As soon as Pat’s business had improved Julia had been able to send out most of the family washing and now a woman was engaged to come in for the rough cleaning.
Julia was able to get up after two weeks and rest on the sofa while Dora ran the house, and after three weeks when Dora had to leave for a maternity case she had been booked for Julia was able to resume her place in the household.
Anne was in the kitchen one evening when Maureen came in and said that her Aunt Minnie had said that she should stay at home and help her mother, instead of working in the wool shop.
‘Is she on that tack again?’ Julia exclaimed. She took Maureen’s hand and said earnestly, ‘Pay no attention, love. I wouldn’t let you. You’re entitled to live your own life and I’m all right. I only want you to be happy, pet.’
She was looking into Maureen’s face and Anne could see tears trembling on her sister’s lashes. She said tremulously, ‘I am happy, Mum.’
Anne felt that more was implied than was spoken, especially when her mother said gently, ‘Half a loaf is better than no bread at all, love.’
Anne was sure there was some mystery but before anything more was said Terry and Stephen came in.
All the family were doing as much as possible to help their mother but Stephen grumbled to Maureen one day, ‘I’ve never worked so hard in my life. I didn’t know having a cleaning lady meant that you had to clean the house before she came.’
Anne laughed, knowing that Stephen was only joking, but Maureen flared at him: ‘So it’s too much trouble to pick things off the floor in your bedroom? I suppose you’d like Mum to go back to doing it even if it kills her.’
‘Hold on,’ Stephen said indignantly. ‘It was only a joke, for Godsake.’ Anne expected Maureen to smile and apologise but she only said sharply, ‘I don’t like your idea of a joke then,’ and walked away.
‘What’s eating her?’ Stephen asked Anne. ‘One minute she’s as nice as pie and the next she bites your head off.’
‘Perhaps she’s just worried about Mum,’ Anne said.
‘We’ve all been worried about Mum but she’s better now, isn’t she? I heard her singing “The Rose of Tralee” in the kitchen last night,’ Stephen said. ‘You knew I was only joking about Mrs Bennet, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, but I think you were right,’ Anne said with a grin. ‘Eileen and I have never been so tidy. Sometimes I think I’m in the wrong bedroom when I walk in.’
Although Anne joked with Stephen she wondered what was wrong with Maureen. It wasn’t worry about her mother. As Stephen said, their mother was better now, and whatever it was with Maureen her mother knew about it. It was a mystery, Anne thought, and gave up trying to solve it.
Chapter Twelve
Although Anne was happier about her mother’s health she was distressed about Sarah’s unhappiness. Her grandfather Lawrie Ward had been ill since New Year’s Day and had become steadily worse.
On the night of 10 January there was one of the worst gales in living memory. Anne picked her way to work through broken slates and chimney pots and debris of every kind. Mabel was late in arriving at the shop and Sarah even later.
When she arrived she told them that her grandparents had been awake for most of the night. ‘Grandad was much worse,’ she said. ‘And Grandma was up nearly all night with him. She came over for my dad to go for the doctor as soon as it was light this morning.’
‘He’ll be all right,’ Mabel comforted her. ‘A night like last night would upset anyone, sick or well.’
‘I wish she’d come over sooner instead of having the worry on her own all night. We’re only across the street,’ Sarah said. ‘I went to see them before I came here and Grandad was asleep. The doctor increased his tablets and said he must be kept warm and quiet.’
‘He could have no better nurse than your grandma,’ Mabel said. ‘He’ll be all right, you’ll see.’
Sarah seemed comforted but the following day a message was brought to the shop that Sarah’s grandfather had died during the night. Mabel was in tears and Anne wept for Sarah’s sorrow, although she had not known Lawrie Ward. She was surprised to see Mrs Dyson and the bakehouse girls in tears too.
‘The world will be a poorer place without Lawrie Ward,’ Mrs Dyson wept and Mabel cried with her.
‘No one knows how much good he’s done,’ she said and the bakehouse girls both told of people Lawrie had helped.
‘A woman in our street got her parish stopped and he went with her to the Board of Guardians and got it back for her,’ one girl said. The other girl told how he had helped her grandmother.
‘My nin said she’d have gone out of her mind without him,’ she said. ‘My grandad dropped dead and she was left with five little children and not a ha’penny in her pocket. She didn’t know where to turn but someone fetched Lawrie Ward and he done everything for her.’
‘And Sally too,’ Mabel said. ‘God comfort her the way she’s comforted others. When my poor Willie died…’ She could say no more but turned away, sobbing.
The news had spread and Anne was surprised at the number of customers who were distressed by it. Even the topic of the storm which had seemed so important was forgotten as people talked of Lawrie Ward and all he had done.
‘All done on the quiet. No fuss,’ several people said to Mabel, and she said, ‘Aye. He let his deeds speak for him.’
Anne, Mabel, the bakehouse staff and the Dysons contributed for a wreath and Dennis the bank clerk collected among the customers for one. The fact that it was Dennis and not Michael made Anne angry and she hoped Sarah would not be hurt that he had not made the effort.
Mabel said she was going to the house to offer condolences and Anne would have liked to see Sarah to add hers but was too shy.
‘Tell Sarah she can stay off for as long as she can help at home,’ Mrs Dyson said. ‘You can manage without her while we’re slack, can’t you, Mabel?’
She agreed and Mrs Dyson added, ‘Tell her her wages will be here just the same. In fact, take her wages with you, Mabel. There’s all sorts of expenses at a time like this.’
People are good, Anne thought, then it occurred to her that it was the goodness of Lawrie Ward and his wife which had spread to touch everyone with some of their compassion.
Anne was left in charge of the shop while Mabel went to attend the funeral with Mrs Dyson and one of the bakehouse girls.
‘Just call Albert if you can’t manage, love,’ Mrs Dyson said, but Anne found that it was easy to serve the small number of customers. She wondered if Michael had gone to the church service or followed the cortege to the cemetery but Mabel said she had not seen him.
‘I’ve never seen such a crowd,’ she said. ‘And on such a bitter cold day too. Everyone from real nobs to the poorest of the poor. It must have been a consolation to the family to see how he was respected. That poor lad, the grandson, looked brokenhearted.’
‘You mean John?’ Anne asked. ‘Sarah said he thinks the world of his grandad. He lived with his grandparents during the war while his dad was in the trenches.’
‘Sally Ward looked sad but very dignified,’ Mabel said. ‘It’ll be hard for her. Someone said they’ve been married for forty-five years.’
Sarah came back to the shop wearing a black dress and looking pale and sad. Anne suspected that to add to her misery about her grandfather’s death she was also disappointed by Michael’s behaviour. He still came for pies but Anne never heard him say anything to console Sarah and she seemed to be trying to avoid him.
The other young men who came in the shop joked with Sarah to try to cheer her up but they seemed more at ease with Anne. A young man who worked nearby as a carpenter came for pies every day and always manoeuvred to be served by her.
He told Anne that his name was Tom Dodd and that he knew her brothers, and several times brought sweets or hot chestnuts to her. Anne was pleased and flattered by his attention, and although he had red hair and freckles, and was not nearly as handsome as Michael, told h
erself that character counted for more than looks in a man.
She said nothing to Sarah about Tom while Sarah was so unhappy and Mabel, usually so eagle-eyed, was preoccupied by what was happening in London.
She arrived at the shop with her eyes red from crying after the death of King George V on 20 January.
‘I cried all night,’ she told Anne and Sarah. ‘I thought it was lovely the way the man on the wireless said: “The king’s life is drawing peacefully to its close.” I loved my king.’
Anne felt sorry for Mabel who seemed to have few people to love, and Sarah was grateful for her kindness in her own sorrow, so both girls listened sympathetically to Mabel’s outpouring of grief for the king.
The following week Tom brought Anne hot chestnuts from a nearby barrow and a photograph frame which he had made for her. He asked her to go to the cinema with him on the following Saturday and Anne joyfully agreed.
When she announced at home that she was going to the Futurist with a boy her father said sternly, ‘What do you mean, you’re going with him? You haven’t asked me and I’ll have something to say about that. A lad we know nothing about.’
‘He knows our lads and he comes in the shop,’ she said. ‘I’ve known him for ages.’
‘Ages? You haven’t been at the shop for ages,’ her father said. ‘No, you’re far too young to be going out alone with any Tom, Dick or Harry who asks you.’
‘I’m nearly sixteen,’ she protested.
‘That’s what I mean. You’ll be a lot older than that before I consider any of these capers,’ her father said grimly.
When her father spoke in that tone the family knew that it would be impossible to make him change his mind and Anne went to Maureen for sympathy.
To her surprise she found that her sister agreed. ‘Dad’s only concerned with what’s best for you,’ she said. ‘You are too young to go out alone with a boy. You should go round in a crowd.’
‘Sarah went out with Michael on his own,’ Anne said sulkily.
‘Yes, and it’s only brought her unhappiness from what you say,’ Maureen said. ‘And she’s older than you.’
‘Only a few months,’ Anne said. ‘I’m going to feel such a fool, having to say I can’t go. My dad won’t let me.’
‘If he’s a decent lad he’ll respect you all the more because your family look after you,’ Maureen said. ‘It’s easy to get a bad name if you go out with just anyone.’
‘Tom’s perfectly respectable,’ Anne said indignantly. ‘Our lads know him but Dad didn’t even ask them about him.’
‘Dad still thinks of you as a little girl,’ Maureen said, smiling. Anne dreaded telling Tom why she was unable to keep the date and she was amazed when he only said, ‘I didn’t realise you weren’t sixteen yet. Your Dad’s right to watch over you. I’ll get your Tony to put in a word for me when you’re older.’
Although Anne was angry with her father she was amused by his efforts to console her. On Friday night he brought her a whipped cream walnut, her favourite sweet, and two pink sugar mice.
‘Sugar mice!’ Anne exclaimed to Maureen. ‘Are they supposed to make up for a date with Tom?’
‘Take them in the spirit in which they were given,’ Maureen advised. ‘What did Tom say?’
‘He agreed with Dad,’ Anne admitted. ‘He said he’d ask me again when I was older. He didn’t realise I wasn’t sixteen yet but I know a girl who was married when she was sixteen. Do you honestly think it’s too young, Mo?’
‘Yes, I do,’ Maureen said. ‘People often marry too young and for the wrong reasons and it’s a life sentence. They pay all their lives for their mistake and so do others.’ She stared unseeingly out of the window so Anne went quietly away.
* * *
In normal circumstances Julia and Carrie visited each other several times a week. Partly because of the bad weather but chiefly because of Julia’s illness and Carrie’s need to be with her mother, they had scarcely seen each other since Christmas.
Eileen went frequently to the Andersons’ house because of her friendship with Theresa and she told her mother that Grandma Houlihan often criticised her and Theresa and told them that they would come to a bad end because of their dates with boys.
‘You know what Theresa’s like,’ she said. ‘She doesn’t take any notice but sometimes Aunt Carrie has been crying because of Grandma’s remarks.’
Pat confirmed this one night. ‘I saw Fred in The Volunteer,’ he said. ‘Your ma’s turned out cantankerous, he says, and he’d come out for a bit of peace. The old lady’s nearly driving them mad.’
‘Eileen says she’s getting at them about Theresa,’ Julia said.
‘She’s getting at them about everything, it seems,’ said Pat. ‘Fred says he can see where Minnie gets her character from.’
‘Dear God, I’d better go down there tomorrow,’ Julia said.
‘Get yourself well wrapped up if you do and watch your step. It’s still bitter out and icy underfoot,’ Pat advised her but she said that Anne would go with her. ‘It’s the half day closing tomorrow.’
The next day Anne and her mother carefully picked their way to Carrie’s house. They found Grandma Houlihan sitting close to the fire wrapped in two crocheted shawls.
‘How are you, Ma?’ Julia asked and for the next hour her mother told her. The list of complaints seemed endless, and when Anne stood up to help her aunt who was making tea, her grandma said sharply, ‘Mannerly children you’re rearing, Julia, God knows, that walk away while their grandmother’s talking.’
‘She’s going to help Carrie,’ Julia said.
‘Oh, Carrie, Carrie, that’s all I hear,’ her mother said. ‘I’m of no account but our Blessed Lord said: “The last shall be first”. I’ve lived too long to suit them, Julia, but never mind. The draughts in this house will soon kill me and I’ll be glad to go to my reward.’
‘That’s foolish talk, Ma,’ Julia said. ‘If you feel the cold why don’t you stay in bed? It’s the warmest place with the weather we’re having. Pat says we should all hibernate until the spring.’
‘All very well if you’ve got a comfortable bed,’ her mother said. ‘It’s like lying on a bed of nails on that mattress and the draughts from the door and window enough to cut the head off you.’
‘It’s the worst weather for I don’t know how long,’ Julia said. ‘D’you know the sea froze at Southport and there were icicles three foot long from a broken gutter on a house in Low Hill?’
‘I thought you hadn’t been out,’ Grandma Houlihan said suspiciously. ‘Carrie said you were ill and that’s why you haven’t been to see me.’
‘I have been ill,’ Julia said. ‘But I’m better now, thank God. I’d be better still if only the weather would pick up.’
Grandma drank the tea that Carrie brought and then fell asleep and Julia and Carrie and Anne crept out to the back kitchen and gathered round the bright fire there.
‘Honest to God, Julia, I don’t know what’s got into Ma lately,’ Carrie said. ‘She’s always had her odd little ways but now she’s impossible. Nothing suits her and she’s always causing trouble in the family.’
‘Pat said you’re having your own share with her,’ Julia said sympathetically.
‘I heard her going on to you about her bed,’ Carrie said. ‘She’d always said it was very comfortable but when she started complaining Fred bought her a new mattress but then she said the old one was more comfortable. Luckily we’d put it in the attic so Fred and Shaun brought it down again.’
‘You’re very patient and so is Fred,’ Julia said. ‘For so many years too. I’m sure she appreciates it really.’
‘But she never stops picking on the young ones. I know we always had our tiffs in the family but this is different. Of course it’s like water off a duck’s back with the twins and our Theresa says she doesn’t care but I’m sure she does. Shaun just bangs out and Carmel answers her back and that’s another fault. I’m nearly distracted one way and another,’ said
Carrie.
As Anne and her mother walked home, Anne said, ‘Aunt Carrie seems at the end of her tether, doesn’t she?’
‘Yes, I think it’s time we took our turn with Grandma,’ said Julia. ‘I haven’t been well enough lately but I’m grand now, thank God.’
Soon preparations were being made for Grandma Houlihan to come to live with the Fitzgeralds. Julia had talked to Pat when she returned home after her visit and he had agreed that Carrie and Fred had done their share and that he and Julia should assume the care of her mother.
Carrie had not been so easy to persuade. She felt that Julia was not yet strong enough and that her mother might be hurt if she was suddenly asked to leave the Andersons’ after so many years, no matter how diplomatically it was suggested.
The perfect excuse came when Carrie became bedridden with sciatica, especially as it was caused by her mother.
A window cleaner usually did the outside of the Andersons’ windows but because of the bad weather he had not been for several weeks. Grandma Houlihan had decided to stay in bed for most of the day and complained constantly about the state of the windows.
‘Bad enough to have to stay in this bed, but to have nothing to look at but those dirty windows all day… I’d have been ashamed to let my windows get in that state. If only I had my health and strength I’d do something about them.’
Goaded beyond reason by her moaning, Carrie sat out on the windowsill to clean the outside of the window. The stone of the windowsill was icy and the cold seemed to strike through to her flesh while a bitter wind froze her fingers and face.
Within hours she was suffering with earache and then her old enemy sciatica struck. She lay in bed unable to move and in agonising pain.
Fred and the rest of her family were furious when they found out the reason for her affliction. ‘You sat out on the windowsill in this weather?’ he said. ‘Carrie, you must be mad.’
A Nest of Singing Birds Page 14