A Nest of Singing Birds

by A Nest of Singing Birds (retail) (epub)

  ‘But your mother loved you very much, didn’t she?’ Anne said. ‘She was very protective.’

  ‘Too protective,’ Kathleen said grimly. ‘I’m not making that mistake with my children. As soon as Ben’s seven I’m sending him to Canley Prep school as a weekly boarder.’

  ‘Seven!’ Anne said. ‘That’s too young, surely, Kath? Won’t you worry about him?’

  ‘Rich children are sent as full boarders at that age,’ Kathleen said firmly. ‘Arthur’s chosen to be a farm labourer but my children are not going to suffer for his beliefs.’

  ‘But surely it’ll be very expensive?’ Anne said.

  ‘I’ll manage,’ Kathleen told her. ‘I have a nice little nest egg towards it already. We don’t pay rent and we have a very big garden. I spend very little. We’ve got the chickens and plenty of eggs and of course all the vegetables and fruit we need. Arthur’s got a half share in a pig with a neighbour too.’

  ‘That must make a difference,’ Anne agreed. ‘I spend a lot on food.’

  ‘I sell eggs and chickens and vegetables and soft fruit to a stall in Canley market and I do outwork for a firm in Canley. Dolls’ clothes and bedding, y’know, sheets and eiderdowns for dolls’ cots, and I do button sorting for another firm. It all helps.’

  ‘You must work very hard,’ Anne exclaimed.

  ‘Why not? It’ll be worth it,’ said Kathleen. ‘Ben will have a good education and learn to stand on his own feet and I’ll do the same for any other children we have.’

  A disquieting memory flashed into Anne’s mind, of Mrs O’Neill’s three jobs, but she thrust it away.

  ‘I just want to have a home like ours was,’ she said. ‘I’d like six children so they’d always have a good time together like we did, and plenty of company. “A nest of singing birds”, in fact,’ she said, laughing. ‘But who knows what’s in store for any of us? “Man proposes, God disposes”, Mum always said.’

  ‘And John isn’t a doting husband and father like your own was, is he?’ Kathleen sneered but Anne made no reply.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  She was secretly relieved when the time came for her visitors to leave, although they parted with many promises to keep in touch and thanks from Kathleen and Arthur. The two little boys clung together and cried loudly when they were parted.

  Greg Redmond had offered to drive them to the station and when Anne and John had waved them off and turned back into the house, John exclaimed, ‘Well, I can’t say I’m sorry that’s over, although Arthur’s a smashing fellow.’

  He seized Anne round the waist and waltzed her about the room, singing, ‘Just Annie and me and baby makes three.’

  ‘Four,’ Anne said, laughing. She wished that he had done this while Kathleen could see them. Aware of her views on their marriage, Anne had tried to present a loving picture to her, yet she was unable to resist snapping at John sometimes, and he did the same.

  Gerry began to cry again for Ben and John picked him up. ‘I know, should we look under the stairs and see what we can find?’ he suggested. Knowing that Gerry would be upset, John had bought him a Triang toy crane and concealed it under the stairs and Anne had a small bag of Dolly Mixtures for him.

  Gerry’s tears were soon dried as he and John filled the bucket of the crane with Dolly Mixtures and wound it up. Anne happily hummed Tea For Two as she nursed Laura.

  Laura was not as placid as Gerry had been as a baby and Anne often thought of the sister’s words about her determined little mouth. Anne had a bout of influenza in January which left her feeling weak and depressed and unable to continue breastfeeding the baby.

  Laura refused to take the bottle, twisting her head from side to side and pressing her lips together as Anne tried to force the teat into her mouth. Mrs Rooney tried too without success.

  ‘Four months old and she’s got the better of the pair of us,’ she exclaimed and Anne worried that the baby would die of malnutrition.

  Fortunately Sally came to see Anne and she prepared a solution of honey and water for Laura. She walked up and down with the screaming child and as Laura paused for breath slipped the teat into her mouth and let the honey and water dribble on to her tongue.

  The baby sucked greedily at it until the bottle was empty, then slept, and when she woke took the bottle of milk without protest.

  Mrs Rooney watched Sally with awe. ‘How many did you have?’ she asked respectfully.

  ‘Only two of my own,’ she said. ‘But one of them was a real handful.’

  ‘And Grandma was midwife, District Nurse and everything rolled into one,’ Anne said. ‘Everyone sent for her when there was sickness or trouble in the house.’

  ‘I was more free to help,’ Sally said, ‘having only two children to look after.’ But Mrs Rooney knew that that was not the real reason.

  She had been a good neighbour to Anne while she was ill, and spent much time with her, but she told Anne that it suited her to be in her house instead of in her own.

  Con had suddenly produced a girlfriend who was alleged to be pregnant and they were married within two weeks.

  As it was impossible to find anywhere to live they were staying with Mrs Rooney who detested the girl.

  ‘Says she must’ve made a mistake, or had a miss and never noticed, so she’s not pregnant after all,’ Mrs Rooney said to Anne later. ‘A likely story! She says she’s only twenty-two but she’s had a few years in her stockinged feet, the same one. Thirty if she’s a day, I reckon.’

  ‘How old is Con?’ asked Anne.

  ‘Twenty-eight and never bothered much with girls. Always full of ideas, but I never thought he’d be caught like this. I can imagine the other feller, our Barty, getting caught. He doesn’t know what day it is. Always got his head stuck in a book but I thought my Con was smart. This crafty bitch has hooked him, though, bad luck to her. Going on the protest march with him, pretending she’s interested.’

  The weather was bitterly cold and Anne was glad to stay indoors, especially as both children had coughs. John did the bulky shopping on Saturday afternoon and Mrs Rooney, who shopped every day to avoid her daughter-in-law, would always bring small items for Anne. In return Anne tried to have her washing and cleaning finished early so that she could be ready to welcome her neighbour and spend time with her.

  Her thoughts often dwelt on her childhood and her happy home and Mrs Rooney never tired of hearing about it. Her own childhood had been very different. ‘I never had a shoe on me foot until I was nine,’ she said, ‘and then it was police clogs. Me da died when I was five and I’d never seen him sober, as God’s me witness.’

  ‘Were you an only child?’ Anne asked.

  ‘Sweet God, no, girl. Me mam had seven, one every year, but she buried four. Me poor mam. Me dad drank most of what he earned but she always had something off him. When he died she had tuppence in her purse and didn’t know where to turn. No widow’s pension in them days, girl.’

  She was silent for a moment, staring into the fire, then she sighed. ‘We all had to turn to. Be the time I was six I was selling papers and me brothers were picking up what they could. Carrying cases and holding horses’ heads and that. The sister younger than me died the next year, then me mam.’

  ‘What did you do? What happened then?’ Anne asked.

  ‘Just had to fend for ourselves,’ Mrs Rooney told her. ‘The parish buried me mam and after that I just got knocked from pillar to post. I was terrified the coppers’d get me and put me in a home, so I kept out of the way. It was only when I was sick and some woman took me in that I went to school when I was nine. She never had nothing but she was a good woman.’

  ‘And you’ve got a nice home now,’ Anne said.

  ‘Yes, and a bloody viper in it! But don’t worry, I’ll soon shift her. I learned to look after meself in a hard school, girl.’

  A few mild days in February encouraged Anne to go out and she felt remorseful when she saw how much Gerry enjoyed himself on the swings in a little park.

&nb
sp; ‘I should have made the effort to take him out,’ she told John, ‘even though the weather was bad and I felt so rotten. He shouldn’t have been cooped up so long.’

  ‘He’s been out with me every weekend and all weekend,’ he said and she agreed. John had taken Gerry on a round of family visits every Saturday afternoon and Sunday, and then on to ride on the Overhead Railway or the ferries to the other bank of the Mersey.

  Anne resumed her weekly visits to John’s parents and grandmother and he again came for his meal before they were driven home by his father. Laura was a delight to all the Redmond family. At six months old she was a pretty and well-behaved child, although still very stubborn.

  ‘She must take after Cathy,’ Sally said. ‘She was a good child but stubborn.’ Cathy raised her eyebrows and smiled at Anne who said quickly, ‘My mum said I was stubborn too.’

  ‘Then Laura’s got a double dose,’ Cathy said, laughing. Her eyes sparkled and dimples showed in her cheeks, and with a sudden rush of affection Anne flung her arms around her mother-in-law. How nice the Redmonds were, she thought.

  Cathy hugged her but looked closely at her. ‘You still look peaky, love,’ she said. ‘That ’flu’s a very weakening thing.’ And Sally agreed.

  ‘You look after yourself,’ she said. ‘Never mind the housework. Put salt on it until you feel better and make sure you get plenty to eat.’

  Anne enjoyed being fussed over by Cathy and Sally and being given milky gruel to drink. ‘It’ll put a lining on your stomach,’ Sally said, and they insisted that she had a rest on the sofa while they looked after the children.

  She visited her own old home on another afternoon. Only Sarah was there but they had plenty to talk about. Sarah was expecting another baby in March and many other changes were imminent in the family.

  Stephen had become engaged at Christmas to a girl who had been in the same class as Sarah at school, Margaret O’Dowd. ‘I only vaguely remember her,’ Sarah confessed. ‘Of course there were forty-eight in the class, but she’s very nice. They don’t want a long engagement.’

  Pat Fitzgerald’s business had been booming since the end of the war and he had taken his foreman, Billy Joyce, and Billy’s son, Freddy, into partnership with him.

  ‘None of the lads want to carry on the business,’ he told Fred. ‘And Billy stuck to me in good times and bad. Freddy’s always been very reliable and came back to me the minute he was out of the army.’ Fred’s business was also making money rapidly and it was arranged that he would put some of his capital in Pat’s firm so that he could expand.

  ‘No use me thinking of expanding,’ said Fred. ‘I’ve got as much work as I can handle with the quality leather side, now that Des has gone to Canada. The shoe shop is the right size to bring me a steady return without me having to worry about it.’

  ‘Aye, it’s more a personal skill, like, with the leather work,’ Pat agreed. ‘It’s a pity Des emigrated when he had such a flair for it.’

  ‘Theresa’s lad, young James, is shaping well and he’s got good ideas too,’ Fred said. ‘But he’s not twelve yet, so I might as well let my money work with you, Pat, for the time being.’

  There were many open spaces now in Liverpool, from which bombed houses had been cleared, and on one of these, near St Domingo Vale, Pat planned to build two pairs of semi-detached houses.

  Sarah and Joe were still well down the waiting list for corporation houses and Helen and Tony had been warned that their house was due for compulsory purchase under a clearance scheme.

  Pat had earmarked two of the houses for the two couples and Sarah was excited at the prospect of a new house, and of having Helen and Tony as neighbours. She was worried that Anne might feel hurt that the house had not been offered to her and John but Anne assured her that they were quite happy in their present house.

  ‘We’ve got good neighbours and it’s handy for the church and school and the tram,’ she said. ‘The rent is as much as we can manage without worrying anyway.’

  ‘It’ll take us all our time to pay the mortgage,’ Sarah admitted, ‘but we won’t worry about furniture and things when we first move in. We’ll make do with what we’ve got and neither of us are worried about posh clothes or fancy food. We’ll be able to live very cheaply.’

  Sarah had been interested to hear about Kathleen’s visit. ‘The way you used to worry about her, Anne,’ she said. ‘But that queer life doesn’t seem to have had any effect on her.’

  Anne looked doubtful. ‘I’m not so sure,’ she said. ‘The more I think about it… just now and again she seemed really unbalanced. Talking about that doctor she had the craze for at the hospital – she must have nearly driven the man desperate. And the nervous breakdown was really because he was getting married.’

  ‘I thought it was because of Cormac’s suicide?’

  ‘I suppose that came into it but she seemed to have really gone over the top about that Doctor Boland. And sometimes she spoke so vindictively about people but luckily Arthur seems a very calm and patient sort of man.’

  ‘Yes, she seems to have put into a good harbour now, as my grandad would say,’ said Sarah.

  ‘She doesn’t think I have,’ Anne said. ‘She envies my happy childhood but she doesn’t think much of my marriage.’

  She tried to speak lightly but Sarah glanced at her shrewdly. ‘I wouldn’t worry about Kathleen’s opinion about that,’ she said. ‘Wishful thinking, maybe, and a bit of jealousy.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Anne said. ‘I wanted to give her a good impression, Sar, but d’you know, John and I seemed to be picking at each other all the time she was there.’

  Sarah laughed. “Why worry? She’d probably made up her mind before she ever came and anyway we all know you’re happy even though our John was spoiled rotten at home.’

  ‘I’ll remember that,’ Anne said, giggling. ‘Turn the tables on him when he talks about me being spoiled. Have Stephen and Margaret fixed the date yet, by the way?’

  ‘No, but no later than September,’ Sarah said. Anne had begun to pack her bag with spare napkins, dusting powder, bibs, feeding bottles and a tin of dried milk.

  ‘John’s amazed at what we have to bring with us when we go out with Laura,’ she said. ‘He missed all the early months with Gerry.’

  ‘And he was out of nappies by the time John saw him, wasn’t he?’ Sarah said. ‘I’ll walk to the tram with you, anyway.’

  Sarah was admitted to the maternity hospital on the morning of 15 March 1949 and her daughter was born at six o’clock in the evening. Clothes rationing had finished on that day and there were many jokes about the timing of the birth.

  ‘It’s an omen,’ Anne told Joe. ‘Your hand will never be out of your pocket buying clothes for her.’

  ‘Yes, she’ll be a fashion plate like Carmel,’ Eileen said. ‘I don’t think I can stand it. I always feel so scruffy when Carmel arrives like a picture of elegance.’

  ‘She can’t wait to get into old clothes, though,’ Maureen said.

  ‘And that makes me feel worse,’ Eileen retorted. ‘Because she still looks like a million dollars.’ Joe was oblivious, walking about with a beaming smile on his face.

  The baby had reddish-brown hair and blue eyes and everyone agreed that she looked like Sarah and her grandmother. She was christened Rosaleen Sarah, and although her baby hair rubbed off, her new hair was even more red.

  Gerry showed less interest in the new baby than he had in David, now that he had his own sister. Anne had taken him to the school to register him and the headmistress had suggested that he should start school in September, although he would not be five until January.

  ‘He seems very advanced for his age,’ she said. ‘And he’ll have the advantage of starting before we have the children from the “baby boom” just after the end of the war.’

  John still put Gerry to bed every night, except for the rare occasion when he went straight to a meeting from work. Anne was still excluded from these bedtime sessions, although Gerry t
old her about them the following day.

  ‘Daddy taught me my letters,’ or ‘Daddy showed me how to do sums,’ he would announce proudly.

  Anne worried that John might be teaching the child by a different method to that used by the school, and confusing him, but John dismissed the idea. ‘It’ll give him a head start,’ he insisted so Anne only shrugged and said, ‘Time will tell.’

  John never offered to take Laura to bed or even to nurse her or give her a bottle. All his attention was still on Gerry but Anne thought that this would change when Laura was older and more interesting to him.

  He had resigned from the Catholic Young Men’s Society committee as it clashed with the gardening club meetings on Sunday lunchtime, although he continued on the St Vincent de Paul Society committee and was also involved with the local Labour Party.

  John could take Gerry to the gardening club meetings and to some of the meetings at the Labour Club and in both places Gerry played happily until his father was ready to take him home.

  Anne and John and the two children still went as a family for Sunday tea at the Redmond house or to a gathering of the family for tea at the Fitzgeralds’. At his mother’s house, if the weather was fine, John would take Gerry to a nearby park before tea to play ball or to watch the footballers.

  At the Fitzgeralds’ he would also take Gerry out before tea, making the excuse that he wanted to show his son the places where he had gone with his grandfather before they were all swept away.

  Stephen’s fiancée Margaret O’Dowd, and Eileen’s boyfriend Martin Hanlon, were now present at the Sunday family teas, but not Chris Murray as Maureen was unwilling to explain her situation to the prospective new members of the family.

  Chris still went to Llandudno once a month to see his wife and paid her the same large proportion of his wages, although she had now left the nursing home and was sharing a flat with the ex-matron of the home.