The Four Streets

by Nadine Dorries

  ‘Aye, yer look like one too,’ responded Tommy, which made Jerry feel no better. Jerry and Nellie had arrived at Tommy and Maura’s house for breakfast, before they left to go into town for the not-so-big day.

  Alice was taking a cab from the hotel, an extravagance Jerry failed to understand. The register office was a ten-minute walk down Church Street. It would never enter his mind to take a cab if the destination was within walking distance, or if you could jump on the bus.

  Tommy had more to say about the suit, without being asked. Maura had taught him well.

  ‘Look on the bright side, ye will never be stuck for money again. Ye could always get a few bob for that suit, when it runs in and out of the pawnshop, and ye could always sell it, if times were tough. After all, ye can’t eat a suit now, can ye? Alice is buying an investment, as well as summat to wear, though I’d never let no woman buy me a suit and that’s for sure.’

  Jerry looked at himself in the long dressing mirror in Tommy’s bedroom. He didn’t look or feel right and Tommy’s comment, brutally honest as it was, niggled him. There was nothing he could say or do now. The die was cast.

  Tommy and Jerry left the house to carry Nellie down the road to the green to play with Kitty. She was already looking after the twins and Angela and would be taking care of Nellie for the day. Jerry and Tommy were quieter and more subdued than they would have been on a cold morning heading off to work.

  ‘Good luck, Uncle Jerry!’ shouted Kitty as she ran to greet him and threw her arms round his waist.

  Jerry loved Kitty and even he knew it was because she had been Bernadette’s favourite. Quite often, right up until she died, when Kitty was still a little tot Bernadette would bring Kitty home from Tommy and Maura’s house to stay with them for the night and play mothers and daughters. Each year since Kitty had been born, Maura had delivered a new set of twins and two new sisters, making a grand total of seven children in five years. It was a huge treat for Kitty to be in a house that was quiet and tidy and not full of smaller children expecting her to do things for them. Bernadette would fuss over her, paint her tiny nails in bright-red nail varnish and buy her special treats for the night. Kitty had cried a lot when her Auntie Bernadette had died. She was only little and had no idea what death meant, but she sensed it was a tragedy.

  ‘You’re getting married today,’ Kitty sang, and all the little ones followed her lead and began laughing and singing. ‘You’re going to get married today, you’re going to get married today,’ they chanted, as they jumped up and down on the spot around Jerry and Tommy.

  Tommy laughed at the kids, as Jerry watched his Nellie grab hold of Kitty’s hand and try to copy the other children, by taking her thumb out of her mouth to jump up and down and sing. She did so with both feet on the ground, bobbing around, trying to jump, although all she achieved was to bend and straighten her knees. Nellie had no idea what she was singing about, but she grinned from ear to ear, looking from her da to her heroine, Kitty. It was the first time Jerry had smiled all morning, seeing his Nellie infected by the excitement.

  ‘Thanks, Kitty, ye are a grand lass,’ shouted Jerry, as he and Tommy walked away to collect Maura. ‘Thanks, kids,’ he shouted and waved his hand above his head. They all crowded round to wave goodbye.

  ‘Who’s he marrying?’ asked Kitty’s brother, Harry.

  ‘Mammy says it’s a witch,’ replied Kitty, watching her da and Jerry walking away.

  All the children stopped laughing and running about. This was big news. Jerry was marrying a witch? A witch was coming to live on their street? In unison, they all looked first towards Jerry’s house and then at Nellie, who followed their lead, looking at the house and then seeing their reactions. She put her thumb back in her mouth. Something was up.

  ‘Poor Nellie,’ said Harry. ‘What will happen to her?’

  ‘I dunno, but it’s strange, so it is,’ replied Kitty.

  ‘Never mind, Nellie,’ said Harry, as he took hold of Nellie’s hand. ‘I will look after ye and save ye from the witch.’

  Harry was only two years older than Nellie. Nellie took her thumb back out of her mouth and grinned up at him appreciatively. Nellie already truly loved Harry, who always looked out for her. As Harry took Nellie’s hand, his hair gently ruffled and blew in the breeze, a soft kiss landed tenderly on his head and a warm cloak of protectiveness wrapped itself around his shoulders. Harry didn’t feel a thing, but Nellie did and smiled.

  Jerry and Alice had struggled to find witnesses for the day. Alice had no friends. Jerry didn’t know a single person in Liverpool who wasn’t an Irish Catholic and for a while they thought they might have to ask two strangers on the street to come in and stand for them. No God-fearing Irish man or woman would attend a wedding that wasn’t a nuptial mass, held in a church and witnessed in the eyes of God and every saint that a day had been named after.

  When Father James from St Mary’s got wind of what was happening, he had called round to the house and given Jerry hell, without him having had to live a life and die for it. The women on the street could hear the priest’s voice booming out of the front-room window and bouncing off the cobbles, and slowly they began to gather round. Within an hour, everyone in every house on all four streets knew every word of the conversation.

  ‘The windows rattled and shook with such a force they almost broke with the sound of his voice,’ said Peggy, which of course wasn’t true, but this was Liverpool; no story was worth telling without a good dollop of exaggeration.

  In the end, Maura and Tommy had agreed to stand witness, Maura for no other reason than she wanted to know exactly what was occurring and wanted, self-importantly, to relay back to the other women every detail of the event. Knowledge was king and, with it, she would be queen of the streets, if only for a day. Tommy agreed, because he was a decent man who would do anything for his mate and, once Maura had decided, he would also do anything for a quiet life.

  Jerry, Maura and Tommy took the overhead railway, known as the Dockers’ Umbrella, into town to meet Alice. It ran along the full length of the docks, looking down on a panorama of containers, crates and cranes, with stack upon stack of timber strapped together, waiting to be collected and dispersed to timber yards across the country. The murky horizon was sharply broken by the sight of billowing red ensigns, the merchant navy flags on the docked ships that were having their loads lightened and on the ships sat out at the bar, patiently waiting for the pilots to guide them in.

  For the first time since setting foot on Liverpool’s soil, Jerry longed deep down inside to return home to Ireland. It was a longing that had crept into his chest earlier that morning and had now settled in for the day.

  His view from the window of the overhead railway made him feel low and depressed. A mist was rolling up the Mersey like a bolt of grey chiffon being randomly unfurled above the surface of the water and there was not a blade of grass in sight. As they passed by large areas of wasteland and rubble, interspersed by rows of blackened brick-terraced houses, much of the area looked as though the bombs had dropped only yesterday. The bleakness was made vaguely opaque and eerie by the combination of the grey mist and yellow smoke spewing from the chimneys of the factories, workshops and pump rooms, as well as those homes that could afford to keep a fire lit all day.

  Since Jerry had vented his anger that fateful night, he had thought about Bernadette daily. He could remember everything as though it were yesterday. He knew now that he could let her in and dwell on his memories, and that afterwards he would still be whole in body and mind. He could think about her and not go insane. He wouldn’t fall apart.

  As the train moved slowly on past each dock, Maura and Tommy chattered away. Jerry imagined what the small farm his parents owned would look like this morning. He leant his head against the window and closed his eyes for a minute. The jolting of the train made his head loll backwards and forwards against the glass, but he went with it and didn’t move or open his eyes. Within his own dark world, he could replac
e the smell of dirt and damp and cold steel with the rich, wet grass and peat of Ballymara.

  The contrast between the view from the railway carriage and the image of home was intoxicating and dragging him in. He could see his father returning from the milking shed, with his faithful cows on their way back to the field. The cap on his head that he had worn for the last thirty years, a stick in his hand, the crazy dogs barking at his heels and the sun rising behind him, making the same journey he had every single morning of Jerry’s life. The gentle rain was falling in the sunshine but, as always, it fell soft and pure as only Irish rain did.

  He could hear the Moorhaun River tripping over the pebbles as it skirted Bangornevin and passed round the back of the farmhouse, which stood only two hundred yards from the banks. He heard the plopping of the salmon, jumping as they made their way upstream. And his heart clenched, as the sadness in the pit of his belly deepened.

  In his longing thoughts of home, Bernadette drifted in. How different would their life have been if he had met and married his Bernadette back in Ireland, instead of in Liverpool? The farm wasn’t big enough to feed two families and, for sure, there were plenty of siblings, as well as Jerry, to feed. But he liked to imagine that he could have found a way to have reared his Nellie in Mayo. To have lived with his Bernadette on the farm. To be living a very different life from the one he was today. For the last four weeks, each time Jerry felt low or down, he had escaped to an imaginary other past, full of Bernadette and Nellie. He knew such thoughts were crazy just when he was about to wed another.

  Tommy suddenly nudged him in the ribs. ‘Ready, Jerry, we’re here.’

  Jerry dragged himself back from the farm and Ballymara. He left his da locking the gate to the field and his mother walking up the path, carrying a pail of unpasteurized milk, straight from the milking shed into the house, battling the midges and wafting them away from her face with her free hand. He left his brothers in the kitchen, making plans for the day and finishing their bacon and tatties; the youngest carrying a large bucket full of brown bricks of roughly cut peat into the kitchen to stack by the fire for the day’s baking.

  He left Jacko, the donkey he had ridden when he was a lad, who was still alive today and up to his usual tricks. Jerry took himself up the hill directly opposite the front of the farmhouse and looked down across the fields to find Jacko as he had so many times before, and there he was, two ears stuck up in the field of oats, the rest of his body hidden.

  And there was his Bernadette, in her red dress. He had been looking for her and there she was, sitting on the long five-bar gate to the farmyard, the gate she had sat and swung on every time they went back home. It disturbed him that she looked so sad. Sadder than she ever had when she was alive. He closed his eyes and attempted to draw her smiling image back into his mind, to look into her eyes – as he often did now. Today, she refused to be drawn.

  Tommy nudged him again. ‘Come on, off, now!’ he said with a sense of urgency.

  Tommy was worried. Never before had he seen a man less enthusiastic to attend his own wedding. Maura linked Tommy’s arm in hers as they walked up into town and tried to make happy chatter. They were meeting Alice at the register office doors in fifteen minutes.

  ‘Have we time for a quick one?’ whispered Tommy to Maura. ‘We need to put a smile on yer man’s face afore she sees him or we’ll be taking the blame for making him look like he’s going to a feckin’ funeral.’

  ‘Don’t talk about funerals, or ye’ll set me off, and sure if I start, I won’t stop,’ replied Maura, as they both turned sharp left and up the steps of the Grapes pub. Jerry silently tripped along in their wake, deep in thought and looking for all the world like a man heading to the gallows.

  Alice had tucked herself away at the bottom corner of the square, with the doors of the register office in sight, giving herself good warning of when the others entered the square from Water Street. She did not want to be standing alone outside. She knew she looked conspicuous in her wedding attire and couldn’t help wondering how many women had stood in this same spot, dressed for the biggest day in their life, only to be humiliated in public as office workers looked out of their windows and saw them walk away, alone. She was far from sure that Jerry would turn up. This was her final concern. She was quite convinced that Maura and Tommy would do anything in their power to persuade him that he was making a mistake.

  Alice had spent her life as a bystander, observing the lives of others, and today was no exception. She felt a familiar sense of continuity as she watched shoppers, office staff, sailors and businessmen bustle across the square. Here she was, ironically, on the day her life was to change, doing something that was second nature, watching others. The knowledge didn’t make her feel as good as it could. Narrowing her eyes, she peered into the distance as she pulled herself back from the edge of her reverie, aware that time was ticking by. Her heart was beating so fast, she could feel it thumping against her ribs and her mouth was abnormally dry. Had Jerry stood her up? They were due to be married in six minutes and she still couldn’t pick him out across the square.

  Suddenly, she felt her anger rise inside her like vomit, as they came into sight and she saw the three of them together, Maura in the middle and Tommy and Jerry each holding one of her hands, running up the ginnel that fed onto the square. The ginnel was dark, deprived of light by the tall buildings on each side. At first Alice couldn’t believe it was them but there they were, suddenly bathed in light, as they broke cover and ran into the open square. If she hadn’t seen them with her own eyes, she wouldn’t have believed it. All three were running as if the wind were chasing them, with Maura squealing and laughing loudly as she tried to shake Jerry and Tommy’s hands out of her own so that she could slow down to a walk and catch her breath.

  ‘How dare they run up here at the last minute and forget about me,’ muttered Alice to herself. As she took a step forward, she realized they were about to run through the doors of the register office. They had obviously assumed she was inside, waiting for them.

  ‘Well, there’s a mistake and make no mistake,’ said Alice, as she began to walk purposefully across the square towards the building. She was attracting the attention of office staff leaving for their lunch hour. For a few moments, Alice had forgotten she wasn’t looking in on the lives of others from behind a pane of glass; this was for real. This was her life.

  The others first spotted her just as she reached the oak and glass revolving door to the lobby. They had been looking for her inside. Jerry immediately noticed something different about her face. It was cold and hostile, shrouded in anger.

  Has she changed her mind? he wondered. Is that what she’s coming through that door to tell me? Is that why she isn’t already in here? Am I to be let off? Relief hovered expectantly.

  The revolving door ejected Alice into the lobby. The hostility fell from Alice’s face as she gave Maura a tight and brittle smile in response to her overly effusive greeting.

  ‘Good morning, Alice, that’s a beautiful outfit ye are wearing and would ye look at them gloves, go on now, let me take a closer look.’

  The three of them smelt of the two hot rum toddies they had each just downed in the Grapes. Maura was nervous, talking too much and too fast. Alice knew that she could possibly risk everything if she remonstrated with Jerry for smelling of alcohol. He looked less than happy.

  As Alice turned to show Maura the gloves, which Maura was by now just about peeling off her arm, Jerry realized that it was over. All done. The wedding would be going ahead. He was still in his twenties and the best of his life was already behind him.

  They called into the Lyons Corner Tea Rooms for lunch afterwards, where they had shepherd’s pie followed by apple crumble and custard with two large pots of tea. Most of it was eaten in silence although Maura did her best to keep the conversation alive, in order to find out as much as she could about Alice, the Protestant cuckoo who had forced herself into their Catholic nest. Tommy smoked more cigarettes
than usual. A man unused to social niceties, he found the whole day extremely uncomfortable. If he had a Cappie in his mouth, no one would ask him a question, or expect him to talk.

  As the waitresses bustled around them in their black uniforms, they would never have guessed that the very quiet party on the table in the corner had just been to a wedding.

  When lunch was over, they took the Dockers’ Umbrella back to the four streets. As they entered their own houses, Jerry, Tommy and Maura closed their doors on each other and their shared past. No longer would Jerry be able to raise in conversation some of the fun nights they had shared together. Maura wouldn’t call round with her letters from Killhooney Bay and news of her own and Bernadette’s family. That was the past; a new future was about to begin.

  ‘You would have thought she’d have been grateful to have me standing for her and not be so snooty with it,’ said Maura to Tommy, in indignation, as they walked into their house.

  ‘Ah, let it go now,’ said Tommy. ‘We’ve done our duty, so we have, we can sleep easy tonight. Not that yer man will be doing much sleeping, I shouldn’t think!’

  Maura grinned and slapped him on the leg. She was thankful she had her Tommy. They might not have had the most exciting life, but they were secure, emotionally stable and, for what little they had, always grateful.

  Within thirty minutes of arriving home, Maura had curlers back in her hair, her floral overdress apron on, and was away next door to Peggy, to recount the activities of the day.

  ‘Quick as yer like, I’ll put the kettle on,’ shouted Peggy, out of the open kitchen window, as she heard the latch rise on the back gate and saw Maura walk up the path.

  She picked up her mop, which was leaning against the wall, and ran with urgency back into the kitchen, where she used the end to bang hard three times on her kitchen wall adjoining the house next door. This was to alert Annie to hurry away in; it was the code that Maura was back with news.