Martha's Girls (34 page)

Chapter 23

When Irene arrived home from work on New Year’s Eve, she was surprised to find an envelope behind the clock. It looked like it had been damaged in the post. Inside was a crumpled Christmas card and underneath the printed greeting, was one line in Sean’s handwriting: ‘Coming home New Year’s Eve.’ Irene caught her breath. Where had the card been? Delayed in the post? She had to warn Theresa, but it might already be too late. She ran downstairs and into the kitchen. ‘Mammy, change of plan, I have to go out early. I don’t want any tea!’ She was out the back door and away before Martha could say a word.

It was over a year since Irene had last been to Northumberland Street and that night she had ended up in hospital fighting for her life. In the gathering darkness very little of the main road looked familiar. Fortunately, she found the only landmark she could remember, the sweet shop that sold yellow man. She turned the corner and followed the noise to the bar. Inside it was packed with men, and cigarette smoke hung like a winter fog over their heads. They stood three and four deep at the bar and, although she was the only woman in the room, none of them made way for her.

‘Excuse me please, I need to speak to Mr O’Hara.’

‘You and me both, darlin’,’ said the man next to her, ‘and when you see him tell him mine’s a pint of porter!’

She waited five minutes hoping she could move to the front as others were served, but they remained standing at the bar to drink. She was beginning to despair when a young man spoke to her. ‘What is it you want, miss? You’re surely not here to buy drink?’

Irene was close to tears, feeling the time slipping by. ‘No, I’m not. I need to talk to Mr O’Hara. I’ve a message for him.’

‘Come on now, lads. Can you not see there’s a lady here? Let her through for pity’s sake.’ He elbowed his way through the crowd, pulling Irene behind him.

She recognised O’Hara immediately and the physical memory of the pain and disorientation she experienced last time she faced him returned in a rush. She spoke quickly. ‘Theresa told me to find you if I received a message from a certain person. She said you would see she got it.’

He looked at Irene as though she was mad. ‘I’m not here to pass on messages. I’ve a bar to run!’

‘You don’t understand, this is a message from someone very important for Theresa—’

‘Look missus, it’s New Year’s Eve. I don’t care if it’s a matter of life or death, I’m not leaving my bar to play the message boy.’

O’Hara was already walking away when she shouted, ‘If you won’t pass the message on, at least tell me where I can find Theresa and I’ll tell her myself.’

O’Hara raised his arm and pointed. ‘Down there, turn left, number twenty six.’

*

At the far end of Theresa’s street, a house blazed lights in defiance of the blackout and by its light Irene found number twenty six. She knocked and moments later Theresa’s voice called out.

‘Who is it?’

‘It’s me, Irene. I’ve a message for you.’

The door opened a crack and Theresa peered through the gap.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Let me in, Theresa, it’s about Sean.’

The door opened and she slipped inside. ‘Down the hall, the kitchen’s at the end,’ said Theresa, locking the door behind her. The room was tiny and smelt of mince and onions. A table covered with a lace tablecloth filled the middle of the room and against one wall was an ancient cast iron gas cooker on top of which was a blackened teapot leaning against a low flame. Theresa pulled out one of the chairs at the table and motioned Irene to sit down. She remained standing.

‘I got a Christmas card from Sean today.’ Irene spoke quickly. ‘I don’t know when he posted it, but it said he was coming back tonight.’

‘What? He can’t come here. It isn’t safe!’

‘What can we do?’

‘I don’t know. What exactly did it say?’

‘Just “coming home on New Year’s Eve”, that’s all.’

Theresa looked distraught. ‘If I’d known sooner I could have written to him and told him it was too dangerous. The police know Mammy’s really ill, the prison authorities told them. We tried to get Daddy home, but they wouldn’t have any of it. They’ll be waitin’ for Sean to do something stupid. Think, Irene, could anyone have seen the card?’

‘No, I only got it today and as soon as I read it I hid it in my room and came straight here.’

‘Why has it only come today?’

‘Delayed in the—’ Irene’s hand went to her mouth.

‘What? What is it?’

‘The envelope was damaged.’

‘Oh God! Somebody read it, somebody—’ Theresa stopped abruptly and tilted her head, listening for a sound above their heads. ‘It’s Mammy, she’s woken up. I’ll be back in a minute.’

Irene tried to picture the envelope, how had it been damaged? Had it been ripped a little or enough for the card to be removed and read? She thought not. Then with a start she realised it hadn’t been torn, it had been opened carefully, but resealed carelessly. Someone had steamed open her mail. Mammy!

Theresa came back carrying a tray. ‘She’s awake, wants a drink of tea. She’s talking about Sean again. Part of me hopes he’ll come and she’ll get to see him before …’ Her voice trailed off.

‘Listen Theresa, I think I know who opened the card. My mother’s always asking who’s writing to me. I think she was just being nosey.’

‘Are you sure? I don’t trust the police. I’m telling you, they read our letters.’

‘Yes, but they wouldn’t read mine …’ Irene hesitated and Theresa finished her sentence.

‘Because you’re a Protestant and I’m a Catholic.’

‘I don’t think—’

‘Shut up!’ hissed Theresa. She quickly turned off the light and Irene sensed her move to the door. There was a rush of cold air and someone entered the room. The door closed, the light came on and there stood Sean O’Hara unmistakable despite the turned-up collar and scarf covering half his face.

He hugged Theresa. ‘How is she? I’m not too late, am I?’

‘No, no you’re not, she’s been a bit better these last two days, but she’s been asking for you all the time. Sean, you shouldn’t have come. The police are still looking for you.’

‘Sure it’s New Year’s Eve, the police are too busy dealing with drunks to mount an ambush for the likes of me.’ He turned to Irene, if he was surprised to see her he didn’t show it. Instead, he kissed her quickly on the cheek.

‘Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes, Irene. I never imagined you’d be here to welcome me.’ And he gave that slow smile that made her heart leap.

‘Take your coat off and sit yourself down,’ said Theresa. ‘I’m just going to make Mammy some tea and I’ll get you something to eat as well.’

‘Where’s the rest of them?’ he asked.

‘They’ve gone to Aunty Mary’s to see the New Year in. They weren’t going to go, but Mammy was a wee bit brighter and she says to them, “You go on and have a good time. I’ll still be here when you get back.” Right enough, Marie was so excited about being allowed to stay up so late, it would have been a shame for her to miss it. I said I’d stay with Mammy.’

‘So you didn’t know I was coming?’

‘No, I only found out a while ago when Irene arrived. She didn’t get your card until today.’

‘That’s a bit strange, isn’t it?’

‘Sean, you don’t think somebody intercepted it do you?’ asked Theresa.

‘No, I don’t think so. Why would they connect me with Irene? Anyway, I don’t really care. I’m here now. I’ll take that tea you’re makin’ up to Mammy and stay with her for a while. Then I’ll fade away into the night and nobody will be any the wiser.’

When he left the room Theresa explained, ‘Everyday she prays for him and lately she’s been asking the Virgin Mary to intercede and allow her to say a proper goodbye to him.’ They sat a while in silence each trying to imagine the conversation going on above them. Then Theresa seemed to brighten up.

‘I’m glad you’re here, Irene. Tell me how you’ve been. Still singing with your sisters?’ Irene told her about the concert for the military. ‘And what about that Scottish airman you were keen on? What was his name again?’

‘Sandy.’ Irene froze. ‘Oh God, what time is it?’

Theresa looked over Irene’s shoulder at the dresser, ‘Just after nine. Why?’

‘I was supposed to be meeting Sandy at eight o’clock! He got a pass. He’s been waiting for me outside the City Hall for over an hour! I’ll have to go.’ She grabbed her coat and frantically looked around for her bag.

‘Irene, I think you’ll have missed him. It’ll probably take you half an hour to get there.’

‘Maybe he’s waited for me.’

At that moment there was a shout from upstairs. ‘Theresa, come quickly!’

She was out of the door and up the stairs with Irene at her heels. In the bedroom Sean was standing over his mother shouting, ‘Mammy, Mammy!’ and from her throat came a noise the like of which they had never heard. Her face was grey and her eyes had rolled back into her head with only the whites showing. Theresa rushed to her while Sean backed away, almost into Irene.

‘She’s still breathing,’ said Theresa, her head pressed to her mother’s chest. ‘We need to get the doctor and a priest.’ Sean pushed past Irene and was taking the stairs two at a time when Theresa screamed at him. ‘Stop, you can’t go! You stay. I’ll get them.’

Irene followed her downstairs and closed the door after her. Then she took Sean’s arm and said softly, ‘You need to go back upstairs and sit with your mother until Theresa comes back.’

He put his foot on the first step and stopped. ‘I can’t. I can’t,’ he whispered.

‘It’s all right, I’ll go with you.’

He sat on the bed, held his mother’s hand and spoke only one word over and over, ‘Mammy’, and the sound in her throat quietened and each line of her face seemed to soften. From where she stood at the foot of the bed, Irene was astonished to see a silver wisp, like steam from a cooling kettle, rise from the body of Sean’s mother and float upwards towards the picture of the Virgin Mary.

At the same moment the street outside exploded with noise: crashing bin lids; shouting men; heavy boots on cobbles. Sean was on his feet and out to the landing, where he jumped on the banister and punched out a flimsy cover in the ceiling to pull himself up into the loft. Once inside, he lowered his arm back down and shouted, ‘Irene!’ Without hesitation she took his hand and felt herself lifted into the darkness.

Outside was pandemonium. The street was a blaze of light as people poured out of their homes to add to the confusion. The police were exposed in their clandestine mission to arrest a fugitive and had no alternative but to storm the house, breaking the door down and ransacking the rooms. Theresa rushed in after them screaming and grabbing at their uniforms. A priest followed her. There was the sound of splintering wood as a policeman rushed at the bedroom door with his shoulder and fell into the room. Theresa ran past him and positioned herself between him and the bed.

‘Get out! Get out, you bastard!’ she screamed. The priest took one look at the dead woman and stepped forward, his arms outstretched. ‘You are abusing the sanctity of the dead. Leave us in peace, I’ve work to do here.’

‘That’s all very well Father, but we’re after a man wanted for murder. We have to search everywhere. He could be hiding in here.’

‘Well he isn’t,’ said the priest. ‘So take your anger and disrespect elsewhere and leave this woman with some dignity.’ The policeman looked around as if weighing up the possibilities and backed out of the door. Theresa closed it behind him and the priest turned to give Mrs O’Hara the Last Rights.

*

When Irene was hauled into the loft, Sean carefully replaced the board in the ceiling. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.

’Keep your head down, there isn’t much room.’ Sean held her arm. ‘You’re standing on a joist, just put one foot in front of the other.’ The smell of neglect and the dust of decades surrounded them and in the street far below the unrelenting clamour seemed muted and irrelevant. She followed him gingerly across the roof space until they reached the far wall where an old door lay on its side. Sean lifted it and they crawled through a hole into the adjoining house, then he reached back and carefully replaced the door. Again and again in the dark, the process was repeated until finally they crawled into the fifth house, the end of the terrace, where the loft floor had been boarded and Sean and Irene were able to sit and lean against the wall. ‘We’ll wait here until someone comes to tell us the coast is clear,’ he said.

They sat in silence and Irene thought about the sequence of events that had brought her to this dusty loft on New Year’s Eve with Sean, when she should have been safe in the city in a bar or a dance hall with Sandy. But somehow she knew she was meant to be here. She reached out in the darkness to touch his face and felt the tears. She had no idea what to do, had never considered that a man might cry. Instinct made her put her arms around him and he rested his head on her shoulder. Time passed and the sounds from the street faded a little. He raised his head.