it held the cash to which he was referring. ‘Now then, take heed. You can pay me back when you can – I don’t care when that is,’ he cut short another protest, ‘I’m only putting it by for my funeral.’ He cocked his head as if thinking about this, then added drily, ‘Mindst, if I die tomorrow and you’ve got the cash for this grand coffin I’m planning, I’ll be spitting mad.’

  Everyone laughed loudly, including Niall, who, knowing better than to offend, accepted the heavy tin, offering in return his deepest thanks. Turning to Boadicea he said, ‘See, that’s what I mean about a friend.’

  ‘Has he been cracking on we’re friends?’ Reilly projected false astonishment. ‘Nay, I hardly know him. I’ll be expecting interest on that! Don’t be laughing, I’m serious,’ he warned them, whilst they continued to chuckle. ‘Let’s see, there’s five pounds in there,’ he pretended to tot up the figures in his head, ‘at fifteen per cent that’s—’

  ‘Behave!’ Eileen punched him, saying to the beneficiaries, ‘Eh, he doesn’t half go on.’

  Transferring some of the money to his pocket, Niall handed the tin back for safekeeping, then tried to reiterate his deep gratitude. ‘I’ve got an insurance policy that’ll mature soon; I can pay you back then …’ but this was again brushed aside by Reilly.

  ‘Whenever you can … Now, I thought you two were off to town?’ A large hand upon each back, he pushed them towards the door, Eileen opening it for them.

  Even as he made his exit, Niall was still trying to thank his benefactors. ‘We’ll pay you back as soon as we ca—’

  Reilly held up his palm. ‘We trust you!’

  Niall turned to Boadicea with a wink. ‘Now about that Caribbean cruise …’

  It was unfortunate that they were still laughing as they emerged into the street, for just at that moment, who should come towards them but Harriet.

  Niall could tell from her face that this was no accidental passing, for she left the animated group of nephews and nieces to whom she had been talking, and now headed straight for him.

  Swiftly, he put himself in front of Boadicea, to prevent an assault on her.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry!’ The boxlike face was mocking. ‘I just came to give you this!’ And she thrust a key into his hand. ‘Me poor mother won’t need it, now she’s living with people who care about her. I could’ve thrown it in the river, but I suppose your fancy woman might as well have it.’

  ‘You didn’t just come out of your way to give me this.’ Niall fingered the key, wary of any quick movement, wishing his children were not there, and signalling for them to come in.

  ‘No, you’re right I didn’t!’ Harriet seemed to have no care for his offspring’s sensitivities, as they filed past their father and into the house. ‘I came to tell you what a pig you are!’

  ‘I’m not the one who deprives children of their toys and beds,’ shot Niall.

  ‘We haven’t deprived them!’ retorted Harriet. ‘Everything’s been stored at my house, ready for when they come. I’ve just been telling them—’

  ‘Well, thank you very much, and now you can go,’ said Niall.

  ‘Not before I let this one know her days at that house are numbered!’ Harriet jabbed a finger at Boadicea. ‘’Cause nobody round there’ll talk to you after what you did to me mam; they won’t even give you the time of day!’

  ‘We’ll take our chances,’ Niall finished quietly.

  ‘Well, don’t think this is over,’ yelled Harriet, retreating. ‘We’re not going to forget what you’ve done to our family.’

  14

  Harriet might as well have thrown the key in the river, for Niall was falling for none of her pretence. ‘The minute we move back in,’ he told Boadicea, ‘they’ll be round and chopping up all my new furniture. No, I’m having the locks changed!’ And he had, before installing so much as a stick.

  ‘She’s right about you having a key, though,’ he added, five days later, when the house had been put to order – which had taken a great deal of work between the pair of them, and Eileen and Reilly – and all the furniture had arrived, some new, some second-hand, along with a gas oven, allowing him finally to move in. Boadicea had kindly supervised this whilst he was at work. ‘Yes, I know you’re not living here,’ he pre-empted her objection, ‘but you’re going to be giving me a hand with the kids, aren’t you?’ Whilst still unemployed, she had promised to be there every day to provide a meal when his children came home from school. ‘So you’ll need one to let yourself in.’

  ‘Your neighbours’ll think I’ve moved in!’ she offered slight objection.

  He laughed. ‘Bo, how can it get any worse? They’re already not talking to us – about us, maybe.’ The only ones who still gave him the time of day were old Mrs Powers and Mrs Whelan, most of the others in the street being Nora’s cronies. He studied her. ‘You’re not really that bothered about what they think, are you –’ cause I can move?’

  ‘No, I couldn’t care less.’ She shook her head, trying to display nonchalance, but felt less than enthusiastic about the hostile neighbours.

  ‘Good, so you can have a key. I’m never leaving this door open again.’

  This in mind, he gave the children a serious talking-to. ‘And you’re not to let anyone in here, not even your granny – yes, you can go and see her!’ He forestalled the question they were obviously bursting to ask.

  ‘When?’ asked Honor. They had not even seen their grandmother at church, for she attended a different one now.

  ‘Just let’s get sorted out, and get the weekend out of the way and you can go any time you like, as long as you let me know first. But we have
to stick to some sort of routine,’ cause I can’t be worrying about what you’re up to when I’m at work. Now then, this is what’ll happen.’ He had already outlined the rota, but did so again just to reassure them. ‘I’m going to get your breakfasts, then Aunty Eileen’ll be coming round to see you off to school, and she’ll be here to give you your dinner, and to see if you need owt. Then Bo is going to make our tea.’

  ‘What’s your favourite meal?’ Boadicea asked instantly, speaking to Niall mainly.

  ‘Roast beef and Yorkshire pud,’ he declared.

  ‘Ye would say that!’ she remonstrated with a tap. ‘Why couldn’t it have been Irish stew? I can cook that. And here’s me taking you for a man that loves all things Irish.’

  ‘Well, some of them I do.’ His eyes twinkled with affection for her. ‘But if you can’t do roast beef …’ he sucked in his breath and shook his head, teasing her, to the fascination of his children, ‘I think we’ll have to have a change of chef.’

  ‘Sure, the beef’s no problem!’ Tis those blessed Yorkshire puddings I’ve no idea about. Does this mean you’ll not be taking up my kind offer of assistance?’

  He pretended to think deeply about this. ‘Well, maybe through the week – but not on Sundays.’ Then he chuckled. ‘No, I’m only having you on. Whatever you do will be great.’

  The children seemed not to share his sentiment. For Boadicea’s first attempt at providing for them was to cause much suspicion.

  ‘Eugh,’ frowned Batty, home from school and going straight to the table to peer under the muslin cloth that was covering a bowl.

  In the middle of doing something else, she rounded on him, though her scolding was mild. ‘Don’t say it like that – as if you’ve found snot on your sleeve!’

  Most of the children fell about laughing; even Honor dropped her air of reserve.

  ‘Don’t ye like boxty?’ they were asked, to which came murmurs of affirmation.

  ‘Well, that’s what it looks like raw,’ Boadicea told them. ‘But you’re going to have to wait till your father comes in to eat it.’

  ‘Aw, do we have to?’ moaned Dominic, leaning heavily on the table, and propping up his chin with a filthy hand. ‘I’m ravished.’

  ‘I think you mean famished,’ corrected Boadicea, catching a handful of Brian’s jumper as he clambered onto a chair. She turned to the eldest, who had reverted to her quiet state, not wanting her to feel excluded. ‘Will your father mind if we don’t wait for him, do you think?’

  Honor shook her head. ‘Me gran usually feeds us beforehand, so me dad can eat in peace.’

  Boadicea gave a decisive nod. ‘Then, I’d better make them now, hadn’t I?’

  Whilst the elder children refused to allow their pleasure free rein, still not wholly comfortable with this situation between their father and this woman, the younger ones displayed an eagerness to sample her cooking.

  Juggy formed a look of eager anticipation at her siblings, rubbing her hands to emphasise her delight, and grinning at the cook. ‘Me Aunty Beesy makes boxty!’

  Boadicea dealt her a smile. ‘Well, I’m not promising to do as good a job as herself, but I’ll give it a try.’ Under the critical eyes of onlookers, she placed a recently purchased frying pan on one of the rings of the gas stove, then melted some butter in it, and let in sizzle for a while, before ladling in dollops of the mixture, a wonderful smell of fried onion and potato soon beginning to tweak their nostrils.

  By the time the pancakes were cooked, and sprinkled with sugar and more melted butter, their mouths were watering, and they could hardly contain themselves, digging in with their forks and puffing and blowing to avoid burning their mouths.

  ‘Mm, not bad,’ Batty permitted grudgingly, once he had taken his fill.

  ‘Oh well, I’m glad you like it!’ the cook thanked him sourly, but smiled to herself at having cleared another hurdle.

  And when Niall came home, he was pleased to find such a happy household. ‘Well, I’m thrilled to see the house hasn’t burned down,’ he announced.

  ‘You cheeky article! Are you commenting on my cooking again?’

  ‘No!’ He laughed. ‘But it’s Friday the thirteenth, I felt summat must go wrong.’

  ‘No, something’s gone right for a change,’ she contradicted. ‘Mind you, I can’t vouch that it’ll be the same on Sunday.’

  She was to be right, for her Yorkshire puddings turned out like biscuits. With Eileen and Reilly invited to lunch after taking the children to church, Boadicea gave a groan of frustration. ‘Sure, I followed Ma Precious’s recipe to the letter!’

  ‘Is this the same Ma Precious as cracks on she does all the cooking, when actually it’s Georgie?’ Fork in hand, Niall was trying his best to help by mashing the potatoes, his sinewy wrists working the mash manfully round the saucepan.

  ‘But there’s hardly any ingredients!’ railed Boadicea. ‘How can it be so difficult? What’s the blessed secret?’

  ‘Hang on.’ He stopped mashing and beheld her with a mocking eye. ‘I’ll just go to Tang Hall and ask Nora – how the hell would I know?’ He laughed. ‘The only thing I can cook is a cup of tea. Well, maybe a bit of toast. Don’t worry about it, Reilly won’t mind.’

  Reilly did not mind, upon hearing from his hostess the very moment he entered that the meal was hardly fit to eat; nor did his wife, the latter seeking to offer kind instruction.

  ‘I bet you used self-raising flour, didn’t you?’ she asked Boadicea.

  ‘Sure, how else would I make them rise?’

  ‘Half the knack is to let the mixture stand for half an hour,’ revealed Eileen.

  ‘And what’s the other half?’

  ‘You have to hold your gob like that when you’re mixing it.’ Reilly’s big friendly face contorted its mouth to one side. ‘But never mind!’ He sat down with the others to consume the flat Yorkshire puddings along with the rest. ‘You won’t have to cook for us next Sunday. LNER are doing a Sunday excursion to Scarborough. We thought we might take the kids for a tri—’ He affected to be knocked sideways by the cries that greeted this announcement. ‘Steady on! You nearly blew me out of me chair!’

  ‘Well, we thought it’d give you two a bit of peace,’ Eileen explained to Niall. ‘God knows you deserve it after all you’ve been through.’ Her eyes moved to the frameless photograph of Boadicea on the mantelpiece, which Niall had leaned there. ‘You’re beginning to curl up, Bo.’

  All heads turned automatically to look at it. ‘Better curled up than ripped up,’ murmured Niall, between mouthfuls. ‘Lucky it was in my pocket when the vandals did their dirty work. I shall have to get a frame for it.’

  Eileen’s fork paused mid-air, dripping gravy. ‘Maybe we’ve got one …’ she began.

  ‘Why don’t you just back the furniture van up to our house?’ joked her husband vigorously. ‘Aren’t we doing enough for them in taking this blasted lot to Scarborough?’

  Knowing him for a jester, the children merely grinned.

  ‘Don’t you listen to him, love,’ Eileen instructed Niall and Boadicea, as she resumed her meal. ‘Get your feet up, the pair of you, and enjoy your bit of peace while you can.’

  By the following Sunday, though, Boadicea had found herself more bar work, so disappointingly, Niall was left on his own for much of the day. However, he arranged to have his dinner at the Preciouses; Ma would be saving a plateful for Boadicea after her stint ended at half-past two, so Niall had said he would keep her company. But, for this morning, after Reilly and Eileen had taken the children, straight from early Mass to Scarborough, he preferred to go back to bed with the papers and a bacon sandwich, and be thoroughly idle for once. Oh, but it was bliss!

  Inopportunely, this peace was to be interrupted towards midday by a sharp rap at the door. Though Niall was up and about by then, he was loath to answer the knock, interpreting its delivery as another hostile intrusion – for no friend would knock like that. Going to the window, he peered out, then groaned. There, outside
his door, were Nora and Harriet in their Sunday best. He ducked back out of sight, but too late.

  Catching the movement, Harriet said to her mother, ‘He’s in – knock again, Mam!’

  Is there no escape from that bloody family? thought Niall, going reluctantly to the door, and beholding the pair with weary disdain. ‘Forgot to take the whitewash off the walls, did you?’

  ‘I’ve come to see my grandchildren!’ Nora set a confident foot over the threshold, but Niall barred her way.

  ‘They’re not here!’ Without use of arms, he eased her corseted body out.

  ‘I don’t believe you! You’re trying to keep them from seeing me!’ Nora tried to get in again, but to similar effect.

  ‘I’m stopping nobody from seeing anybody!’ said Niall, his palm still aloft. ‘They’ve gone to the seaside with Reilly. The only reason they haven’t been to visit you yet is because it’s taken us a while to get settled in, and they’ve got their grandma to blame for that.’

  Having heard the altercation, Gloria’s face appeared round her own door.

  Nora immediately enlisted her help. ‘He says the children aren’t here! Have you seen them go out?’

  As usual Gloria did not have time to answer, Mrs Lavelle bustling importantly to say, ‘Hello, Mrs Beasty! Yes, it’s right what he says, they went out early this morning with that friend of his.’

  Nora and Harriet were momentarily thwarted. Then the senior demanded, ‘And has he got that other one in there?’

  Niall had barely time to voice his indignation when Mrs Lavelle replied, ‘No, the last time we saw her was at five o’clock yesterday afternoon – would that be right, Gloria?’

  To Niall’s growing outrage, the middle-aged daughter scuttled off briefly, and returned with a crumpled piece of paper, which was consulted. ‘Yes, that’s right, Mam. She was here a couple of hours.’

  ‘And have you written in your dossier how many time she visited the lav? You bloody cheeky – I can’t believe this!’ Niall was still stuttering his resentment, when another figure joined the gathering, the appearance of Father Finnegan causing him even further dismay. ‘Oh, for pity’s sake …’