Pack Up Your Troubles

by Anne Bennett

  Kevin came home for a week in November, just after his eighteenth birthday. Maeve and the whole family were delighted to have him back. Maeve’s heart swelled with pride as she held him close. He’d shed the last of his boyhood whilst he’d been away, she realised, and knew her son had become a man. Jamie was like a dog with two tails, and sat at Kevin’s feet listening to him speaking about the farm that he himself had never seen and of the grandparents he’d never met.

  Grace felt a wave of homesickness wash over her as Kevin spoke, and she plied him with questions. Kevin, glad his sister was totally better of whatever had ailed her about their mammy’s engagement, answered her readily. He’d noticed the difference in his sister immediately. She certainly wasn’t the same girl who acted so strange the night Nuala had arrived, when she’d moaned on about their mother not marrying a man who’d been her friend for years. Instead of congratulating her, she’d acted so oddly and he’d been determined to take her to task about it at the first opportunity.

  But she’d seemed to have got over it on her own. Maybe, he’d reflected, it was something girls went through. There had been a mate of his at school in Ireland who’d known all about girls, having a bevy of older sisters and an inquisitive nature. It was all to do with hormones, he’d said. In the quiet corners of the school yard, he’d whispered about things that had happened to girls that the other boys could scarcely credit. Kevin had watched Grace overtly for weeks afterwards, dying to ask her questions, but knowing she’d never discuss such things with him.

  Still, whatever it had all been about, he was glad she’d got her hormones sorted out at last. It would be one person fewer to worry about. In fact he found Grace amazingly good company and allowed himself to be bullied into going dancing with her and her friends. He protested every step of the way that he’d never be able to do it, and then when he got there, took to it so well that he seldom sat down all night.

  Grace had often asked Nuala along with them too, but she never would go, though Grace didn’t think it much of a life for her aunt, staying by the fireside night after night. Maeve told Grace Nuala had probably got out of the habit of socialising after all the years of being in the convent. The only places Nuala ever went were to work and sometimes for a walk in the summer evenings, usually accompanied by Matthew, Angela and Mary Ann. Now, in the dark winter evenings, she was inside every night, and if it hadn’t been for the outings she enjoyed on Saturday, when she and Matthew would take the little girls out while Maeve worked, she’d never have gone across the threshold at all.

  Grace was right: it was no life for a young woman, and she mentioned it to Elsie one evening. But Elsie’s reply puzzled Maeve for she said, ‘You might be worried about her, Maeve, but I’d be more worried about the time she spends with Matthew.’

  Maeve stared at her. ‘Elsie, Matthew’s only being kind.’

  ‘I’m not saying he isn’t,’ Elsie said. ‘But your sister sees him more than you do.’

  ‘Of course she does, they work in the same place,’ Maeve burst out. ‘Surely you’re not suggesting—’

  ‘I’m suggesting nothing,’ Elsie insisted. ‘But in my opinion, I’d keep an eye on it.’

  But Maeve told herself Elsie was being ridiculous and she did nothing. Certainly she wasn’t going to tell her sister what Elsie had insinuated. She told herself Matthew was twenty years Nuala’s senior and probably looked on her as a daughter, as in fact she could well be. If she said anything to either of them it would either be seen as ludicrous, or else might cause bad feeling. Nuala might be upset at her suspicions and Matthew would almost certainly be angry. It would, at any rate, spoil the friendship between the two of them. Then Nuala would be truly lonely and Maeve would feel incredibly guilty about that.

  ‘It isn’t as if you’re always gadding about yourself,’ Elsie said. ‘You go nowhere either.’

  ‘I’m a married woman, Elsie. It’s different.’

  ‘You were a married woman,’ Elsie said. ‘But you’re no longer married. You’re courting a fellow. You should spend more time alone with him. Why doesn’t he take you to the pictures a time or two?’

  Easier said than done, Maeve thought. With the constraints of the family and her job, it was hard to find time to blow her nose, never mind opportunity to go out with Matthew. He didn’t seem to mind much. He never moaned, anyway. ‘For God’s sake, we’re mature people, not lovesick youngsters,’ she cried to Elsie.

  But in the end Maeve did say something to Matthew. He seemed evasive and reluctant to talk, but eventually she pinned him down one evening about a week after Kevin had returned to Donegal. Kevin had explained to his tearful young brother that farms didn’t run themselves and a week’s holiday was all he could spare, but he reassured Jamie and his sisters again that they were all welcome to stay the following summer. That suited Maeve’s plans, for she’d love to go over herself for a wee holiday then and introduce her children, Angela and Matthew to her parents.

  And that is the subject Maeve brought up with Matthew as they walked through the dark chilly streets in late November.

  ‘Let’s wait and see how the money pans out first,’ Matthew said.

  ‘But, Matthew, I am dying to see them all again.’

  ‘I understand that,’ Matthew said, ‘really I do. But houses, even terraced houses, are very expensive. I mean, the housing shortage is such, people can ask what they like.’

  ‘I could keep on the job at Moss’s to help out,’ Maeve suggested tentatively.

  ‘No, Maeve. Bringing up the children and looking after the home will be your job when we’re married. I didn’t expect Deidre to work outside the home and I shan’t expect you to.’

  Maeve bristled. Were her wishes to be of no account? She was not to take a job, even if that job meant she could take herself and the children away on a wee holiday to the parents she longed to see again. But she bit back her annoyance, knowing that Matthew hadn’t seen it that way. He’d seen it as a way of looking after her. For someone to want to look after and care about her would be a novel experience – totally different from Brendan’s bullying dominance. It gave her a feeling of safety and security, and she decided not to argue with Matthew about it. Maybe they could discuss it again once they were married.

  It was as Maeve was kissing Matthew good night that she noticed his reluctance, his drawing away from her slightly, and a niggle of doubt began in her mind. She pulled away from his embrace a little, so that she could see his face in the light of the streetlamp.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Nothing. What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s just that you seem odd, different.’

  ‘Oh, Maeve, I have a lot in my head at the moment,’ Matthew protested. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s not me?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘You haven’t gone off me?’

  ‘No, don’t be silly.’

  ‘Matthew, I’m not being silly,’ Maeve said. She didn’t say Elsie had expressed disquiet over their association. She had the impression Matthew wouldn’t like the idea of her discussing him with a neighbour, but she had to know how he felt about her. ‘Just tell me if your feelings towards me have changed,’ she said.

  ‘No,’ Matthew said, and he pulled her close to him, although Maeve could still see his face. And he spoke the truth when he said, ‘I care deeply for you, I always have.’

  He’d never said he loved her and Maeve didn’t expect him to, so what he said satisfied her.

  ‘Maybe we should go out a time or two?’ she suggested. ‘To the pictures perhaps, or for a meal? We need more time alone.’

  ‘We have to watch the pennies, Maeve,’ Matthew said, and then, seeing her face fall, went on, ‘Well, maybe it wouldn’t hurt now and again. In fact it will do us both good. We’ll see to it in the New Year maybe, all right?’

  ‘That would be grand, Matthew,’ Maeve said, and in gratitude she reached up and kissed him gently on the lips. Matthew grasped her to him a
nd kissed her hard, parting her lips with his tongue for the first time.

  Maeve yearned to be loved and even desired, and she responded eagerly, wanting to please him. Matthew gave a sigh. He ran his hands over her body and opened her coat and pressed her against him. She closed her eyes and imagined it was Richard fondling and feeling her body. She did not push Matthew away or tell him to stop, and when she felt his hands caressing her breasts she gasped, remembering Richard’s lips upon them. But Matthew suddenly pulled back from her.

  ‘I’m sorry, Maeve. I forgot myself,’ he said.

  Maeve reached up and kissed him. ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry about it.’ She knew that she’d probably never feel truly passionate about sex with Matthew but she could pretend. She cared about him too much ever to want to hurt him. She only wanted his happiness. Surely that was enough.

  The following Monday morning at the shop Maeve noticed Gwen looked harassed and tired, and grey bags sat beneath her eyes.

  ‘Are you not well?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m well enough,’ Gwen answered. ‘But tired out.’

  ‘The neighbours again?’

  Gwen nodded.

  ‘Something should be done about it,’ Maeve said. ‘Have you told the police?’

  Gwen shook her head. ‘Syd wants them out,’ she said, ‘but it’s hard this close to Christmas.’

  Maeve knew it was hard, but she thought that the Mosses had suffered enough. There were two families living in the flat adjoining theirs, both rough and both, to Maeve’s shame, Irish. They’d clamoured for the place when they’d heard the previous tenants had been rehoused and Syd and Gwen had felt sorry for them, especially as they had children in tow. But since their arrival, the Mosses had begun to regret their generosity. The neighbours gave Maeve little enough bother, except for the occasional noise loud enough to be heard in the grocery store, but they made enough row to disturb the Mosses’ sleep most nights and the real trouble came on Friday and Saturday nights when the families, usually well oiled, came home from the pub and started arguing.

  ‘It’s nothing like your situation, Maeve,’ Gwen was quick to assure her. ‘God alone knows, your position was terrible, but with these families . . . Well, the women are as bad, or worse, than the men.’

  Maeve could only take Gwen’s word for it, never having witnessed the rowing herself. However, she believed her employers, not least because their haggard expressions bore testimony to the nights they claimed were broken with the raucous noises from the flat: thumps, crashes and screams, interspersed with Irish tunes played on the gramophone and usually accompanied by tuneless – but very loud – voices that went on into the early hours of the following morning. Then there were the fights in the yard that Syd, risking life and limb, had had to try to stop many a time to prevent murder being done, although Maeve doubted the wisdom of such action.

  ‘What are we to do?’ Gwen asked Maeve in despair that Monday morning. ‘I dread going into the bedroom to sleep and that’s the truth. When it gets to around half eleven or twelve, my stomach gets knotted up inside. I never know what sort of night we’re going to have.’

  Maeve thought they’d be better telling the people to quit – Christmas or no Christmas. She knew there was a certain class of people it was impossible to help. Whatever you gave them, they took more. Consideration was interpreted as weakness and taken advantage of, and a good example of this was the rent Syd asked for the flat, which was a mere five shillings, which Gwen had let slip hadn’t been paid for months.

  It wasn’t Maeve’s place to tell her employers how to run their affairs. She could only utter comforting noises and make Gwen a soothing cup of tea, smooth Syd’s ruffled feathers and get on with the job at hand.

  It was mid-December before the matter came to a head. Christmas was in the air, coloured lights framed the festive windows, trade was better than ever before with the slackening on rationing, and Maeve and Syd were rushed off their feet.

  Maeve was working her last month’s notice and saddened about it. Gwen and Syd had done all they could to make her stay on, but she knew Matthew would be against it and, after all, she owed him something.

  Then, early one Sunday morning, Maeve and the rest of the house were roused from their bed by a persistent knock on the door.

  Gwen, dishevelled and distraught, stood on the doorstep. From her garbled account, Maeve understood that Syd and two of the male members of the flat were in hospital. Gwen was beside herself. Maeve had almost expected something like this to happen and had fastened up the buttons on her coat before Gwen had finished speaking.

  When they eventually reached the hospital both Gwen and Maeve were relieved to find Syd was not as bad as they’d first feared. The doctor was quick to say he thought that the milk bottle hurled from an upstairs window might have done untold damage, but fortunately all Syd was suffering from was concussion.

  The two opposing families had started their disagreement in the pub, continued it on the journey home and decided to settle matters in the yard. The screams, screeches and general disturbance had been investigated by Syd. By then the women, having reached the flat and for once in agreement, had declared war against their menfolk. This had involved tipping anything heavy on to the heads of those below. Syd, who’d gone out to try to settle the confrontation amicably, had been hit in the mêlée and rendered unconscious and Gwen had thought that he’d been killed.

  ‘Those awful people must go,’ Gwen said to Maeve. ‘Help me see to it, Maeve.’

  And Maeve saw to it. She ignored the pleas of the family that they had no place else and the strident cries of the children, though she found that harder. She just had two weeks more at the Mosses’ shop, for she was leaving on Christmas Eve and wanted the eviction all settled by then, and with Gwen’s permission gave the tenants a fortnight’s notice. She wasn’t proud of herself for doing it – she knew how difficult accommodation was to find – but she did feel immensely sorry for the Mosses. They had tried to help the homeless families and had been kicked in the teeth for their effort.

  ‘Never mind,’ Maeve said to Gwen on Christmas Eve as they watched the two families load their meagre possessions on to a cart. ‘You win some and you lose some.’

  And Gwen turned her tearful face to Maeve and said, ‘As long as we never lose you, Maeve, we will be content.’

  ‘You won’t lose me, don’t worry,’ Maeve promised. ‘I’ll be popping along to see you.’

  But Gwen and Syd knew it wouldn’t be the same. They’d interviewed people to take her place, though Maeve knew no one had been engaged. ‘How will you manage?’ Maeve asked for the umpteenth time as she got ready to leave on Christmas Eve, because although Syd was now officially recovered and back in the shop, he still looked far from well in her opinion.

  ‘The way we did before,’ Gwen said. ‘I’ll help for now.’ She saw Maeve’s worried eyes as she glanced at Syd and went on, ‘I’ll not let him do too much; don’t fret. Eventually someone suitable will come along.’

  Maeve knew plenty of capable women had already come forward, but Gwen had found fault with all of them. Maybe now that I’ve actually left, Gwen will be able to get someone else in my place, Maeve thought, as she made her way home that night.

  But she resolved to push the Mosses’ problems to one side. It was nearly Christmas and she had packages for the children hidden in the wardrobe in her bedroom. She had more food in the cupboards than she’d ever had before and a further basket of goodies that Gwen had given her that very evening. She gave a sigh of contentment. Now that rationing on clothes had finally ended, she looked forward to getting the children some warm winter clothes in the New Year and something decent for each of them to wear at the wedding. Life was good, she decided, very, very good, and from now on was going to get even better.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Because the Mosses’ tenants had not vacated the flat till Christmas Eve, when Syd and Gwen had been rushed off their feet in the shop, neither
of them had had time to inspect it, and when Gwen did, just after Christmas, she nearly fainted with shock at the state of it. She knew she’d never be able to clean it herself and, anyway, Syd could never manage in the shop on his own. But something had to be done about the flat and she wondered if Maeve would help her out.

  Maeve was finding time hanging heavy on her hands. Christmas Day had been just wonderful and so had Boxing Day, when Matthew had treated them all to a pantomime. It had been a first for everyone, but they’d soon got into the swing of it, booing and cheering with the rest of the audience. It had been Cinderella, and the children had been entranced by the dazzling costumes and the sheer beauty of the whole spectacle. They’d gone home happier than they could ever remember being, and Maeve had again felt overwhelmed by Matthew’s generosity.

  But then Grace, Nuala and Matthew returned to work, and the children went about their own pursuits.

  ‘I don’t think I’m cut out to be a housewife,’ Maeve complained to Elsie. ‘Yet when I marry Matthew that’s what he will expect.’

  ‘When you get a house of your own, bigger than the dump you have now, you’ll have plenty to do.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Maeve said, a doubtful expression still on her face.

  ‘God, girl, will you look at yourself?’ Elsie cried out. ‘Aren’t you the very devil to please? You’ve not got a thing to worry about, a fine man, a family to be proud of, a wedding to plan, a future secured and you’re as miserable as sin.’

  Maeve had to laugh, and agreed with Elsie that everything now was plain sailing for her. She knew if she was upset about anything she only had to discuss it with Matthew. The bad times were over for her.

  But still she was glad, though surprised, to see Gwen, and readily agreed to help her clean the flat as long as Matthew had no objection. Matthew indeed had any number of objections. He wanted Maeve at home, where she belonged, but he didn’t voice his thoughts. He knew Maeve felt a sense of loyalty towards the Mosses, and with reason, and it wasn’t as if she was taking up a proper job with them again. This would be a one-off and would only take her a few days, so he gave her his blessing.