by Comfort Me
Knowing it was foolish, he still walked down to see her at the end of Westbourne Street and was rewarded with another dazzling smile. He raised his hat and bowed, then hurried ahead and Dorrie said disparagingly, ‘He’s still a stick, isn’t he? No more lively than when he was under his mother’s thumb.’
Anna said nothing. She had decided that this was the best policy with the new Dorrie. It was evident that Dorrie had enjoyed discussing Eugene with Michael’s mother and gaining sympathy for all she was suffering from the gossip.
Michael told Anna that he had talked to his parents and received good advice. ‘Mammy’s a rock of sense,’ he said. ‘She offered to keep Dorrie there for a few weeks until the gossip died down but sure Dorrie wouldn’t miss all the Christmas junketings at the depot.’
Dorrie had a different version. ‘She wanted to keep me there but I told her I couldn’t be apart from Michael for so long. She said it would be good for my health but what she really meant was she wanted to know why there were no grandchildren appearing on the scene,’ she told Anna.
‘She may have wanted you to stay to avoid the gossip,’ Anna said stiffly.
Dorrie laughed. ‘They’ll be having a scandal of their own before long. The mad Dermot belongs to the Irish Republican Brotherhood and I’m sure it’s against the law. I’m not jumping out of the frying pan into the fire.’
‘What is it? I’ve never heard of it,’ Anna said.
‘Oh, Gaelic Leaguers and Fenians and all sorts of people. Some poets. Anyway, I didn’t want to know about it. He was off recruiting or something so I didn’t see him,’ Dorrie said carelessly.
When they returned to London Anna felt that she missed Michael more than Dorrie but her mother made enough fuss about the parting for half a dozen people. She declared that her heart was broken and lay on her sofa, sobbing theatrically and demanding smelling salts, brandy and water or her head bathed in eau de cologne.
Anna found this even harder to bear because of the contrast with what was happening next door. Mrs Deagan had suffered from a varicose ulcer for many years but it had suddenly become much worse. Maggie dressed it every morning but now her mother was unable to bear to stand and had to sit with her leg up on a stool.
She never complained, although her suffering showed in her face, and for a while she tried to do small household tasks, like peeling potatoes, while sitting down. But it was evident that her strength was unequal to it and the family persuaded her to rest.
Maggie stayed on to cook the evening meal every day and her husband, Walter, came uncomplainingly to eat with the family. Anna went in often to see her old friend, in spite of her mother’s objections. Mrs Deagan was bedridden now, looking like a tiny shrunken bird, but she always greeted Anna with a smile.
She told her about Walter. ‘He’s one in a thousand, girlie,’ she said. ‘That’s what you should look for in a husband, kindness, and I’m praying to God that you’ll find it.’
Her face contorted and Anna said gently, ‘Is the pain very bad? Should I get Maggie?’
‘No, no, just a bit of indigestion. I don’t mind the old pain but I’m worried about my poor Norah. She made a bad choice with that fellow, Anna.’
‘But he seemed so nice,’ Anna said, ‘and so fond of Norah.’
‘Aye, well that didn’t last,’ Mrs Deagan said grimly. ‘He couldn’t think he was more important if he was Lord Mayor. Thinks she should wait on him hand and foot. They came to see me and he was giving out about when her husband comes home a woman should be waiting with a good fire and his slippers warming and his meal on the table. It’s her duty.’
‘But he knew she was keeping on the shop,’ Anna said. ‘I mean, it’s a goldmine, isn’t it and Norah told me it would make it possible to buy furniture for that big house and all sorts of things.’
‘I know but he wants her to sell it and I think she’s going to. Her shop that she loves and built up from nothing.’ A tear trickled down Mrs Deagan’s cheek and Anna gently wiped it away.
‘Don’t upset yourself, Mrs Deagan. I think she’ll let him go so far then tell him that’s enough. Norah’s nobody’s fool.’
‘But she seems to be completely under his thumb, girlie. Our Jim tried to warn her to keep the shop money in her own name but she fired up.’
‘She probably has her own plans made,’ Anna soothed her. ‘I always think Norah is a lot like you. You wouldn’t let anyone put on you for long, would you?’
Mrs Deagan smiled but her eyes were closing and Anna waited a moment then went back to the kitchen to see Maggie.
Maggie had her back to the door and was pouring two cups of tea. When she turned round Anna was dismayed to see that her eyes were swollen with crying.
‘Your mum’s asleep,’ she said, as Maggie put the tea before her and they sat down.
‘She won’t sleep long,’ Maggie said. ‘The damn pain will waken her.’
‘She had some pain, but she said it was indigestion,’ Anna said.
‘Oh God, if only it was!’ Maggie exclaimed, tears pouring from her eyes.
Anna knelt down and put her arms round her. ‘Is it the varicose ulcer?’ she asked but Maggie shook her head, trying to mop up her tears.
‘Doctor’s just gone,’ she said in a muffled voice. ‘He said it’s a growth in her stomach. As if she hasn’t had enough to bear.’
She cried again and Anna cried with her. ‘Can’t he do anything?’ Anna asked finally but Maggie shook her head.
‘He’s given me morphine to give her but we can’t give her enough to stop the pain properly in case she gets used to it. He said her heart’s strong and she’s got a strong will, so she could live a long time with the pain getting gradually worse, so she can’t get too used to the morphine. She’ll need it badly at the end.’
They clung together, weeping, then Anna said indignantly, ‘You shouldn’t have been told this when you were on your own. I’m surprised at Dr O’Brien.’
‘It was the other fellow, Dr Hogan,’ Maggie said. ‘Dr O’Brien seems to be forever dashing off to London or somewhere lately.’
Anna was immediately reminded of Eugene and thought how little the distress over him seemed to matter in the face of this sorrow.
She told Maggie what her mother had said about Walter to comfort her and Maggie said quietly, ‘Aye, God’s ways are not our ways but sometimes things work out well in the end. I hope you find that, Anna. The first choice is not always right and sometimes there’s someone better nearer than you think.’
So the Deagans know about Eugene, Anna thought, but how kind and tactful they were. She hugged Maggie and went home to face her mother.
She was lying on the sofa and greeted Anna with a storm of abuse. ‘You’ve got low tastes,’ she shrieked. ‘You’d rather be with those creatures next door than your own mother. I needed you to bathe my head. Your duty is to me.’
‘Shut up!’ Anna suddenly shouted. ‘There’s a woman dying in agony next door and you – you…’
Her mother’s mouth fell open, then she flung herself back on the sofa, screaming hysterically and drumming her heels, but Anna turned and ran sobbing from the room.
Clara could hear the screams where she stood in the kitchen, but she firmly closed the door into the hall, and Nelly was out of earshot, scrubbing the back steps. For want of an audience the hysterics soon died away and Mrs Furlong became frustrated by the silence.
Eventually she went into the hall but the door to the kitchen was closed and there was no sound from upstairs. She went back to her sofa and rang her bell loudly.
Nelly came in and she said angrily, ‘Where have you been? The fire’s very low and I could do with a cup of tea.’
Nelly said cheerfully, ‘I’ve just taken one to Anna so there’ll be one in the pot.’
‘I want a fresh cup of tea!’ Mrs Furlong snapped. She would have liked to add, Not Anna’s leavings, but she felt that Nelly was not on her side these days. No one was on her side, she thought, tears of self-pi
ty rising in her eyes, but Nelly was making up the fire and ignored them.
Anna came down to help her aunt with the meal but it was an uncomfortable one. Anna usually made small talk to bridge the silences since the quarrel between her aunt and her mother but tonight she felt unable to speak or to swallow.
Her mother and aunt made a hearty meal and Anna collected their plates and her own, which she had barely touched, and went to bring in an apple pie and a jug of cream before seeking sanctuary in the kitchen, where Nelly was sitting with a cup of tea.
‘The only bit of peace,’ she said. ‘When your ma’s busy with her knife and fork.’ Then she looked more closely at Anna. ‘What’s up, girl?’ she asked. ‘Has she upset you?’
Anna shook her head. ‘No. It’s Mrs Deagan. Oh, Nelly, she’s dying.’
She burst into tears and Nelly stood up and put her arms round her. She was smaller than Anna but she patted her back as if she was a baby, saying, ‘There, there,’ then quietly, ‘I know, girl, I seen her the other day.’
‘But Dr Hogan’s told Maggie she’s got a growth. She can’t give her much morphine for the pain in case she gets used to it. He said she had a strong heart and a strong spirit and she could live a long time, with the pain getting worse, so she’ll need the morphine then.’
‘She won’t,’ Nelly said positively. ‘Won’t live a long time.’
‘But the doctor said…’ Anna began.
‘He doesn’t know her like I do. She’s got the spirit to fight it, but she won’t. Not if it’s upsetting her family. All her life they’ve come first. You’ll see, girl. When the time’s right she’ll just let go and die peaceful.’
‘Oh, I hope you’re right, Nelly,’ Anna said, drying her eyes.
‘I am, you’ll see. Susan Deagan’s been in charge all her life. She won’t change now.’
In spite of herself, Anna smiled, then she said slowly, ‘It’s awful to be wishing her dead, isn’t it?’
‘No, it isn’t,’ Nelly said sturdily. ‘We’re just wishing for a peaceful death for her, that’s all.’
Anna hugged her. ‘You’ve made me feel much better. Thanks, Nelly. I think I’ll go and tell Maggie what you said. Neither of us thought of that.’
‘You were too close to it. Yiz couldn’t see the wood for the trees.’
Anna had prepared the tea tray and Nelly said, ‘I’ll take that in, in case your ma nabs you. I’ll tell her you’re laying down with a headache.’
Jim and Luke were sitting with their mother and Maggie and Kate were in the kitchen when Anna slipped in to see them. She told them what Nelly had said and Kate said wonderingly, ‘She’s right, Anna.’
Maggie agreed. ‘I’m surprised we never thought of it,’ she said. ‘But, like Nelly said – the wood for the trees.’
‘Perhaps Ma can have more morphine now,’ said Kate eagerly.
‘I hope so,’ said Maggie thoughtfully, ‘but we’ll have to ask the doctor. If only we knew.’
Kate suddenly put her hands over her face, weeping. ‘I can’t believe this is Ma we’re talking about,’ she wept. ‘Oh, Ma!’
The two sisters clung together and Anna slipped quietly away.
She found Walter smoking his pipe near the back gate and he came to meet her. ‘I’m glad Maggie had you to talk to after that news. Thanks, Anna,’ he said.
‘I’m glad I was there,’ Anna said. She told him that she had just popped in to tell them of Nelly’s views and repeated them to Walter before she slipped through the gate and into her own house. She managed to reach her room unobserved and undressed thankfully and went to bed.
She met James Hargreaves as usual on Sunday morning and apologised for not warning him that Dorrie would be home. ‘I had rather a lot on my mind,’ she excused herself but he told her not to worry.
‘She looked very well,’ he was unable to resist saying, and Anna agreed.
They met again in the evening when they walked down for Benediction. It was also the confraternity night for Anna and after Benediction ended she moved to the side chapel with the other girls for the confraternity prayers. Afterwards the others went through for the social side of the evening but Anna slipped back into the church, where she found James waiting for her.
‘I thought you’d be gone,’ she said in surprise.
‘I remembered you saying you don’t go to the socials now so I waited just in case,’ he said.
‘I feel lost there on my own,’ she said. ‘Without either Dorrie or Isabel I feel like a fish out of water.’
‘I know exactly how you feel,’ James replied and Anna squeezed his arm sympathetically. She was relaxed and easy with James and felt that he was the only person she could talk to quite freely now and that he would understand and sympathise.
As they drew near Westbourne Street he said diffidently, ‘Do you have to go straight home? Could they think you’d gone to the confraternity social if you came up to my house instead? Frances would like to see you.’
Anna stopped walking and gave a deep sigh of relief. ‘I was just dreading the thought of going home,’ she admitted, ‘but it’s not a night for walking about, is it?’
‘Not unless you’re a glutton for punishment,’ James said, as a gust of wind, laden with sleet, drove into their faces. Without another word they continued past Westbourne Street and straight up the hill to Eastbourne Street, Anna thinking how neatly James had indicated that the proprieties would be observed with Frances present.
‘How is Frances?’ she asked.
James said quietly, ‘I’m worried about her. She’s crippled with the rheumatism now and in a lot of pain but she insists on carrying on working. I persuaded her to get a young girl to help her but I don’t think she accepts much help. The girl has a dog’s life, I think.’
‘If Frances is in pain, it’ll make her short-tempered,’ Anna said.
They had reached the house and James said as he opened the door, ‘You don’t mind the kitchen? It’s the warmest room,’ and led the way there.
Frances was hunched in an armchair beside a bright fire, with a crocheted blanket over her knees. Her face lit up in welcome when she saw Anna. She tried to rise but James said firmly, ‘Frances, don’t move. You know Miss Anna Furlong, don’t you?’
‘Yes. I seen you first when you were in your bassinet,’ Frances said to Anna with a smile.
Anna, usually so formal and reserved, surprised herself as much as James and Frances by bending down and kissing Frances on the cheek and the older woman patted her hand.
‘Get them wet clothes off as quick as you can,’ she said. ‘It’s enough to give you your death going out in this weather.’
James took Anna’s coat and hat and set another chair near to the fire. ‘Haven’t you got a cup of tea?’ he said to Frances. ‘Where’s Nonnie?’
‘I sent her home,’ said Frances. ‘I couldn’t do with her mooching round with a face like a wet weekend. She made up the fire before she went.’
James shook his head at her, but only said, ‘I don’t suppose you sent her up to do your fire, did you?’
‘Didn’t think of it,’ Frances replied.
James pushed the black kettle on to the fire, then made and poured tea and put out cake near to the two women. Before he sat down he said, ‘Excuse me,’ and they heard him running upstairs.
‘He’s gone to see to my fire. He’s insisted on a fire in my bedroom ever since the rheumatics started and a hot water bottle in my bed. He’s one in a thousand and here’s me neither use nor ornament to him.’ Frances sighed deeply.
‘I’m sure he doesn’t think that,’ Anna comforted her.
She was surprised at how easy and comfortable she had felt as soon as she arrived in the house, and wondered whether it was because pity for Frances stopped her thinking about herself, or because James was so relaxed in his own home.
‘I worry about it, though,’ Frances said. ‘I can still manage the cooking if the girl brings me what I need. It’s just my legs so far b
ut if it gets to my arms I’ll be useless altogether.’
‘I wouldn’t cross that bridge until you come to it,’Anna said. ‘My Aunt Clara’s had it in her shoulders for years, every winter, but her legs aren’t affected and her shoulders are all right in the summer.’
Frances looked more cheerful. ‘Aye, I’m all right in the summer,’ she said.
‘My aunt says she can be lying in a warm bed but knows the weather’s turned bad because her shoulders stiffen up. It’s strange that, isn’t it?’
James heard the murmur of voices as he came into the room with a stone hot-water bottle and smiled at the two women.
‘You’re a case, Frances,’ he said. ‘Your fire was almost out but it’s all right again now.’ He took the black kettle into the scullery to fill the hot water bottle, then refilled the kettle from the tap there and brought it back into the kitchen.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked Anna anxiously. ‘Warm enough?’ and when she smiled and nodded he said, ‘I won’t be a moment,’ and went out again.
Frances wiped tears from her eyes. ‘He’s gone to put the hot water bottle in my bed. When I think of the childhood he had and the way he’s turned out so kind and thoughtful I can’t believe it. That bitch of a mother and that evil old misbegotten swine of an uncle! I hope they’re both roasting in hell. They deserve to be for what they did to that poor child.’
Before she could say any more James came back and sat on a kitchen chair between Anna and Frances. ‘Did you tell Frances about Mrs Deagan?’ he asked Anna.
‘Nonnie told me she’s real bad,’ Frances said. ‘Is it her ulcer, Anna?’
‘No, I wish it was only that, although that’s bad enough,’ Anna said. She had no hesitation in telling Frances about Mrs Deagan, knowing that her questions sprang from concern, not curiosity, and that she and Susan Deagan had been friends for many years. ‘Dr Hogan told Maggie she has a growth and the pain will get worse.’
Frances crossed herself. ‘God be merciful to her and grant her ease,’ she said fervently and James and Anna said, ‘Amen.’