See you very soon, God willing.
Your dearest friend,
Maura
Maura had wanted to write chapter and verse on how full of herself indeed Alice was, but sure, hadn’t she offered to help, so that Maura herself could visit Ireland and settle Kitty into the convent. And, anyway, there was no benefit to be had in worrying Kathleen. She had enough on her plate, and they all had more important things to do than fret about Alice.
Tommy had turned a corner.
The night in the Grafton rooms on Saturday had been hugely enjoyable. There had been a singer doing a turn and they had all had a laugh and a dance. Things were calming down at home and as time went by the horror of the past receded. He desperately missed Kitty, but she would be home shortly, he was sure of that.
‘I’m home,’ Tommy shouted an octave too loudly as he walked in through the door, even though all the children could see him. ‘Whose the first with a kiss for yer da?’ The best part of every day for Tommy was just this, walking into his warm kitchen and the bosom of his family.
The boys and Angela elbowed each other out of the way, pushing forward to be the first picked up by Tommy. Even the baby sitting in her box began to squeal and wave her arms with excitement as she bounced up and down on her nappy and spat her dummy halfway across the room to attract his attention.
Maura was stirring a pot of stew at the range. She turned round and smiled.
With the baby in his arms, Tommy walked over to the range and pulled the ties undone on the back of Maura’s apron so that it fell open. Facing towards the children, he placed one arm across his belly and gave an exaggerated laugh.
‘For goodness’ sake, will ye stop it!’ Maura shouted as the shoulder strap fell from her apron and slid down to her waist. She playfully smacked Tommy with the wooden spoon. The children burst into squeals of laughter at her protests. Inside, her stomach churned at the thought of the news she must tell him later.
The light was fading as Maura scurried along the street to the postbox and then on to mass, glancing down the cobbled entry as she walked. Cowed by guilt. Alice had spoken aloud the thought she had kept hidden and now it wouldn’t leave her mind. A nagging, constant thought. It was all her fault.
As she pulled up her coat collar to keep out the breeze, she looked up at the top of the street and yet again saw the blue and white panda car pass by, slowly and menacingly. Her heart beat faster. The only thing standing between that car and the hangman was a deadly secret.
As she stepped off the kerb she saw another police car parked, yet again, outside Molly Barrett’s front door. It had been there earlier in the afternoon and she had noticed Annie O’Prey, on her hands and knees, scrubbing Molly’s step, with what looked like her ear stuck to Molly’s front door.
‘God, will Molly ever give up feeding them for company and just let them go?’ she whispered to herself, as she ran towards the post box.
Alice was settling Joseph down when she looked out of the bedroom window and saw Maura once again running down the road from the pillar box towards the church for mass. The priests from St Oswald’s had been covering at St Mary’s since the murder and Kathleen had warned Maura not to miss a mass. If she did, it would be a change from her normal pattern that might be noticed.
Running scared. Chased by the bells. Propelled by her guilt. Fleeing from the shadows. Terrified of missing mass.
Fearful of incurring the wrath of the priest for not making God her priority and showing him the devotional respect he deserved, of not taking the half-confession in case she should meet her end that night.
‘What difference will it make if she can’t confess the worst sin of all? They never learn, do they?’ Alice whispered into the side of her baby’s face. ‘What does a priest have to do to turn them away from his Church, eh, Joseph? How wicked does he have to be?’
Howard had felt his heart begin to race as Molly told him her story. He knew they now had to tread very carefully, or they could lose their murderer and their case.
Howard couldn’t help himself. As Molly spoke, he imagined promotion. He could see the silver epaulettes upon his shoulder. A vision popped into his head of being introduced to the young Queen and her husband when they visited Liverpool. He saw his and Simon’s photograph on the front page of the Liverpool Echo and his name in the headline.
‘This is it. All we have to do is charm the old woman, make her feel important and she will help to deliver those goods in a court of law, eh, Simon. We have scored, mate.’
‘Do you really think so?’ Simon asked. ‘You think all it will take is for Molly to persuade Daisy to talk in court? I thought Daisy was supposed to be simple?’
‘Well, she is, but if Molly can testify to her character and to be honest, who says the girl is simple, eh? She doesn’t seem that bad to me. No, Simon, never fear, Molly Barrett is the step we need to our promotion, mate. She is a canny woman, that one. What judge wouldn’t believe her, eh?’
16
ALICE ASKED HERSELF, was it wrong meeting Brigid’s husband, Sean, to just talk to him? She instantly decided it wasn’t. Alice knew neither pity nor guilt.
Alice and Sean had already met twice in the pub in the Dingle tucked into the corner in the snug, beside the fire, away from the noisy bar where the men gathered to drink when they knocked off work.
Sean ordered a Guinness for himself and a Babycham for Alice, served in a flat champagne glass, with a gold rim and a leaping Bambi on the side.
Alice nursed the glass and twizzled the stem. Just holding it made her feel special. She watched the small, soft bubbles float to the surface. She giggled when they gently popped against her nose as she lifted the glass to her lips.
Alice had never drunk Babycham before. It would have been considered a hideous expense. Guinness was deemed good enough for everyone on the streets, including pregnant and nursing mothers.
The last time they met, Sean had shared with her one of Mary’s letters from America and had watched Alice’s face light up as she read it, enthralled by her description of Chicago, her everyday existence and the possibility of a different life for Sean.
Mary had written that the previous night, they had been to a drive-through cinema and watched a movie, West Side Story.
Alice could not even imagine what a drive-through looked like.
Mary also wrote about how she, her husband and Sean’s brother, Eddie, were trying to persuade their old school friends to travel to America and join them, because they so desperately needed men. It broke their hearts to think of how many from home were still struggling, when they had so much to offer in America.
They had been awarded a construction contract to build a high school in Chicago. Mary had written,
I cannot begin to tell you the work opportunity out here. We work hard and are honest and have a good name. We are turning down well-paid contracts every day because we cannot cope with the amount of work we are being asked to quote for.
If it is the fare ye are concerned about, just tell me. We can and will pay for the whole family to travel out. It won’t even be us paying, Sean, it will be accounted as a business expense.
‘Can you imagine that?’ said Sean to Alice. ‘It won’t even be them paying, with the business being so big. I don’t understand why I am working my guts out day and night when a new world is waiting for us all, yet Brigid won’t hear of it or even talk about us going, unless we pay for ourselves. Brigid knows that will take another two years of my having to beat some poor sod’s head in every Friday night.’
Sean’s voice began to rise in frustration but Alice didn’t try to stop him. It gave her pleasure to know that he was venting his anger and frustration with Brigid. That behind Brigid’s perfect facade of calm and organization, things were far from well.
They had arranged a further illicit meeting. The unspoken knowledge that they both shared the same dream drew them together. Neither questioned what they were doing but, for the first time, Alice felt a thrill of e
xcitement as she looked at the kitchen clock and realized that, in just six hours, she would be sitting opposite Sean again. Whilst she supped with Sean, Brigid would be minding Joseph. The delicious, double treachery made Alice’s eyes shine brightly with betrayal.
Earlier in the day, Alice had pushed open Brigid’s back door with one hand, as she parked the navy-blue Silver Cross pram under the kitchen window and shouted through the door, ‘Are you sure you don’t mind having him?’
Brigid stood on her tiptoes and leant forward to look out of the kitchen window at Joseph in his Silver Cross, the Rolls-Royce of all prams.
‘Holy Mary, is he asleep? Is that lucky, or what? Of course I don’t mind having him, especially if he’s asleep now,’ she shouted, as she stacked the baby bottles she had been washing on the draining board and took a tea towel from the hook underneath the sink to wipe her hands dry.
Alice pushed the pram brake down to lock it and stepped into Brigid’s kitchen, tucking her always errant wisps of carefully styled hair back into her criss-crossed hairgrips.
Anyone else would have thought twice about leaving an extra baby with Brigid this particular afternoon.
Brigid’s youngest was teething. Brigid herself was exhausted, pale from lack of sleep, and the black bags under her eyes made her appear much older than she was.
‘Mrs McGuire is at the shop and she will be back to help in a minute. We will be fine. Is he fed?’
‘Yes, and he has only just dropped off in the pram on the way over,’ said Alice, as she turned to face the mirror to catch a glimpse of herself. She took out some of the hairgrips and then slipped them back in again. ‘God, I wish I had worn a hat today. The rain will pour any minute, I can tell.’
When Alice had first asked Brigid to look after Joseph, she had said she was visiting a sick friend whom she had once worked with at the hotel and that she would be gone for just a few hours.
It had been a simple and easy deceit, as long as she wasn’t asked too many questions.
‘Have ye time for a cuppa, Alice, before ye go? I’m desperate now, so I am. I haven’t stopped all day. Shall I put the kettle on?’
Brigid was keen for Alice to stop and talk.
Mrs McGuire was as bad as Sean and had never stopped harping on about America.
Although Brigid would never mention it, she was upset that they never considered her own mammy and daddy in Cork. She missed them every day and the thought of travelling all the way to America, putting so many more miles between them, was more than she could bear to contemplate. Yet Sean and Mrs McGuire kept pushing and pushing.
The previous Sunday, there had been a mass at the cemetery in Cork for Brigid’s brother who had died young in a tragic accident, fifteen years before. Brigid had been the only sibling not in attendance and she felt that guilt keenly.
Now Sean and his mammy wanted to take her further across the sea, miles away from all that she ached for, and she couldn’t bear it.
Rather than moving away from Ireland, she yearned to return, to be again with everyone they knew and had grown up with. She wanted their daughters to love their country as she did and yet each year went by without a visit. The same excuse was always given.
The need to save money.
Mrs McGuire came to them to visit, so why would they struggle with all those children and the travelling?
Bloody Mrs McGuire.
Brigid thought she had everything under control and she did, most of the time. But when his mammy came to visit, her ability to keep their domestic routine, as well as Sean’s levels of expectation, continuing as normal was stretched to the limit.
Alice said, ‘I haven’t time, sorry, Brigid, but I will later. I shan’t be long and thanks again. I really appreciate it.’
Brigid stared at Alice’s departing back and suddenly felt close to tears. She was not one for self-pity, which she regarded as a sign of over-indulgence, but she had been looking forward all day long to Alice calling in.
Just to talk about the things that kept every day ticking along in the rhythm of the four streets. Anything that was outside of her own four walls and ten children.
Alice was flying to the bus stop at the top of the road when she almost collided with Mrs McGuire and Peggy. The children followed them like a row of ducklings, bobbing along in their wake.
Peggy instantly sensed that all was not quite right.
‘Well, hello, Alice, ye look grand indeed. Where are ye off to, then?’
There was no such thing as a secret in the four streets and what Peggy didn’t know about everyone wasn’t worth knowing. There was no way she would allow Alice to scuttle past as she was obviously trying to do, without a full explanation.
‘I’m off back to the hotel to visit the housekeeper. She’s a bit poorly. I trained her before I left and I knew her even before then. She has asked especially for me to visit and I thought it would be a bit peevish not to pop back to see her, seeing as how it’s my fault she ended up with the job…’
Alice was gabbling.
Peggy and Mrs McGuire stared and for a few seconds neither spoke as they digested Alice’s words.
Alice realized she was gabbling. They realized she was gabbling.
She thought they could probably tell, just by looking at her, what she was up to.
Mrs McGuire stared at Alice with naked curiosity.
‘Where is Joseph?’ said Peggy. ‘Has Kathleen come back home?’
‘Brigid has him and I shan’t be very long. I’ll be back before he wakes.’ And, with that, before they could answer, just as the Crosville bus came into sight, Alice shouted, just a little too loudly, ‘I have to go, I don’t want to miss the bus,’ and then she was off round the corner, onto the bus and disappeared in a flash.
‘Sick housekeeper, my eye,’ said Peggy, as she and Mrs McGuire turned round and began walking again. ‘Wearing stockings and lipstick at four o’clock? She must think we are stupid. That one’s off for a job interview, I’ll bet.’
‘Either that, or she has a fancy man,’ said Mrs McGuire, spitting on her handkerchief to wipe the cinder toffee from around her granddaughter’s mouth.
Brigid’s daughter squealed at her grandmother’s saliva being wiped across her sticky face.
‘Now shush, don’t tell Mammy I bought ye sweets,’ Mrs McGuire said to her earnestly. ‘What yer mammy doesn’t know won’t hurt her, now, will it?’
Sean had run up the steps as soon as his shift finished and arrived at their pub in plenty of time. He was already sitting, waiting for Alice, on the studded burgundy-leather seats in the corner of the snug behind a dark-oak partition.
He had bought the usual Guinness for himself and a Babycham for Alice. Sean didn’t want to touch his drink until she arrived. He lit a cigarette and, taking another out of the packet for Alice, propped it up against the ashtray, waiting.
It had begun to rain heavily and he wondered if she would still come or if the downpour of rain would make her think twice.
It would be the third time they had met and Sean knew it was now risky. However, it made no difference. The thrill he felt at the prospect of spending more time with Alice was greater than what he felt when the bell rang at the end of a bout to announce that he was the winner.
This was potentially far more dangerous.
He turned his gaze towards the half-frosted snug windows and felt grateful they were hidden. No one came in here before seven in the evening. They would be safe.
Noisy chatter from the bar had spilt over into the snug. Men were arriving in small groups, heading for the first drink of the day, followed by the women from Upper Parliament Street, looking for their first early trick of the night.
The air in the pub was a deep hazy blue from the smoke of Woodbines and Players, which mingled with the smell of yesterday’s stale alcohol, soaked into the dark wooden floor. The fire provided enough heat and the apple-wood logs helped to transform smells that were odious in the cold light of morning into the more pleasant
aroma of freshly roasted hops and warm beer by dusk.
Sean lit his cigarette and as he threw the match into the fire, he saw Alice run past the half-frosted window. He took a deep breath and tried to calm the knot in his stomach.
He had thought about nothing but meeting her again since the last time. She had filled his thoughts and his mind.
At work he had been unable to look Jerry in the eye and, without realizing, had fallen into a subdued mood, which made the other men on the docks wonder what was the matter with the big man. But a man’s thoughts were his alone, so no one pried. Unlike the women.
Alice dashed into the snug, breathless and soaked. She had reasoned that if she ran fast from the bus stop to the pub, fewer raindrops would wreck the hairdo she had spent hours teasing into place.
She was wrong. Her fringe had long escaped her hairgrips and was plastered to her forehead. Drips ran down into her eyes, smudging the eyeliner and mascara she had applied with such precision.
She didn’t care. As she ran into the snug, her heart melted. Sean instantly shot to his feet and removed his cap in honour of her presence. He was the only man ever to have done that for Alice and suddenly she felt like the woman she knew she always should have been.
Not like the one who had tricked Jerry into having sex with her to make him propose.
Alice removed her coat and Sean reached out his hand.
‘Here, give it to me. I will hang it by the fire to dry. Make sure you don’t forget it before ye leave.’
Alice relaxed and began to laugh. It was amazing to her how easily laughter came when she was with Sean.
‘Sean, in this weather, only an idiot would forget a coat. Have you seen how heavy the rain is?’
Sean began to laugh with her as he poured her drink and then, both turning to face the fire, drinks in hands, they picked up the conversation where they had last left off and talked and talked.
Sean had never spoken so many words to Brigid in one day, ever.
Alice had never spoken so many words to anyone in her entire life, ever.
For the first time, Alice talked about her childhood.
Hide Her Name Page 18