The Sunday Girls (13 page)

We heard Kit before we saw her. She was busy chastising a small child who had been scribbling on the stairway wall with a piece of chalk. ‘Get away from my clean stairs, you wee devil,’ she shouted at the now retreating small urchin. ‘I washed these stairs last night and now look at them.’ She tackled the area of chalked graffiti with a wet cloth. She looked thin and careworn but her eyes were still bright, as was her deep auburn hair which glowed in the pale sunshine. When she saw us, her face lit up with a huge smile, a smile that widened even further when she spotted Lily.

‘Hullo, Ann and Danny, and you’ve brought wee Lily to see us all.’ She scooped the baby from the pram and went upstairs ahead of us, carrying Lily in her thin white arms that, come summer, would be a mass of freckles.

‘Did you hear me, Lily? Did you hear your noisy Aunt Kit telling that wee tyke off? Did you hear me roaring?’ she said to the baby in a soft, soothing voice. ‘Come up and meet your other aunts. They’re in my house.’

Kit lived with her husband and two children in two tiny rooms which lay at the far end of a dark lobby which was situated at the top of the outside stairs, the stairs with the graffiti. There was a line of similar, darkly painted doors in the lobby and, in the dimness, it resembled a rabbit warren.

Tipperary was an over-populated region that had been built to house the thousands of Irish immigrants who had poured into Dundee at the turn of the century to work in the city’s numerous jute mills.

Now, because of the current high unemployment rate, not only in the jute mills but also over the entire country, the entire Ryan clan was on the dole – or that had been the position before the dreaded means test law which had not long been sanctioned by an uncaring government.

Sitting beside a fire that seemed to be all smoke and precious little heat or flames were Kit’s two sisters, Lizzie and Belle. Ma Ryan was there as well. She sat in the corner, puffing on an old clay pipe that had once been as white as snow but was now a grimy mixture of brown nicotine stains and black, sooty streaks.

I hadn’t seen the Ryan family since the funeral and I was shocked by their appearance. Like Kit, they all were all thin and weary looking but they cheered up when we appeared.

‘A happy New Year,’ said Lizzie. Shivering beside the paltry fire, she pulled a thin woollen cardigan around her hunched shoulders. ‘Mind you, it’s not a happy time these days now that we’ve all been cut off from our dole money.’

Belle nodded gloomily. ‘The men are still getting some parish money but it’s not enough to keep body and soul together. That’s why we’re all sitting here moaning about our trials and tribulations.’

Danny was quite upset. ‘That’s terrible. Now, you all know I’ve got my job at Lipton’s so you’ve only got to ask if you need any more help with money.’

Kit was aghast at this. They all knew Danny helped out a lot with the families. She glared at Belle who blushed under the fierce gaze. ‘Don’t be daft, young Danny. It’s just that we’ve had an unpleasant encounter with one of those snotty-nosed devils who check on your circumstances before you’re allowed to have any money from Bobby Allen and his gang of merry men from the parish relief.’

‘It’s not just us,’ said Lizzie. ‘Mrs Flynn across the lobby was wakened up one morning last week. “I’m just making sure none of your family are living here and helping out with the household bills.”’ She put on a snooty voice, obviously imitating the official interrogator.

Kit was equally cross. ‘Just imagine if any of your family are lucky enough to have a job – and there’s damn few around here, I can tell you – well, then they have to move out to lodgings or else the dole or parish money is stopped. I mean, they have to pay for their lodgings so where’s the sense in that?’

‘Aye,’ said Belle, ‘Would it no’ be better to let them stay at home and help out with their wee bit wages instead of treating them like the main breadwinner? It’s really crazy.’

By now, the fire had sprung into life with a small spurt of flame and we had a cup of tea which warmed us up. There was no sign of the men or the children. They were all otherwise engaged. Perhaps the children were all outside with home-made scooters or carts.

‘Another thing that annoys us all,’ said Lizzie angrily, ‘is, when the officials come into the house, they start poking around in cupboards. Just to see what we’ve been spending our few shillings on every week. Maybe they think we splash out on luxuries like an extra loaf of bread or a pot of strawberry jam.’

Kit’s laugh was without humour. ‘Aye, it’s bread and margarine for the poor and strawberry jam for the rich.’

She certainly had a bee in her bonnet but she was quite right in her indignation as this behaviour was happening all over the country. The majority of officials were decent and sympathetic but, human nature being what it is, some of them had let the job go to their heads and they now acted like apprentice dictators.

She refilled our cups and sighed. ‘Oh, it’s not just us that gets bothered. I heard that two of Mrs Murphy’s kids were on their way to the Royal infirmary when the man from the parish arrived. He was coming in the door as they were being carried out. He was having his wee poke around when he heard the kids were suffering from suspected TB. Seems he hot-footed it out of the house like a scalded cat.’

The women all chuckled at the memory.

‘Was it tuberculosis?’ asked Danny.

Kit rubbed her nose as if thinking. ‘Well, no one is sure but I would say it is. In fact, judging by all their hacking coughs, I would say the entire family have it.’

We all pondered this terrible affliction, just glad we had our health if nothing else.

Lily had fallen asleep on the big double bed but she awoke with a frightened cry when a gang of children swooped into the room. The children were Danny’s niece and nephew plus their pals and they swarmed around him like a flock of vultures. Even Ma Ryan, who had remained silent most of the time, now chuckled.

Danny produced a big paper bag full of sweets. He handed them to a miniature Kit clone. He ruffled her red hair. ‘Here, Kathleen, you can share them out but mind it’s not four to you and two to the rest.’

Kathleen grinned, an impish expression on her face. ‘Cross my heart, Danny.’

‘Well, it’s not your heart that needs minding,’ he said, ‘it’s your multiplication tables.’

Kathleen was obviously the spokeswoman for the group. She looked at her mother. ‘Can we get a piece with margarine and sugar, Mum?’ She said, crunching a sweetie.

Before Kit could answer, a small voice piped up. ‘I want condensed milk on my bread.’

‘Oh, you do, do you?’ said Kit sarcastically. ‘Well, your majesty will have to get bread and margarine like everyone else.’

While Ma sat puffing her pipe, Kit manhandled a loaf of bread, dishing out thick slices to the assembled children. As they ran off to play again, she shouted after them, ‘Mind now, we don’t want to see you lot again until teatime.’

She sat down on a chair and sighed loudly. ‘Heavens, what appetites the kids have. They eat like a pack of Clydesdale horses.’

‘Isn’t it a blessing we all have our hidey-holes?’ said Belle who, like her sister Lizzie, was childless.

Lizzie laughed. ‘I aye hide an odd five Woodbines and sometimes a tin of syrup or condensed milk in my wee hidey-hole. Ned cut a wee section from the floorboards and that’s where I stash my few wee extras.’

Ma Ryan said, ‘Aye, you’re quite right. Then, when the snoopers come along, the cupboards are like Mother Hubbard’s.

At the mention of Ned, Danny asked after the men in the family.

Lizzie rolled her eyes heavenwards. ‘Well, maybe they’re with their pals in the street or else they’re with Dad in his house.’

Kit looked annoyed. ‘That’s the best place for them – it keeps them out of mischief.’

We looked mystified but Kit was too annoyed to keep silent. ‘My George was in the Nine Bells pub last night. Just for a quick pint before the bells. Then at twelve o’clock what do you think we got for a first foot? A man with a black eye as big as a soup plate – that’s what.’

Danny and I looked nonplussed but she gave us a knowing look as if, like Ma Ryan, we were also clairvoyant.

‘“I walked into a lamp post,” he said, with a shifty look in his eyes. “A lamp post?” I said. “Pull the other foot, George.” “No, no,” says the big man, “I’m not joking – I was coming out of the Nine Bells when it happened.”’

Danny laughed. He was fond of all his uncles but he was especially fond of George, a tall, well-built man who was well known for his gentle nature and good humour. A popular man in this warm and caring albeit poverty-stricken Irish community, if he had arrived home on Hogmanay with a black eye, then something was far wrong.

Before we could ask, Ma Ryan leaned forward. ‘He might have walked into a lamp post as well but the story that’s going around is that he walked into Billy Murphy’s fist – that wee troublemaker. The fist was meant for Billy’s brother but George just happened to be in the middle of it.’

Kit was still annoyed. ‘Those two Murphy brothers should be belting it out in a boxing ring because they’re aye fighting with each other or anybody else who gets in the way.’

‘Aye, you’re right, Kit,’ said Ma. ‘I hear they’re now walking about like the best of pals while George is walking about with his black eye.’

A howl from the direction of the bed stopped the conversation. Lily had become quite fractious.

I stood up. ‘I’d better go.’

I didn’t want Danny to curtail his visit so I said, ‘I’ll manage down the road on my own, Danny.’

He stood up. ‘No, I’d better be getting back as well. Mum will be back from the Pringles’ house. They were just needing her help with the luncheon.’ He stopped, trying to get his tongue around this strange, new word while the women looked at him in amusement.

Kit put on her haughty expression but fortunately Danny didn’t see it. Poor Danny. He was just like his uncle George – caught in the middle. He loved his mother as much as he loved his dad’s relations but it was obvious they didn’t like Hattie.

We all knew she was a bit snobbish and had always been this way but surely this human failing didn’t warrant all this hostility.

Danny went over to Ma and placed something in her hand. ‘A happy New Year, Granny.’ When she protested at his present of a few shillings, he replied, ‘Put it aside for a few messages for your hidey-hole and pray the snoopers don’t find them.’

We were going through the door when he said, ‘We almost forgot to say Ann’s got a job and she starts tomorrow. Isn’t that good news?

They all looked pleased. ‘Oh, that is good news, Ann. Maybe you can keep your eyes skinned for jobs for us.’ They laughed.

I told them about the job and how Mrs Pringle had found it for me. ‘I’m really happy with it but still a bit worried about leaving Lily with Granny. They will have to cope with her on their own – she’s getting heavy to carry now plus there’s all the extra work.’

Kit spoke for her sisters and herself, ‘Now, you’re not to worry because we’ll help out with Lily. Maybe Danny can bring her here while your grandparents get a rest. Just say the word.’

While Danny negotiated the bulky pram down the stairs, Kit whispered to the women. ‘Maybe Hattie can lend a hand as well. It’ll make a change from serving luncheons.’

I thought it a bit unfair but, before I could say so, Ma Ryan appeared at my side. ‘I knew you would get this job, lassie, but watch out for the bird that’s black.’

I opened my mouth to ask her about this cryptic statement but she merely nodded knowingly. ‘I can’t tell you any more except to watch out for the blackbird. Watch your step and be very, very careful.’

Danny and I walked back in companionable silence until we reached the entrance to Dudhope Park.

‘Let’s walk back this way,’ Danny suggested. Then he turned to me and asked, ‘Ann, you’re the clever one – what is a luncheon?’

I paused for a moment. ‘I think it’s what posh folk call dinnertime. After all you can buy luncheon meat at Lipton’s and, if you read the advertisements in the
Courier
and
Evening Telegraph,
you often see Draffen’s or D. M. Brown’s mention luncheons.’

He laughed. ‘I wonder if Maddie is entertaining her relations?’

‘Well, if she is, she’ll soon wake them up from a post-luncheon nap when she belts out “Horsey, Keep your Tail Up”!’

As we discovered later, she went even better than that, singing a medley of songs in such a common and coarse accent that one uncle almost had an apoplectic fit. At least that was the story according to Hattie who was equally horrified. Fortunately all the other members of the family had thought it hilarious and were unanimous in their verdict that Maddie was talented if somewhat high-spirited.

Before we reached to Overgate I asked Danny about Ma Ryan.

‘Aye, she’s supposed to have the second sight and she can tell the future. Mum says it’s all hogwash but I don’t really know,’ he said, shrugging his slim shoulders.

‘She told me to watch out for a blackbird, Danny. Said I had to be very careful. What did she mean?’

Danny shook his head and looked as perplexed as I felt. ‘I’m not really sure, Ann.’

We then said cheerio and went our separate ways.

Early on Friday morning, the second of January, I said my goodbyes to the family and, by seven o’clock, I had boarded the bus for my journey to the Ferry and my new job.

Thankfully the chatty conductor from my previous trip was missing. In his place was a surly looking character with a snappish, offhand manner which may or may not have irritated his passengers. As for me, I was just grateful for the lack of eye contact or cheerful conversation. The windows were steamed up with condensation and an air of misery was so tangible that I felt I could almost grasp it. With the New Year festivities now well and truly behind us, it was as if people had fallen back into a humdrum and dismal existence after burning briefly for a few short hours – like a Roman Candle firework with its exploding shower of light and stars then nothing but putrid smoke hanging in the air like a half-forgotten memory.