by June Francis
They had wanted to speak to Tommy about a stolen car. It came as no surprise to Marty when told about his mother’s encounter with the police that she had immediately sprung to her younger son’s defence, saying that he would never steal anything. She had suggested that they speak to him at the garage where he was a mechanic. As it turned out they had already been there and also visited the address where he had been staying, but Tommy was not to be found at either place. He had vanished along with the customer’s car he had been working on the previous day.
The news soon got out that the police had called at the McGraths’ house and a mechanic at the garage spoke to the press and within no time the story appeared in the Liverpool Echo about how Tommy had been borrowing cars he had been repairing to use as getaway vehicles, working with thieves who broke into jewellers’ and pawnbrokers’ shops. It seemed that in the past he had always returned the vehicles to the garage before the customers picked them up the following day, so they had never been reported as stolen. This time the thieves had been unlucky. The pawnbroker whom they intended to rob had managed to press an alarm bell before being coshed and a bobby on the beat had been nearby and come running and put in a call for assistance. Tommy must have spotted him and had driven off but one of the thieves had managed to jump on to the running board and escaped with Tommy. The car was never traced and neither were the proceeds from a robbery earlier that evening that had been left in the boot.
It was still three minutes to seven when Marty pushed open the door of the Red Lion and went inside. The interior was fuggy with cigarette smoke but not as crowded as no doubt it would be later on in the evening. He spotted Tommy almost immediately and was glad to see he was alone with a pint in front of him. From the way he was puffing on a cigarette and glancing furtively about him, he was obviously a little on edge.
Marty knew the moment his brother caught sight of him because he grinned in his direction. Marty felt like hitting him but instead raised a hand and pointed to the bar and mimed drinking before ordering a pint of Bass. After paying for it, he made his way to where his brother was sitting in a corner and sat opposite him.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ Marty asked without preamble. ‘Mam’s had you dead and buried.’
Tommy frowned. ‘Don’t be like that, Marty, or I’ll regret getting in touch with you.’
‘I bet you only did so because you knew that you’d been spotted.’
Tommy flicked ash from his cigarette. ‘I won’t lie to you. You’ve hit the nail on the head. I spotted you from the bus. Now if you’d worn a crash helmet and goggles I wouldn’t have done. You’ve got to watch out for the little things, Marty, if you want to play detective.’
‘Don’t be giving me advice,’ said Marty, dropping his voice. ‘If you had a brain in your head you wouldn’t have got involved with criminals. You’d managed to finish your apprenticeship and had a good job and were in a position of trust. What do you do? Ruin everything because sufficient has never been enough for you! You’ve always wanted more and so you break Mam’s heart into the bargain to satisfy your own greed.’
‘I didn’t phone you so you could lay into me,’ said Tommy sullenly. ‘I guessed you’d still be working there.’
‘You should be glad I’m so dependable and you could phone me without Mam and Dad knowing,’ said Marty.
‘Actually, I thought I was bloody clever.’ He smirked. ‘I doubt I’d have ever been found out if it hadn’t been for that alarm going off when it did. I never actually stole a car until the last time.’
‘Lower your voice!’ muttered Marty. ‘Where’ve you been these past few years?’
‘That would be telling.’ Tommy took a swig of his beer.
Marty swore beneath his breath. ‘You are the most selfish sod I’ve ever met. You could have sent her a letter.’
‘Letters have postmarks and you can bet she’d have shown it to Dad.’ Tommy’s expression darkened and he picked up his glass. ‘Anyway, was it pure luck you spotted me?’
‘Peggy saw you outside here. She has friends in this area, so she phoned me at Bernie’s mother’s.’
‘Bernie’s mother’s!’ The glass slipped in Tommy’s hand and he only just managed to save it. ‘What were you doing at her house? That old bitch hates me because she thinks the sun shines out of Patrick’s arse!’
‘I’m married to Bernie and we live there,’ said Marty tersely.
Tommy’s mouth fell open and for several moments he seemed unable to speak. Then he gulped and said, ‘Bloody hell, how did that happen? She’s not your type.’
‘I know that now, but she got pregnant. We’ve two kids. A boy and a girl.’ Marty took a deep draught of his beer and changed the subject. ‘Have you mates in the neighbourhood?’
Tommy took a deep breath. ‘Have you told Bernie you saw me?’
‘No, and neither have I told Mam and Dad yet. I plan on telling Mam, just so she knows you’re still alive, although she’d be happier if she could see you.’
Tommy’s mouth tightened. ‘There’s no way I’ll set foot in our house while Dad’s alive. I’m not like you,’ he said, stubbing out his cigarette. ‘He gets me goat. He always has. He’s so bleedin’ holier than thou! He’s a hypocrite! We both know he likes a drink or two and it’s Mam who’s the saint for putting up with him. It’s a bloody miracle that I stayed living at home as long as I did, but I didn’t really have any choice, not having much money. That’s why I did what I did. I was always broke.’ He took out a fresh packet of cigarettes and removed one, lit up and inhaled a lungful of smoke. ‘Women don’t think anything of you if you don’t have money to spend on them.’
‘So presumably you have money now?’ said Marty, noticing that it was a packet of Kensitos, not his brother’s usual cheaper Woodbines. He fought the urge to ask Tommy for a cigarette. Marty had given them up when Josie was born to save money but there were still times when he longed for a smoke.
‘Some!’ Tommy’s eyes did not quite meet Marty’s.
‘Have you got a girl?’
Tommy hesitated. ‘Not at the moment. The money from the robbery is all spent. I left the country and it costs to live.’
‘What happened to the crook that managed to escape with you?’
‘Dead two months ago,’ said Tommy succinctly. ‘Would you believe a snake bit him?’
‘A snake? Where the hell have you been? And why have you come back? Do you think you’re safe because the other crooks are still in jail? The police won’t have closed the case yet, you know? Not until they find you and your thieving mate.’
Tommy smiled. ‘They won’t be looking for me, though, will they? Not after the time I’ve been away.’
‘Maybe not,’ murmured Marty, draining his glass. ‘So where are you living now? What are your plans or shouldn’t I ask?’
Tommy hesitated. ‘I’d rather not answer either of those questions.’
Marty nodded. ‘Please yourself. I suppose if anything was to happen to either Mam or Dad, and I needed to get in touch with you, I could put a notice in the Echo.’
Tommy blinked rapidly. ‘Yer mean them dropping dead and you putting them in the Deaths!’
‘Naw, I’d never presume you’d read the Deaths,’ said Marty, getting to his feet. ‘Well, if you’ve told me all you’re going to tell me, I’ll be on my way. It’s Josie’s birthday and Bernie’s doing her a special tea and I’m late.’
Tommy sighed heavily. ‘I suppose you’ve got to keep her sweet. She’s a one is Bernie. What did she have to say when I had to disappear?’
‘She’s like Mam and has you dead.’
Tommy looked taken aback and then said, ‘I suppose that makes sense. How old is your little girl?’
‘Two,’ said Marty.
‘And the boy?’
‘Three and a bit.’
Tommy hesitated. ‘Are you going to tell Bernie we’ve spoken?’
‘No! You can bet she’d let it slip to one of her sisters and she’d tel
l her mother. Anyway, Mam was going to the party. She was making Josie a birthday cake. I hope they’ve saved a slice for me.’
Tommy dug a hand into a coat pocket and took out a couple of florins. ‘Buy them some sweets from me.’
Marty hesitated.
‘I earned it honestly,’ said Tommy, scowling.
Marty pocketed the money, thinking the less he saw of his brother the better. ‘See you around.’
It was on the way out of the Red Lion that Marty collided with a bloke. ‘Sorry,’ both said, glancing at each other as they made space to allow the other to pass.
Only when he was outside did Marty realize that he had seen him before. He went back inside the pub to have another look and noticed Irene’s brother standing at the bar. Even as Marty gazed in Jimmy’s direction, he saw Tommy approach him and exchange a few words.
It could be just small talk with a stranger, thought Marty. Should he go over there and have a word? Then he reminded himself that he was going to be late enough getting home as it was and he wanted to see Josie before she was put to bed.
Marty climbed the steps to the front door of Bernie’s mother’s house as one of his wife’s sisters was leaving with her two children. He held the front door open for her, so she could manoeuvre the pushchair out and helped her down the steps.
‘Yer in trouble, Marty,’ she whispered when they reached the bottom. ‘And yer missed seeing your Peggy’s boyfriend. Lovely manners! Pity that he’s a cripple but I believe he’s got a good job. Goes to Our Lady, Star of the Sea in Seaforth, I believe. See yer, love!’
She went off down the street, pausing to wave when she hadn’t gone far. Marty returned her wave, for he was still standing at the top of the steps, mulling over what she had told him. Then he went inside the house. He closed the front door gently and stood in the lobby, listening, before stepping on to the new maroon carpet runner that Bernie’s mother had bought in time for Christmas.
He paused outside the kitchen door, thinking there was no need for him to put his ear to the panel because he could clearly hear Bernie’s voice. ‘I’ll have him when he gets home,’ she said. ‘No phone call and he said he’d definitely be here in time to see everyone.’
‘He must have a good reason for being late,’ said Monica, who was Bernie’s sixteen-year-old niece.
‘You’re as bad as Peggy, making excuses for him,’ said Bernie.
‘His mother was put out,’ said her widowed sister, Cissie. ‘She makes a decent cake. Nice icing, not too hard, not too soft. And that was a nice little frock she bought Josie and it was good of her to buy Jerry a present, too.’
‘But the overalls for Jerry are too big for him,’ Bernie complained. ‘Did you hear what she said? Plenty of room for him to grow into them.’
‘Nothing wrong with that,’ said Cissie. ‘Our mam was the same with us when we were growing up. You being the youngest, you don’t remember the time when money was really tight.’
‘Don’t start going on about me being spoilt,’ said Bernie. ‘Cast-offs, that’s what I used to get all the time.’
‘Oh, stop moaning,’ said Cissie. ‘Besides, that wasn’t always the case.’
‘Often enough to get on my wick,’ said Bernie.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ asked Monica.
‘Never you mind,’ said her mother.
‘You haven’t said what you thought about Peggy’s fella yet, Auntie Bernie,’ said Monica.
‘I never thought Peggy would bring a cripple home. I’ll admit Peter is good looking, but Mr McGrath’s not going to like it,’ said Bernie. ‘He’s a bugger for perfection.’
‘And he speaks nice,’ said Cissie. ‘Works in an office. I just wish your Marty had been here to see him.’
‘Where the hell is he?’ muttered Bernie. ‘I bet he’s gone for a drink. I’ll have him!’
Marty had heard enough and he retraced his steps to the front door, opened it and banged it shut and then strode up the lobby, whistling. He turned the door knob and flung open the door.
‘Talk of the devil,’ said Bernie, getting to her feet and glaring at her husband standing in the doorway. ‘Where the hell have you been?’
‘Not hell, that’s for sure,’ he said.
‘Very funny! I’d started thinking you’d been run over by a bus.’
‘Sorry I’m late. Did Josie enjoy her party?’
‘Don’t you “sorry” me,’ snapped Bernie. ‘It comes to something when a father misses his own daughter’s birthday tea.’
‘It wasn’t deliberate.’ Marty bent and lifted Josie from Monica’s lap. ‘Happy birthday to my beautiful girl,’ he said, kissing the back of his daughter’s soft neck.’
Josie snuggled into him. ‘Where you bin, Daddy?’
‘Out and about!’ He blew a raspberry against her neck and she giggled. ‘And because I missed your birthday tea, I’m going to take you somewhere special to make up for it.’
‘You missed your Peggy’s fella,’ said Cissie.
Marty’s fair head shot up and he stared at Bernie. ‘He came here?’
‘With Peggy and your mother. See! You should have come home earlier,’ she said smugly. ‘He’s a real looker. If he wasn’t crippled I could fancy him myself.’
Marty did not rise to the bait. ‘What was Mam like with him?’
‘I could tell she liked him,’ said Cissie. ‘She brought a lovely cake.’
‘Your Lil didn’t turn up, though,’ sniffed Bernie. ‘She fancies herself, that sister of yours. A children’s tea is below her.’
‘She’s all right is our Lil,’ said Marty, frowning. ‘She probably had the chance of overtime.’
‘And she’s not going to turn that down when she’s saving up to get married,’ said Cissie.
‘Is there any of Mam’s cake left?’ Marty asked.
Monica jumped to her feet. ‘I saved you a slice, Uncle Marty. I knew it would all be gobbled if I didn’t put a piece away.’
Marty thanked her and asked if there was any dinner. If not, then he knew they’d all been gorging themselves and he would have to go to the chippy.
‘I’ll go to the chippy for you if you like,’ said Monica. ‘After all, you’ve been working hard all day.’
‘I’ve been putting new locks on a posh house in Woolton,’ said Marty, digging into a pocket and producing some coins that he handed to her. ‘I’ll have chips, fish and peas, thanks.’
He sat down on the chair Monica had vacated with his daughter on his knee. ‘A cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss,’ he said, looking at Bernie.
She made no move to make him one, but Cissie placed the sleeping Jerry on the sofa and vanished into the next room. Husband and wife stared at each other. ‘Don’t take that tone with me in front of Cissie and Monica again,’ said Marty coldly. ‘I had my reasons for being late, which I’d have told you about if you’d shown a bit of patience. Surely you can’t believe I’d miss Josie’s birthday tea without a good reason?’
Bernie’s cheeks reddened and she folded her arms across her chest. ‘So what was your reason for being late? I can smell from here you’ve been drinking.’
His eyes glinted. ‘One drink!’
‘So who were you drinking with?’ she blurted out. ‘Another woman?’
He just stared at her. ‘I’m going to put Josie to bed and read to her.’ He carried his daughter across the room and started upstairs.
Bernie hurried after him. ‘Aren’t yer going to tell me where you’ve been?’ she shouted.
He felt Josie twist in his arms and stare down at her mother. ‘Lower your voice,’ said Marty. ‘I don’t want your mother coming out to see what’s going on.’
‘She’s gone to the pictures.’ Bernie gripped her hands tightly together. ‘I suppose yer think I should say sorry, when it’s you who should be sorry!’
‘I said sorry when I came in.’ He carried on up the stairs and into their bedroom. He picked up Harry the Dirty Dog from the chest of drawers and sat
down in a chair with his daughter on his knee.
Bernie followed them in and glanced at the cover of the book. ‘Why couldn’t you have bought her a nice fairy story?’
‘I was told this is a best-seller.’
‘Well, it wouldn’t have been my choice,’ she muttered, sitting on the bed.
There was a silence.
‘Anyway, I could do with a break from them,’ said Bernie. ‘I get fed up being home day after day with the kids.’
‘You met your old workmate the other day,’ said Marty. ‘Stop making out you’re hard done by. You’re not short of babysitters. It seems to me that all you have to do is ask.’
‘That isn’t as easy as you might think it,’ said Bernie, tossing her head. ‘You were lucky being the eldest and having a brother and only two sisters.’ She gave him a look and left the bedroom.
Marty hugged his daughter to him and managed to open the book with one hand. As he read the text and Josie pointed to the pictures, he was remembering with half a mind how there had been no books in their house when he was small. His father had never read to him and the stories his mother had told him had been those she remembered from her own childhood, about saints and fairy tales like ‘The Three Bears’ and ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’.
His maternal grandmother had taught him his alphabet. Sadly she had passed away when he was only six. He had never known his paternal grandparents. He’d asked his father about them but he had told him only that they were dead. Pity his father took little interest in the kids, because they were now of an age when they were getting interesting and you could share stuff with them.
He decided he needed to talk to Peggy. No doubt she would be going to Mass on Sunday. He would skip going to the church that Bernie and her mother preferred, so he could tell his sister and mother about his meeting with Tommy.
Seven
It was Sunday morning and Peggy was writing a letter to Irene, agreeing to go to the pantomime with her the following Saturday afternoon. She slipped it into an envelope, addressed and stamped it and then sat on the bed, thinking.