Just Around the Corner

by Gilda O'Neill

  Molly drew away from her nanna with a warning flash of her eyes to keep her mouth shut in front of her mum.

  ‘If yer really want some air, yer could nip over the shop for me,’ Katie said, too busy rinsing the sink to have even noticed the exchange between Molly and Nora. ‘I’ve only got a piddly bit o’ lard left, and yer know how you all like a fried slice with yer rashers.’

  ‘I’ll be glad to, Mum,’ Molly answered primly, with another glare of caution in Nora’s direction.

  Katie looked over to the clock. ‘Edie’ll be open by now. Take me purse, it’s on the side there. And don’t forget the umbrella. I don’t want you catching yer death.’

  With a final mouthed warning at her nanna, Molly took her mum’s purse and fetched her coat from under the stairs. She didn’t bother with the umbrella that stood in the old, chipped vase behind the street door. Instead she pulled the coat over her head like a hood and made a dash across the rain-slicked street.

  As she stepped into the shop doorway, she shook herself like a damp puppy on to the pavement. ‘Don’t look like yer gonna be able to put all yer gear out today, Ede,’ she said, looking up at the darkening sky.

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ said Edie, coming from behind the counter and joining Molly in the doorway. She was still dressed in deepest black mourning, Bert having been dead just three months.

  She peered up at the ominously low clouds. ‘If it ain’t cleared up by now, I don’t reckon it’s gonna.’ She ushered Molly inside. ‘My Bert always looked on the bright side, God love him,’ she said fondly. ‘“It’ll clear up soon, girl,” he used to say. And, d’you know, it usually did and all.’ She lifted the flap and took up her place behind the counter again. ‘That’s the way to be, eh? Looking on the bright side.’

  ‘Why?’ asked a gruff woman’s voice from the doorway.

  ‘Because otherwise this weather’d get yer down, Phoeb, that’s why,’ Edie answered her pleasantly. ‘My Bert always used to say, “Look on the bright side, Ede. There’s better times awaiting if only we knew it.”’

  ‘I dunno about that, I’m sure.’ Phoebe brushed the rain from the shoulders of her dull black serge coat, the effort of raising her arms making her chins quiver. Then she pushed her way in front of Molly without so much as a word of acknowledgement.

  Edie and Molly raised their eyebrows at one another in silent amusement.

  Phoebe sat on the bentwood chair that stood beside the counter and, placing her bag between her feet, she folded her arms and settled herself back until her bulky frame found a comfortable position. She would, after all, be there for some time, as, whenever it was raining, the corner shop replaced Chrisp Street market as Phoebe’s preferred place for earwigging and for the passing on of all the latest gossip.

  ‘So,’ she said, eyeing Molly slyly, ‘yer dad’s still amongst the missing then?’

  Molly snapped open her mum’s purse and slapped a shilling piece down on the counter. ‘Half o’ lard, please, Ede,’ she said through gritted teeth.

  ‘Yes, love,’ said Edie, deliberately ignoring Phoebe’s remark.

  Phoebe ploughed on regardless. ‘They still ain’t got hold of that bloke what done in that old man down Back Church Lane. Police still looking for him, so I hear.’

  Molly felt a sickly fluttering in her stomach.

  ‘The talk is that it was that Bob Jarvis what did it.’ Phoebe thoughtfully scratched the side of her puggy, blubbery nose. ‘He was some sort of mate o’ your Danny’s, weren’t he? That’s what my granddaughter told me.’

  ‘Well, your granddaughter wants to mind her own business, don’t she? Spreading rubbish like that,’ Molly said, spinning round to face her.

  Phoebe didn’t even blink. ‘Apparently no one’s seen him about,’ she went on, ‘not even none o’ them mates of his what’ve been causing all that trouble up Whitechapel way.’ She paused. ‘Beating up Jews and that.’

  Molly took the lard from Edie. ‘I won’t bother to wait for the change now, Ede. I’ll be over for it later,’ she said, turning on her heel and making for the door. ‘Mum said to get this straight back for our breakfast, see.’

  ‘All right, love,’ said Edie, ‘see yer later on.’

  It was only the memory of her Bert’s belief that everyone deserved polite service, no matter who or what they were, that prevented Edie from tipping Phoebe right off the chair, putting her boot up the old cow’s backside and kicking her out of the shop.

  ‘Here’s the lard, Mum, and yer purse. Edie was a bit busy so I’ll fetch yer change later.’

  ‘All right, sweetheart.’ Katie slipped her purse into her apron pocket. ‘But don’t worry about the change, I’ll send one of the boys over. You really don’t look well to me. Yer proper peaky. Why don’t yer go back to bed?’

  ‘Please, don’t fuss, Mum.’

  Nora stood up from the table. ‘I reckon it’s you could do with a rest, Kate.’ Much to Katie’s irritation, Nora gave her a broad knowing wink. ‘Sure, weren’t you up with the lark this morning. Now, I’ll tell yer what. I’m going to go in next door and get the boys out o’ their beds, and then I’m going to make their breakfasts for them in there. And Stephen’s. And you can come in for yours when yer ready. So there’s no excuse for you not to put yer feet up. Right?’

  ‘Mum,’ Katie protested.

  But Nora paid no heed; she peeled off enough bacon from the plate for the crowd next door and put it on another plate. ‘Now, Molly, d’yer wanna come in next door with me and help me with the breakfast while yer mam has a sit-down?’

  With Phoebe’s words ringing in her head, Molly readily agreed – anything to escape her mother’s scrutiny. ‘Course I’ll help yer. And Nanna’s right, Mum, you’ve been working that hard at that laundry. You put yer feet up and have a quiet cuppa.’

  Katie smiled. At least Molly hadn’t cottoned on to the real reason for her having been so tired out recently. ‘Fat chance of me sitting down for a quiet cuppa. But I would appreciate yer keeping that mob in there for their breakfasts, Mum. Then I can catch up with a bit o’ that washing I’ve got piled up.’ She laughed wryly. ‘Washing on a Saturday, eh. I dunno, I’m working in that flaming laundry all week long and I don’t find no time to do none o’ me own.’ She went over to the kitchen window and ducked her head to catch a glimpse of the sky between the buildings. ‘Let’s just hope this rain clears up.’

  ‘There’s no need to do it straight away, girl,’ Nora said, taking her coat from the back of the chair and slipping it round her shoulders. ‘You just sit down for a bit, and remember, when yer ready, you come in for yer breakfast. Then me and Molly’ll come back in here and help yer with the washing. How’d that suit yer?’

  ‘That’ll suit me fine, Mum.’

  But no matter what Katie had said, as soon as Nora and Molly left her alone, she opened the back door and ran out in the rain to the scullery, not even bothering to put her coat on first. She always hated putting off even a little job if she didn’t have to, so the sight of all that washing spilling out of the basket in the corner of her kitchen was like an accusing finger pointing at a houseproud woman like Katie Mehan.

  Despite the damp, she had the fire lit under the copper and the water heating up nicely in no time. Now, all she had to do was go indoors to the kitchen and fetch the basket, put the whites in to boil, and then she could sit down and have a cuppa, while she worked out what she would say when she went to see Pat.

  But Katie never got as far as the kitchen.

  As she made a dash for the back door, her feet slipped from under her on the rain-spattered flagstones in the scullery doorway and she found herself hurtling forward.

  She threw out her hands in front of her to stop herself crashing into the big iron-framed mangle, but it was too late. As she crumpled to the rain-sodden ground, Katie felt a searing pain, like fire in her guts, as the metal-reinforced wooden handle of the wringer rammed into her side.

  The next thing she knew was her head was
filled with the sound of someone screaming. At first she thought it must be her, roaring with the terrible pain, but as she slowly opened her eyes, she saw it was Molly yelling like a mad thing for Nora.

  ‘Nanna! Quick!’ she was hollering over the wall. ‘Quick!’

  As Nora poked her head over the wall to see what all the fuss was about, her hand flew to her mouth. ‘No!’ Her eyes had fixed on the dark stain spreading out on the ground beneath her daughter.

  ‘Quick, run and tell Joe to fetch yer dad in his truck. Hurry!’

  On her side of the wall Nora hurriedly dragged the tin bath from her scullery and set it on its side as a makeshift step, to help her reach her daughter. In her panic, it didn’t occur to her to run round to the street door.

  As Nora scrambled up the wet, slippery wall, with her dress tucked up round her thighs, and balanced unsteadily on the top, making ready to tip over into the yard of number twelve, the tin bath went crashing back onto its base, fetching Michael running out from the kitchen to check on what excitement he might be missing.

  ‘Blimey, Nanna!’ he exclaimed through a mouthful of bacon, the sight of his grandmother’s unsuspected acrobatic talents making him forget both his language and his manners. ‘What you up to?’

  ‘It’s all right, Michael, love,’ Nora said slowly. ‘Yer mam’s just not very well, so go and . . .’

  Before Nora could finish, Michael was hanging on top of the wall peering over at his mum lying on the ground. ‘Is that blood, Nanna?’

  ‘Get yerself indoors, Michael,’ she ordered him quite unnecessarily as he ran back indoors to fetch his brothers and his grandad. ‘Tell ’em to bring blankets,’ she called, then swore under her breath as her knees jarred as she dropped down beside Katie.

  ‘I’m here, darling,’ she whispered, kneeling beside her daughter on the soaking wet ground. She tore off her cardigan and held it over Katie, trying to protect her from the rain. ‘And Molly’s fetching Pat. They won’t be long.’

  Katie tried to lift her head, her eyes swimming in and out of focus as the pain tore through her. ‘Don’t let Pat fetch the doctor, Mum. Please. We can’t afford it.’

  A pile of blankets, closely followed by the boys, then Stephen, came flying over the wall.

  Danny, ashen-faced, knelt beside his nanna as she covered his mum with the blankets.

  ‘What shall I do?’ he asked, the fear in his voice making him sound like a little kid.

  ‘I don’t know if we should move her,’ Nora whispered to him.

  ‘She can’t stay out here.’ Stephen ran his fingers distractedly through his hair. ‘I’m gonna fetch the doctor.’

  ‘No,’ groaned Katie, and she passed out again.

  Katie’s eyes fluttered open for a brief moment and she whimpered as she felt herself being rolled onto her back. It hurt, it hurt so much. She could hear someone speaking. It was Molly. She was babbling away nineteen to the dozen, going on about being worried when she hadn’t come in for her breakfast, and how she had gone in a truck to find someone.

  Then she heard her mum speaking. ‘Ssssh now, Molly,’ she was saying. ‘Let’s just get yer mam up to her bed, eh, darling?’

  Then Katie felt herself being lifted into the air.

  Pat carried his wife indoors, all the while sobbing that he was sorry, oh so sorry, and grimacing with the pain that was tearing his heart out.

  15

  ‘I’VE LOST THE baby, ain’t I?’ Katie stared up at the ceiling, not bothering to wipe away the tears that were running down her face and into her ears. It was Sunday, almost lunchtime, and, although she couldn’t remember all that had happened to her in the last thirty-six hours, she knew that she was right about the baby.

  Pat took her hand. ‘Yer mustn’t take on, Kate, yer’ve gotta rest, like the doctor said.’

  ‘It’s me punishment for not telling yer. It was like lying.’ She screwed up her eyes and gripped Pat so hard that her nails dug into his flesh. ‘Pat. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘It’s me what’s sorry, Kate. I hate meself for what I did to yer. I swear, I’ll never raise me hand to you again.’

  Katie rolled over on to her side. Her body shook as wave after wave of silent sobs shuddered through her.

  Pat looked round at Nora, who was standing at the end of the bed; he wanted her to tell him how to help his wife, what to do, how to make it all better.

  Nora sat down on the bed beside her daughter and gently patted her back. ‘There, there, love, try and be brave. The kids are all outside on the landing, don’t let ’em hear yer crying.’ She looked at Pat, sitting there helplessly, his head buried in his hands. ‘Come on now,’ Nora encouraged them. ‘Buck up, eh? I’ve told ’em they can come in for one minute to see yers, then they’re all coming back indoors with me for their dinner.’

  Katie sniffed loudly, rolled on to her back and struggled to prop herself up on her elbows. ‘Give us yer handkerchief, Pat.’ She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. ‘Tell ’em to come in, Mum.’

  Katie and Pat’s five children filed in. Molly, then Danny followed by Michael, Timmy and last of all, hanging back, came Sean.

  They stood there staring at their mum, the woman who always coped with everything and everyone; even when their dad had gone away like that. And now she looked terrible, and it frightened them. They tried not to let their fear show. Nora had warned them all, especially Timmy, that they weren’t to cry or go upsetting her in any way, but Molly couldn’t help herself. She rushed forward and threw her arms round Katie’s neck.

  ‘Mum!’ she wailed. ‘Aw, Mum!’

  That was it, the floodgate had broken; within seconds all the other kids were weeping and sitting on the bed, getting as close to their mother as they could. Even Sean, the tough nut, was gripping one of her hands and sniffing noisily.

  ‘You ain’t gonna die, are yer?’ wailed Michael, his little tear-stained cheeks puckering with the effort of controlling his sobs.

  Nora was furious. ‘What did I tell you lot about upsetting yer mammy?’

  ‘They’re all right, Mum,’ Katie said, her voice faint with strain. ‘It’s making me feel better just having ’em here with me.’ She did her best to smile for Michael. ‘And course I ain’t gonna die, yer daft ’apporth. Who’d chase yer off to school in the morning if I wasn’t here?’

  ‘Now come on, we all know what the doctor said, yer mam’s gotta rest.’ Nora held out her hand to Timmy, always the easiest of them to handle. ‘All of yer. Back next door now. We’ll leave yer mam and dad to a bit of peace.’

  Each of her children kissed Katie in turn, while Molly still clung on to her as though she was scared she would run off and leave them all. But Nora didn’t have to tell them again; without any argument they followed her out of the room.

  ‘I know there’s been times when I could’ve wrung their necks for ’em, but they’re good kids, Kate,’ said Pat, smoothing her hair away from her forehead. ‘Yer’ve done a right good job with ’em all.’

  ‘Have I?’ Katie looked up into her husband’s face, the face she had fallen in love with when she was just a girl, when she had known nothing of the pain and hurt that could come with being a wife and mother. ‘And have I been a good wife?’ she asked, in a barely audible whisper.

  ‘Aw, Katie. Katie, I love you so much. You don’t know how much. Nothing’s ever gonna hurt you again. Nothing. I’d rather cut me hands off than ever hurt you again.’

  He buried his head in her shoulder and they cried together.

  Next door, Nora called Stephen in from the front room, where he had been looking through the Sunday paper, to carve the meat for her, while the kids sorted out the plates and cutlery, and she dished up the vegetables and roast potatoes.

  Stephen did his best with the bit of silverside, which wasn’t saying much; it wasn’t something he had much experience of, carving meat. In fact, he was surprised Nora had asked him to even attempt it, and he said as much.

  ‘I wanted yer by me so I could have a
quiet word,’ whispered Nora, as she dug viciously with a fish slice at the little crispy bits of potato in the bottom of the tin. ‘I wanted to ask yer, Stephen Brady, what yer thought yer was up to, not coming in to see yer own daughter?’

  Stephen put the carving knife down on the draining board. ‘I was there when I was needed yesterday, wasn’t I? I ran and fetched the doctor.’

  He looked over his shoulder to make sure the kids were too occupied with their own thoughts and concerns to bother listening to anything he had to say, then he leant close to Nora. With his head angled sharply downwards, he murmured, ‘And if yer want to know the truth, Nora, I reckoned I’d be intruding.’ He held up his hand to still Nora’s denial that he knew would come next, and glanced anxiously over his shoulder again. ‘Sure, I’m no fool. I know exactly how she feels about me. And I can’t say I blame her.’

  ‘She’ll come around, Stephen. Perhaps if yer popped in to see her later, for just a couple of minutes . . .’

  ‘She’s got enough on her plate, without me going in there and upsetting her even more.’ He lifted his head and looked at Nora. ‘I know me turning up here has only added to that girl’s aggravation. And I can’t help feeling partly to blame for what’s happened to her.’

  Nora touched him tenderly on the arm. ‘You mustn’t talk like that.’

  Stephen shrugged dejectedly.

  ‘Scuse me!’ Trying to hide the tears that were streaming down her face, Molly dashed past her grandparents and out into the back yard.

  Stephen picked up the knife again. Much as he hated to see Molly upset, he was relieved by the diversion; he had come very close to saying things that he would have regretted. ‘Go on, go out to Molly. I’ll sort this out,’ he looked at the ragged chunks of meat he’d cut, ‘somehow or other.’

  Nora wiped her hands on the tea towel and went outside.

  ‘It’s all right, love,’ she said. ‘I’m here.’

  She held Molly close to her, stroking her hair, just as she had done when she was a little girl and had grazed her knees falling in the street or clambering over the wall. ‘It’s been a shock, but she’ll be just fine now. I promise yer.’