Just Around the Corner

by Gilda O'Neill

  ‘I’ll tell yer what I see,’ Pat went on. ‘I wasn’t going to ’cos I thought it might upset yer, but yer need to get yer priorities right by the sound of it.’

  Katie’s face was scarlet at being spoken to like that, especially at her own kitchen table.

  ‘Four miners, I see, with all their gear on – their lamps and helmets and everything. And what was they doing? They was singing, that’s what.’

  Timmy wanted to ask what was suddenly so wrong with a bit of singing – they’d only just told him off for offering to sing them all a song – but the look on his father’s face made him change his mind.

  ‘They’d come down here all the way from Wales, they had. And they was standing by the dock gates singing for sodding pennies. Pennies!’ He spat the words out. ‘I ask yer. Skilled men who’ve risked their lives and their health for this country. And for what? For bleed’n charity, that’s what. Hoping that the few men round here what have still got a bit of work would feel bloody sorry for ’em and give ’em a handout.’

  The sound of their father using so much ‘language’ had the children – all except Sean – spluttering into their hands. Their mother would skin him.

  It was Sean, interrupting his father, who rescued him from Katie’s rising fury. Calmly, he put down his spoon and fork and said to no one in particular, ‘I’d rather go out nicking than have to beg.’

  Katie’s focus was immediately on her son. ‘Would yer like to say that again, Sean?’

  Sean looked at her, his blue eyes vivid in his pale, redhead’s face.

  Katie bobbed her head towards him. ‘Go on. That, what yer just said. Say it again. Nice and loud, so’s we can all hear it.’

  Sean, with the recklessness of his fourteen years, actually started to repeat himself but Pat stepped in, returning his son’s earlier favour of deflecting Katie’s wrath.

  ‘Least the boy’s got pride in himself. And he’s showing a bit of interest in things,’ said Pat. He gestured towards Danny with his chin. ‘Wouldn’t hurt for you to show a bit more interest in what’s going on in the world.’ He warmed to his subject. ‘All you seem to bother about is getting out and meeting them mates o’ your’n. Kids nowadays, no interest in nothing ’cept enjoying themselves. Terrible state of affairs. Terrible.’

  Danny looked bemused. What had he done? His dad had never complained about him seeing his friends before. In fact he’d always encouraged Danny to have a good time – within reason – before he had to start taking on the responsibilities of keeping a home and a family of his own. ‘You enjoy yerself, son,’ he’d say.

  Danny looked at Molly to see if she had a clue what it was all about.

  Molly shrugged. ‘Don’t ask me,’ she whispered behind the cover of her hand.

  ‘You might be lucky enough to be working, Danny,’ Pat continued, ‘but yer wanna remember that’s only ’cos Joe Palmer’s good enough to keep you on. Most boys get the elbow when they’re coming up to eighteen. Soon as they start expecting a man’s wage they’re out, right out on their ear’oles. You should think yerself lucky – more than lucky.’

  ‘Dad . . .’ Molly said, smiling, using the voice that usually made him smile back in return.

  ‘And you, madam,’ he said. His tone was harsh, not what his daughter had expected at all.

  ‘Me?’ asked Molly. ‘What have I done?’

  ‘You? The world just passes you by, don’t it? Yer think yer so safe in that tea factory,’ Pat said, ‘but you take my word for it, no job’s safe nowadays. Not even tuppenny-ha’penny girls’ jobs like your’n. I mean it, no one’s safe, no one. Not even stevedores like me.’ Pat jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the street. ‘There’s skilled men out there, on the scrapheap. Well, I’ve come to me senses lately. I’ve realised just how much we’ve all taken for granted in this house, and things’re gonna change.’

  ‘Have you finished?’ Katie asked serenely.

  Pat’s face was rigid. ‘What d’yer mean, have I finished?’

  ‘Yer stew.’ She pointed to her husband’s bowl.

  Pat nodded. ‘Nearly.’

  ‘A bit more?’

  He nodded again and shoved his dish towards her. ‘It’s just that they ought to know the truth about things, that’s all,’ he said defensively, looking across at his wife as she began to scoop more stew from the big enamel pan. ‘They can’t go through life like it’s all one big lark. They’ve gotta learn.’

  As Katie was about to pour the stew into the dish she saw Molly lean towards Danny with her hand to her mouth. Katie banged down Pat’s bowl on the table and glared at her daughter. ‘Before you two even think about making plans to go out tonight, I want both them dishes o’ your’n licked clean, right down to the pattern. D’you hear me? And you, Molly, I expect you to set a decent example to the young ’uns and clear the table without being asked. Not even once.’ Katie pointed dramatically at the saucepan as though it was evidence in a court case. ‘Yer father worked his fingers to the bone to put that food on this table and I expect you two to show some gratitude. And a bit of respect.’

  Relieved that whatever their father had thought they had done wrong now appeared to be either forgiven or, more likely, forgotten in all the commotion, and that their mother was back in her usual position of supporting him, whatever he said or did, Molly and Danny nodded and got stuck into the remains of their supper, eating as quickly as they dared.

  Satisfied that order had been restored, Katie handed Pat’s bowl to Sean to pass to his father. ‘I was thinking me and Mum might go hopping this year, earn a few extra shillings. Maybe put a bit by for Christmas, ’cos that’ll be here before we know it.’ She turned to her mother. ‘You’d like to go, wouldn’t yer, Mum?’

  Nora swallowed a mouthful of dumpling. ‘I would, girl. Do me good to get down to Kent for a bit. Fill me lungs with some decent country air.’ She looked at her granddaughter. ‘And how about you, sweetheart? Would you like to come with me and yer mam? Get some of them roses back in yer cheeks?’

  ‘I ain’t sure really, Nanna. Me and Lizzie Watts was talking about it the other day, and she was saying, now she’s settled in her job with me and everything, how she don’t wanna risk losing it or nothing.’ Molly glanced across at her father. ‘And it ain’t just that I don’t wanna go without me mate, ’cos I ain’t a baby,’ she added, ignoring Danny’s sarcastic gasp of disbelief. ‘It’s just that I feel the same as her. Dad’s right, yer’ve gotta look after yer job nowadays. Me and Liz’re lucky to be in work.’

  Nora grinned. ‘You sure it’s just that tea warehouse that’s got such a grip on the pair of yer, and that yer haven’t gone and got yourself a couple of young feller-me-lads? I mean, yer both young ladies now, so you are.’

  Molly dropped her chin; she didn’t need the country air to put colour in her cheeks, not with her grandmother around. The last thing she wanted was for her little brothers, particularly Michael, to see her blushes. They teased her rotten as it was, whenever she even spoke to a boy. Molly loved her nanna fiercely but the trouble with Nora Brady was that she had no shame and worst of all, no inhibitions either.

  Katie, having been the object of her mother’s embarrassing behaviour on many occasions herself, helped her daughter out by changing the subject. She pointed at Michael with her fork. ‘If you dare feed another one of them bones to that dog while we’re still sitting at this table, Michael Mehan, yer do know what yer’ll get, don’t yer? The back of my hand round yer legs.’

  Michael looked stunned by the accusation. ‘But it ain’t my fault, Mum,’ he complained. ‘Rags nicked ’em off me.’

  ‘And don’t you lie to me neither, yer little monkey. God’s watching yer, yer know.’

  Defeated, Michael slumped down in his chair and ran his greasy fingers through Rags’s tangled brown fur, muttering sulkily to himself about how it was always him that everyone picked on.

  Molly glanced around the table, then said, ‘Right, everyone finished?�
��

  They all nodded.

  And so, with another rowdy family meal over, Molly stood up and began collecting the dishes and cutlery.

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on for the washing up,’ said Katie, ‘and then we can all have a nice cuppa tea.’

  ‘Not for me, girl,’ said Pat, stretching his arms high above his head. ‘I’m off down the Queen’s for a pint.’

  ‘Well, don’t bother making one for me neither then,’ said Nora. ‘I’ll have a nice stout brought over from the Jug and Bottle instead – if someone fancies fetching it for me, that is.’

  Katie stood up, untied her apron and looped it over the nail behind the kitchen door. ‘I’ll go over for yer in a minute, Mum.’ She took a clean tea towel from the dresser drawer and draped it across the top of the saucepan. ‘I’m just gonna see to something first.’ She leant closer so that only her mother could hear her. ‘I’m gonna pop the rest of this grub over to Mrs Milton. Yer know how it is when yer short. If I was a gambling woman, I’d lay money she’s been going without so’s she could feed her old man and her kids. Like a bag of bones, she is.’

  Nora touched her daughter’s cheek. ‘Yer a good girl, Katie. But will she take it off yer?’

  ‘Yeah. I’ll make up a story like I did before. I’ll say we got a load of lamb from down the docks or something.’ Katie paused and crossed herself. ‘God forgive me for lying,’ she said to the ceiling. She looked over to where Pat was standing in front of the mirror tying a paisley stock round his neck, and smiled. ‘Yer know how everyone reckons dockers are always on the thieve.’

  Nora sighed. ‘And so they all are, except your sainted husband, more’s the pity.’

  Ignoring her mother’s remark, Katie straightened up and turned to Molly and Danny. ‘Off yer go, you two,’ she said, jerking her head towards the door. ‘I’ll see to the washing up later on.’ She looked at Sean who, unlike the others, had made no attempt to move away from the table. ‘You going with your brother and sister?’

  ‘Might as well,’ he said sullenly, scraping back his chair.

  Katie shook her head. He was so moody lately, but then, she supposed, weren’t all boys of his age? And he probably still hadn’t got over the disappointment of being let down by the cabinet-maker Bill Watts had introduced him to. Bill’s mate had promised Sean an apprenticeship, but had had to change his mind because his business had got so bad. ‘Well, mind yer all back in here at a decent hour. Mass in the morning.’

  ‘We will be. See yer later then, Mum,’ said Molly, pecking her on the cheek. ‘Come on, Dan,’ she urged her older brother. ‘Get a move on.’

  He was peering round his father’s bulky frame trying to get a look in the mirror so that he could check his thick dark curly hair that made him look like a younger version of Pat.

  Molly rolled her eyes. ‘You ain’t gonna stand there all night titivating, are yer? Yer just like a big girl.’

  His hair forgotten, Danny slung his jacket over his shoulder and chased Molly as she ran jeering and sniggering out of the kitchen. They were followed in quick succession by Michael, Timmy and Rags, and finally Sean, who slouched over towards the door.

  But the two youngest ones and the dog didn’t get very far. Katie stepped nimbly round Sean and blocked their exit to the passageway. She grabbed hold of Michael and Timmy by their shirts, tipped her head sideways, indicating that Sean could go round them, and then dragged the two little ones back into the kitchen with Rags trotting along after them, his pink tongue lolling from his grinning snout.

  ‘And where, would yer mind telling me, d’yer think you pair are off to?’

  ‘Out with the Milton kids,’ said Michael, trying to wriggle his way out of his mother’s formidable grip.

  ‘Well,’ said Katie, letting them go and, much to Michael’s shame, straightening his collar for him. ‘So long as yer keep yerselves out of trouble. And so long as yer keep away from . . .’ She paused, going through a mental list of forbidden activities. ‘Well, all the things yer meant to keep away from. And you, Michael, I expect you to keep an eye on Timmy. Do you hear me? I don’t like the way he’s been acting this evening.’ She raised her eyebrows first at Nora and then at Pat. ‘Eating in the street,’ she said pointedly. ‘And using language like that. Whatever would Father Hopkins have to say if he found out?’

  ‘All right, Mum,’ said Michael.

  ‘And no fighting.’

  ‘No fighting.’ With that, Michael and Timmy dashed from the kitchen, raced along the passageway and burst out of the ever-open street door, with Rags yelping and yapping close behind them.

  ‘Bundle!’ Katie heard her two youngest children yell as they launched themselves across the street towards the swarm of variously sized young Miltons who had been waiting for them.

  Satisfied that he looked respectable, Pat checked the battered silver pocket watch that his father had given him just before he died, and pulled his cap over his thick dark hair. ‘That’s me ready,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll walk out with yer,’ said Katie, picking up the saucepan.

  He motioned to Katie’s bare throat. ‘Yer top’s all undone.’

  ‘Leave off, Pat.’

  He didn’t move or say anything, he just looked her steadily in the eye.

  With a weary sigh, Katie put the pan down and did up the two topmost buttons of her dress that she had opened while she was cooking. She then dragged her cardigan from the back of her chair and pulled it roughly over the thin cotton. ‘That suit yer? Or shall I put me overcoat on and all?’

  Pat still didn’t respond. He just stood there.

  ‘You just wait and see,’ Katie said, picking up the pan again. ‘Wrapping meself up like a suet pudden in this heat, I’ll wind up having a turn. Then you’ll be satisfied, will yer?’

  Nora didn’t even have to look at Pat to know that by now he would be swallowing hard and scowling disapprovingly at his wife through unblinking, narrowed eyes.

  ‘I mean, I don’t wanna go showing meself off to all the neighbours now, do I?’ Katie said sarcastically. ‘’Cos let’s face it, Phoebe Tucker’d never let me hear the end of it if her old Albert got a look at me neck.’

  ‘Nor would your old man,’ Nora mumbled to herself, as she took hold of one of the kitchen chairs, ready to carry it out into the street for her evening vigil.

  ‘Here, gimme that,’ said Pat, lifting the chair as though it were made of matchwood.

  ‘Yer a good boy,’ said Nora pathetically. ‘Kind to yer poor old mam-in-law.’

  Pat snorted. ‘Get away with yer, Nora. Yer still a young woman, and tougher than the rest of us lot put together.’

  Nora waited for Pat to disappear along the passage. ‘I’ve said it before,’ she said to her daughter, ‘and I’ll say it again. He’s a good man, your Pat – been like a son to me, he has – but yer wanna watch yerself with him, think before yer let yer tongue run away with yer all the time. Jealousy’s a terrible thing, Katie. It can turn a man.’ She reknotted the strings of her crossover apron and patted her wavy auburn hair, an unconscious act of straightening herself up before she went outside to the street. ‘I’m telling yer, girl, you push that man too far with yer carrying on, especially when he’s got all these other worries driving him mad.’

  ‘Have yer quite finished?’

  ‘It’d do you no harm, Katie my girl, to listen to yer mother for once. I know you and your temper. You go on and off the boil like a kettle. But I’m telling yer, yer might think you can wrap Pat around yer little finger if he ever looked like really getting nasty, but there’s some things that are too much to take for a jealous man like him.’

  Katie put down the pot yet again. She stuck her hands on her hips and cocked her head to one side. ‘Mum, what are you talking about? I’m not far off being forty. I’m hardly gonna have men chasing around after me, now am I? Even if I was stupid enough to be interested in that sort of thing. I know what Pat’s like, but if there’s anything worrying him, it’s all in h
ere.’ She tapped her finger on her temple. ‘All in his own mind. His imagination. It ain’t my fault.’

  ‘I’ll say no more. But you just remember what I’ve said, and how well I knew his mother and father, God rest their souls. There’s plenty of stories I could tell you about what went on in this very house when they lived here. Murderous rows they had, murderous. Yet his father was a good man deep down, just like your Pat.’ She rolled her eyes heavenwards. ‘But jealousy turned him. That woman had more black eyes and split lips than a prize fighter.’

  ‘Aw, just leave off, can’t yer, Mum?’ Katie stuck out her bottom lip, making her look like a grown-up version of Michael when he was sulking. ‘You know very well, Pat’s dad had good reason to be jealous, the way his mum carried on. But I ain’t nothing like her – nothing at all.’

  ‘I never said you were, Katie, and I’d batter anyone who even suggested it, but when a kid’s been brought up seeing and listening to them sorts of carryings-on, well, it can make a deep impression on him. Make him nervous, like; make him think that maybe it could happen to him one day. That his wife might start taking a fancy to some other feller.’

  ‘Yer talking rubbish, Mum,’ Katie snapped.

  ‘Am I? I just think yer should realise what’s at stake, my girl.’ Nora waved her arm around her, taking in the whole of the kitchen, the whole of Katie’s domain. ‘All this could all go down the shoot tomorrow if yer not careful. You’ve gotta make that man feel secure.’

  Katie glowered at her mother. ‘Yer talking to me like I’m stupid.’

  ‘If you two are gonna stay in there gabbing, I’ll be off down the Queen’s,’ they heard Pat holler along the passage. ‘Won’t be long, love.’

  Katie smirked triumphantly at her mother. ‘See? Nothing’s wrong. He ain’t even upset.’

  Nora shook her head. ‘For such a clever girl, Katie Mehan, you really can be stupid at times.’

  2

  PAT SET THE chair he had carried outside for Nora on the pavement by the front door. He glanced along the street and saw his two youngest children in the middle of the road, engaged in a rowdy, knockabout game of football with a crowd of assorted Miltons and a whole throng of other kids he didn’t recognise. He laughed out loud as Michael threw himself to the ground, grabbing the ankles of a much taller boy, dragging him down on top of him, whilst protesting loudly that it was he who was being fouled.