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

leant closer to the window. ‘Maggie Trott’s walking into the Anchor with Cindy and Reg – things have changed around here, Maura, since we left.’

Maura sat bolt upright and pushed Angela out of the way. ‘Mind, let me see,’ she said as she peered through the window. ‘It is, and she’s wearing heels and where did she get that coat from? I have never seen Maggie in the pub ever!’

‘Well, maybe she was just waiting for us to leave before she let her hair down. Turn right here, pal,’ Tommy called to the taxi driver.

Maura’s eyes never left Maggie Trott. ‘She’s been mourning her husband that long. I never thought I’d see her in the pub in a month of Sundays, maybe she has a new fella?’

‘I’ve no idea, Maura, but I’d find out and come back and let you know if you let me go for a pint…’ The taxi driver caught Maura’s eye in the rear-view mirror; they all knew Maura would not be able to resist that line. ‘I’ll catch up on with what’s what, all the gossip like, and I’ll be back in no time to tell you it all. Go on, Maura, you know you’d be in there yourself to find out if it wasn’t for the kids.’

Maura rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, go on, you! Just get the cases in, drop me and the kids at Kathleen’s, and off you go.’

‘I’ll drop you back on my way down, pal,’ the taxi driver said.

Tommy exclaimed, ‘Would you mind? That would be just grand and save me the walk.’

And at that moment, Maura knew. ‘Hang on a minute! The pair of you planned this, didn’t you? Did he ask you to do that when he called you over at the Pier Head? Tommy Doherty, you think I came down with the last shower, don’t you?’

She leant forward with her hand on the driver’s seat as they pulled up outside 42 Nelson Street and he protested, none-too-convincingly, ‘What, me? No, I know nothing! But welcome back home to Liverpool, everyone!’

*

Kathleen felt moved to tears and covered in shame when she walked into Peggy’s house, carrying seven paper bags of Simpson’s mixed sweets in her hand. Three of the children were sobbing and little Paddy was trying to placate them. The fire was out, the range was dead, it was dark and the house smelt of hopelessness and despair.

‘Have you not switched the lights on, Paddy?’ said Kathleen as she took in what was before her and sprang into action. ‘Nellie, take the coal bucket and go down to the coal hole and see what you can find. If there’s none, go to Shelagh and tell her I’ll send little Paddy round with a bucketful from ours to replace it tomorrow.’ Kathleen flicked the toggle on the switch, but there was no light.

‘The meter ran out,’ said little Paddy.

Kathleen opened her purse and gave him four sixpences. ‘Top the meter up, Paddy,’ she said and shouted after her granddaughter, ‘Nellie, bring me some milk and tea and sugar from our house.’ Then, as she placed the sweets on the table, she turned to the Nolan boys. ‘Has everyone washed their hands like I asked?’ The row of little boys nodded their heads, barely able to believe their eyes. ‘Right then, here’s your sweets.’ The boys stopped their crying and, wide-eyed and excited, began to take their sweets from the table.

‘Did you find Mam at St Cuthbert’s?’ asked little Paddy. ‘Is she coming?’

‘I did,’ Kathleen lied. ‘She just had a few more games to go and then she will be home, but I want this lot in bed by then.’

Half an hour later, Kathleen had a fire almost blazing, the sixpences were in the meter, the lights were on and Peggy’s boys sat in a semi-circle in front of the fire, laughing and filling their faces with sweets, Nellie helping the youngest. Kathleen had a good poke about the kitchen. The bread crock was empty, the cold shelf was bare – there was not a scrap of food or a drop of milk to be had. Kathleen placed the milk Nellie had returned with on the cold shelf then opened each of the drawers and was amazed to see that the cutlery had gone. She opened the smallest drawer in the press where she knew that Peggy kept the rent book and the letter with the dock board address on the top caught her eye. ‘Aye aye, what’s this, then?’

Peering over the top of her glasses, what she was reading began to sink in and it felt as though icy water trickled down her spine. Holy Mother of God, Peggy and the children and her lazy good-for-nothing husband were being evicted. They’d be out on the street on Friday morning.

‘Paddy…’ Little Paddy was stuffing an Everton mint into his mouth and looked over. ‘Paddy, has your mam said anything to you about this Friday? About anything special that might be happening?’ Little Paddy looked confused and shook his head. ‘All right, love, don’t you be worrying.’

Kathleen took a deep sigh; she would need to talk to Jerry about this, but he was in the Anchor and Kathleen had a more pressing problem: holding a family together and keeping a roof over Peggy and her children in the very short time she had left.

‘Paddy, I’m putting some more money here in the bread crock. In the morning, you go and buy some bread, butter, sugar and jam.’

Little Paddy felt as though it was Christmas morning and he felt tears burn at his eyes without knowing why. Before Peggy had left, they’d had the best tea in months. Now they had sweets and the house was bright and warm, but the nagging worry was still at the back of his mind. ‘Kathleen, is Ma all right?’

Kathleen felt her heart lurch for him. ‘Of course she is, Paddy, your mam’s just got a few things on her plate, but we’re going to