Jean passed the newsagents on her way to the bus stop. She noticed the latest issue of Hello! on a display stand. Once, she used to buy it and other magazines regularly. Now they were a luxury she could not afford and she had to make do with furtive reads at the magazine stand. She brushed the thought aside impatiently. Looking back was just being negative. The past was the past. She had to make the most of her situation. There were people much worse off than she was and self pity got you nowhere.
She was lucky. A bus pulled into the stop just as she reached it and an elderly man helped her with the buggy. Jean smiled and thanked him. Some people could be so nice. Others often barged past and left her struggling.
The traffic was light and it wasn’t long before they were in O’Connell Street. The sun had come out again and Jean walked briskly towards the traffic lights, enjoying the crisp autumn morning. She liked town. It invigorated her. She stood waiting to cross over towards Henry Street. Now that she was in the city, she was beginning to have second thoughts about traipsing all the way over to the civic offices. If the Housing Department had been in Jervis Street it would have been no trouble.
Jean stood in a tizzy of indecision. Should she go and see about getting a Corporation flat or house. She felt a bit guilty. It was like going behind Tony’s back. Not that she’d be making a decision there and then, she assured herself. There was no harm in asking.
But she could always phone them, rather than trek all the way across town. That’s what she’d do, Jean decided. She’d phone and get all the information and then present it to Tony. They could talk about it then and make a decision together.
The trouble with her, she thought as the lights changed, was that she was too hot tempered. She always had been. She had flown off the handle this morning and got herself all fired up. Typical.
Jean smiled sheepishly. To tell the truth, having thought about it, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to move to the outer suburbs. Blanchardstown, Tallaght, Clondalkin and the like were very far out of town. And that was probably where they’d have to go if they were to get a house. Still, if Tony really wanted to get out of her mother’s she’d go. She’d phone the Housing Department and get the information. Then they could talk about it tonight, Jean decided. They could go into the Housing Department together. The main thing was to do it together.
Jean felt much more light-hearted as she headed towards Dunnes. Too hell with it! She was going to buy Tony his jeans and the baby her shoes. She was going to treat herself to Hello! and she’d buy her mother a bunch of carnations from the flower sellers in Moore Street. It was almost like going on a spree, she thought, with a surge of anticipation. It was a long time since she’d been on one.
CHAPTER SIX
Sara had thoroughly enjoyed her jaunt into town. She had window-shopped and browsed to her heart’s content.
The shops hadn’t been too crowded. She had picked and poked and compared and contrasted with ease. The joy of it. Eddie would have been driven mad if he’d been with her. Sara patted her handbag. His boxed miniature grandfather clock lay within. She’d gone to Marks & Spencer’s food hall and bought him some Florentines, his favourite treat.
She’d enjoyed a cup of coffee and a chocolate éclair in the tranquillity of Clerys’ tea-rooms. She liked the tea-rooms. It was a treat being served by a waitress. Sara didn’t enjoy these newfangled fast-food restaurants where you had to queue up yourself. If you were going to treat yourself … do it properly was her motto.
She sat in the bus on the way home, weary but content. They were almost at Phibsboro. It wouldn’t be long now until she was home. She noticed a man cleaning a shop window. Tomorrow was her window-cleaner’s day. A thought struck her. She had spent more than she intended when she’d got carried away in Roches’ basement and bought an enormous soft, fluffy bath sheet. She’d withdraw some more money from the banklink near the bus stop.
There were two other people in the queue for the banklink. Sara cast an eye at the sky. It had got cloudy again. And cold. She drew her scarf tighter around her. It was going to rain. She hoped it would hold off for five minutes. Just until she got home.
She was glad there was no one else behind her when it was her turn. She was a bit slow sometimes and she didn’t like to think she was delaying people. It made her flustered. A minute later a crisp ten pound note slid into her hand.
Grand, thought Sara. She was dying to get home and sit down, put her feet up and let Eddie make her a cup of tea. A spit-spot of rain landed on her nose. If she hurried, she’d make it before the downpour.
Dave Cummins watched the elderly woman queue for the banklink. He was in a bad way. Desperate. He’d gone to meet his dealer hoping to score. He’d promised to pay him the next day, which was Dave’s dole day.
The dealer had told him to get lost. No cash … no goodies. He shivered. The cold was going right through him. His stomach was cramping something awful. He couldn’t concentrate. He had to get some money somehow. He saw the old lady put her money in her bag and walk in his direction. His heart started to race. It would be so easy. She was old: she wouldn’t put up much of a struggle. It would be over in a flash. He could disappear down one of the side roads and no one would ever know it was him. He’d never been in trouble. The police wouldn’t be looking for him.
“Just this once because I’m desperate. Just this once,” he muttered as he quickened his pace.
Tony couldn’t believe his eyes. He watched the old lady struggling with the young man. Then she fell and the man was running with her bag.
“Oi! Oi!” he shouted as he raced after him. The bloke turned, looked around and ran faster. But he wasn’t fit and Tony was. He caught Dave by the jacket and tried to snatch the old lady’s bag. Dave lashed out wildly and caught Tony a glancing blow on the side of the face. Anger surged through Tony.
“You cowardly bastard. Mugging an old lady,” he grunted, socking his captive one back. He grabbed the bag as the young man wriggled out of his jacket and tore off. Tony looked at the empty jacket in dismay. He was sorely tempted to go after the thief who’d escaped down a side street. But the old lady was still lying on the ground. At least her bag was safe. He ran back to where she lay.
“Are you all right, pet? I have your bag.”
The old lady’s face was contorted with pain. Blood oozed from her temple. Sara tried to speak but she couldn’t.
“Breathe slowly, take it easy,” Tony said, as he tried not to panic.
A motorist stopped and rushed to help. “I’ve called the guards and I’ve called an ambulance.” The man knelt down beside Tony to assist him. He had a mobile phone in his hand. Another woman stopped. She wiped the blood from Sara’s face.
“You’ll be all right, dear,” she soothed.
Sara gripped Tony’s hand. “Eddie’s clock,” she whispered. “Eddie’s clock.”
Tony looked at her, perplexed. He couldn’t make out what she was saying.
“What is it?” he asked gently, thinking how frail her old hand felt.
“In my bag, Eddie’s clock. Is it broken?”
Tony hastily opened the bag and saw what was troubling the old lady. He unwrapped the tissues around the small box, opened it and lifted out the miniature clock.
“It’s fine,” he assured her just as the ambulance arrived, sirens wailing. It hadn’t taken long, but then the Mater Hospital was only minutes away. A look of panic crossed the old lady’s face. Her grip tightened on Tony’s hand. He thought of his own mother. She was dead now. Imagine if something awful like this had happened to her. “I’ll come with you,” he said. “Don’t worry.” He saw the relief in her eyes. He’d phone Jean from the hospital if he was delayed. But he couldn’t leave the poor unfortunate woman alone. She was clearly terrified.
He sat with her in the ambulance, reassuring her and holding her hand. Her left wrist was broken, the ambulance man told him. And he suspected some fractured ribs.
A guard followed the ambulance on his motorbike. As t
hey followed the stretcher into the accident and emergency unit, he told Tony that he wanted a statement from him.
The nurses were kind to the old lady although it was some time before she was X-rayed. Tony told the guard what had happened and gave as good a description as he could of the mugger. One of the nurses had contacted Sara’s eldest son.
“I don’t want Eddie to get a fright,” she said firmly. Now that she’d got over the shock of it, she was rallying.
“At least the scut didn’t get my bag, thanks to you.” She smiled weakly at Tony. “You’re a decent young man.”
“It’s time to go for your X-ray,” the nurse said.
“What about if Matt comes? What about my shopping?” Sara said agitatedly.
“I’ll wait and I’ll mind your bags for you,” Tony assured her.
“I can’t be taking any more of your time,” Sara protested.
“I’ve nothing else to do. Go and get your X-ray taken and don’t be worrying,” Tony insisted.
“Thanks, son. God will repay you,” Sara said feebly. Her ribs and head ached and she wished mightily that she was at home safe and sound with Eddie.
“Matt will be here soon, I’m sure,” Tony said, giving her hand another little squeeze. He was sorry he hadn’t been able to hold on to the gurrier who’d done this to the old lady. He should be behind bars.
It was almost four o’clock. He decided he’d wait for another half hour or so before phoning Jean. He wondered if she was still mad with him.
Soon after the nurse brought a stocky man in his forties over to him. The man held out his hand.
“I believe you’ve been very good to my mother. I want to thank you. Matt Collins is the name.”
Tony shook hands with him. “I’m only sorry I couldn’t hang on to that bastard, but at least I got your mother’s bag back. She’s down having her X-rays.”
“Thanks for staying. I’m sure you’re anxious to be off. I hope you weren’t delayed from work or anything,” Matt Collins said, concerned.
“Not a bit of it. I’m unemployed at the moment. My time’s my own.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Matt sat down beside him. “What line of business were you in?”
“I was a printer.” Tony sighed.
“Go away! I’m in the business myself,” Matt exclaimed. “Why did you fold?”
“That postal dispute last year mucked us up good and proper. We never got back on our feet after it. We were only a small firm. The same as many who went to the wall.”
“What type of stuff did you do?” Matt asked interestedly.
Tony told him all about the job and the machines he’d used. They were deeply engrossed in technical detail, and the merits of one machine over another, when a nurse came to tell Matt that his mother’s X-rays were completed. Her wrist was being set and they were keeping her in overnight for observation.
“She’ll be fine. We’ll let her home tomorrow most likely. We’ve brought her to a ward and given her a sedative if you want to go up for a few minutes.”
“Tell her I send her my best wishes,” Tony said as he stood up to leave.
“I certainly will and thanks very much.” Matt stood up and shook hands with him. “You’d better give me your name and address. Do you have a phone number? I know Mam will want to say thanks.”
“There’s no need at all, but I’d like to know how she is, so maybe she’d give me a call when she’s up to it.” Tony wrote his name and address on a piece of paper and handed it to the other man.
“Thanks again,” Matt called as Tony headed for the exit.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“What happened to your face?” Jean exclaimed in horror as Tony walked into the sitting-room.
“It’s nothing. An old lady got mugged and I ran after the bloke and got her bag back. He gave me a thump.”
“God, Tony you could have been killed!” Jean went pale.
“Don’t be daft!” Tony said comfortingly. “Anyway if I had, you’d be a rich woman once the insurance company paid out.”
“Oh Tony!” she reproached.
“It was a joke.” He held out his arms. “Sorry for losing the cool this morning.”
“I’m sorry too.” Jean traced her fingers gently down the angry red bruise on the side of his face. They kissed, glad the row was over.
“Ma doesn’t mean to be fussy. It’s just her way,” Jean said as they stood together, hugging.
“I know,” Tony said. “Listen, I joined the library today and I got a lovely decorating book. There’s a great idea about doing borders. I was thinking of doing it in her bedroom.”
Jean looked at Tony and laughed. “Here was I worrying all day that you might never set foot in the house again, and there’s you thinking of ways to decorate her bedroom. I even rang the Housing Department to find out about going on the housing list.”
Tony looked at her in amazement. “But you always told me you’d hate to move out to the suburbs.”
“I would move if it would stop us having rows. And if it was what you wanted to do,” Jean said softly.
Tony’s hug tightened. “I love you, Jean. You’re the best wife a man could wish for.”
“We can go in any time in the morning or afternoon to talk to a housing officer and ask to be put on the housing list.” Jean smiled.
“Well, there’s no harm putting our names down. I might have a job by then. I went to the Fás centre today. I’m going for an interview for hotel porter next week. Mind, I’d say there’s forty thousand others going as well.”
“Don’t worry, Tony. We’ll manage. You’ll get a job in a printers again.” She kissed him softly.
“If you young lovers could spare half an hour, your dinner’s ready.” Bridie Feeny poked her head around the kitchen door. Delicious smells wafted into the sitting-room. She disappeared into the kitchen and they could hear her humming.
Tony raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. I was told to go in and put my feet up. She said she was cooking dinner. The fire was lit. So I sat down and read Hello! I treated myself.”
“You did right,” Tony said firmly.
“I bought you a pair of jeans and I got Angela’s new shoes out of the children’s allowance.”
“But that’s your money,” Tony remonstrated.
“It’s our money, love,” Jean responded.
“Dinner,” Mrs Feeny warbled.
They walked into the kitchen to find the table set with the best cutlery. Jean’s carnations were arranged in a vase in the centre of the table. There were glasses of wine beside plates of steaming steak and kidney pie (Tony’s favourite). Their mouths watered.
“Sit, sit.” Bridie fluttered around pulling out chairs.
“This looks lovely,” Tony said.
“Well, we were all a bit tetchy this morning. So I thought I’d do us a special dinner just to show there were no hard feelings on my part,” Bridie declared.
“That’s very nice of you, Mrs Feeny. And just to show you I’ve no hard feelings, I want to show you a book I got in the library that’s got great decorating ideas. For when I’m doing your bedroom,” laughed Tony.
Bridie’s face lit up. “You’re going to do my bedroom?”
“Well, that’s if we don’t come to blows over the borders and wallpaper and things,” teased Tony.
Bridie laughed. “I know I’m a bit pernickety. Don’t mind me.”
For the first time in ages Jean felt light-hearted. “This is gorgeous, Ma,” she said after a mouthful of delicious crisp, light pastry.
“Well, I know Tony likes it. It was your poor father’s favourite,” Bridie said. “Eat up, there’s plenty more.”
They tucked in with gusto and chatted about the day’s events. It was the nicest meal they’d had together since coming to live with Bridie. Afterwards they bathed Angela and put her to bed. Then they went downstairs and sat beside the blazing fire and played cards. After such a disastrous start
that morning, the day ended on a very happy note. Each of them went to bed that night feeling much more content.
Eddie sat holding Sara’s hand. His wife was dozing. He watched her lovingly. Sara was so precious to him. Thank God it was nothing worse than a broken wrist and cracked ribs. The fright he’d got when Matt arrived home and told him what had happened. It was an awful tough world. God be with the days when you could walk the streets and never fear for your safety. There were evil gurriers around for sure, he thought grimly. But then there were nice folk too. The young man that had come to his wife’s assistance couldn’t have been nicer, Matt said. An unemployed chap. A printer like his son.
Eddie smiled to himself. What goes around comes around was his motto. Something good would come of that young man’s good deed. Matt had plans!
Dave Cummins sat on the cold hard ground. His fingers shook as he positioned the needle. He couldn’t even wait until he got home. He had to have it now. It was cold and wet and the alley was dark. He didn’t care. He had his fix. He’d robbed two more handbags since his disastrous first effort. Both times he’d been successful and he’d got enough money to buy a couple of hits of his precious heroin. What did he care that he’d terrorised three elderly women. For one very brief moment a wave of self-disgust swept over him as he stuck the needle into his vein. Then it was gone and he felt nothing except relief as the drug took effect and he sat, slumped in the wind and rain, oblivious to the world.
A week later the phone rang and Bridie Feeny answered it. “It’s for you, Tony,” she called.
Tony picked a piece of wallpaper out of Jean’s hair. They were stripping Bridie’s bedroom. “Nearly finished,” he said encouragingly as she scraped at a particularly difficult piece.
He ran downstairs and picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Tony. It’s Matt Collins. I have a proposition to put to you.” Tony’s eyes widened as he listened to the man at the other end of the phone. He felt stunned. Shocked. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A wave of joy enveloped him.
Second Chance Page 3