The Mother's Of Lovely Lane Page 25

  ‘Yes, you see, my mother knew Matron’s mother, so when she needed to be operated on, it was to Matron’s hospital and care she went. And to Matron’s credit, she has never uttered a word to anyone. Or even…’ He swivelled round on his chair and pointed his cigarette straight at Miss Jackson. ‘…or even taken up my grateful offer to be of assistance should she ever need me. Until now.’

  Miss Jackson had been about to transfer his every word to paper using her best Pitman’s shorthand, but instead she was using her pen, held mid-air, to fend off his cigarette.

  ‘And what’s more, I have been given very clear instructions by Mother, which I shall be discussing with the secretary of state over lunch.’

  Miss Jackson knew there was little point in arguing. However, this was the perfect excuse to place a call herself to the charming major. She had been simply unable to disagree with him when he’d shared his views with her. Why keep an old workhouse going when there were plans to build a lovely new hospital with every modern convenience? The major’s telephone calls were the highlight of her week. It was so nice to have men back on the various boards again. The wives of servicemen who had filled the vacancies during the war had done a good job, but the men were back now and it was the responsibility of any woman with a shred of self-respect not to take a job that a man could fill. The men needed to regain their places in society and that was exactly how it should be.

  Less than an hour later, Miss Jackson had dispatched Mr Marcus to his lunch and was simpering down the telephone. ‘Oh, Major, I do hope I’m not bothering you. I think you said you were going out to play golf later this afternoon? I’m glad to have caught you as I have some news that you may be interested in.’

  As she held the handset to her ear, she trembled. What she was doing was very wrong, but he had taken her for tea at Fortnum and Mason’s, which was a great deal more than Mr Marcus had ever done. And besides, Mr Marcus often implied that she was a very lucky lady indeed when at Christmas he presented her with a half-dead poinsettia, a bottle of sherry and a Christmas card from his mother. No, loyalty very definitely had to be bought. As far as she was concerned, the major, with his attentiveness and his endless compliments about her ability, poise and style, had very definitely won.

  *

  Dr Gaskell lifted the clubs out of the back of his Austin 7. He didn’t get to play as often these days. The rain bothered his bones and today was damp and cold. He was wise and wily enough to know that there was something significant behind the request for his company on the golf course this afternoon. He didn’t trust the major and refusal to attend was not an option, not according to Matron anyway. He had popped into her apartment before he had left the office the previous evening. She had greeted him with warm sherry and cold words.

  ‘Is this how we are to run this hospital now?’ she had quipped. ‘On the golf course, men together, playing power games? What matters more, who wins at golf, or who gets their own way when it comes to the running of St Angelus? Do enlighten me.’

  ‘As you well know, this is not something I normally do,’ he had responded. He felt wounded by the sharpness of her words.

  ‘Yes, well, that’s as may be. It appears to me as though my opinion counts for very little these days. Have you seen this?’ She pushed a copy of the Nursing Times towards him. ‘There are people who believe that there is no place for a matron in the NHS. That we don’t have the right skills to run a hospital. How dare they?’

  Dr Gaskell sipped on his sherry. He couldn’t see into the future, but what he did know was that the world about them was changing very fast.

  ‘No one seems to listen to me or even want to know my opinion. Everywhere I look, there are women being phased out of board positions, and even on the wards, to be replaced by men. Now that the board is almost entirely male, I am simply ignored, and meanwhile you are invited on to the golf course to talk about the future of the hospital I have run very successfully for a very long time.’ Her voice was now raised and her eyes had begun to water.

  Dr Gaskell’s reply sounded feeble even to his own ears. ‘Yes, but you know, all those men back from the war, they need to find work of one sort or another…’ His words faded away. He was in danger of patronizing her, something he had never done before. ‘Look, now that we’ve got the new theatres up and running so successfully, what we need to secure for you is your maternity unit. Never mind how we get there, it has to happen. If I promise you I can deliver that, would that make you happy? Would it concern you in the slightest who I met on the golf course if that was the outcome?’

  A smile spread across her face and tears threatened. ‘Of course I wouldn’t mind.’ She sighed and stared at the roaring fire in the grate. ‘I cannot tell you why or how I feel this way, but in my heart I know that St Angelus is in danger. These men, they understand only numbers and accolades. It is all about recognition for them, not what is best for the hospital. I only know what I want to do for the women of the dockland streets and I don’t care how it happens. I have no pride when it comes to saving lives.’

  Matron’s words rang in Dr Gaskell’s ears as he slung his golf bag over his shoulder. The major waved across to him from the entrance to the club house. Do not leave this golf course without the promise of a new maternity unit, he said to himself, and he wasn’t sure what felt heavier, the golf bag over his shoulder or the weight of his promise to Matron.

  12

  Biddy rolled the pastry out on to her wooden table using a flour-dusted bottle, then flicked it across the top of the enamel pie dish containing the steak and kidney in gravy with a deftness that would have impressed the head pastry chef at the Grand Hotel on Lime Street. Noleen had been sitting at her kitchen table for over half an hour and although she had talked about everything from the weather to the price of fish, Biddy had a strong suspicion that there was something troubling her. She had to find a way to get it out of her before Noleen left her kitchen. ‘And is that all the news ye have for me, Noleen? That Frank and Lita are thinking of selling the fish shop and retiring down by the coast. They’ve done mighty well for themselves, have they not. I remember the day they arrived, with nothing other than their little girl and a suitcase between them.’

  ‘Thank God they did.’ Noleen blessed herself with the sign of the cross as she spoke. ‘They might have ended up with the rest of all those poor souls. What Hitler did to them…’

  ‘They had family, you know. Frank’s mother. I heard she made them leave her behind, said she would hold them up. They didn’t just arrive here with nothing and no one, they had to let go of all that heartache, their entire past, and carry on with no idea of what would happen to her after they left her. And they had to start all over again.’

  Like all conversations about the war, most was left unsaid. Biddy balanced the pie dish on one hand as she began to trim the edges of the pastry. ‘I’m just glad they came here to us. We know what it’s like, we had the famine. It runs through our blood, we understand what it’s like to be strangers. I’ve always bought my fish from Frank and Lita.’

  Noleen changed the subject. ‘How is Mrs Ryan doing? Our Bryan never has a clue when I ask him. I don’t think the lads talk much about anything other than football.’

  Biddy let out a snort. ‘And when was that ever any different? She won’t be out of that place for at least a month; more, even. I’ve told Lorcan to move in here with me. Who do you think I’m making the pie for? I couldn’t be bothered for meself. I told him, “I don’t want you in the house alone, the bizzies haven’t got that wicked man yet.” If they had, they would have been back here to tell us and that’s for sure. I said to him, “Stay here with me, would you now?”’ Biddy lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘You know J.T. is on the run? That’s why I don’t want Lorcan there. The bizzies are watching the place like a hawk. One of them is in Betty Hutch’s back bedroom day and night. Betty hasn’t said a word, but Hattie Lloyd, she sees them going in and out. No, I don’t want Lorcan anywhere near the place. There is
something gone on between the Bevan boys and J.T. and Lorcan needs to keep right out of it.’

  Noleen smiled up at Biddy. She was in her element. A lost waif to care for, a bit of drama on the street, it was all she needed to make her happy. ‘Is he tipping up?’ Noleen nodded towards the bread bin, where every woman who lived near the docks kept her money.

  ‘He is that. I didn’t ask, mind. It was just there in the morning after payday. He’s paid the rent on his own house too. It’s a good job he gets it at the war rate. I was worried because if anything happens to his mam, the concession doesn’t pass to him. The harbour board would throw him on the street within a week. But he’s been no bother to me and I would take him in without a moment of hesitation. I’m telling you, Noleen, he’s a good lad. He will never see the inside of Walton Gaol as God is my judge. Not even to visit his no-good brother when the bizzies finally get their hands on him.’

  Lorcan hadn’t needed to be asked twice to move in with Biddy. Once his initial anger had passed, he was as afraid as Biddy was of the Bevan boy returning, and when he heard that J.T. was on the run, he was scared stiff that his brother would come to the house and make trouble. Besides, at his own home there was no one making him steak-and-kidney pies for his tea. That was something that had never happened to Lorcan, as far as he could remember.

  Elsie had much to say about this. ‘Lorcan Ryan comes to stay and the fatted calf is brought out. What has he done to deserve this? Nothing, I would say. And aren’t you worried? What if J.T. comes flying over your wall and wants to stay too?’ She had asked Biddy this just as Biddy was slipping an apple pie into the oven.

  ‘He hasn’t done anything to deserve it, Elsie. It’s just nice to have someone else in the house to bake for and I’m guessing that if J.T. did come to call, he would walk through the gate rather than jump the wall. But as the bizzies are everywhere, I don’t think it’s likely he’s anywhere near here, do you?’

  ‘He might be desperate, Biddy. He might need food or money. If he comes in here and tries anything, knock on the kitchen wall with the mop and I’ll send Jake in. Look at those lamb chops! Well, you’re putting the rest of us to shame. How can you afford lamb midweek, anyway? It’s egg and chips in our house.’

  Biddy took a deep breath. How could she explain to Elsie, the matriarch of an entire family, what being needed felt like? ‘You don’t have any idea, do you, Elsie? You run in and out of here with tales of your Martha and Jake and the baby and you give them to me second-hand so that I can be pleased for you, and I make no bones about it, I am pleased for you. You are a lucky woman, Elsie, but me, I’m not. I have no one and nothing and yes, I may be just an old woman making a right fool of myself looking after that lad, but I don’t care.’

  ‘You don’t care?’ Elsie was incredulous. ‘The day his mother comes out of hospital, he’ll be back down the road and he will forget you as quick as he will that apple pie you’re making right now, mark my words.’

  ‘Like I said, Elsie, I don’t care.’ And Biddy didn’t. It might be the last time ever anyone would need her help and she was going to make the most of it.

  Noleen had fallen quiet and was staring into her cup. A visit from Noleen was a rare event and usually far more enjoyable than a visit from Elsie. She was one woman for whom there really never were enough hours in the day. But tonight was her night off, at least. Just as Biddy was wondering where Noleen’s small talk was heading, Lorcan walked into the kitchen, cap in hand, dust on face, fresh from finishing his shift and visiting his mother.

  ‘Lorcan, you must have smelt your tea cooking. Into the scullery with you for a wash. I’m just putting the potatoes on.’

  ‘Thanks, Biddy.’

  Noleen looked up from her cup. A mother first and always, the plight of another mother was always a concern for her, as for any of the women thereabouts. ‘There but for the grace of God’ was a prayer uttered every time they heard of bills not met, bailiffs knocking or sickness striking.

  ‘How’s your mammy, Lorcan, is she any better?’ she asked.

  Lorcan flushed, as he always did when someone spoke to him. ‘She is, she’s awake, but the doctor won’t let her get up yet and he says she’s going to be in the hospital for a long time.’

  ‘Well then, ’tis a good job you have Biddy here to look after you. Isn’t she doing a grand job? You have landed on your feet here, Lorcan, and that must be a relief to your mammy, to know you are being taken care of.’

  Lorcan hung up his jacket and made his way towards the scullery door without answering. He didn’t want to tell Mrs Delaney it was he who did the looking after in the Ryan home or that it would probably be the last thought in his mammy’s head, to wonder what he was eating or who was taking care of him.

  It was a long time since Mrs Ryan had looked beyond the horizon of her own very small world. J.T. had always been her favourite and today, when he visited her, for the entire half hour she’d thought that he was J.T. No matter how many times he’d said, ‘No, it’s Lorcan, Mammy,’ she’d replied, ‘J.T., ’tis just grand to see you, would you sit down here beside me.’ But he wouldn’t tell anyone this, not Biddy or Mrs Delaney. He would keep it to himself.

  Just before he left the kitchen, he turned back to Noleen. ‘How is Mr Delaney, does he like his new job? Dessie said he’s been taken on as the new night watchman.’

  Biddy almost dropped her tea towel. She stared at Noleen. Noleen had not mentioned a word and yet this was the kind of news that once would have brought her running down her back yard. ‘What new job?’ she asked.

  Noleen looked back down into her tea and Lorcan hovered, unsure what to do next.

  ‘What job, Noleen? Is Paddy working? Isn’t that the best news! My God, why didn’t you tell me? Will Finn be able to go to the grammar now?’

  Noleen put up her hand as though to protect herself from Biddy’s words, which, if Biddy only knew it, were piercing her very skin. ‘There is no job, Biddy, so there will be no grammar school either. Finn won’t be going anywhere.’

  ‘What? No job? But Lorcan just said…’

  ‘Dessie, he told the lads…’

  The look on Noleen’s face cautioned Biddy. ‘Lorcan, get into the scullery, now,’ she said.

  She didn’t need to ask twice. Lorcan sensed that he had just said something very wrong and the scullery door closed almost before Biddy had finished her sentence.

  Biddy pulled out the chair next to Noleen. The legs scraped along the floor and the screech sent an involuntary shiver down Noleen’s back. ‘Noleen, what the hell is Lorcan talking about?’

  Noleen placed her cup on the table and looked Biddy in the eye. ‘Lorcan is telling the truth. Dessie found him a job, as a night watchman, sitting in Dessie’s hut at the hospital, checking in the coal lorries because the new rule says the coal dust has to be hosed, or something daft. But I wish he hadn’t told the lads because now our Bryan will find out.’

  Biddy instantly knew that this was possibly the very reason why Dessie had told the lads. ‘Noleen, you aren’t making any sense. Has Paddy not grabbed at the job with open arms? A watchman, doesn’t he just have to sit in a chair and let the coal trucks in and out? Look, I’m no brain of Britain, but even I know all you need is a hand to write and a pen to write with. What in God’s name is his problem?’

  ‘The problem, Biddy, is that he has refused it. Says it’s a load of baloney and it’s a job Dessie has made up for him out of pity.’ Tears welled up in her eyes. She picked up the cup to distract herself, saw it was empty and placed it back down on the table.

  ‘Well, did you not explain that Dessie doesn’t do that? He is too loyal to the hospital and to Matron. If he has offered Paddy a job, it will only be because there is a job. If Dessie was into inventing jobs, every man around here would be in work. What’s up with him? And what about Finn? Did he think of him at all before he refused the job? Who does he think he is, Noleen? You are working every hour God sends and he’s just sat on his big fat stump.
Is the job still open to him?’

  Noleen almost smiled at Biddy’s automatic protectiveness, caring for Finn and immediately understanding the worry and resentment that had been niggling at Noleen since the morning Paddy had told her that he would be taking no job. Biddy’s words warmed her and made her feel less guilty about the intense anger towards Paddy that she had kept hidden.

  ‘He wasn’t due to start until Saturday, so maybe Dessie is hoping he’ll change his mind between now and then. But that is never going to happen, I can tell you. He’s so stubborn, Biddy. I don’t need to tell you that, you know what he’s like.’

  Biddy thought Noleen was about to cry, but she realized she was beyond tears. She was a woman whose life held few surprises and much hardship and she was immune to disappointment. Biddy wiped her floury hands on her apron, jumped out of her chair, whipped her headscarf off the back of the door and began to fasten it over her curlers. She had her coat on before Noleen had even noticed.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Noleen asked, surprised.

  ‘I’m away to your kitchen, that’s where.’

  Noleen made to stand and follow her.

  ‘Oh no, not you. You stay here and give Lorcan his tea. Take that pie out of the oven in ten minutes for me.’

  ‘But…’ Noleen was on her feet. ‘I have to get the kids their tea, I have to come.’

  ‘No you don’t. No ifs or buts. You stay here. There’s not a man alive who wants his wife to see him humiliated, no good ever came from that. Stay put until I get back and that’s an order. I’ll sort the kids their tea, Noleen.’ And with that, the back door slammed.

  *

  Paddy hadn’t moved since earlier in the afternoon and it was obvious to the kids that something was very wrong. Noleen had popped out to Frank and Lita’s, or so they thought, and she had been gone for a very long time.

  ‘Dad, when is Mam back? I’m hungry,’ said Mary. ‘The lads will be in soon from playing football and they will want their tea.’ She was unprepared for the response she received from Paddy, not least because never once had he raised his voice to her.