Rainbow's End (18 page)

‘Come on, me fine feller,’ Maggie said when he was dressed in his tiny boots and a wool jacket. ‘We’re goin’ shoppin’, Ticky, Mags an’ Gus here. If you’re good I’ll buy you some peggy’s leg to chew on.’

‘I be good,’ Ticky said solemnly, but his eyes sparkled and his mouth curved into a cherubic smile. ‘I be
bery
good.’

‘That’s me boy,’ Maggie said, hoisting him on to her hip. She fetched her shawl and made a sort of sling of it, to take his weight a bit, then the two of them raided the teapot, selecting a sixpenny piece, and went down the stairs.

The huckster shops were all tiny, but they sold an amazingly wide variety of goods and Maggie knew she would have no difficulty in replacing her scrubbing brush. She went into Mrs Pete’s, though, because Mrs Pete was crippled and needed the money. The tiny shop was dark and smelled of candle-grease and potatoes, but Mrs Pete, sitting behind the counter crocheting, glanced up and smiled as Maggie, with the baby on her hip, entered. Gus, who knew the rules, sat down in the doorway and apart from peering in accusingly from time to time, as though curious to know just what she was doing on the forbidden territory, he made no attempt to move from his place.

‘Faith, if it isn’t little Maggie McVeigh an’ the bouncin’ boyo,’ Mrs Pete said, leaning foward. ‘Is it more soap you’re after wantin’? Mrs Flynn said ye’d a fine line of washin’ flutterin’ in the breeze when she come by earlier.’

‘No, not this time, Mrs Pete,’ Maggie said politely. ‘’Tis a new scrubbin’ brush I’m after needin’, an a sugar stick for the baby, if you please.’

‘An’ one for yourself, alanna?’ Mrs Pete said. ‘You work so hard you should be give a sugar stick now an’ agin.’

‘I’ll take a bite of the baby’s,’ Maggie said diplomatically. Mrs Nolan wouldn’t think much of her if she found she had been buying herself sweeties with the housekeeping money. It was different buying them for Ticky, of course, and she could have bought for the twins without risking a telling off. But not for herself.

‘Please yourself,’ Mrs Pete said. She fished around in the tall glass jar which stood to one side of the counter and brought out a brown sugar stick. ‘There y’are, me fine feller! And a biscuit for that blessed dog ’cos ’e’s never raised his leg on me doorpost. Now I’ll show you me scrubbin’ brushes, alanna, and you can choose.’

‘I’ll have that one,’ Maggie decided, having subjected the three brushes on offer to a close scrutiny. ‘It’s no use me gettin’ a real big one, not wit’ the little hands I got on me. Oh, and have ye such a t’ing as a half-pound of beef drippin’? I’m after fryin’ the spuds tonight, to go wit’ the cold meat left over.’

Mrs Pete found a bowl of beef dripping and hacked off a chunk which she popped into a brown paper bag and handed to her customer. ‘There! Best beef drippin’ you’ll buy this side of Anna Liffey,’ she said complacently. ‘Have you give your Maggie a bit o’ that sugar stick yet, young feller-me-lad?’

Ticky, thus prompted, stopped gnawing his peggy’s leg and shoved it inexpertly in the rough direction of Maggie’s mouth. Maggie removed the sticky thing from the region of her left ear and gave Ticky a hug, then bit a piece off the end of his stick.

‘Thank you, alanna,’ she said. ‘Thanks, Mrs Pete.’

‘He’s a dote, that littl’un,’ Mrs Pete said. ‘Not like some.’

Maggie handed Gus his biscuit, which was crunched down eagerly, and turned in the doorway to smile at the old woman. She knew that Mrs Pete had suffered more than once at the hands of the twins. ‘Oh, Garvan an’ Seamus aren’t as bad as they were,’ she said tolerantly. ‘They’re settlin’ down as they get older, so they are.’

She left the little shop and headed for their tenement, and as she did so, felt the glow of excitement in the pit of her stomach which meant that the boys would be coming home from work quite soon. Well, Liam was the one who brought about the glow, not Kenny, if she was honest.

‘Want to stay down for a bit, Ticky?’ Maggie asked the baby in her arms, who cooed at her and said ‘Ess, ess!’, not, she knew, because he particularly wanted to stay in the yard, but because he agreed with most things said to him. ‘Right you are, then,’ she said. ‘Tell you what, Ticky, we’ll take a walk, shall us? Just up the road a wee way.’

She turned into the road, hesitated a moment, then began to walk. Towards the quays, of course, with the Liffey running brown beside them. Because it was a nicer walk, that’s why I’ve come this way, Maggie told herself; no other reason. She and Gus strolled along in the soft evening sunshine. They came to the Ha’penny Bridge, crossed it, ambled along Bachelor’s Walk and turned down O’Connell Street.

It was a lovely evening and a good many of the shops were doing a brisk trade still. O’Connell Street was a rich and fashionable area, and now Maggie and Ticky watched, fascinated, as trams charged along and cabs tried to keep out of their way, pedestrians scuttled for the pavement and a boy selling the
Herald
, barefoot, hoarse from shouting, padded past them, still calling his wares.

‘We’ll go a bit further, Ticky,’ Maggie said. She rather wished she had changed her work-dress for something a bit nicer, but although Mrs Nolan kept her decently clothed, she was not over-generous with such things. She passed on clothing of her own which was no longer good enough to wear in the shop and Maggie altered it to fit, with a good deal of help from Mrs Nolan it must be confessed. So by careful husbanding and loving washing Maggie now possessed a good skirt, blouse and wool jacket, a work-dress, several white pinafores and a gingham dress which she wore when the Nolans took her out on the spree somewhere.

A huge fat woman, selling tight little posies of wild flowers from a huge basket, winked at Maggie and chucked Ticky under the chin. ‘What a dote,’ she said. ‘Well, what does he t’ink of O’Connell Street, then? Four bunches a ha’penny!’ she added, her voice suddenly swelling in volume until it drowned out the thunder of the trams and the rattle of the cabs and sounded, to Maggie’s startled ears, like the last trump.

‘He likes it,’ Maggie said, when she realised the woman was waiting for an answer. ‘He’s come to meet his big brother out of work, so he has! Safe home.’

‘Safe home,’ the woman echoed and moved ponderously on down the street, her long, black skirt swishing up the pavement dirt as she went.

Maggie hesitated here to look at an enticing window display, but she dared not give it too much time in case Liam came past and she missed him, so she looked admiringly at the beautiful boxes of chocolates for a moment, then turned her footsteps resolutely towards Henry Street – for was not the General Post Office on the corner of Henry Street and O’Connell, and wasn’t it time that Liam emerged from there?

But she did not hurry; Liam had to come this way, unless he was walking home with a friend and going by some other route, and Maggie had no intention of allowing him to know that she had come out expressly to meet him. She had an uneasy feeling that if he knew, this would not please Liam at all; quite the opposite. He would be embarrassed by such an overt show of affection. No, she must meet him by chance.

So she loitered, but nevertheless she was almost level with the GPO when she saw him coming briskly along the pavement. She pretended interest in a nearby window, and surprise, too, when Ticky suddenly shouted: ‘Lee, Lee, dere’s Lee, Mags!’ and looked round with, she hoped, well-simulated surprise. ‘Oh, Liam! Good, you can carry your great brother for a bit, give me arms a rest,’ she said as soon as Liam was near. ‘Did ye have a good day now? Tell me about it – we was just about to turn for home anyway, since it will soon be time to put the dinner on.’

‘I’ve been luggin’ a heavy post-bag all day, now the gorl expects me to lug a heavy lump like you, Ticky,’ Liam said. ‘Why can’t you walk?’ But he took the baby in his arms and pretended to groan under the weight, and the three of them walked on, with Gus walking so close behind Maggie that whenever she slowed her pace she felt his cold nose bump into her bare leg.

‘We’d best step out,’ Liam said presently. ‘I’m goin’ out tonight with one of the fellers. What’s for dinner, anyway?’

Liam had seen Maggie and the baby as he came out of the side entrance of the GPO, and for a moment he had hoped he might scuttle past them, get away without being seen. But then Ticky had spotted him and he’d known the game was up. He would have to walk right down O’Connell Street, along Bachelor’s Walk, across the Ha’penny Bridge and all the way home to Meath Street with a girl who wasn’t his sister and who regarded him, he was beginning to believe, with a very unsisterly affection.

What a complicated thing life was, Liam thought to himself, taking the baby and falling into step beside Maggie. She was a nice girl, there was no doubt about that, she worked hard for his mammy and took good care of his horrid little brothers, but . . . did she have to fix her interest on meself, he groaned inwardly as they walked. Why in God’s good name didn’t she like Kenny, who was nearer her age than himself, or some other feller? When she had first come to live with them, what with her cropped head and her skinniness, he had felt terribly sorry for her. Resentment had been swallowed up by pity, and also by admiration for her courage for the way she fought to understand and be assimilated by them. Until, in the end, everyone discovered that they loved Maggie McVeigh like a sister and wouldn’t want her to live anywhere but with them.

Like a sister, though. That was the part which he was beginning to believe that Maggie just didn’t understand. He had noticed, vaguely, that she was much better-looking, with soft, fawn-coloured hair which matched her eyes and smooth, healthy skin. But despite the fact that he was on the shy side he had a sneaking fondness for bold girls, with a good line in sparking and bright, fashionable clothes. Not that he had ever taken one out, but a feller could dream, couldn’t he?

He was fond of Maggie though, thought her a brave, resourceful kid with more intelligence than most. Liam, studying for the Post Office exams, had not disdained her help both in understanding the questions and in learning by heart the answers. He borrowed books from the library and passed them on to Maggie to read so that they could discuss them . . . and for all she was a gorl, and a very young one at that, she took ideas aboard very readily . . . sometimes Liam suspected that she did so more readily than he.

So he enjoyed her company, liked to be with her. But not walking down O’Connell Street, where any of his pals might see him with a child of fourteen and tell him he was cradle-snatching. Alone in the country, or on top of the tram, or sitting before the fire on a winter’s evening, working away at a crossword puzzle or a quiz in one of the newspapers, that was grand, but he had no desire whatsoever to kiss her, hold her hand or, in fact, to have any physical contact with her whatsoever.

And he just knew that she fancied herself in love with him! She smiled at him with extra sweetness, chose the tastiest titbits for his plate at mealtimes, hung around outside his work, or anywhere else he might possibly be. She never imposed on him or butted in – if he was with a friend she faded into the background – but he was beginning to be aware that she expected something more of him. In her own way she was waiting for him to make a move – and he didn’t want to! Damn it, she was his sister in all but blood, couldn’t she see that? Didn’t she realise?

‘Tell her, you fool,’ his friend Roy had said brusquely when Liam had confided in him that he rather thought Maggie had . . . well, expectations. ‘Tell her she’s too young, that you think of her as a sister.’

Liam had tried, though not terribly hard, perhaps, because he couldn’t bear to hurt her feelings. Maggie’s feelings were all too regularly trampled on by other members of his family for Liam to feel comfortable about doing the same. But he had begun to realise that unless he did say something she would simply get her hopes higher and higher. And what was more, she wouldn’t leave and go home to her own mammy.

In many ways, of course, Liam didn’t want her to leave. But he had recently been rather appalled to realise that his mammy didn’t pay Maggie anything, not even now she’d left school when, in theory at least, she was able to earn. He had tried gently remonstrating with his mother but she had simply said briskly that girls were ten a penny, that she clothed and fed Maggie and that if the girl was not happy the remedy was in her own hands.

‘You mean she could leave, Mammy?’ Liam had said incredulously. ‘But she’s used to us . . . we’re used to her. She suits us very well and I’m sure we suit her. Besides, the twins adore her, so they do.’

‘That’s why she won’t leave,’ his mother said simply. ‘She’s grown used to eating and being decently clothed. If she went home, even if she earned, her mother would keep her poorly clad and hungry.’

‘Mammy!’ Liam had cried, scandalised. ‘You don’t mean that . . . Mrs McVeigh’s a decent woman, you said it yourself. Surely to God she wouldn’t see her own daughter go short?’

‘Oh, Liam, think before you speak,’ his mother had said wearily. ‘The poor woman’s a widow with a lot of kids. She can’t afford to feed and clothe them properly, and haven’t you noticed that women spend on their sons and depend on their daughters? Young Maggie’s been well treated here no matter what you may think. I can’t see her giving it all up so she can go home and skivvy for her mother and brothers and have to do a job as well. And see almost none of any money she earned,’ she added.

‘No-oo, I can see that,’ Liam had said. ‘But aren’t we takin’ advantage of her, Mammy? You don’t pay her a penny piece, that I do know. And she works harder than any of us.’

‘I’m takin’ advantage of her for her own good,’ his mother said firmly. ‘Anyway, she hasn’t suggested a wage.’

Her tone said that if she did she’d be sorry, Liam thought, and he gave up the struggle. If he interfered he would make things worse for Maggie, he realised. So he left well alone and was as kind to Maggie as he could be.

Which had probably started the trouble, he thought ruefully now, as they crossed the bridge with its delicate, wrought-iron arches outlined against the pale evening sky. But Maggie’s only a child; one of these days she’ll grow up and take a real fancy to someone and know that I’m just a friend and a brother, or as good as. And until that day dawns, I shall just have to do me best to keep her at arm’s length without actually saying or doing anything to hurt her feelings.