Tell Them I'll Be There (6 page)

‘Do what?'

‘Have afternoon tea at the Plaza Hotel.'

‘Ah,' Dan said thoughtfully. ‘Let's say when you're
twenty-one
.'

‘But that's ages away.'

‘You will be twenty-one,' he said. ‘You will have gained your independence. You will be free to do whatever you want. Let's say Independence Day. Fourth of July, nineteen … thirty five.'

‘But that's ten years away.'

Dan laughed. ‘It'll take us ten years to earn enough money for afternoon tea at the Plaza Hotel, so it will.'

M
RS O'MALLEY HAD
given Dan and Michael the name of an Irish gentleman, foreman at a company called the Acme Carriage and Transport Company. It was casual work, she said, but it would do until they found better. They did two long days, Wednesday and Thursday, stacking heavy boxes on to delivery vans and on the Thursday they worked until seven.

The Acme Carriage and Transport Company warehouses were only a few yards from the entrance to the Navy Yard and when Dan and Michael eventually signed off and left to walk back to Mrs O'Malley's they had to pass a group of sailors who were standing on a corner. One of them had spotted Michael.

It was obvious the sailors had seen their opportunity and this time there
were
six of them. Dan and Michael set off running and the sailors took up the chase. Then, as they turned into Scholes Street they found they were running towards more sailors. There seemed to be no escape. Dan grabbed Michael by his jacket and dragged him into the tiny police station along from the grocery store. The two groups of sailors met and came to a halt outside.

The place was sparsely furnished and empty but for a sergeant at his desk, reading a sports paper. He looked up at them, eyebrows raised, as they tumbled in breathless. They didn't know what to say.

‘You fellas want something?' the sergeant asked after a moment.

Dan was trying to think of some innocuous enquiry he might make, but Michael blurted out, ‘Do you know what time it is, Sarge?' 

The sergeant looked at him for a long moment. ‘Just off the boat?'

‘We only arrived Monday,' Michael said with a bright smile, ready to build a conversation.

‘Is that so?' The sergeant turned on his seat, looking up at the big clock on the wall behind him. ‘Well now,' he said, with
measured
sarcasm, ‘that big round thing is called a clock …'

Dan laughed. ‘All right, Sergeant,' he said. ‘The truth is we had a bit of trouble with the navy. They're outside.'

The sergeant folded his newspaper and went to the door. Seven or eight of the sailors were still there. He looked at them, unsmiling, and they began to drift away. They knew that a complaint from the police was always trouble, banned shore leave maybe, whether they were in the right or not.

‘What are you doing down here anyway?' the sergeant asked the boys and when they told him they had been doing casual work at the warehouse he shook his head. ‘You're going to fight the navy, that's not a good idea,' he said. ‘Now I don't know what you fellas been up to and I don't wanna know, but you can't come running in here unless you got a knife sticking out your back. And we don't want that, do we? If I were you I'd get a job some place else.'

He didn't want to file a report. He would be going off duty shortly. He went back to the door to make certain the way was clear. ‘Go on,' he said. ‘Get outa here. And stay outa trouble.'

They had told the foreman at the warehouse they would not be in on Friday. Family business. But they might work Saturday, if that was OK. They planned to say goodbye to Caitlin at Penn Station. They didn't know they were losing Tim, too. And when Tim told them Michael tried again. There's no hurry, he insisted. You have lots of time. Give New York a chance, man. You don't have to be a priest just yet. But it was no good. It was all arranged.

Caitlin was very quiet. She had not seen Aunty Maureen and her family in over a year, but she knew them well enough and she knew her mother would want her to be with them. But she 
didn't really want to leave the boys and she told Dan this on the brink of tears. Dan told her she was a part of his family now and she always would be. But Tim was going away and he and Michael had to find work and make a home for themselves. Aunty Maureen already had a home and she wanted her there, where she should be.

‘You'll soon forget about us when you get to your new school and everything,' Michael said cheerfully. ‘We've got nothing to offer, nowhere of our own and we can't stay at Mrs O'Malley's forever.' He looked at Dan. ‘We need to talk about that.'

But Caitlin was still not happy on the Friday morning when they set off to the station. Both Tim and Michael tried to make her smile but without success and she held on to Dan's hand as if she would never let go.

‘When we get to the station,' Dan told his brothers at the first opportunity, ‘don't say much. It'll only bring on the tears.'

The bustle of Penn Station made any significant conversation difficult and instead of waiting under the clock as arranged they found themselves standing on the platform as the train from Albany steamed in. It was far from full and, as the passengers stepped down, a man and a woman in their thirties and a little girl saw Caitlin and started to wave their hands. The woman and the little girl ran forward and the man followed, all smiles.

Caitlin was swept up into her Aunt Maureen's arms and the boys stood back, forgotten for the moment in the raw emotion. Aunt Maureen's husband held out a hand. His name was Pat, he said in a quiet Trinity voice, and they'd done a fine thing.

Tim had recognized Caitlin's aunt at once. She had the darkly pretty looks of the young woman he had seen lying dead in the back room at the dock office in Liverpool. When her husband introduced the boys it was Tim, the priest-to-be, she turned to.

Caitlin and her young cousin were smiling at each other as Aunty Maureen, arms around both girls, thanked Tim and Dan and Michael profusely. The Lord would bless them. She was sure of that, she said. Her family would be forever in their debt.

There was little time between trains, not much time for them all to get to know each other, and Tim was due at St Patrick's. 
For Caitlin it was all happening with bewildering speed and she couldn't hold back the tears. She hugged Tim and Michael and when she turned to Dan she looked at him in abject desolation. Then she clung to him until he was forced to draw her arms gently from about his neck. He looked deep into her eyes and whispered, ‘Independence Day.'

Caitlin nodded and tried to smile and then they were gone.

In a different way saying goodbye to Tim was just as difficult. True, he would be around until September, but they knew that from now on and for the rest of their lives they were not going to see much of him. Sure, families split up all the time. Brothers, sisters, they go their own way. Of course they do. But their little trio had always been together, aware of each others strengths and weaknesses, knowing they could always rely on each other.

A brief
abrazo
on the steps of St Patrick's and Tim left, turning once and raising a hand before dissolving into the subdued light of the cathedral's dim interior. Dan and Michael, standing in the bright sunshine, raised their hands in response.

Dan wanted to sit down with the visitors and office workers on the wide steps and take in the events of the morning.

‘Just you and me now,' he told Michael.

‘Yeah,' Michael said, clearly raring to go. ‘That's right.'

Dan sat down and pointed to the space beside him. ‘Sit down,' he said, ‘and tell me what's on your mind. I can see
something
is.'

‘Well,' Michael said, ‘like I told you, I went to see Nathan. I want you to come with me, now, this afternoon, and see him, see what he's doing. He's got a great job. No kidding.'

‘A great job?' Dan questioned doubtfully. ‘So soon?'

‘He's playing the joanna and singing.'

Dan laughed. ‘He can play the piano, but he can't sing. And that's not a proper job. Playing piano in some club at night.'

‘No,' Michael said, his enthusiasm undimmed. ‘He's playing all day at this music shop. He sells sheet music. You know, all the latest songs and everything. Come on, I'll show you.'

He set off from the steps and Dan followed. 

‘Where is this place'?' he asked.

‘Twenty-eighth,' Michael said, as if he knew his way around.

‘East or west?'

‘I don't know, do I? It's down here somewhere. Just follow me. I'll know it when I see it. I was there Tuesday.'

Dan glanced up. ‘Forty-ninth Street, Forty-eighth.'

The sidewalk was crowded on both sides of Fifth Avenue and Michael sang all the way. It was a long walk but part of the way they stole a ride on the step of a trolley, only dropping off when the guard appeared.

Nathan was sitting outside Levi's Music Store at a small piano that could be wheeled indoors if it rained like the one on the boat. He was banging out a tune but nobody was listening and when he saw Michael he stopped in mid-flow.

‘Hey, Mikey! Dan! How're you doin'?' He already had the twang.

‘What are
you
doing, Nathan?' Dan asked. ‘What's the job?'

‘I play the tunes and the people buy the music. I get two cents on every sheet.'

‘You play on commission? No sale, no pay?'

Nathan nodded cheerfully. ‘Yeah, that's right.'

‘And are you selling many copies?'

‘Well, no,' Nathan admitted. ‘That's the problem. The manager says I gotta sing. People wanna hear the words. That's why I need Michael. He can sing. The girls'll love him.'

Michael glanced at Dan sheepishly. They had obviously come to some arrangement, something he hadn't told Dan about.

‘I want to give this a go, Dan,' Michael said. ‘I don't want to go on stacking boxes in that old warehouse. No future in that.'

‘Mrs O'Malley has to be paid,' Dan said mildly.

‘Well, that's another thing. If I'm going to be here, working with Nathan, I need to be living here.'

Dan nodded. This was something else Michael hadn't mentioned, ‘And have you got somewhere to stay?'

‘Well.' Michael looked at Nathan as if to say: help me out here. ‘Nathan's living in this place in Greenwich Village.'

‘It's not much,' Nathan said. ‘But it's OK 'til we get somewhere. 
This guy from the boat, he has this room an' he says we can stay for a while. As long as the landlord doesn't find out.'

Dan smiled. He didn't want to ridicule their plans but he had to say, ‘And what if he does?'

‘We'll take that when it comes,' Michael said. ‘But we want to get in the music business, Dan. This is just a start.'

‘You're going to have to sell a lot of sheets,' Dan said.

‘Well, we reckon we can do this in the day,' Nathan said, ‘and we can work in the bars and clubs at night.'

‘Bartending?'

‘No,' Michael said. ‘If we work here we can get our act together. We can be first with all the latest songs.'

A short, bald man with his spectacles pushed up to his
forehead
came to the shop doorway. ‘I don't hear no piano.'

‘Yeah,' Nathan said. ‘Sorry, Mr Levi. This is my friend Mike. The singer I was telling you about.'

Mr Levi looked Michael up and down. ‘Can he read?'

Michael looked worried. ‘He can read a bit,' Nathan said. ‘But I can teach him more. Reading music ain't that tough, Mr Levi.'

‘Nah,' Mr Levi said. ‘I mean can he
read
?
Words
. Last guy was here couldn't read.'

Michael relaxed and Nathan laughed. ‘Oh sure, Mr Levi.'

Mr Levi stared hard at Michael with his dark penetrating eyes. ‘OK,' he said. ‘So sing.' And with that he went back in the shop.

Dan stood aside, arms folded. It was not exactly a job but it was clearly what Michael wanted. ‘OK,' he said with a grin. ‘So sing.'

Totally unselfconscious, Michael struck up a pose. ‘
Give my regards to Broadway
…' he sang and Nathan picked up the tune.

People passing by began smiling and glancing as they passed and a small boy stopped and gazed at Michael with his mouth open. Mr Levi came out again, still frowning. ‘Hey!' he said. ‘We ain't sellin' that. Sing somethin' we got in stock. Here.'

He thrust a piece of sheet music at Michael, went back inside, 
came out with a little pile of copies and stacked them on top of the piano. ‘Sing that,' he said, and again he went inside.

Michael looked at the flimsy paper with a line drawing of a young man looking down at an old man in a rocking chair. ‘Hey, Nathan!' he said with a laugh. ‘Listen to this.
Daddy, you've been a mother to me
.'

Mr Levi was back in the doorway. ‘Sing it,' he said.

Nathan played it through once, then he played it again and Michael hummed along until he had it and when he sang it he thought it was the corniest song he had ever heard. But a young woman stopped and picked up a copy, looked at it briefly and dropped a dime in Nathan's jam jar. ‘Our first sale!' Nathan cried. ‘Hey, Mikey, we're on our way!'

Dan watched, bemused. He was pleased for his brother if this was what he wanted. But whether he and Nathan could make a living at this kind of thing he had his doubts.

The dynamic duo, as Dan took to calling them, sold eight sheets in half an hour, less than a dime each. But it was a start. ‘I'll bring your things over from Mrs O's tomorrow,' he told Michael when Nathan went indoors to find another song. ‘Give me the address of this place you'll be at.'

‘Er … no,' Michael said. ‘Better not. You might run into this guy's landlord. There isn't much anyway, couple of shirts and stuff. I can come over and pick them up first chance I get.' He looked worried. ‘Listen, Dan, this doesn't seem right somehow.'

Dan smiled. ‘Don't worry about it. Give it a go. Give it all you've got. And don't worry about me. I won't be far away.'

Another brotherly
abrazo
and a quick wave to Nathan who was still in the shop and Dan set off for the Avenue.

‘Take care,' Michael called, his eyes moist. He was feeling guilty now as if he had broken up what was left of the family. ‘And watch out for the navy.'