by Anne Bennett
Tony looked across at Paul and he shrugged. They both knew to their cost that when their mother spoke in a certain way, the wisest course by far was just to agree.
Maria was tired too, but when Barney drained his glass and suggested going to bed, she said, ‘I’m all for it, but I’ll have to feed Sally first.’
‘Well, let’s go up, anyway,’ Barney said. He felt as if he was on fire, and he barely let Maria in through the door before he was stripping her clothes off her.
‘Barney, the baby,’ Maria said, for Sally was beginning to stir, but Barney was far too worked up to wait any longer and he pushed Maria down on the bed.
She found it hard to get aroused, or enjoy the act itself, when in the background Sally had started to moan and grumble. Then began the ear-splitting wails that demanded attention. Maria lay under Barney and wondered what Sean and Martha would think of her, just leaving her baby to cry.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Patsy woke next morning with a raging thirst, a feeling of nausea and the thought that ten thousand hammers were pounding inside her head. In fact, she felt ill, really ill. She could never recall feeling so bad.
Martha looking in on her daughter later, took in the flushed face and the way her eyes were screwed against the light, and suggested she have the day in bed. She took her up her breakfast with a couple of aspirins, convinced she was coming down with something. Patsy did have a pang of guilt at having her mother fuss around her, but she did feel far too ill to get up.
By lunch time she’d begun to feel a little bit better, but it was coming up to teatime before she felt able to get up.
‘It must have been one of those twenty-four-hour things,’ Martha said later, as the family sat eating the evening meal. ‘I mean, Patsy is fine now, but this morning she looked like death warmed up. I really did think she was getting flu or something. Once that gets in the house, it goes round everyone like a dose of salts.’
Barney met Patsy’s eye across the table. Both of them knew it was no flu she had, and they shared a special secretive smile. No one noticed it but Maria, and she told herself that she had imagined it.
‘We always said we would go to the youth club together,’ Chloë grumbled in the school yard that raw January day. ‘We’ve talked about it for ages.’
‘I know, but it’s my only chance of getting out for the evening,’ Patsy said. ‘Go on, Chloë. I’d do it for you.’
‘I really hope that you know what you are doing. This Barney must be an old man.’
‘No, he’s not,’ Patsy said. ‘But he is a man, not some pimply boy acting daft in front of his mates. He’s really handsome too,’ she added dreamily.
‘And related.’
‘No, he’s not, not really. Only through marriage.’
‘Yeah, and that’s it, isn’t it? The man is married.’
‘I know that, but we’re just friends,’ Patsy maintained.
‘Oh, yeah,’ Chloe said sarcastically. ‘Were you born yesterday? A man like that doesn’t want a friend.’
‘He does,’ Patsy said. ‘He treats me like I am really grown up. He gives me cigarettes and everything.’
‘You smoke?’ Chloë squealed. To her, smoking was the ultimate in sophistication and she couldn’t wait till she could start herself. ‘Does your mother know?’
‘Don’t talk daft. Course not, but as Barney says, he does and Sean does, but I bet Sean would throw a dickey fit if I just lit up.’
‘What’s it like?’
‘Good,’ Patsy said. ‘I didn’t like it much to start with, but I stuck at it and it makes me feel great now. Calms you down and everything. Mind you, I don’t row like I used to, and that was Barney too. He said if I offered to do things and stuff like that—model daughter, you know—then they would give me more freedom and he was right. As he said, they don’t really care about me now they have Deirdre, especially Sean. I mean, he’s bound to think more of his own daughter than someone else’s. Before I had Barney as a friend that used to upset me and make me angry, but now I don’t care that much and if I do get het up, I get out of the house and have a fag.’
‘God, Patsy,’ Chloë said enviously.
‘I drink too when I am with Barney,’ Patsy said, rubbing it in. ‘He buys me port and lemon.’ No need to tell Chloë she’d only had it the once. ‘He’s taking me to the pub tonight, as a matter of fact. He plays poker and they have a card school there. He’s taught me to play poker, but he says I must only watch, no women play poker in the pubs. It would be frowned on.
‘And I’ll tell you one thing: Maria has never been to watch him play. Barney says she never has shown an interest in any of his pastimes and isn’t that the very thing it tells you a woman should do in that Woman’s Weekly magazine your mother has?’
Chloë nodded. She couldn’t deny it. When her mother finished with the magazine, she would give it to Chloe. She’d often bring it to school and she and Patsy would read it avidly together. It had tips on a woman making the most of herself and many ways of making a man happy. Both Chloë and Patsy decided they wanted to be model wives when their turn came, and that article about taking an interest in your man’s hobbies was in the issue just before Christmas.
‘Why doesn’t she?’
Patsy shrugged. ‘Barney said she doesn’t approve of cards. She’s proper prissy about it. He doesn’t have much of a life with her really. He says she’s a terrible nag.’
‘Well, you never took to her, did you?’
‘No…,’ Patsy said. But she said it slowly for she was finding it hard to keep the animosity alive when Maria was so good about making her some decent clothes. She had made her a new navy skirt already, and was going to knock up a few blouses to go with it, she said, but Patsy didn’t tell Chloë that.
The pub that night was everything that Patsy could have dreamt of in terms of excitement. Mindful of last time, Barney told Patsy to stick to orange, and that is what she told the first man who offered to buy her a drink, but unbeknownst to Patsy, the man had vodka added to it and any time after that, if a man said the drink was for the little lady the barman added a shot of vodka.
Barney was much too engrossed with the cards to notice, and Patsy, knowing the rudiments of the game, was almost as agitated as Barney. She was glad he had left his pack of cigarettes on the table so that she could just help herself without disturbing him. She sat so close their knees touched and she felt a thrill of exhilaration running through him, his face tight in concentration, his brow puckered so that his eyebrows met across the bridge of his nose. As the stakes were raised, and more money thrown into the pile, the excitement was at fever pitch.
Barney was lucky that night and he came away with a wodge of money. ‘Come on,’ he said to Patsy. ‘It’s nearly closing time anyway, and I have to get you home.’
Patsy obediently tried to get to her feet, but staggered and quickly sat back down again.
‘How much have you had to drink?’ Barney asked.
Patsy had no idea. Drinks had been pushed into her hand all night. ‘Lots,’ she said, starting to giggle, ‘but only orange juice.’
‘Like hell it was,’ Barney said, fastening Patsy’s coat around her. ‘Let’s hope the walk home sobers you up some, or we are for the high jump.’
Barney held her tight against him as they walked and when he felt her burrowing closer, he led her to an alleyway off Mason Road, took her in his arms and kissed her, teasing her mouth open. When his tongue began darting in and out of her mouth she felt strong urges begin in her body—so strong they frightened her and she pushed Barney away.
‘What’s up?’ Barney said, puzzled.
‘It’s just…well, we are just friends, aren’t we?’
‘Of course.’
Patsy was embarrassed and she hoped Barney would not be cross, or think her silly, but she went on anyway, ‘The thing is, I don’t think that sort of kiss is for friends.’
‘Well, you sure as damn don’t give it to your enemies.’
‘I know, but…‘ Patsy couldn’t explain that that sort of kiss stirred up feelings in her that she could barely understand, but knew she shouldn’t have for Barney. She liked cuddling up tight or holding Barney’s hand, and had no objection to a kiss on the cheek or lips, but she didn’t want to go further than that.
Barney looked at her in exasperation. She was very young and totally inexperienced so he decided he would play it her way for now. ‘Come on then,’ he said. ‘Let’s make for home.’
‘You aren’t cross with me, are you?’
‘No, I’m not cross with you.’
‘It’s just, well, it doesn’t seem right.’
‘I know, you said.’
‘You are cross.’
‘I’m not cross,’ Barney said. ‘It’s just that you’re so scared of things. How will it hurt Maria if you and I have a bit of fun together?’
‘I suppose it won’t, but…‘
‘There is always a but with you, Patsy. How do you feel about sex?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Would you go all the way with someone?’
‘Of course I would, when I was married.’
‘Not before?’
‘Oh, no,’ Patsy said. ‘I couldn’t do anything like that.’
‘Why is that?’ Barney asked. ‘Is it because the Church says so?’
‘Partly, and there’s the fear of getting pregnant,’
‘Oh, there’s things can be done to prevent pregnancy,’ Barney said airily. ‘As for the other, what do celibate priests know about desires of the body? If two people want to have sex together, what harm does it do?’
Patsy had never ever heard a viewpoint like this expressed before. ‘Have you done that,’ she asked, ‘had sex with other women?’
‘Aye.’
‘Lots of women?’
‘A fair few, aye.’
Patsy wanted to ask him if he’d had sex with others since he’d married Maria and if they still had sex together, but felt those things were too personal to ask.
They’d nearly reached the house and Barney stopped and held out his arms. ‘Come here.’
Patsy went willingly and Barney kissed her, but made no effort to do anything else and Patsy was able to relax.
He gave her a peppermint and said, ‘Now listen, suck hard on that and, for God’s sake, unless you want this to be the last time we do this, concentrate on walking in a straight line and talking without slurring your words. Now go in and tell them how marvellous the youth club was.’
‘What about you?’
‘Well, we can hardly go in together.’
‘No,’ Patsy said, and noted the fact that Barney didn’t say what he was going to do. She had no right to ask either. She was so relieved when she got in that Sean and her mother had gone to bed for she felt decidedly odd and knew her mother would have cottoned on straight away. But there was no one about to see her staggering up the stairs.
Martha wasn’t asleep. She called out as Patsy passed the door, ‘That you, Patsy?’
Patsy concentrated on keeping any suggestion of slur out of her voice as she answered, ‘Yes, Mom. Tell you all about it in the morning.’
Chloë wanted a blow-by-blow account the next day, when she called round so that they could go to the library together. Patsy gave her an edited version of the evening, but it sounded terribly exciting to Chloë, who had had a fairly dull night at the youth club.
‘I am seeing Barney on Sunday afternoon as well,’ she said.
‘What about choir practice?’
‘What about it?’ Patsy said. ‘I’m not going. I am going to the pictures instead.’
‘The nuns will go mad.’
‘No they won’t, not if I tell them I’ve given up choir to concentrate on my studies,’ Patsy said. ‘They’ll want as many to matriculate as possible next year and I bet you they won’t say a word about it.’
‘Got it all thought out, haven’t you?’ Chloe said glumly. ‘Where does all this leave me? We’re supposed to be friends.’
‘We are friends.’
‘Yeah, seems to me you would rather be with that bloody Barney than me.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Patsy said, but she knew Chloë was right: she wanted to be near Barney at every opportunity and she really couldn’t care less about anyone else.
When Patsy asked her mother a month or so later if it was all right for her to go to Chloë’s house a couple of nights a week to get her homework done, Martha had no suspicions.
‘It’s obvious they will get more done there,’ she told Sean. ‘After all, Chloë just has the one sister and she is away at university most of the time.’
In late February, Barney had started visiting his brother in Mountjoy Prison at the weekend every few weeks. He’d been writing to Seamus every week as soon as he got his address, and Seamus had asked if Barney would come and see him now he considered it was safe for him to do so. Maria could hardly object, for the brothers only had each other, but Barney was always harder to handle when he got home from these visits on Sunday night. He was usually quite drunk and belligerent too. That alone made Maria nervous, but he didn’t ever do anything remotely like he had the day he got the letter from Ned.
‘Where did you stay?’ Maria asked Barney the first time, for he would take the train late on Friday night, catch the early morning ferry and arrive in Dublin midmorning. He would see his brother that afternoon, stay the night and return on Sunday.
Barney stared at Maria and said, ‘You don’t really want to know that, nor do you need to know it.’
Maria knew then he had been with some woman and she felt cheap and shoddy. What should she do—rant and rave, forbid him do such a thing and shame her in this way? Would it change Barney’s behaviour at all? No, she knew it wouldn’t and at least she could give herself the dignity of never asking that question again. Later, when Martha asked the same thing, Maria was able to meet her gaze steadily and in a controlled voice say his brother had had lots of contacts in the city and Barney lodged with one of those.
Barney felt guilty every time he saw his brother, knowing that if it hadn’t been for Seamus, he could well be in an adjoining cell. There was a young girl, barely older than Patsy, who would be waiting for Barney after his prison visit, and who was only too willing to accommodate him and make him feel better about himself.
Every Sunday night of Barney’s return, Maria would empty his bag and smell the cheap perfume on his clothes and sometimes see the mark of lipstick on his shirt collars. She would say not a word about it and hide them from Martha’s eyes, knowing she would never understand.
Maria wasn’t the only one to hate Barney going to see his brother. Patsy did too. She had neglected Chloë too much to seek her friendship the weekends that Barney was in Ireland. In case there was any doubt of this, Chloë told her straight: ‘You can’t just pick me up and drop me again like some old rubbing rag, and don’t think you can. You don’t want me when lover boy is around and I don’t want you when he isn’t. You made your choice.’
Patsy could hardly blame her, if she was honest, but it did make the weekends a bit of a lonely time. She did go to the youth club on Friday because her mother would have thought it odd if she didn’t, and it was moderately better than walking up and down the length of Erdington High Street, where, anyway, she was bound to be spotted and notice brought to it at home.
However, she could hardy just turn up at choir practice and she had to skulk about until it was time to go home. She gave the excuse she had a test to revise for or an essay to write as the reason she hadn’t gone back to Chloë’s after choir. In actual fact she did get more done those weekends because there was little else to do. At least that was a good thing, for she gave scant regard to her studies when Barney was around
Spring gave way to early summer and when Patsy asked if she might go to the odd concert with Chloë in the city centre, neither Martha nor Sean could see anything wrong with it. As Sean said, ‘The
girl works hard enough’ and he upped her pocket money so that she could pay for the things she wanted to do. Patsy felt a heel as she took the money each week.
She didn’t really need it. Barney or his friends supplied her with cigarettes and booze, and she needed little else. While Barney had taken her to the cinema a few times and the theatre once, mainly he took her to pubs where he would play poker. She would share in the excitement and get happily tipsy, glad that when she got home late Sean and Martha had gone to bed.
In late June, Paul made his First Holy Communion and Maria made him a new white shirt and grey trousers for it. He was as proud as punch, being nearly the best dressed there, for not everyone had such a skilled dressmaker in their house. In August, she made matching dresses for Deirdre and Sally, but in different colours, for their shared first birthday party. The two looked as pretty as a picture.
Everyone was always grateful, but in many ways it also helped Maria. Barney, never an easy man, had got more difficult since they had come to Birmingham, and going to see his brother made him worse. Barney wanted and expected the water for his wash to be ready when he was in from work and then for the meal to be on the table. The clothes he dropped on the bedroom floor he wanted washed, ironed and put away so he could just put his hand on them, and he wanted his wife waiting to satisfy him when he rolled in from the pub.
Sean and Martha viewed all this with concern, but if they asked Maria if there were any problems, or whether she wanted to talk, she always said she was fine. She had often thought that if she could get Barney away from his brother, their marriage might have a chance, but that hadn’t happened and she often felt a failure as a wife. Making something good out of someone else’s cast-offs gave her back some of her self-esteem.
The good summer eventually drew to a close and autumn was heralded in with gusty winds and extreme cold, that ensured snow before Christmas. The children were ecstatic. That snow was to herald in the worst winter in living memory, but no one knew that then. The adults viewed the snow apprehensively but stoically, knowing that it never lay long in Birmingham, while the children at least had a great time.