Coming Home to the Four Streets by Nadine Dorries (books that read to you .txt) 📗

to top up the tank from a large enamel jug. Maura was so grateful as she laid the cool cloth on Harry’s brow, but she couldn’t say so, words were beyond her.

‘Here, knock this back, quick,’ said Tommy and, taking the glass, she did just that.

The cloth helped to take the burning heat out of Harry’s forehead and body and Maura wiped it around the back of his neck, down his chest and across the back of his neck again, then she dipped her head and looked out of the window at the old woman.

‘God bless you,’ she said. She wanted to ask how did they know they would be passing? There were no phone lines on this remote road. How did she know what they needed? The woman took one look at Harry and, reaching in, pressed something into Maura’s hand. It was a whittled wooden cross.

‘For the boy,’ she said, watching as Maura put the cross in Harry’s hand and wrapped his fingers around it.

‘Thank you,’ Maura said again.

‘God speed,’ said the woman, ‘and don’t be worrying any more; when this is over, you will be in the place where so many are needing your help right now. ’Tis an awful burden you have to carry.’

Maura’s mouth dropped open and the only sounds in the van were those of Harry’s laboured breathing and the petrol filling up the tank.

‘I knew Kitty,’ said the woman. ‘I sent a potion for her when she was here. Sure, the midwife did her best for her, she was a good woman. No one could have done more.’

Maura grasped her fingers and squeezed them tightly. She had asked Maeve so often about what had happened with Kitty. She had delivered her baby in the convent laundry, hidden from view, and following the birth had been taken from there to Liam and Maeve, to give her time to recover and stop the police in Liverpool from making any connection between the murder of the priest and their unmarried, pregnant daughter.

‘Kathleen is waiting for you back at home, ’twill all be over soon. Ye can’t run forever, Kitty told me to tell ye, “Go back, he made a mistake, don’t make him live with it until till the end of his days”.’ She inclined her head towards Tommy.

Maura felt her heart banging against her ribs; her mouth had dried, but there was no time to ask what the woman meant because now there was a bang on the bonnet to let Liam know the tank was full. Liam pulled out the choke, turned the key and within seconds, they were off again. Maura turned her head to look out of the back window of the van as they moved away and the woman raised her hand before she turned and Maura felt the breath she had been unaware she was holding leave her body.

‘Was that the jungle drums as well, Liam?’ she asked. ‘Because they were very specific with the details.’

‘Not really,’ said Liam with a half-smile. ‘That’s Kathleen’s eldest sister, my aunt. There’s nothing about anyone she doesn’t know. She taught Kathleen to read the tea leaves. Has the gift of the sight she does, she’s the local seer. They have no phone – Jesus, they have no running water even. No one told them we were on our way through. She just knew we were coming and I knew I had to stop.’

Maura let out a big sigh and Tommy, never a man for public displays of affection, found his wife’s free hand and, taking hold of it, squeezed it hard.

For the rest of the journey, Maura prayed over Harry; she had nothing else in her armoury. His temperature was the highest she had ever known in a child and his skin was wet and clammy. He had stopped rambling, was as limp as a rag, and no matter how often she whispered his name, there was no response. And, as she always did in times of need, she appealed to the Holy Mother for help. In the last miles of the journey, the only sound in the cab was that of Harry’s laboured breathing and Maura’s chanting.

‘Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death and in the hour of our need. Please don’t take my Harry,’ she gasped and as she did so, Tommy once more slipped his hand into her own that grasped the rosary beads.

‘We’re nearly there, queen,’ he whispered and she could just hear him over the noise of the rattling van.

‘We had better be, Tommy.’ She turned and looked into her husband’s eyes and fear of gripped them both. It was unspeakable, beyond terrifying, and they were unequipped to take it. Having lost Kitty, there were no resources to call on: they knew that pain, that grief, and they could not face or survive it again.

Within a few minutes they were driving up to the door of the hospital. Liam pulled open the passenger door of the van and lifted Harry into his arms.

‘He’s worse,’ Liam said to Tommy, as he half-ran, half-walked with him, protecting the precious bundle in his arms. In their haste, not one of them noticed the wooden cross as it slipped from Harry’s fingers and bounced down the hospital steps.

Chapter Eight

The promise of sunshine held as May teased out the blossom on the trees in the churchyard and the priory garden. This particular Saturday morning, the sky had shone the clearest blue and the mildness of the air held the promise of a full day of play for every child who ran out of the house and headed up to the bombed-out wasteland. A football match, to end only when darkness fell, would begin as soon as every boy in the four streets, keen to be picked to