A Kiss and a Promise (26 page)

‘Go and get five ha’penny cornets, queen,’ she said, handing Ginny a threepenny bit. ‘I oughtn’t to go splashing me money about ’cos when we move I wants me own bedroom, and Mam’s so mean she won’t buy me so much as a blanket. But I dunno, sometimes I wonder if we’ll ever shift. We’ve been savin’ for ages, but somehow the money gets whittled away.’

‘I know what you mean,’ Ginny said sympathetically. ‘The house is so crowded. I used to think it were awful, living with Granny Bennett, but at least there were only the two of us. Belle, can I ask you a question?’

‘Course you can, when you’ve fetched the cornets,’ Belle said lazily. Ginny hurried off and presently they were all licking ice cream and Ginny put the question she was longing to ask. ‘Belle, I know I’ve not been in Schubert Street all that long, but – but I can’t help noticin’ that it’s Aunt Amy and meself what does most of the housework. Your mam … well, she never even dries the dishes, or carries water upstairs, or – or makes a round of toast. I don’t mean to be rude, but even Gran … well, she didn’t do much, but …’

‘Don’t you know?’ Belle said, her eyes rounding with surprise. ‘My mam is ten years younger than Aunt Amy and after our granny died – Mam were only twelve – Aunt Amy took over the house and was like a mam to our mam. Then, later, our mam began to get thin and to cough a lot. She had just started work at the rope factory and for ages she kept on working, though she complained about feelin’ ill. After a few months, she got so thin, and sort of – of listless, that Aunt Amy took fright. She took her up to the clinic on Brougham Terrace and the doctor there said our mam had TB. He were real cross with Aunt Amy, said she should have brought her there weeks ago. They whisked Mam off to a clinic in the country. She were there three years, and o’ course, when she come out, me aunt were that sorry for the way she’d behaved, she waited on our mam hand and foot. Mam got married and had us two, and until our dad upped and offed she managed her own affairs. Dad left when I were twelve and Mam never even tried to cope alone. She moved in wi’ her sister and I reckon things just went back to the way they had been, wi’ Aunt Amy doin’ all the work, even though, by then, she had a family of her own.’

‘I
see
,’ Ginny said. ‘But wharrabout you and Norma, Belle? You – you doesn’t help much either.’

Belle giggled. ‘I reckon Aunt believes that Mam’s chest weakness ha’ been inherited by us two, an’ she’s scared stiff we’ll go the same way as our mam,’ she said. ‘I reckon Mam never told her sister what the doctors told her – that it were the stuff they used to make the ropes which had brought on the illness. Aunt Amy made her stick to the job when she were desperate to quit.’

Ginny thought this over, then voiced her thoughts aloud. ‘But you and Norma and your mam … well, you seem ever so strong and healthy,’ she observed. ‘Your mam must be completely cured.’

Belle giggled again. ‘She never did have TB; it were just an illness caused by the rope fibres,’ she said confidentially. ‘But don’t you go tellin’ Aunt Amy or me mam will break both our bleedin’ necks.’ She grinned at her younger cousin. ‘So now you know; if you want a life of ease, you’ll have to have a horrible disease, or pretend to have one, at any rate.’

‘I don’t want either, thanks,’ Ginny told her. ‘But I could do wi’ a bit more freedom, Belle. You see, I had good friends in Victoria Court an’ I don’t want to lose ’em. I’d love to visit me old school an’ all; me teacher was prime, honest to God she was. Any ideas?’

But though Belle furrowed her brow in concentration, she could not think of a foolproof plan. ‘Only the kids will play out when the weather gets warmer and that’ll give you time away from the house,’ she said. ‘In fact now I’ve told you our dark secret, I don’t mind takin’ the kids off your hands from time to time. I like ’em, you know. Norma’s awful sharp; she says hateful things – says I’m fat, an’ tells tales, an’ enjoys gettin’ me into trouble.’

‘I know,’ Ginny said gloomily. ‘No one at school called me Ginger until Norma went and told Ivy that it was my real name. Ivy’s only a kid, she don’t know any better, so now half the school calls me Ginger an’ I do hate it.’

‘It ain’t as bad as Fatty Arbuckle,’ the older girl observed, getting to her feet. ‘It’s not so bad now I’m at work, but at school Norma told everyone to call me Fatty Arbuckle. She told people I’d rolled on her pet cat and crushed it to death an’ she’s never even had a cat.’ She looked shyly across at Ginny and tucked her arm into the crook of the younger girl’s. ‘You’re a grand kid, Ginny; what say we’re pals, eh? I don’t have no pals at work ’cos they’re mostly so much older than me. What d’you say?’

Ginny said, enthusiastically, that she could do with a pal herself and the two of them made their way home in excellent spirits, Ginny chattering away as though she and Belle had been friends for years.

Michael had meant to return to Liverpool as soon as the
Mary Louise
made a landfall in the British Isles but, in the event, he was unable to do so. An urgent message from his mother made him change his plans. When the ship docked in Dublin, there was a telegram awaiting him. He opened it with considerable trepidation for no one had ever sent him a telegram before and read it with a thumping heart.
Can you come Michael stop Daddy fell and broke leg stop Declan at sea stop Maeve Gallagher
.

Michael shoved the telegram into his pocket, smiling to himself at the formality of the signature. However, he could not go straight to Liverpool as he had planned. A broken leg is a serious matter for a farmer; it would put all the work on his mammy and last time he had been home he had been much struck by the improvement of their holding. They now had a good flock of sheep and seven milch cows instead of the three they had owned before. His mother had always been proud of her poultry and now she was able to sell eggs at the weekly market as well as keeping the family supplied. The fields would have been ploughed and sown with crops the previous autumn, but because the weather was mild corn, potatoes and other crops would be showing above the ground and that meant that weeds would also be putting in an appearance. He might not have to stay at home long, but he could not possibly let his mother down. The fact was, he had never told his parents that Ginny existed, though he had meant to do so on his next visit home, and now, because of his father’s accident, it would be a bad time to tell them he had simply got to visit Liverpool in the near future in order to see his daughter. Clearly, however, it would have to be done; he would tell them as soon as he reached home.

‘Michael! I thought we were catching the ferry across to Liverpool this mornin’. Ain’t you comin’? We’ll lose it, else.’

Michael swung round as Nobby came clattering down the gangway and joined him on the quayside. Wordlessly, he pulled the telegram out of his pocket and handed it to his friend. Nobby read it with furrowed brow then sighed deeply and handed it back. ‘Well, I’m real sorry for your old man, mate, but you were goin’ to sign off for a whole voyage anyway, weren’t you? A broken leg, eh? That’s bad for a feller what works the land, ain’t it? And wharrabout your daughter? Did you write to tell her you’d be visitin’ Liverpool around this time?’

‘No, I never did. You see, I wrote, oh, mebbe half a dozen times last year, giving her the shipping office address so she could reply. I got a letter, just before Christmas, though it weren’t from her, it were from Granny Bennett.’ He pulled a face. ‘I didn’t even know the old devil could write, but she managed a couple of lines, though the writing were all over the place and the spelling were fearful. She said the girl was strong and healthy and doing well at school, and the money came in awful handy, though if I could spare a few bob more, they’d both be grateful. It eased me mind, so it did, but I still mean to go back to Liverpool and visit ’em, because the letters I sent were addressed to me daughter, so you’d have thought, if she were so good at schoolwork, that she would have replied herself. I know she’s only a kid, an’ no kid I know likes writin’ letters, but she might have just penned a line.’

‘She may never have got the letters,’ Nobby said shrewdly. ‘You said that the old grandmother hated you like poison, so mebbe she chucked the letters in the fire. After all, she’s had your money all these years without doin’ a thing for it, so mebbe she don’t want to rock the boat. Mebbe she replied herself because she were afraid, if she didn’t, you’d think they were both dead and stop sending any money at all.’

‘I know. I’ve thought of all that, and I’m far from blamin’ the kid,’ Michael assured his friend. ‘But I did suspicion that if I told ’em I were comin’, they might hustle the kid out o’ the way. Anyway, it’s a good thing I didn’t tell ’em since now it may be a week or two before I can leave Ireland.’

The two young men set off across the quayside, making their way towards the place where the ferry from Liverpool had docked. ‘Nobby … would it be askin’ too much for you to go round to Victoria Court – it’s No. 17 – and check out that all’s well there? I – I’ll give you some money so you can telegraph me, let me know how things stand. You can tell Granny Bennett I’m comin’ to Liverpool just as soon as I can get away from the farm … if she asks, that is.’ He grinned ruefully at his friend. ‘Sure and the likeliest thing is, she’ll spit on your boots at the mention of me name, but I dare say you won’t heed that.’

Nobby grinned too. ‘Devil a bit I’ll mind,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Any message for your sprog? I’m longin’ to meet her, so I am!’

Michael shook his head, then changed his mind. ‘You might tell her I’m goin’ to get her a kitten when I come to Liverpool,’ he said. ‘Her mammy always did like cats.’

‘I don’t think I’ll mention the cat, if you don’t mind, old pal,’ Nobby said. ‘It ’ud be a turrble disappointment for the kid if you turned up wi’out it.’

It was strange how the word cat brought an immediate picture into Michael’s mind, a picture he had not really thought about for ten years. Once more, he saw the darkened quayside, the shadow by the dock gates, and felt again the soft weight of the cat on his shoulder, even felt against his ear the satiny fur and the vibrating purr. And in that moment, he also saw Stella’s face, only the big, dark eyes were full of tears and the mouth had a reproachful droop. Michael found he was blinking back tears himself; Stella had loved him, trusted him, and he had betrayed her in the worst possible way. He had kissed her when she was expecting his child and promised that he would look after them both, and he had meant it. Then Stella had died and everything had gone wrong and now he must put everything right.

‘What’s gorrin to you, old feller? Cat got your tongue?’

Startled out of his reverie, Michael apologised, saying that his mind had been a thousand miles away, then bade his friend farewell and watched as he climbed aboard the ferry for England. Only when the ship was out of sight did he realise that he had completely forgotten to give Nobby his Kerry address. Sighing at his own stupidity, for he now could not possibly receive a telegram from his friend, he turned back and headed for the Kingsbridge station where he would catch the train for Limerick. From there, he would catch another train which would take him to Killorglin, and from Killorglin he would walk, knowing every step of the way, to the home which he had not seen for three years.

Michael’s homecoming was every bit as warm and loving as he had hoped. His father was in a poor state, Michael saw; he could not use his right arm and his leg was in plaster to the thigh. His elbow had been broken in the fall that had fractured his leg, which had given him a double disability. Sean relied heavily on his favourite sheepdog, Floss, who had grown adept at keeping just ahead of her master, pushing open doors and barking to warn everyone of Sean’s slow and shuffling approach. When Sean said ‘stick’ or ‘slippers’ or ‘me paper’, the dog would rush to bring such items to him. She seldom took her eyes from his face and Michael thought such devotion both amusing and touching.

‘And when I’m on me feet again and able to work, Floss is goin’ to be lost because she’s treatin’ me like her one an’ only puppy,’ Sean confided. ‘Eh, old Floss is worth her weight in gold.’

Michael had been horrified at the extent of his father’s injuries when he had first come home. ‘I’d been fishin’, climbed out o’ the boat with me catch in one hand and went a purler on a slippery rock,’ Sean told his son. ‘It were rainin’ so hard I could scarce see me hand in front of me face and, to tell the truth, I must have knocked me head an’ all, ’cos I didn’t come to until someone began shakin’ me shoulder. It were Padraig what lives further along the coast. He and your mammy got me back to the cottage but the bone was stickin’ out sort of funny, like, so Padraig brought his donkey cart up to the front door and took me into Killorglin, to the doctor’s. He told me there I’d cracked me elbow an’ I’m telling you, it gives me more pain than the leg.’

‘Aye, he’s been in a poor way, so he has,’ Maeve agreed. ‘I’m that sorry, son, that I had to send you a telegram, but the truth is, I were desperate. Declan was supposed to come back in April, but your dad an’ me, we’ve got a feeling he may stay a bit longer. You see, when you wrote in August, you did say you might be comin’ home for good sometime soon and I think Declan took it that he might not be needed.’ She cast a deprecating glance at her son. ‘Perhaps I read too much into what you said, Michael, but it did seem as though you were missin’ the farm – and us – so we thought …’

‘Not that we dreamed of lettin’ Declan go,’ Sean said quickly. ‘The fact is, Michael, that the farm has growed so there’s work for all of us. And your mammy an’ me … well, we’re not gettin’ any younger and we’re findin’ the work hard. Young Declan and meself ploughed and sowed last back-end, but when the warmer weather comes …’

The three Gallaghers were sitting around the kitchen table having just finished a large meal of boiled potatoes and fish, rounded off with marmalade pudding. Michael grinned at his father. ‘You don’t have to explain to me, Daddy,’ he said. ‘There’ll be work aplenty for both Declan and meself. Mammy didn’t mention the elbow when she sent the telegram but I can see it’ll be a sore trial to you. How much have you been able to do since the accident? Don’t say Mammy’s been managin’ all alone?’