Pack Up Your Troubles

by Anne Bennett

  Grace was glad. His brooding silence had got on her nerves and had scared Bridget and Jamie. They’d been afraid to make a noise when their father had been in, but almost as soon as the door closed behind him, they began clamouring for a story from Grace.

  With Mary Ann sucking a bottle on her knee and the children sitting either side of her in the armchair, Grace began. Although they enjoyed the fairy stories she’d told them first, they really enjoyed the stories of Ireland and of the life she and Kevin had had when they’d lived there.

  The minutes ticked away without Grace being aware of it. Mary Ann dropped off to sleep and Grace took her upstairs and laid the baby in the cot in the bedroom, and it wasn’t until she came back downstairs that she realised how long her mother had been gone.

  She put her coat on and wrapped her scarf around her neck before she set out to see if she was all right, but even so the cold made her gasp and she pulled her scarf up over her mouth and edged her way carefully, mindful of her slithering feet. She peered through the gloom as she stepped out from the lamp that lighted up the yard as far as the brew house, expecting to see her mother coming back, walking with the peculiar waddle pregnant women tended to develop.

  There was nothing, so she picked her way, cautiously waiting for a moment for her eyes to adjust to the more intense darkness and then moving forward again. She almost stumbled over the prone figure of her mother before she’d realised what it was that she’d tripped over.

  Then her scream filled the air as she threw herself down beside her, her mother’s sodden coat soaking her knees as she cried, ‘Mammy, Mammy?’ And then as her mother didn’t respond she raced up the yard, unheeding of her feet skating over the ice, yelling for Elsie.

  Moss’s shop had been officially shut for over two hours when there was a hammering on the door. Kevin looked in enquiry at Syd and he shook his head.

  ‘Leave it, boy. We’ve been open since seven o’clock this morning. If people can’t get their things between seven o’clock in the morning and six in the evening, then it’s hard luck to them, they can do without.’

  Kevin was inclined to agree with him. It always amazed him the number of people who’d come in at one minute to six and then take an age over their purchases. He’d noticed it the two Saturdays he worked and this, his first full day. Closing at six was a joke. And now someone was hammering, and it was past eight o’clock in the evening.

  ‘They’ll get fed up when we don’t answer,’ Syd said.

  But whoever it was didn’t get fed up. In fact, the hammering got worse, and eventually Syd was forced to heave himself from the chair and put his stockinged feet in his slippers. Remembering his father’s visit on Saturday, Kevin strode down the stairs after Syd as Gwen hovered on the landing.

  But when the blind was shot up it revealed a frantic and very agitated Grace, who almost fell into the shop as Syd opened the door. Kevin saw his sister’s face was swollen and blotchy from crying and tears still ran down her face.

  ‘What is it?’ he demanded urgently as apprehension seemed to grip his stomach. ‘What is the matter?’

  Syd, tutting at the distress of the child, ushered her inside. Grace made an effort to control herself. She scrubbed at her eyes with her coat sleeve and though her tears were wiped from her face, she’d cried for so long, her gulping sobs continued. She also panted breathlessly, for she’d run all the way from her house, but for all that she struggled to explain.

  ‘It’s Mammy . . . She’s . . . The baby’s coming. But that’s not all,’ she went on, catching the look of relief on Kevin’s face. ‘That’s not the worse thing at all. She collapsed in the yard and knocked herself out. She lay there for ages.’

  She could say no more. She couldn’t tell Kevin about the water Elsie said lay inside her mammy’s tummy around the baby to protect it that had soaked Maeve’s clothes into a sodden freezing lump, surrounding her as she lay on the icy cobblestones. You couldn’t explain that to a boy and, knowing the power of his temper, she didn’t tell him either of the doctor who’d been so angry at the mess of her mother’s face, nor of the ambulance men who’d loaded Maeve on to the stretcher and turned to Grace and Elsie as they passed under the lamp and asked Elsie, ‘Has this woman been assaulted?’

  No, she couldn’t tell Kevin that, for he hadn’t known that their father had laid into their mother the previous day. Kevin should have known that would happen, and she should have known too. In just a few short weeks, they’d remembered what manner of man their father was. Elsie knew, and Alf, and that’s why they’d taken the kids out of the way, but good as they were, it wasn’t their problem. If either she or Kevin had been around it might never have happened.

  But it had, and the doctor and one of the ambulance men had remarked on it. They wouldn’t let Grace in the ambulance, but Elsie got in with her. ‘Stay with the weans,’ she told Grace. ‘Alf is with them now. Go in to him.’

  But Grace never went near the house. Instead she made for Moss’s shop and Kevin. She looked at her brother now and said, ‘She’s in a bad way. It’s lying out in the cold for ages, and with the baby coming as well.’

  ‘Where did they take her, the General?’

  ‘Aye, but they won’t let us in.’

  ‘They will, by God. Even if we can’t see her, I’ll find someone to tell us how she is.’

  Kevin knew this was one time when his height and voice could be used to his advantage. He knew he could pass for a lot older than his years and decided to do just that, at least for this one evening.

  ‘I’ll come along with you,’ Syd said. Kevin opened his mouth to argue but Syd went on, ‘I’d like to know how your mother is myself and another adult on your side will be no bad thing.’

  Kevin gave a brief nod. Syd was a good sort and whatever he saw and heard that night, Kevin knew it wouldn’t be bandied about as gossip in the shop. ‘I’ll just go and get my coat,’ Syd said, and added, ‘I’ll just clear it with Gwen; tell her what’s what.’

  He hurried from the room and Kevin uncharacteristically crossed the room and put his arm around his sister’s heaving shoulders. It was a gesture he hadn’t done in years, but at that moment it was the thing Grace appreciated above all others. She’d felt so afraid for her mother, and she’d heard enough snatches from the ambulance men to know they were concerned for her – so concerned, she’d heard one say, he doubted she’d make it. Grace had wanted to scream out her denial at that, but she hadn’t, and when Elsie had stepped into the ambulance and left her on the pavement she’d felt so alone. She’d needed Kevin and felt comforted by the reassurance of his support and the hug he now gave her.

  EIGHTEEN

  When Maeve was eventually pronounced out of immediate danger, her family weren’t the only ones to sigh with relief. The doctors did too, for they hadn’t been at all sure she would survive. The baby, which they’d taken from her by Caesarean section while she was still unconscious, had been a little girl and she’d been stillborn.

  The doctor explained this gently to Maeve the day after she’d regained full consciousness.

  ‘I know you have other children,’ he said, ‘for two of them have been here every day and, I may say, badgering the life out of me for news of you.’

  ‘That will be Kevin and Grace, I expect,’ Maeve said.

  ‘Well, I’m sure your children will be a consolation for you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, Mrs Hogan, your internal organs have been damaged and therefore it will be highly unlikely that you will ever carry a child again. I think you know how that happened. I had a talk with your neighbour when you were admitted.’

  If the doctor expected tears, or a grief-stricken woman, he was surprised. Maeve felt only mild regret for the baby girl that she’d never wanted. In fact she felt relief, although she felt guilty for feeling that way. The doctor wondered at her lack of emotion and he remembered the agitated neighbour who’d travelled in the ambulance with her. He’d been worn out and
had been on duty for eighteen hours when Maeve had been brought in. A quick examination plainly showed a young woman in the throes of labour who’d been beaten badly, and recently too, for the bruises were fresh. She was also suffering from hypothermia and a nasty crack on the head, needed stitching, and added to that she appeared to be suffering from extreme malnutrition. He hadn’t been the only one in the examination room who’d been shocked at the thinness of her and knew he had a very sick woman on his hands.

  Elsie, seated in the grim hospital corridor, saw the grey-faced doctor approach, his mouth in a tight line, and knew the news was bad.

  ‘Are you a relative of Mrs Hogan?’ he asked.

  ‘No, but a good friend and neighbour,’ Elsie stated stoutly, ‘and have been for many years. How is she, Doctor?’

  ‘Poorly, very poorly,’ the doctor said. ‘She’s been prepared for surgery now.’

  ‘Surgery?’

  ‘The baby has to be taken away,’ the doctor said. ‘I’m afraid it’s dead. The woman has been badly beaten too. Can you throw any light on that as you know her so well?’

  Elsie was in a turmoil. She didn’t know how much Maeve would want the doctor to know and, anyway, she thought the doctor was talking of the marks on Maeve’s face, for it was all she’d seen and so she said, ‘Maybe she bruised her face when she fell over.’

  The doctor raised his eyebrows. ‘Both sides?’ he questioned. ‘And managed to split her lip and black her eye? No, I’m afraid her injuries are consistent with punches, but I’m not just interested in her face.’ He looked steadily at Elsie and said, ‘You may not be aware of it, but apart from her legs, there’s scarcely a part of her body that is not severely bruised, with the skin broken in some areas.’

  Elsie didn’t know and the doctor could see that. ‘Did a beating damage the baby? Is that what you’re saying?’

  The doctor shrugged. ‘Probably. It has certainly damaged the mother and is the most likely cause of the birth being brought on.’

  Anger coursed through Elsie’s veins and she didn’t care any more what Maeve wanted her to say, the hospital should know. ‘The bugger she’s married to did this to Maeve,’ she burst out. ‘And this isn’t the first time, nor the first time he’s landed her here in hospital either.’

  She didn’t care how cross Maeve would be with her – that was if she ever recovered – for Elsie knew her condition was very grave. But, she promised herself, if Maeve didn’t pull through, she’d shout from the rooftops the type of man Brendan Hogan was. She’d do her best to bring him to justice. She’d see someone about it. He’d not get away with it.

  The arrival of Kevin and Grace, with a man they introduced as Syd Moss, put an end to the revenge Elsie was planning for Brendan Hogan. She answered the children’s question about Maeve’s condition and about the baby that had died inside her, but she said nothing of her other injuries. She knew instinctively that Maeve would not want Kevin to go looking for his father seeking retribution and, knowing Kevin as she did, she guessed that was exactly what he would do if he knew. Even in Elsie’s desire for revenge she did not envisage involving his son.

  But it soon became apparent that nothing would happen to Brendan this time either. The subject was broached by the hospital doctor when Maeve had been in hospital little more than a week.

  ‘Have you considered what you’ll do when you leave here?’ he asked.

  ‘Do?’

  ‘Well, you don’t intend to return to your husband?’ the doctor said. ‘You could have died. You could sue him for assault.’

  ‘Doctor,’ Maeve said wearily, ‘the police don’t take action against domestic assaults.’

  ‘But surely . . .?’

  ‘Doctor, it’s not a crime for a man to assault his wife,’ she went on. ‘The police would laugh in my face if I tried. Maybe they could have a nice quiet word with him – and a fat lot of good that would do.’

  ‘But you realise he shouldn’t be able to hit you like this?’

  ‘I’m not a bloody fool altogether,’ Maeve snapped. ‘But in the dead of night, who the hell could stop him? When he gets so drunk that he can hardly stand, and so angry that he wants to kill me, who the hell will protect me and my children then? And if I asked the police to speak to him, it would be worse for me when they’d gone.’

  The young doctor saw that the woman might be correct in her assumption of how her husband would react, but her injuries had been appalling. She could easily have died. Surely there was something he could do. ‘What if I was to speak to the authorities? I’m sure they would rehouse you in a safer place away from him.’

  Maeve had actually laughed then. She regarded the young earnest doctor with exasperation as she said, ‘Doctor, be realistic. We’ve just fought a war when Birmingham, along with many other cities, was bombed to pieces. Housing people was a problem before. It will be a nightmare now. They won’t look kindly on a request from you or anyone else to find me somewhere different to live because I’ve had a row with my husband.’

  ‘So you’ll go back to him?’

  ‘I have no alternative,’ Maeve said wearily. ‘I tried to leave him once before. I was forced to go back by the Church. I couldn’t go through it all again.’ She remembered Brendan’s threat that if she tried that again, he’d find her and bring her back and he’d kill her. She knew he was capable of doing just that.

  She gave a shudder at the thought of it. The young doctor noticed, but didn’t understand. He’d also noticed the naked fear in her eyes, but she saw his gaze upon her and her voice was steady when she said, ‘I have living with me a twelve-year-old girl and another just six, a boy of four and a baby less than eighteen months. There is nowhere I can go where he won’t find me.’

  Maeve stopped then and tried to think of the level of Brendan’s rage if she was to try to flee from him and what he’d do to her when he found her. It would be impossible anyway with four dependent children and without a halfpenny to bless herself with. ‘If I could go, if I had the wherewithal to leave him,’ she told the doctor, ‘wherever it was he’d seek me out and then . . . then it really would be only God that could help me.’

  The doctor heard the touch of despair in Maeve’s voice, but also the resignation. ‘So is there nothing we can do to help you?’

  ‘I know you mean well, Doctor,’ Maeve said, ‘and I appreciate it. Living with my husband is not a bed of roses, not for me or my children, and I’ll not pretend it is, but I married him and that’s that. If you really want to help, keep him and Father Trelawney away while I’m in here.’

  Dr Fleming could have told the young doctor he was wasting his time. He knew whatever the provocation, Maeve Hogan would not, could not, leave her husband. He glanced at her pitiful bruised face and thought back to the night he’d seen her lying in the yard after her frantic daughter had come pounding on his door. He’d thought for one moment she was dead and she hadn’t been far from it. He could never understand why women put up with it and yet, realistically, what could they do about it? Maeve Hogan was just one of many.

  He’d actually popped in to see her twice before she regained consciousness and did so again just after the junior hospital doctor had made an abortive attempt to talk what he termed ‘sense’ into her.

  ‘She doesn’t want to see either her husband or the parish priest,’ the young doctor complained to Dr Fleming. ‘It’s pretty obvious they frighten her, but she won’t inform the police.’

  ‘So, have you banned them?’

  ‘You can be damned sure I have,’ the young doctor said vehemently. ‘After seeing the mess the husband has made of his wife along with the perfectly formed baby that was born dead, I wanted to send his teeth down his throat, never mind ban him from the hospital. And as for the priest, if she doesn’t want to see him, then she doesn’t have to.’

  Dr Fleming knew how the junior doctor felt. Brendan Hogan and the priest always evoked the same feelings in him. He sincerely hoped Hogan at least would eventually get his com
euppance, and before he inflicted more harm on his wife. But he shared none of the conversation he’d had with the young doctor with Maeve when he sat by her bed a little later.

  Two days later, Maeve’s Uncle Michael came to see her. He understood, he told her, that she would be upset about losing her baby, but to hold it against her husband and the priest wouldn’t help her.

  Maeve gazed at her uncle and wondered why he’d never seen through Brendan. If she blurted out what Brendan had done, he’d scarcely believe her anyway. Only Elsie, Alf and the hospital knew the true facts, and she wanted it kept that way. She certainly didn’t want Kevin getting wind of it. He didn’t even know her face had been battered, for though he’d come every day since she’d been admitted, it had been almost a week before he’d seen her. By then her face had calmed down a lot; any swelling or discoloration he might have noticed he put down to her fall in the yard.

  So Maeve didn’t want to tell her uncle about her hatred of Brendan, nor that of Father Trelawney, who she believed was in collusion with him. So being unable to say any of this, Maeve said nothing and eventually Michael said testily, ‘Maeve, have you listened to a word I’ve said?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I expected an answer.’

  ‘You didn’t ask a question,’ Maeve pointed out. ‘You said the priest couldn’t understand what I have against him. That didn’t need an answer.’

  ‘Maeve, you are being deliberately awkward. I know you’ve been very ill, and so I’m prepared to make allowances.’

  ‘I don’t want allowances made for me,’ Maeve hissed. ‘And I don’t believe for one minute that Father Trelawney is confused by my attitude. He’s not that stupid.’

  A hovering nurse, hearing the heated interchange and seeing Maeve’s flushed angry face, came forward and suggested that Michael leave. All the nurses knew about Maeve and what had happened to her and she had their sympathy. Also, the doctor had issued strict instructions that she was not to be upset in any way, so the nurse said to the man, ‘I’m afraid Mrs Hogan is far from full recovery yet,’ and she led him from the ward.