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

Kathleen was cleaning down the range, Jerry was at the table, about to finish his supper and head over to the Anchor and Nellie was reading in the armchair next to the fire. Kathleen couldn’t have been happier to hear the news from Jerry that the Morry had berthed.

‘When will you know what she’s carrying?’ Kathleen had asked her son.

‘I’ll find out tonight, Mam. My guess is that Captain Conor will do what he always does, put his crew in the Seaman’s Stop with Malcolm, pop in to see his mam, Ena, throw his kitbag in her hallway and head down to the Anchor looking for Tommy and me to give us the news. So I’m away to see a man about a dog as soon as I’ve finished this, and give him the news that Tommy has gone and ’tis me and Seamus now,’ said Jerry as he blew on a steaming hot spoonful of food. ‘Seamus is already in the Anchor, and big Paddy and Eugene. High on the news, they were, and desperate for a pint of the Guinness to celebrate.’

Kathleen tutted. ‘How does Paddy afford the Guinness? He barely works. I don’t know how Peggy is managing. It would be better if he didn’t work at all, at least then she would get some help from the welfare. As it is, they exist on starvation money, neither one thing nor the other.’

Jerry lifted the spoon filled with potatoes and scrag-end of lamb to his mouth. ‘I’ve had him in three days this week, Mam. I’ve told him, if there’s a haul from the Morry, there’s nothing for him if he doesn’t pull his weight and work a full week. I’m not having part timers if I take over as gaffer.’

Kathleen was not impressed. ‘Three days this week, Jerry, one day last week – a family can’t survive on that. You keep on at him. Poor Peggy, she has one heavy cross to bear.’

Jerry’s spoon scraped against the plate as he made short work of his supper, eager to leave and get down to the Anchor. ‘Paddy loves his rum, and he knows the Morry is always good for it. Alice, don’t wait up for me.’

Alice looked none too pleased at this announcement and Jerry knew it as he skipped round the table and hugged his wife, who was not a fan of outward displays of affection.

‘Get off,’ she said as she shrugged his arm away.

‘No, I won’t,’ said Jerry, hugging her tighter against his chest, making Nellie giggle. Jerry knew just how to wrap Alice around his little finger. ‘Oh, Alice, go on, it’s not drinking I’m doing, it’s work. You are the best wife in the whole world and if it was anyone but you, I wouldn’t bother. And besides, if I don’t go, who else is going to make sure we get the haul up the steps, eh?’

‘Oh, go on, Jerry, get out of here and out of our way; we know what you’re like! Just don’t come back without good news about the Morry and the carnival,’ said Alice as she pushed him away. ‘Your mam and I have only gone and got ourselves landed with the bunting, as well as decorating the float and the cake stall, so your mam’s reading the riot act in this kitchen tomorrow and getting everyone moving.’

Kathleen wiped her brow with the tea towel. ‘Honestly, I’ve such a funny feeling today, like something is out of sorts. I’ve felt it in my waters since mass and I saw it in Shelagh’s tea leaves when I read them earlier. I didn’t say anything to Shelagh, mind, only that she would be pushing another baby around soon, her and Seamus. God, they have enough already, will they just stop the shenanigans? I said to her, just cross your legs and tell him to sort himself out. Peggy did the same, mind; it didn’t bring her much luck, God love her, but at least it stopped her having another baby.’

‘Mam, you never did!’ The anguished cry of her daughter-in-law filled the room. ‘I never heard you say that.’

Alice, the product of a brutally strict upbringing would never discuss anything remotely private, with anyone. The only Protestant to live on the four streets, she was grateful not to be a Catholic, for confession would have presented Alice with a difficult challenge. Her first response to any priest asking her if she had sinned would have been to ask him what business was it of his?

Kathleen, with her back to Alice, raised her eyebrows, pursed her lips and pointedly rolled her eyes to Jerry, nodding her head in the direction of Alice, a gesture Jerry chose to ignore as he glanced over to the fireside chair to see if Nellie had heard. As always, Nellie was sitting forward in the chair, elbows resting on the wooden arms, her fingers in her ears, absorbed in her book. An only child for a long while before Joseph arrived, with a lively imagination, Nellie lived her life vicariously through the characters in her books.

Jerry sat back down as Kathleen placed a bowl of bread-and-butter pudding covered in hot, thick, yellow custard down on the table and Kathleen bent her head into his line of vision, silently mouthing something at him in an exaggerated manner, her lips pursing and stretching. He looked down at his plate. These conversations always went the same way: Jerry told Kathleen he couldn’t hear what she was saying and to speak up, quickly followed by Alice chirping in with, ‘She can’t, Jerry, she’s talking about me. If she speaks up, I’ll know what it is she’s saying, won’t I, Jerry? And I’m not supposed to, am I, Kathleen?’

And that would be it – by trying to avoid the very situation he did not want to be involved in, he’d find himself slap bang in the middle of an almighty row between the two women of the house.

Kathleen gave up trying to