The Girl from Cotton Lane (54 page)

As the icy weather continued into February work proceeded on the gymnasium in Wilson Street, and soon the roof was finished. Billy Sullivan stood in the cold air one morning and admired the grey slates which seemed to shine in the watery sun. Banging came from inside the red-brick building as workmen fitted doors and floorboards. Billy sighed deeply. This was the realisation of his dream, he marvelled, a dream he had nurtured alone for years until he talked that first time with Father Murphy. How proud and delighted the old man would be if he was standing here today, he thought sadly.

‘It’s a sight for sore eyes to be sure,’ a voice said to him.

Billy turned to see Father Kerrigan standing beside him. ‘It sure is, Farvver,’ he replied, rolling his shoulders against the cold. ‘I was jus’ finkin’ ’ow proud Farvver Murphy would be if ’e could only see this buildin’ now.’

‘Oh, he can see it sure enough,’ Father Kerrigan answered with a smile. ‘In fact, I’m certain of it.’

Billy nodded his head slowly and then looked up at the hardwood sign high up on the wall in front of them. ‘I want that taken down, Farvver,’ he said to the priest.

‘Why, Billy? It was your idea in the first place. What better name to call the gym than Sullivan’s?’

Billy shook his head. ‘Look, Farvver. It was my idea fer sure, but Farvver Murphy made it ’appen. I want ’is name ter go up there. Wivout Farvver Murphy there’d still be weeds growin’ on that bit o’ land.’

The priest smiled and put his hand on Billy’s shoulder. ‘All right, if that’s what you want I’ll talk to the committee,’ he replied. ‘I don’t think they’ll raise any objections, do you?’

Billy Sullivan bade the priest goodbye and turned for home. The wind had got up and as he walked towards Page Street he plunged his frozen hands deeper into his tattered overcoat. Seeing the gymnasium had cheered him but the nagging worry still remained that all his money had been spent and there was little food in the house. The meagre dole money hardly went round and Annie was desperately in need of a warm coat. She was having a hard time carrying this baby, and as the end of her pregnancy drew near she was looking pale and drawn and her usual cheerful nature was noticeably absent. Both Patrick and Brendan had been ill with whooping cough and baby Connie had started sleeping badly at night. Maybe things will change when the weather gets a little warmer, Billy thought hopefully as he turned into Page Street.

As he walked along the turning Florrie appeared at her front door. ‘I see yer comin’ down the street from me winder,’ she told him with a concerned look in her eyes. ‘Yer better get ’ome quickly. The baby’s comin’.’

Billy broke into a run and slithered on the ice as he reached his front door and pulled on the latch string. The sound of a thin wail greeted him and as he hurried to the bedroom door his mother came out looking serious-faced.

‘Yer can’t go in yet, son. The doctor’s still wiv ’er,’ Sadie said, taking him by the arm.

‘Is she gonna be all right, Ma?’ Billy asked in a shocked voice. ‘The baby wasn’t due till next month.’

‘Annie’s gonna be all right, please Gawd, but it was a bad delivery. They ’ad ter turn the baby,’ she told him in a quiet voice.

‘Is the baby all right?’ Billy asked, finding his mouth dry with anxiety.

‘The baby’s fine. It’s anuvver gel,’ Sadie said smiling.

Billy felt tears rising and he swallowed hard. ‘I wanna see Annie, Ma,’ he pleaded.

‘Soon, Billy, soon,’ Sadie said, leading him into the cold scullery. ‘I’ll make yer a nice cuppa.’

‘There’s no tea left, Ma,’ he told her, leaning against the copper.

‘I brought some round, and Florrie’s bin in wiv a slab o’ fruit cake. Maudie called too wiv a cup o’ sugar an’ Maisie left a nice apple pie. It takes times like these ter really appreciate yer neighbours,’ Sadie said quietly.

Billy was sipping his tea when Doctor Kelly finally came out of the bedroom carrying his black bag. ‘I’ve given her something to make her sleep. She needs a lot of rest,’ he remarked in a stern tone.

‘Is she gonna be all right, doc?’ Billy asked.

Doctor Kelly nodded. ‘It was a difficult birth and your wife is exhausted,’ he said. ‘She’ll be fine after she’s rested. I must stress that she’s not to get up too soon. You can get help with the children, I take it?’

Sadie nodded. ‘I’ll be ’ere, doctor,’ she replied quickly. ‘That young lady’s gonna get all the rest she needs.’

‘Can I go in now?’ Billy asked.

‘Yes, but don’t be too long. I want her to sleep,’ the doctor told him.

Billy eased open the bedroom door and stepped into the tiny room almost fearful of what he might find. When he saw Annie smiling through her pain his heart melted. She was holding the tiny bundle in the crook of her arm and Billy gently leaned over the bed and planted a soft kiss on her clammy forehead. ‘Yer look beautiful, Annie,’ he said softly, his eyes filling with tears.

‘You look pretty good yourself,’ Annie replied in little more than a whisper.

Billy stared down at the screwed-up face of his new daughter and very gently eased back the coverlet. ‘She’s a Sullivan right enough,’ he said grinning.

Annie closed her eyes and sighed deeply as Billy stroked her forehead. ‘Did yer see the gym?’ she mumbled.

‘Yeah, I saw it,’ he replied, running his knuckles very gently along her pale cheek. ‘Now get ter sleep. The doctor said yer gotta rest.’

While Billy was with Annie Sadie answered a knock at the door and found Nellie Tanner standing on the doorstep, her face full of concern.

‘I ’eard it from Florrie,’ she said. ‘Are they both all right?’

Sadie reassured her that everything was under control and invited her in. ‘There’s some tea in the pot. Would yer like a cuppa?’ she asked.

The two women stood talking in the scullery. ‘I ain’t said anyfing ter Billy yet but it was touch an’ go,’ Sadie told Nellie in a low voice. ‘The cord was twisted. She nearly lost the baby an’ ’er own life too. It’s a good job it was Doctor Kelly who called round. ’E’s delivered more babies than ole Granny Johnson. I was in there wiv ’im an’ ’e ’ad a fight on ’is ’ands. I don’t know what damage ’as bin done but ’e said it could be dangerous fer ’er ter fink of ’avin’ any more kids.’

Nellie shook her head sadly and reached into the carrier bag at her feet. ‘I’ve brought some fings Annie might make use of,’ she said. ‘There’s some bootees my Carrie bought at Abrahms, they’re white ones, an’ there’s some dolly mixtures fer the kids ter keep ’em quiet.’

Sadie smiled gratefully as she accepted the small gifts and Nellie dived down into her bag once more. ‘I’ve got some tea an’ sugar in case yer’ve run out, an’ ’ere’s a bonnet my Rachel bought. Carrie sent this round too,’ she went on, fishing into her purse and taking out a pound note.

Sadie gasped. ‘I can’t take that, Nell,’ she told her.

‘Don’t be silly,’ Nellie said firmly. ‘It seems ter me Billy’s gonna need money now there’s anuvver mouth ter feed. Go on, take it. Carrie wants yer to ’ave it. She can spare it.’

Sadie’s eyes filled with tears and she hugged her friend. ‘I dunno what any of us would do wivout our neighbours,’ she said, her voice charged with emotion. ‘Maisie’s bin round wiv a few fings an’ Maudie as well. I won’t ferget the kindness o’ the people round ’ere.’

Nellie slapped her arm playfully. ‘Ain’t it all right? Yer come round ter see people an’ they only give yer one cup o’ tea,’ she said indignantly.

Sadie reached for the teapot. ‘I’ll ’ave ter get my Daniel to ’ave a word wiv young Billy,’ she said in a serious voice. ‘That boy o’ mine ’as only got ter slip ’is braces orf an’ Annie gets pregnant. ’E’ll ’ave ter tie a knot in it from now on.’

The two women chatted together for a while and when it was time to leave Nellie looked appealingly at her friend. ‘Can I just ’ave a peep?’ she asked.

When she was making her way back to Salmon Lane Nellie dwelt on Sadie’s words. ‘Yer can see it’s a Sullivan,’ she had said. The years seemed to roll back and Nellie could see her son Charles as he stood in the doorway, looking handsome in his uniform. She remembered clinging to him and the terrible pain of parting as he hurried down the wooden stairs of Bacon Buildings to leave for India. It was the last time she had seen him, and she said a silent prayer that she would see her son once more before she died.

During the cold January business had been very quiet for Carrie, but one or two firms which normally used motor transport contracted her to move their goods when they were let down by vehicles failing to start in the icy conditions. The business had started to pick up by the middle of February, and Carrie found herself stretched to the limit as she struggled with the books and wages as well as managing the well-being of the horses and keeping her eye on the condition of the wagons. Sharkey had long since proved to be an asset and took pride in keeping the yard spotless. He had also made himself responsible for the harness and brasses and whenever the horse-and-carts left the Salmon Lane yard they were in first-class condition. Will Tanner was invaluable too. Even though he was now becoming frail and unsteady on his feet he regularly made an evening inspection of the animals and gave his advice on how to deal with their minor ailments.

Rachel was now in her fourteenth year and already showing the signs of womanhood. Her back was straight and she walked proudly, her flaxen hair reached down to her waist and her blue eyes seemed to shine with the joy of living. Her nature was very much like her mother’s had been at the same age, except that Carrie felt her daughter was much more confident and knowledgeable than she had been as a fourteen year old. Rachel helped her mother around the house and was beginning to show an interest in the running of the business, a thing that pleased Carrie considerably.

The dark cloud on Carrie’s horizon, however, was Joe Maitland’s deterioration. He had remained lodging at the house despite Carrie’s belief that he would leave as soon as Christmas was over. He had insisted on paying for his board and lodging and every day he left for the Poplar market where he ran a stall for an old friend of his. Carrie began to wonder how long he would be able to maintain his punishing lifestyle. Each evening he would return home late and looking the worse for drink. He would eat his meal and nod off to sleep in front of the fire, hardly ever staying awake long enough to have a sensible conversation. There was no contact between the two of them now, other than a few mumbled words before he went to bed. Only Rachel managed to get him talking, but she had been aware for some time of the change in the man she had grown so close to.

It was late February as the last of the snow was disappearing and Joe came home looking haggard and bleary-eyed. He fell asleep over his tea and went to bed early, causing Carrie to become irritable. She cleared the meal table in a noisy manner, watched by William and Nellie who exchanged worried looks. Rachel followed her into the scullery with a headful of questions.

‘Why does Joebo always come ’ome drunk, Mum?’ she asked, picking up a tea towel.

Carrie was feeling jaded and near to tears as she washed the dinner things but she was conscious of the need to protect Rachel’s feelings. ‘Yer gotta remember that Joe’s tired when ’e gets ’ome,’ she said vaguely.

‘But why does ’e always come in drunk, Mum?’ Rachel persisted. ‘Joebo never ’ardly talks ter me like ’e used to. Is ’e ill?’

Carrie put down the plate she was washing and turned to face her daughter. ‘Look, luv, yer growin’ up fast an’ soon yer’ll be a woman. When the time comes fer yer ter leave school an’ go out ter work yer’ll realise that life’s not a bed o’ roses. We ’ave ter do fings we don’t like doin’ an’ there’s times when yer’ll wonder what it’s all for. We all ’ave ter do it ter survive, it’s as simple as that. Wiv Joe ’e’s survivin’ fer the time bein’ by drownin’ ’is sorrows in drink.’

Rachel sat down on an upright chair, a frown creasing her forehead. ‘I can see Joebo’s sad, Mum, but what is it that makes ’im so sad?’ she asked.

Carrie walked behind the chair and rested her hands on Rachel’s shoulders, feeling that she might start crying if she had to look directly into her daughter’s enquiring eyes. ‘Yer remember when I said that Joe ’ad ter go away, Rachel? Well, ’e went ter prison,’ she said quietly.

‘Well, that’s no secret,’ Rachel replied.

Carrie was taken aback. ‘’Ow did you find out?’ she asked, bending over her.

‘I ’eard you an’ Gran’farvver talkin’ once,’ she said, looking down at her fingernails.

‘Did yer know why Joe went ter prison?’ Carrie asked her.

Rachel shook her head. ‘I wanted to ask but I was scared. I couldn’t bear ter know if it was somefing real bad,’ she replied.

‘Joe used to ’ave a business,’ Carrie told her. ‘’E used ter buy an’ sell all sorts o’ stuff an’ one day the police called round an’ saw a lot o’ cases that they said were stolen.’

‘Did Joebo steal ’em, Mum?’ Rachel cut in.

Carrie shook her head. ‘Joe told me that ’e bought the stuff in good faith. The trouble was they couldn’t find the man who sold ’im the cases an’ because Joe couldn’t prove ’e was innocent they sent ’im ter prison fer seven years. ’E managed ter get out after five years on good be’aviour but ’e’d lost the business an’ ’e ’ad very little money left. There was a bit o’ land in Wilson Street that Joe bought a long while ago ter build a bigger ware’ouse on an’ ’e could ’ave sold it, but ’e didn’t. Instead ’e gave it ter the charity so that Billy’s gymnasium could be built there. Yer see, Joe’s bruvver died after boxin’ fer money at a pub over where Joe used ter live an’ ’e didn’t want any o’ the young boys round ’ere ter fight in those pubs an’ get knocked silly, or even worse. That’s why, when ’e found out that Billy Sullivan wanted ter get a gym built, ’e gave ’im the land. Joe’s a good man, Rachel. The trouble is though, ’e’s got a lot o’ pride. ’E can’t abide ’avin’ ter work fer somebody else, an’ ’e drinks a lot ter ferget the pain ’e feels.’