For My Brother’s Sins

by For My Brother's Sins (retail) (epub)

  ‘I don’t think he means to cause you so much trouble. It’s just the way he is,’ said Sonny, wondering where Dickie had stolen the plant.

  ‘You don’t need to make excuses for him, love,’ she replied. ‘I know all there is to know about that one.’

  If only you knew the half of it, thought Sonny as she went on, ‘He’s well able to stick up for himself.’

  ‘He isn’t you know,’ revealed Sonny. ‘There’s many a time I’ve had to get him out of trouble. He’s big, yes, and he’s also got the gift of the gab, but he’s not a physical sort of person.’ – Well, not in that sense, came the mischievous thought.

  ‘Now, take heed, don’t let him get you involved in his goings-on. He might not be able to use his fists like his brother but his fly tongue will always save him from a trouncing. Promise me Sonny, you won’t let him take advantage of you like that, for it’s even money that if anyone is going to land in trouble it won’t be Dickie. It’s a charmed life he leads.’

  ‘You don’t have to concern yourself about me,’ said Sonny. ‘There might have been a time or two in the past when I got myself into scrapes because of him, but not any more. Apart from anything else I’m hardly home long enough to get into anything.’ He opened the door to go upstairs.

  ‘By the way!’ Thomasin called after him. ‘You and he are ushers at the wedding. I’m relying on you to keep an eye on him.’

  Sonny grasped the handle of his trunk, swinging it up onto his shoulder, and staggered upstairs. At the second landing he applied his boot to Dickie’s door and kicked it wide open. There was a flash of white bottom and a startled expression, which melted into vast relief as Sonny hauled his trunk into the room.

  ‘Jazers, Mary an’ Joseph! Don’t ye ever knock?’ asked his brother impolitely, his trousers round his ankles and a cut-throat razor poised in his hand. ‘Sure, ye almost made me lose my manhood.’ He reseated himself on the bed and resumed the task of shaving his pubic hair as Sonny hurriedly closed the door.

  ‘What the blazes are you doing?’ he asked Dickie. ‘What if it had been Mother who came in?’

  Dickie gripped his tongue between his teeth as he undertook his delicate work. ‘She’d likely have done voluntarily what you nearly made me do accidentally. Will ye stand out o’ me light?’ He waved Sonny to the other side of him. His brother asked once again what was the purpose in shaving himself, sitting down on the bed to watch.

  ‘Crabs,’ came the succinct reply. Dickie paused to blow the shorn hairs from his razor. ‘They’ve been drivin’ me up the bloody wall. I’ve been itching and riving at me breeches all day. Please! Will ye stop moving the bed else I’ll be without me hunting tackle.’

  ‘How come you managed to get those when you’ve been locked up in your room every night?’ asked Sonny genially. ‘They can’t jump that high.’

  ‘Ah, ye heard about my incarceration?’ replied Dickie, finishing his chore and hoisting up his drawers and trousers. ‘They don’t only come out at night, ye know. I do have one or two paramours on me grocery round. Besides,’ he grinned, ‘it’ll take more than any locked door to keep this lad down. I’ve been climbing down the drainpipe, haven’t I?’

  Sonny had to laugh. ‘You’re absolutely incorrigible! Haven’t they got any idea?’

  ‘Who, them? They’re far too busy counting their piles o’ money to notice if I’m there or not. It makes me sick. There’s Mam buyin’ shops right, left an’ centre and me with not a sou to scratch me backside on. I could do with a new suit. When I ask them, what do I get? “There’s five years’ wear in the one ye’ve got.” How can I be expected to do me courting in rags like these?’

  Sonny said they looked all right to him.

  ‘Well, they would to you, you not being fashionably inclined. I’m not sayin’ they’re shabby, but Mother’s choice is so drab. She won’t let me buy me own, doesn’t trust me. So I’m stuck with this old sack.’

  ‘I can’t say I blame her,’ said Sonny. ‘I seem to remember the first time she let you buy your own – you came back with a bright purple jacket and mustard-coloured trousers. You looked like a nightmare.’

  ‘A peacock can’t attract his hens without his fine feathers,’ retorted Dickie. He threw the razor on the bedside table, rubbing at his crotch through his trousers. ‘Jeez, that’s better. I can’t wait to get me knife an’ fork into some fresh meat. I tried all sorts before this, ye know. An old salt I met in The Red Lion told me to rub in a mixture of paraffin and sand. Talk about powerful, Holy Mother, did I do some dancin’ that night!’

  Sonny fell back onto the bed, laughing. ‘It’s good to tell I’m home!’

  Dickie sat back next to him and clasped him affectionately. ‘Ye know something? ’Tis great to have ye back, Son. There’s not been many laughs lately. Ye’ll not believe this, but I think you’re the only true friend I’ve got.’

  ‘Oh, I believe it,’ said his brother drily. Dickie spent far too much time in female company to cultivate male companionship. It stood to reason that when Sonny went back to college his brother would have no one with whom he could share a joke or a tankard. ‘But my friendship doesn’t extend to sharing a bedroom with your livestock so will you sweep that lot up?’

  ‘Aw, I’d begun to grow pretty attached to them,’ answered his brother. ‘They’ve all got names, ye know.’

  Sonny threw himself around on the creased coverlet, laughing. ‘You’re a daft bugger!’

  ‘Aw, Jesus, Son ye’ve just crushed poor little Billy!’ Dickie laughed and laid back too. ‘God, we’re gonna have a right little shindig now you’re home. Just you an’ me like the old days. I’m sick o’ bloody women – ye never know where y’are with ’em. I’d rather have the company o’ me darlin’ brother than all the bloody tarts put together.’ And at that moment, Sonny could almost have believed his brother was sincere.

  * * *

  Thomasin was not so reluctant to unleash her son on society knowing that his brother was there to supervise. During the daytime Sonny aided Dickie with the grocery round and spent the rest of the time in the shop. But came the night and the two young men would be out on the town dressed in their finery and ready to take whatever was offered.

  By Friday evening the boys were looking rather worse for wear and their capital was considerably diminished. Dickie stood in front of the mirror over the fireplace and pulled down the lower lids of his eyes. Sonny, standing next to him, winced. ‘Ugh! I wish you wouldn’t do that; it makes me go all squeamish.’ He tackled his fiery hair with a comb dipped in water. ‘Tut! Whatever I do my hair always looks like a bloody haystack.’

  ‘Sonny,’ warned Thomasin through a mouthful of pins as she and Hannah knelt at the hem of Erin’s wedding gown adding the final touches. ‘Remember your grandmother is present.’

  ‘Sorry, Grandma,’ offered Sonny.

  ‘I do hope you will all feel able to keep a check on your tongues tomorrow,’ pleaded Hannah, smoothing down the folds of the gown. ‘It would be so belittling if the family is let down in front of Samuel’s relatives. At least that dreadful Mrs Flaherty isn’t coming; I suppose I should be grateful for small mercies.’

  ‘That’s not really fair, Grandma.’ Erin threw an accusing look at her mother. She herself had only learnt of this fact yesterday, having left all the arrangements to her parents. They probably wouldn’t have even told her if she hadn’t asked. She thought it terribly mean of them not to include Aunt Molly, or any of their old Irish friends for that matter, and was surprised at Father for going along with what she knew to be Mother’s idea. But then, self-examination had told her that she was as guilty as them, for her last visit to Walmgate had been even longer ago than her parents’. She was not in a position to throw stones. Besides, once you moved away from an area you did tend to grow apart. Oh, people said, ‘Keep in touch!’ but they soon forgot about their old neighbours. Hadn’t Aunt Molly illustrated this by not calling on them?

  Thomasin shied away from Erin’s glare a
nd was glad that her husband was not present to witness Hannah’s remark. There had been a hell of a row over the guest-list. She had eventually got around her failure to invite any of Patrick’s old friends by saying that the house simply would not hold them all. Patrick had then suggested that they hire a room for the reception, then there would be no need to offend anyone. ‘She was very good to both of us once upon a time, was Molly,’ he had said crossly. ‘Don’t go thinking you’re gonna make me throw up all my old friends just ’cause you think we’re too good for them now.’ Though he had blushed as he’d said it, for though he’d visited Molly once or twice since the night he’d had the shindy with Ryan, he hadn’t gone as often as he could’ve done.

  Then it had been Thomasin’s turn to be angry. ‘Do you remember what happened at our wedding?’ she had hurled at him. ‘Do you? A right fiasco that was. And who was to blame? None but your own dear Molly. All right!’ she had granted at his objection. ‘My own relatives were as bad, but it was Molly who started all the fighting. Do you want that to happen at your daughter’s wedding?’ He had fallen silent then. Molly, however filthy and untutored in social graces, was more like a relative than a friend. How hurt she would be if she discovered she had been omitted from the celebrations. ‘And how will she know?’ his wife had asked. ‘We hardly ever see her nowadays – even at Mass. If we don’t tell her she’ll be none the wiser. And if it makes you feel any better I’m not inviting any of my sisters either, so you can’t say I’m just singling out your friends for shoddy treatment.’ And Patrick, wanting his daughter’s wedding to go smoothly, though feeling not a little shameful, had had to be satisfied. Though God knew how he’d ever face Molly again.

  His had not been the only concern over the arrangements. Hannah, too, had been irked to find that none of her other daughters would be invited. Yet she had to agree with Thomasin’s statement that the Feeneys had neither seen nor heard anything from the others since their marriage – not even a Christmas gift to the children – and they probably wouldn’t want to come anyway. Also, the honour of being requested to make Erin’s wedding gown, plus a brand new sewing machine, had helped to heal the wound and now she was looking forward to the event as much as anyone.

  ‘Oh, I do so love a spring wedding, don’t you, Thomasin dear?’ she said. ‘It’s such an opportune time; a season of new beginnings. Erin will make a beautiful bride.’

  Erin caught her mother’s smile and reflected it. She wondered if Thomasin was thinking the same as herself: there was a time when Hannah had labelled Erin something less than beautiful – that snotty little ragamuffin in the torn pinafore. She gave a high-pitched giggle. ‘I’m so nervous! I haven’t been able to keep my mind on anything for days. Do all brides feel like this?’

  ‘Every one, dear,’ answered Thomasin. ‘But you’ll find it’s worth every shudder to be joined with the man you love. And Sam’s a grand lad. There!’ She tugged gently at the hem of the gown and sat back on her heels. ‘Stand over and let’s take a look at Grandmother’s handiwork.’ The dress was simply gorgeous. It had a stand-up collar of scalloped lace, cream, like the satin bodice that hugged Erin’s slim figure. There was a cape of the same thick lace draped around the top half of the bodice, secured with eight pearl buttons. At the waist, the sash, decorated with two cream rosebuds, curled around to meet the enormous bustle. This in turn fell to meet an underskirt of the same rich cream silk, made from yards and yards of material and a great deal of fingerpricking labour.

  Even Erin’s brothers admitted that she looked breathtaking. ‘I could almost fancy her meself.’ Dickie planted a kiss on Erin’s cheek and she pushed him away goodnaturedly.

  ‘She’ll look even lovelier tomorrow with her satin slippers and her hair bound up with spring flowers,’ said their mother, then pulled herself up with the aid of a chair.

  ‘Right! Let’s be having you menfolk about your business.’ She drove her sons to the door as Hannah began to help undo the dozens of buttons down the back of Erin’s dress. ‘Get yourselves to the pub like your father, we’ve women’s work to contend with here.’

  ‘Have ye heard her slandering our characters, Son?’ asked Dickie as he was shoved from the room. ‘As if two clean-living boys like us would visit the dens of iniquity that our father frequents.’

  ‘Oh aye, and where might you be going then?’ Their mother paused before shutting the door.

  Dickie took his brother’s arm and tapped his hat. ‘We’re spending a nice innocent evening at the fair. I might just bring ye back a coconut if you’re nice to me.’

  She patted his cheek roughly. ‘Well, just think on. You’ve got a responsible job to do tomorrow. I shall expect you home sober.’ She finally closed the door.

  * * *

  The city streets were a blown-up version of an ants’ nest; riddled with life. Though in contrast to the ants’ regimentation there appeared to be no pattern to the crowd’s passage; its components rushed hither and thither, from merry-go-round to ‘Gypsy Francesca’, from the boxing booth to the dancing bear. Children with pieces of toffee apple adhering to their tatted hair drove their parents mad for another go on the swing-boats, their gooey, red-ringed mouths ever-open, wanting.

  Dickie and his brother let themselves be carried by the crowd. Their eyes reflected the bright array of torchflare, their ears crammed with the competition between hurdy-gurdy and merry-go-round, the cackle of geese and the lowing of cattle, and the ‘Roll-up! Come buy!’ of the stallholders. Their noses twitched. The air was thick with the combined aromas of burnt toffee, sausages, onions, muffins, parkin, all mingling into one. It was so heavy it made them feel that if they stuck out their tongues they would taste it on the air. They were soon both infected by the invigorating atmosphere and purchased a set of balls to hurl at a coconut shy, groaning when their attempts met with failure.

  ‘I think the old bugger has ’em stuck on with glue,’ said Dickie as they moved away from the shy in search of something more fruitful. He could not resist a parting jibe to the man who obviously regarded the public as mugs. ‘I’ll send me mam round with a shillelagh; she’ll knock your nuts off all right.’

  The man formed a rude gesture and smugly jingled their coins in the pouch at his belt

  Dickie’s interest was soon diverted. ‘Come on, let’s take a geg at the freaks.’ He was off, pulling his brother in the direction of a tent labelled ‘Curiosities’ where a slick showman accosted them for the entrance fee.

  ‘I hope it’s worth it,’ grumbled Sonny as he handed over the admission for both of them. ‘Funds are getting perilously low.’

  ‘It’ll be worth every penny, young sir,’ proclaimed the man. ‘What you see in there cannot be seen anywhere else in Her Majesty’s Empire.’ He lifted the flap of the tent and they stepped past him.

  The interior was very dim but they were just able to make out a row of cages and went towards it. In the first was a goat which nibbled at a few oats amongst the droppings on the floor of the cage, and bleated forlornly as Dickie pointed to the fifth leg that dangled uselessly from its flank.

  Sonny pondered momentarily over the unfortunate beast, then traipsed after his brother who had already moved on. The four adjoining cages housed animals with similar deformities. Sonny stared pityingly at the hapless occupants, then progressed to the bearded lady. At the end of the display was a booth with a curtain hiding its contents. Another showman stood beside it, taking more money from the dozen or so people who had assembled. ‘Do the young gents want to take a look at the most exciting discovery this country has ever seen?’ the man enquired loudly. ‘Observe this fascinating creature, half man, half monster, who was found in the jungles of South America where even the wild animals were afraid of him, and brought back to civilisation to titillate, amaze and astound!’

  The boys looked at each other, then nodded, Dickie more eagerly than his brother. ‘That’ll be sixpence each then,’ said the man.

  Sonny puffed out his cheeks at this exorbitanc
e, but at Dickie’s coaxing handed over the money.

  ‘Now, ladies and gentlemen,’ began the showman. ‘I must warn those among you of a more delicate nature that the sight of this creature has been known to cause some good people to pass right out.’

  ‘Get on wi’ it!’ shouted someone.

  ‘Very well, you’ve been warned!’ The showman made a dramatic play of suddenly whipping aside the curtain and the crowd gave a collective gasp.

  The man they saw was so grotesquely misshapen that it would have been almost impossible to tell what kind of animal he was had it not been for the glint of recognition in his eyes – but man he undoubtedly was in his nakedness. Sonny’s heart went out to the poor, misused creature as he returned the man’s stare, wishing he had not come here. This was no imbecile; beneath that scaly, wart-covered body there lurked the bright spark of intelligence which, though badly battered through years of abasement, remained undimmed. Sonny wanted desperately to reach out and comfort the man, to tell him that not all his fellows were as obnoxious as this gathering; but as his brother’s voice came over the rest he realised it would not be true. He closed his eyes in a vain effort to blot out the man’s suffering.

  ‘What’s up, Son?’ His brother elbowed him. ‘Are ye jealous? I know I am. It’s just not right for a freak like him to have such a prick. I ask ye, what use will he ever put it to?’