Tell Them I'll Be There (3 page)

‘Leave it, Michael,' Dan said. ‘We haven't really got enough between us to buy another ticket anyway. If Tim wants to suffer eternal damnation in the Holy Roman Church that's up to him.'

All three laughed, but later, when Tim went to the
overflowing
cesspool at the rear of the tavern, Michael said defiantly, ‘He's coming with us whether he likes it or not.'

There was a commotion at the quayside. It looked at first as if a fight had developed and Dan and Michael moved along to get a better view. But it wasn't a fight. A young woman had fainted and a small girl was clinging in terror to her limp arm. The bag containing the woman's belongings had been swiftly spirited away and lost in the crowd as a small weasel-like man prised the purse from her clenched fist and burrowed his way out from the surrounding mob.

Dan caught the man and held him in a vice-like grip as Michael retrieved the purse. The little man fought desperately to hold on to what he clearly believed was now rightfully his. But the brothers, both of them bigger and stronger, threatened to ‘throw him in the drink'. When they finally released him he scurried away, spitting and snarling and calling them ‘Thieving bastards!'

A dock officer cleared a way for an elderly man who claimed to be a doctor. The young woman had not come round and showed no sign of recovering as she was carried into the dock office. The small girl had been forgotten in the confusion and now, as the crowd thinned, Dan saw that she was standing alone and forlorn, her small, smudged face anxious and apprehensive.

A plump, blowsy prostitute had been watching from close by. She took the little girl by the hand and crouched low to speak to her. Then she tried to lead the girl away but the girl pulled back, unwilling to go with her.

‘Do you know this girl?' Dan demanded.

‘Who the 'ell are you?' the woman responded.

Tim and Michael had followed up, close behind Dan.

‘Where do you think you're taking her?' Tim asked. 

‘She's not taking her anywhere,' Dan said firmly and the woman came out with a torrent of abuse.

‘That's enough,' he said. ‘Clear off or I'll have you locked up.'

‘Locked up?' the woman scoffed. ‘You'll have me locked up?'

Michael stepped forward. ‘Yeah, you fat old hag,' he said. ‘But first you can go for a swim.' He made a move towards her and the woman turned and fled.

Dan crouched before the little girl. ‘It's all right,' he said.

The girl shook and sobbed but she was reassured by their Irish voices. ‘I want me mammy.'

‘Sure you do,' Dan said. ‘I think she just fainted, that's all.'

She looked up into his dark eyes, drawn to him and his gentle way, and she nodded.

‘Don't you worry,' he said with a smile. ‘You can stay with us for now. Can't she, lads?'

Both Michael and Tim smiled down at her. ‘'Course she can.'

Tim turned to Dan and said quietly, ‘Her mother should have recovered by now. I'll go and see how she is.'

He went to the office where a large, uniformed man barred his way. ‘Lady who fainted,' he said, ‘is the doctor with her?'

‘Priest she needs,' the man said. ‘Not a doctor.'

‘I
CAN HELP
,' Tim said. ‘I'm on my way to the seminary to be trained as a priest. I can say some prayers.'

The man looked at him doubtfully then stood aside to allow him to enter the small office. In a side room the body of the little girl's mother lay on a low table. Much of the trouble had gone from her pale face now and Tim couldn't help noticing, in spite of himself, that she had once been a
good-looking
girl.

‘
In nomine patri
…' he began and those present, the doctor and two dock officers, stood back to allow him access.

‘What was it, Doctor?' he asked.

The doctor, a rather wizened Scot, shook his head. ‘Some sort of stroke, brain haemorrhage or somesuch,' he said uncertainly. ‘But she wouldn'y have felt much pain. She didn'y faint. She just died. Not a bad way to go.'

‘When you're old, perhaps,' Tim said. ‘She was a young woman.'

‘Aye,' the doctor conceded.

‘What happens now?'

‘Straightforward, I should think. I shall issue a death
certificate
and a short report for the coroner, copy to the Docks Authority, and if there are no relatives the council will take care of the rest. Shouldn'y be a problem. Plenty of witnesses to what happened.'

Tim nodded. He was about to mention the little girl, but he didn't. It all seemed sort of impersonal and routine, as if it was something that happened every day. Perhaps it was, he told 
himself, with so many people making these life-changing
decisions
, moving whole families halfway across the world. Was it surprising if some fell by the wayside? But he was mainly concerned about the little girl. He wanted to know what would happen to her before they handed her over to some anonymous parish council.

She was sitting, wide-eyed, on the low harbour wall between Dan and Michael. She had large dark eyes that seemed almost too big for her small child's face, full lips, short black hair, her reddened cheeks smudged with her dried tears. Tim saw at once she had a look of her dead mother.

Michael was telling her some idiotic tale to make her smile. Tim took Dan aside to tell him the sad news.

Dan sat down again beside her. ‘Now,' he said, ‘this is Michael and this is Tim. These two are my brothers, for my sins. And I'm Dan.' He smiled. ‘And you haven't told us your name.'

‘Caitlin,' she said in a tiny voice.

‘Well then, Caitlin,' Dan said. ‘Where do you come from?'

‘Dublin,' she said.

‘Dublin,' Dan repeated and he looked at Tim. ‘Looks like you might have to put off your trip to Manchester, Timothy, and take this young lady home.'

The thought had already occurred to Tim.

Caitlin was looking at Dan in alarm. He put an arm around her shoulder. There was no easy way to do this but she had to know.

‘Caitlin,' he said gently, ‘your mammy has gone to Heaven. She was taken ill and …'

The girl looked at him in disbelief. ‘She's died?'

He nodded. There was nothing more to say, no way to make it easy for her. She caught a great sob in her throat but she didn't cry. She looked at him in a way he would never forget, her hands clasped tight. He wanted to tell her it would be all right, to calm her fears. But he couldn't find the words.

‘Perhaps we should say a prayer,' Tim said quietly.

Michael turned away in disgust. Where are you now, God? he asked silently. Taking that poor woman! Leaving this poor kid! 

Dan had offered his hand and she was holding on to it now as if it was a lifeline. ‘You'll be all right, Caitlin,' he assured her. ‘We'll sort things out. We'll not leave you, I promise.'

They were silent for a while as the noise and bustle of comings and goings went on around them. Then Dan asked, ‘You have family in Dublin? Brothers and sisters? Your daddy?'

She shook her head, still close to tears.

‘You must have a daddy,' Michael said gently.

‘No,' she said.

‘No brothers or sisters?' Tim asked.

‘I had a little brother but he was poorly and he died.'

‘Granma?' Dan asked. ‘What about your Granma?'

She shook her head.

‘You don't have any family in Dublin?'

She shook her head again and her eyes filled with tears as if not to have a family was unforgivable. ‘We're going to America to live with Aunty Maureen.'

‘I think this young lady could do with something to eat,' Dan said. ‘In fact, we all could.'

‘Good idea,' Michael said and he went off to the pie stall.

Dan had the address of a lady who ran a lodging-house for Roman Catholics on their way to America. Not all landladies in Liverpool would take Catholics. Some even displayed signs that said, ‘No Irish'. But this lady was recommended by Father Delaney. They would take Caitlin with them, he decided, tell the lady she was their sister. He didn't want to go into detail. The landlady might feel that Caitlin should be handed over to council workers. But that might mean she would be sent to some paupers' board school and end up in the workhouse and he was not going to let that happen.

The more he thought about it he could see no reason why Caitlin couldn't travel to the United States with them and they could somehow deliver her to her aunt. She had a ticket for the liner. It was in the purse Michael had wrested from the thief. There were two tickets, one for her mother, and the tickets bore no name. Passengers registered their names as they went aboard. Michael had already spotted the possibilities. There 
was no reason, he announced, why Tim couldn't use the spare ticket.

A small van had arrived at the dock office and from the look of the two men in black who got out Dan guessed they were undertakers. Caitlin's attention was focused on her pie at that moment and Tim and Michael stood before her to make sure her view was obscured. Within minutes the two men emerged with a kind of body bag stretcher that slid into the back of the van and the van honked a way through the crowd.

The lodging-house was a short tram ride away. Mrs O'Leary looked them over. She only had one room available, she said. She could make up a bed for the little girl but one of the boys would have to sleep on the floor. That was fine, Michael said. He could sleep on a clothesline if he had to.

‘I'm sure that won't be necessary,' Mrs O'Leary said. ‘Now you must go across to the church, see Father Kelly. He blesses all those going off to America and if you are to leave early tomorrow you must go now, right away.'

They thanked her and left their meagre luggage in the room. Dan explained to Mrs O'Leary that Caitlin had no bag because someone had stolen it at the dockside. She shook her head in despair. Ah, it was always happening. Thieves and rogues all over the place. She would see what she could do.

Tim said they would have to tell Father Kelly the truth. They couldn't lie to a priest. Why not? Michael asked. He's only a man. But Father Kelly was not what they expected. He was a solid-looking, former middle-weight boxer with a strong jaw and a broken nose. He had sparse reddish hair and pale-blue eyes and he looked as though he laughed a lot. Michael took to him at once.

‘And what are you grinning at, young man? he asked.

‘Well, Father?' Michael said, ‘if you were not wearing the collar I'd put you down for a boxer.'

Father Kelly feinted with a right and Michael ducked. ‘You'll not put me down, son,' he said. ‘I was a boxer before the Good Lord called.' 

Dan decided to tell Father Kelly everything, the truth from the beginning. ‘We told Mrs O'Leary a lie, Father,' he said. ‘We told Mrs O'Leary Caitlin was our sister because we didn't want any complications. Caitlin wants to go to America to live with her aunt and we are willing to take her there.'

‘It wasn't a bad lie, Father,' Tim said. ‘I mean, we had good reason.'

The priest listened but made no comment.

‘We want,' Dan began, ‘well, I want Tim to come with us.'

‘I understood you to say he's expected at the seminary here, in England,' Father Kelly said.

‘He is,' Dan said. ‘But if you wrote a letter, or maybe a couple of letters I'm sure he could join a seminary over there.'

Father Kelly regarded Dan with a half smile. ‘You're the “fixer” around here, I see.'

‘No,' Tim said. ‘Wait a minute.'

‘Michael and I have nowhere to go in New York,' Dan said. ‘We won't know anyone. We won't have anywhere to stay, but that's all right for a couple of young fellows. Caitlin would be so much safer under the auspices of the Church. We could all take her across. Tim could take her the rest of the way. Then, as I said, he could join a seminary over there.'

‘You could take her yourselves. I could arrange for the holy sisters to meet you. I'm sure they would take good care of her.'

‘No, Father,' Dan said decisively.

Father Kelly laughed. ‘You don't trust the holy sisters?'

‘We promised we would see she got to her aunt.'

‘And how do you feel about this, Timothy?'

‘I don't know, Father,' Tim said. ‘I'm expected at St John's. But after what happened to this little girl today I think it's our duty to do what's best for her.'

‘You're to go aboard at nine, you say?' Father Kelly asked. ‘Well then I'll meet you at the dock office at eight-thirty on the dot. I'll have letters for you, Timothy. And I'll speak to Father Doyle at St John's. I'll try to speak to Father Delaney, too.' He smiled at Caitlin. ‘And if we all go next door to my house I think we might find something like … chocolate cake.' 

The rectory next door was built on to the church. Father Kelly ushered them into a pleasant room with two big armchairs with side tables and a large fireplace with a log fire. Caitlin had never been in such a room, but all she could remember of it later was the large crucifix on the mantelpiece.

On a low bookcase to one side of the fireplace was a framed picture of Father Kelly in a pose from his boxing days. Michael was on to it at once, wanting all the details. How many fights? How many knock-outs?

‘And did you ever fight in America, Father?'

‘No,' Father Kelly said, ‘but I'm sure if I had wanted to I would not have had to pay my fare. The young fellow who finished my career could have knocked me there for nothing.'

Sparring in the corridor with Michael as they left, he
promised
he would be at the dock office at 8.30 as arranged and, true to his word, he was there when they arrived.

Caitlin was wearing a dress Mrs O'Leary had, among other small items, somehow found for her. It was a little too big but she loved it. Though probably not new it was freshly laundered and it seemed as new as any dress she had ever had.

Father Kelly spoke quietly to Tim and gave him two letters, one to a Monsignor Dunne at St Patrick's – the big cathedral on Fifth Avenue – and one to Caitlin's Aunt Maureen. The ex-boxer priest then shook hands with each one of them, Caitlin included. ‘Your brother,' he told them with a smile and a nod towards Michael, ‘thinks all priests are powder puffs.'

‘But not you, Father,' Michael protested, jumping back as Father Kelly aimed a left jab.

Father Kelly turned to Dan last. ‘Goodbye, son,' he said warmly. ‘It's up to you now, Danny boy. I'm sure you'll do what's right.'

Dan nodded and thanked him for his help. They went to show their tickets and register at the desk by the gangway then, as they prepared to board, all four turned and waved. Father Kelly, in his floor-length black robe, smiled and waved back, his pugilist's face looking out of place above his clerical collar.

Caitlin was excited but scared. She was barely able to take in 
the events of the past forty eight hours and she was holding on to Dan's hand now as if he had taken her mother's place. She looked up at him and smiled. ‘Danny boy,' she said, echoing Father Kelly.

The ship was massive, a shiny black with white-railed decks and four black, red-topped funnels. They had never seen anything like it, not even in the White Star and Cunard posters, and they couldn't wait to get aboard. But first they had to stand in a rapidly growing queue outside the purser's office to be allocated sleeping quarters.

The
Olympic
was one of the premier liners of the day. It was beautifully equipped throughout. Even in third class there was a general room where steerage passengers could relax and meet with friends, and though smoking there was not permitted, another room was set aside for smokers. There were a number of cabins for two passengers and a few family rooms sleeping four. The remaining accommodation was in dormitories. Dan asked for a family room, but when he was told they were not one family and he saw the look on Caitlin's face he said quickly that a dormitory would be fine.

‘So what will I tell Ma?' Tim asked.

‘Don't worry about it,' Dan told him. ‘Just relax. You've got another six or seven days before you can send a letter.'

‘Why is that?'

‘I asked the purser how long it'll take. He said she's done it in five and a half days, but it's usually more like six, maybe seven.'

Already Michael had gone off exploring. ‘They've got a little bar,' he said when he came back. ‘You can buy tea and coffee. But no booze. They've got dandelion and burdock and sars'parilla and stuff like that. But that's all.'

‘I expect they have drinks in first class,' Tim said.

‘Might not,' Dan said. ‘There's a ban on alcohol in the US.'

Michael looked alarmed. ‘A ban on alcohol? Now he tells me.'

‘They can't ban alcohol,' Tim said. ‘It's impossible.' 

Caitlin was sitting quietly beside Dan, her head resting against his shoulder. She had not slept much the night before. Mrs O'Leary had brought in a camp-bed and some blankets and she had felt warm and comfortable there with the boys
downstairs
, talking in Mrs O'Leary's front room.