Rainbow's End (37 page)

Satisfied that they had their backs covered, the twins proceeded to doze in their seats until they heard a porter shouting ‘Tara station!’ whereupon they scrambled from the train, still half asleep, and set off for home.

It was late, but newsboys still stood about outside the station, which was unusual, Seamus thought. He tugged his twin’s arm. ‘What’s the headlines, Garv? Why are the fellers still sellin’ papers?’

‘’Cos it’s Bank Holiday and there’s folk still about, you . . .’ Garvan began, then stopped abruptly. ‘War! We’re at war, Shay! That’s what the fly-sheets are sayin’.’

‘War,’ Seamus said wonderingly. ‘Let’s get home; someone will have bought a paper.’

Sleepiness forgotten, they hurried.

They couldn’t believe it. They got indoors, shouting about the war, and found Mammy sitting by herself in front of the fire.

She looked up as they came in and not a word of reproach did she utter about their late return, not a question as to the O’Farrells. ‘Oh . . . you’ll be wantin’ a bite or a sup, I dare say,’ she said heavily. ‘There’s bread an’ cheese set out on the table.’

‘War, Mammy! We’re at war wit’ Germany,’ Seamus said importantly. It must be such a recent thing that no other member of the family knew, he thought. ‘We seed the fly-sheets when we got off the train – we didn’t buy a paper ’cos we thought certain sure either you or Liam would have got one . . . should we go back?’

His mother shook her head. ‘No, there’s a paper here somewhere,’ she said, gesturing vaguely around the very untidy room. ‘Seamus, Garvan, I’ve somethin’ to tell the pair of you. Liam’s gone.’

‘Gone? To the war?’ Garvan said eagerly. ‘But that’s very soon, Mammy.’

Their mother gave an irritated shake of the head, drawing her dark brows together in a scowl. ‘No, no – can you t’ink of nothin’ but war, the pair of you? Me boy’s left home.’

‘Liam? Good old Liam?’ Garvan said slowly. ‘And where’s Maggie?’

Their mother’s eyes widened. ‘Why where should she be?’ she said sharply. Seamus’s heart missed a beat. Garvan had done it this time! But he had underestimated his twin.

‘She can’t be here, or the room wouldn’t be in this state,’ Garvan said simply. ‘Unless she’s ill, Mammy?’

‘Oh,’ Mrs Nolan said, clearly taken aback. ‘Well, I’ve not had time to get round to . . . not that I could t’ink of cleanin’ up or clearin’ away wit’ me lovely boy gone . . . and swearin’ never to return,’ she added pitifully. ‘I’m lost wit’out Liam, boys. Lost.’

‘Oh, Liam’s a feller, he’ll be back, but where is our Maggie, Mammy?’ Garvan said. His voice was inexorable, his expression difficult even for Seamus to interpret. ‘Where’s she gone? You’ve telled us about Liam, now tell us about Maggie.’

Their mother sniffed, shrugged her shoulders up to her ears and heaved a deep sigh. ‘Gone,’ she said briefly. ‘After all I’ve done for her, the little slut walks out of me house, takin’ a good blanket . . .’

Garvan and Seamus cut straight across their mother’s querulous voice without compunction. ‘Gone? Where? Why?’

‘She’s gone because . . . you’re too young to understand, mind . . . but she’s gone because she’d set out her lures for Liam and . . .’

‘Lures? Maggie?’ That was Seamus, stung into anger. ‘Maggie never lured anyone, Mammy, she was too busy and too tired most of the time. Come on now, what happened?’

Their mother moaned, then said pettishly, ‘Make me a cup of tay then, Shay, for I’m dry as a bone, so I am. I’ve cried a river . . . but does anyone worry about me? Oh no, Ticky won’t go to bed and when I make him, he won’t go to sleep. Howlin’ an’ screamin’ for Maggie until I could have slapped him. And then Kenny goes off to see if he can find Liam, an’ when he gets back he’s short wit’ me an’ goes straight off to bed wit’out tellin’ me where me darlin’ boy is stayin’. . .’

‘Mammy,’ Garvan said ominously. ‘Are you goin’ to tell or am I goin’ to wake Kenny an’ get the truth from him?’

‘It’s all right, Garv,’ Seamus said hurriedly. ‘The kettle’s on now, Mammy’s tay won’t be a minute, then she’ll have the strength to tell us what’s been happenin’, won’t you, Mammy? Now start at the beginnin’, Mammy. You got back from the seaside . . .’

‘Oh, well . . . we got back, and Maggie wasn’t home, or she wasn’t makin’ our supper, at any rate. So I started in to say she was late, an’ whatever was I to do . . .’

‘Get supper yourself,’ Garvan said grimly, but so low that only Seamus heard. ‘Why shouldn’t the girl have a proper day out once in a while?’

‘And then Kenny shouted,’ their mother continued, oblivious. ‘He said . . . the words are burnt into me mind so they are . . . he said:
It’s all right, Mammy, Maggie is home. She’s in here, wit’ Liam.
And he was standin’ in the doorway of the boys’ bedroom.’

‘So?’ Garvan said after a moment. ‘What’s wrong wit’ that, Mammy?’

There was a short silence; you could almost see Mammy thinking that one out, Seamus thought, amused. Because didn’t Maggie make all the beds and tidy the rooms and dust and scrub? So if Liam was in the room and Maggie too, that didn’t mean . . .

‘They were sittin’ on the bed,’ Mrs Nolan said at last. ‘And don’t start on me, tellin’ me there’s no harm in that, because don’t I know it, indeed? But the harm is that they’re promised! Yes, promised to wed, for Liam told me wit’ his own mouth so he did. Liam, me eldest son, the one wit’ the best job, the one who’s got a future . . . throwin’ himself away on a little skivvy from the slums!’

‘But Maggie lives wit’ us, so if she’s from the slums . . .’ Garvan began in a deceptively reasonable tone, only to be immediately interrupted.

‘You’re not lettin’ me get a word out, wit’out argufyin’,’ their mother said pettishly. ‘Do you want to hear the story or don’t you?’

Seamus poured the tea into a cup and carried it over to his mother. ‘Here you are, a nice cup of tay,’ he said soothingly. ‘It’s sorry we are to interrupt, Mammy. You go on, tell us what happened, we’ll stay quiet now.’

‘You’re a good boy, Shay,’ his mother said gratefully. She glared at Garvan, then sipped her tea. ‘Well, when I heard the planned to marry, I was . . . I was shocked. Yes, an’ disappointed, too. Liam could marry anyone, Shay, anyone at all! He’s got a good job, the sort that simply gets better and better, he’s a handsome lad . . . and to throw himself away on a . . . on a—’

‘On an ordinary girl like our Maggie,’ Seamus said quickly. If his mammy said one more word against her he could not guarantee to keep his brother in check. ‘But Maggie’s a pearl, Mammy! She runs this house like clockwork, she can cook like a dream, she can . . . but there. So what happened to make her go?’

‘I told her to leave . . . but later, I begged her to stay, only she wouldn’t,’ Mrs Nolan said. ‘Oh, I’m not denyin’ I don’t intend to let her marry Liam . . .’

‘Liam’s a man. He’ll marry whoever he wants,’ Garvan cut in coldly. ‘You can’t stop either him or Maggie, Mammy. Not if they’re set on it.’

‘Well, I don’t have to approve,’ their mother said sulkily. ‘I don’t have to have a scheming little vixen under my roof . . .’

‘Where’s she gone?’ Seamus said without ceremony. ‘We’ll bring her home, Garv an’ me.’

‘Home! Sure and since when is this the home of Maggie McVeigh, whose mother had to sell her away to feed her?’ Mrs Nolan said hotly. ‘I paid for Maggie as someone to work here, not . . . not—’

‘You promised her a home here after Dally Court fell down,’ Seamus reminded her. ‘Didn’t you guess Liam liked her?’

‘No! If I’d guessed . . . but it’s too late now, me boy’s gone and I don’t know how I’m to get him back, not wit’out takin’ that McVeigh girl an’ all, an’ that I will not do,’ Mrs Nolan said viciously. ‘Oh, go to bed the pair of ye!

‘Where’s our Maggie?’ Garvan said quietly, but there was a chilly ominousness in his voice which made his mother blink nervously across at him. ‘C’mon, Mammy, where is she?’

‘I don’t know,’ their mother wailed. ‘I do
not
know! And don’t you go bringin’ her back here when you find her, for she’ll not be welcome under my roof! If she’d agreed to stay . . . but she went, an’ took me eldest boy, so she comes back here at her peril, I’m tellin’ you. Now I’m goin’ to me bed. We’ll talk again in the mornin’.’

Mrs Collins heard the whole story, tutting now and then, but she was only able to help Maggie. ‘You can sleep wit’ me niece, Kathleen,’ she said. ‘You must speak to the priest about marryin’ as soon as can be, but until then you can sleep wit’ Kathleen. As for you, young feller . . . there’s doss houses down by the waterfront. You’ll get a bed somewhere, so you will.’

‘Don’t worry about me, Mrs Collins, I’ll be fixed up in no time,’ Liam said gently when Maggie turned a stricken face towards him. ‘I’ve a friend or two in the Post Office who won’t see me on the streets, Olly Moss for one. His mammy’s a nice woman so she is, she’ll give me a bit of blanket an’ some floor space. Now, Maggie, we’ll meet tomorrow, after work. All right?’

‘Yes, sure. And . . . and Liam, I am so sorry. I knew your mammy wouldn’t be pleased, but I didn’t t’ink for one moment that she’d be as angry as she was.’

Liam squeezed her hand, then leaned over and kissed her lightly on the forehead. ‘Tomorrow, at seven; outside the Post Office on O’Connell Street,’ he said. ‘You’ve no need to apologise for anything at all, alanna, for you’ve done nothin’ wrong from start to finish. Take care of yourself, and don’t
worry.
It’ll all come out all right, you’ll see.’

They were in Mrs Collins’s tiny, cramped front room, with a pot boiling over the fire from which came a pleasant, savoury smell. The windows were steamed over, but outside, Maggie knew, the sun still shone and children played and shouted. Whilst she had lost, all in a moment, her home, her family and her reputation.

When Liam felt she was settled he said his goodbyes, thanking Mrs Collins profusely, and Maggie went with him as far as the corner, to see him off. For a moment they clung in the blue, star-spangled dusk, but then Liam gave her a kiss and told her she would be fine, so she would, and reminded her again that they would meet next day.

‘But right now I’ve nowhere to lay me head, so I’ll have to get that sorted,’ he told her. ‘Smile for me, Maggie!’

‘Don’t tek on so,’ Mrs Collins said when Maggie went back into the little house, unable to hide her tears. ‘Storm in a taycup, alanna. Tomorrer Mrs Nolan will see the error of her ways, so she will . . . all them kids to see to an’ her workin’ in the shop all day. Oh aye, she’ll come runnin’, just you see.’

Next day, when Mrs Nolan woke, things seemed brighter. It was another sunny day and she went into the kitchen, tried to tell herself it didn’t bother her that Ticky would have to be supervised as he washed and dressed, and started to cook the porridge. When it was simmering she went through to the little room where Maggie and Ticky had slept and fished Ticky out of bed. ‘No, she’s not come back,’ she said grimly, for the first words out of his mouth were: ‘Is Maggie home?’ ‘But we’ve our life to lead, Ticky me boy. Up you get now, an’ come through for a wash. Then get yourself dressed. You’ll go out to play this mornin’ . . . I’ll get one o’ the bigger kids to keep an eye on you.’

‘What about me dinner?’ Ticky said sulkily. ‘Maggie was goin’ to make boxty today. Me pal Ernie was comin’ in for it.’

‘Well, I’ll give you a cut of soda bread an’ some cheese; that’ll do you until supper,’ Mrs Nolan said. ‘I’ll arrange something later, Ticky. Now be a good boy . . . I know, the twins can keep an eye on you for me.’

But Ticky was outraged by this suggestion and said he’d rather go without dinner altogether than be landed with the twins. ‘They’ll run off,’ he said tearfully. ‘They’re mean to kids, Mammy.’

Then Kenny came into the room. ‘Mornin’,’ he said affably. ‘Where’s Garv an’ Shay?’

‘In bed still, I suppose,’ their mother said. ‘They were late in, an’ argumentative. Those two would argue the hind leg off a donkey, so they would.’

‘They aren’t in bed; they haven’t been to bed, by the looks of it,’ Kenny said. He helped himself to a piece of soda bread and spread it thickly with butter. ‘I reckon they’re searchin’ for Maggie an’ Liam,’ he said through a full mouth. ‘If they’d woke me I could have telled ’em . . . but that’s the twins all over. Never ask anyone anythin’ if they can help it.’

‘They asked me plenty,’ his mother said bitterly, cutting another piece of soda bread. ‘Nagged and nagged at me to tell ’em where Maggie was, only I couldn’t, so they went off to bed . . . or I thought they did . . .’

‘They’ll be back for breakfast,’ Kenny said comfortably. ‘Don’t worry, Mammy.’

But they weren’t back by the time Mrs Nolan left for work and when she got home that evening, having abandoned her partner an hour earlier than usual, explaining that she had to make other arrangements for the children since her maid had left, neither Garvan nor Seamus had been seen.

‘I can’t understand where they can be,’ Mrs Nolan moaned. ‘I’m after findin’ Liam . . . did they go to him?’

‘They’re not wit’ Liam,’ Kenny assured her when he got home. ‘Nor wit’ Maggie, or I doubt it, anyway. They’ve gone off on some mischief or other, but they can’t get far, because they had no money, did they? Should we tell the polis, Mammy?’

‘Oh my Gawd . . . the taypot,’ Mrs Nolan said, and she and Kenny rushed to the pot on the mantel, in which she put aside money for rent, messages and such. It was, almost predictably she now felt, empty.

‘Rotten little thieves,’ Kenny said, not mincing words. ‘Well, they won’t be back until the money runs out, Mammy, so just you stop worryin’ about them this minute, d’you hear me? They’re a bad lot . . . stealin’ from their own mammy! Should we tell the polis, now, get them to find the lads?’

His mother was trying to decide whether to do this or not when there was a tap at the door. She fairly tore across the room and wrenched it open, hoping against hope that her erring children would be on the landing, but instead a small and incredibly filthy boy stood outside, holding a small and incredibly filthy piece of paper.