Remember Me (23 page)

‘I do already,’ Freddie told her. ‘Everybody has made us so very welcome. I’m really enjoying it all.
It’s a great experience, being on the road, and it’s good to have so many new friends.’

‘Yes, the companionship can be a great comfort sometimes,’ said Maddy, ‘especially when you’re feeling down in the dumps…as I was last weekend.’

‘Oh?’ said Freddie questioningly, not wanting to let on that he had noticed, and that, moreover, he had made a guess at the reason for it. He knew it was connected with the letter she had received a little while ago, probably from that absent boyfriend of hers. ‘What has been the matter, Maddy? May I ask?’

‘I don’t see why not,’ said Maddy. She felt no compunction about telling him. It was good to talk sometimes, and she had bottled it up after her initial outburst, apart from confiding in Susannah. ‘I had a letter from my boyfriend – you remember Dan; you met him, didn’t you? He was supposed to be coming to see me last weekend, but he couldn’t manage it.’

‘Oh dear! What a shame,’ said Freddie. ‘You must have felt terribly let down.’ He assumed a sorry expression, although he could not help feeling, deep down, a surge of elation.

‘He didn’t mean to let me down,’ said Maddy. She explained the reason for him cancelling his visit. ‘And he’s promised he’ll be in Scarborough some time over Christmas. So I’ll just have to look forward to that, won’t I?’

‘I daresay you will,’ said Freddie. He wondered if
there was more to this than met the eye. Whether, maybe, this Dan fellow had met someone else and was trying to let Maddy down lightly. If so, then there might still be a chance for him, Freddie; but he knew he must not divulge his feelings, not in the slightest degree. ‘It’s only a few weeks, isn’t it?’ He smiled sympathetically at her.

‘So it is,’ agreed Maddy. Then, as though she had read his thoughts, she went on to say, ‘I trust him, you know. He hasn’t got somebody else or anything like that. No…’ She smiled ruefully. ‘I know that if Dan were ever to leave me it wouldn’t be for another girl. No, it would be something entirely different.’

‘Oh?’ said Freddie again, eyeing her quizzically. ‘And what is that? Or maybe I shouldn’t ask. Don’t tell me if you don’t want to.’ Susannah had hinted to him that there were complications in Maddy’s relationship with Dan. Now, perhaps he was about to find out the nature of the problem.

Maddy sighed. ‘There’s no reason why you shouldn’t know, I suppose.’ She suddenly felt like talking about it, and Freddie was a good listener. ‘My rival would not be another girl… It would be God.’

‘What!’ Freddie looked at her in amazement, so she went on to explain that when she had first met Daniel, he had been studying to become a Roman Catholic priest.

‘I see…and he gave it all up when he met you, did he?’

‘Not exactly,’ said Maddy. ‘He had already been having doubts and meeting me…well, that finally made him realise that he wanted a more normal sort of life and that he wasn’t destined for the priesthood. It had been his mother’s idea anyway, so it’s caused ructions with his family as well, I’m sorry to say.’

‘So it’s not proving easy?’ asked Freddie.

‘No…but they say that the course of true love never runs smoothly, don’t they?’ Maddy gave a wry smile. ‘Anyway, thanks for listening, Freddie. I feel a lot better for having talked to somebody…to you.’

‘Don’t mention it,’ he said. ‘That’s what friends are for. Now we’d best be getting back to our digs, hadn’t we? It’ll soon be time for our first house.’

He settled the small bill and they walked back companionably to their digs near the railway station.

He’s nice, thought Maddy. But only as a friend, of course. She was glad to see that he had got over his idea that he might be rather more than that. He had seemed so genuinely concerned about her problems, and she hoped he would find a girl who deserved him.

Chapter Eighteen

J
oe Murphy was deep in thought as he walked along Blackpool promenade one afternoon in mid-December. Christmas was fast approaching and he did so hope and pray that there might be a reconciliation between his mother and Daniel in time for the celebration of Christ’s birth. Christmas would not be the same without Dan, whether at the Midnight Mass, which they all attended as a family, or at the festive meal the following day, a dinner at which Mammy always excelled herself.

Once or twice lately he thought he had glimpsed a hint of regret in her eyes when his brother’s name was mentioned; for Joe had been determined that he would go on talking about him even though Mammy had tried to insist that his name should not be spoken. Then he knew she had hardened her heart again, refusing to speak of him, and keeping out of the way when he called at the house. Dan called only infrequently, and the reason he called at all was because Thomas Murphy had been adamant that the door should not be closed against their elder son, as Anna had threatened to do. Joe called to see his brother from time to time at his flat above
the Church Street shop, and he knew that his father visited him as well. But Anna had not set eyes on Daniel since there had been that terrible row about the letters, which had resulted in Dan leaving home. That was months ago, and how his mother could prove so obdurate filled Joe with sorrow, and anger, too, especially when he knew that she had been the one to blame.

Dan was of a far more forgiving nature, and Joe knew he would be willing, now that time had passed, to extend the olive branch, as he put it, to his mother. But it remained to be seen whether or not that would happen before Christmas. All that Joe could do was to hope and pray. And he did pray, although he knew that his faith had never meant as much to him as it had to his brother.

From an early age both he and Dan had gone along to Sunday school and church and had gradually become steeped in the doctrines of the Roman Catholic religion: the confession and the Mass; the elevation of the Host, the burning of incense, the choral responses and the litany; and they had grown to appreciate the wonder and mysticism that surrounded it all. His brother, though, far more so than himself. Daniel was the one with the superior brain power. Joe was well aware of that and bore his brother no grudge for being so much cleverer. He was the best brother any lad could have and the two of them had always been the best of pals.

It was inevitable, therefore, that Daniel should be the one who had had thoughts of entering the priesthood. He, Joe, would not have had the cleverness or the knowledge that it required. From the time he was in his early teens it was clear that that was the direction in which Dan was heading. Although Joe knew, as did his father and Dan himself, that the idea was largely that of their mother. It was the ambition of many devout Catholic mothers to have a son enter the priesthood, and therefore this mantle had fallen upon Daniel.

But Joe, with a perspicacity that few knew he possessed, was aware that his brother was not entirely happy about the decision that had been made for him. And Joe, also, had begun to think that it was unfair. His brother was a good-looking lad and personable, too; far more handsome and likeable than he was, or so Joe believed. He had seen the looks that the girls in the congregation cast in his brother’s direction, but such dalliances were forbidden to Dan. Joe had wished at times that he could attract such soulful glances. And then Madeleine Moon had come along.

It was he, Joe, who had met her first, and he still remembered with pride how helpful he had been to her and the rest of the touring company when they had arrived at Central Station. And he had been thrilled to receive tickets for the show. Then it had happened: Dan had fallen hook, line and sinker for
the delectable Madeleine…and landed himself in a whole lot of trouble.

What a dratted nuisance religion could be, thought Joe. He was sure that God didn’t intend it to cause all that trouble. What did it matter that Madeleine was a Methodist? And why should it matter that Dan had decided not to be a priest after all, but to follow the dictates of his heart? There would always be plenty of young men to answer the call, so surely Daniel would not be missed.

Then he, Joe, had met Myrtle, the girl who had come to work at the family boarding house. She was the first girl who had ever taken much notice of him – apart from Madeleine, of course, but she belonged to his brother – and Joe had soon decided that he liked her very much. She was not as shy as he was and had brought him out of his shell in ways he had never dreamt of. And, as luck would have it, she was a Catholic. Not that it would have mattered, he told himself, but it had meant that Mammy approved of her. She was already accepted as being almost one of the family. But he was only sixteen, the same age as Myrtle; it was too soon to be thinking so far into the future, but they were very happy together and Joe was content with that.

Myrtle would be there at the Murphy family Christmas tea, after spending the earlier part of the day with her own family; and Joe did so hope that Dan might be there as well.

His head was full of thoughts of Myrtle and Dan
as he turned away from the promenade to cross the tramtrack. With his head down and the peak on his cap obscuring his view – although he had not, in fact, bothered to check – he failed to notice the huge Dreadnought tramcar approaching. Trams did not travel at an alarming speed, but the glancing blow that it struck him sent him flying into the air before he landed in a crumpled, seemingly lifeless heap at the side of the track.

It was early evening when Daniel answered the knock at the door of his flat. His father stood on the threshold and Dan could tell at once that there was something seriously amiss.

‘It’s your brother,’ said Thomas. ‘He’s had an accident. He’s in hospital…he’s in a bad way, Dan. You must come now, at once. Your mother’s there, waiting for news. We’re not at all sure that he’s going to make it… You will come, won’t you, lad?’

‘Of course I’ll come,’ said Dan. ‘Come in for a minute and I’ll get my coat.’ He managed to comprehend, from his father’s somewhat incoherent telling of the tale, that Joe had been knocked down by a tramcar when crossing the tramtrack near to the Tower. The first that his parents knew of it was when a policeman arrived at their door towards teatime. Fortunately Joe had had means of identification on his person in a diary that he always carried, containing his name and address. Indeed, Joe often behaved with a good deal more common sense than people gave him credit for.
Passers-by had called for an ambulance and he was taken as quickly as possible to the hospital on Whitegate Drive, where he was, at that moment, undergoing an emergency operation.

‘It’s not far to walk,’ said Dan. Whitegate Drive was, in fact, a continuation of Church Street, where the shop and Dan’s flat were situated. ‘We could take a tramcar, but we’ll get there nearly as quickly if we walk.’

‘I don’t want to see another tramcar as long as I live,’ said Thomas as they set off walking briskly through the gathering darkness of the December evening. ‘The silly lad! What on earth was he thinking of, wandering onto the track like that? Head up in the clouds, I daresay. Happen thinking about that sweetheart of his.’

‘Yes… Myrtle,’ said Dan. ‘Does she know about this?’

‘Not yet,’ replied Thomas. ‘Our priority was to let you know, son. We’ll tell Myrtle by and by. I only hope we’ll have some better news by then.’

Dan was aware of the break in his father’s voice. ‘Our Joe’s a strong lad, Daddy,’ he said. ‘He’ll pull through… We must pray that he does,’ he added, realising that he had no idea, yet, of the extent of his brother’s injuries. He had noticed, also, his father’s use of the pronoun ‘our’, indicating that his mother must have been in agreement about contacting him.

‘How is Mammy?’ he asked, returning to the
once so familiar mode of addressing her. ‘She was all right, was she, about you coming to tell me?’

‘You know your mother, lad,’ replied Thomas. ‘She’s very upset, naturally. Neither of us can think straight at the moment, but she did say that I was to come and tell you. “It’s his brother after all,” she said. “He’s got a right to know.”’

Dan had prayed that there might be some way in which he could heal the breach between himself and his mother, but this was certainly not a way he would have envisaged. He wondered, now, what her reaction would be on seeing him again.

Anna was sitting in a waiting room off the main ward. Joe had still not been brought back from the theatre. Dan went towards her, stooping to kiss her cheek and embrace her. ‘Hello, Mammy,’ he said. ‘This is a bad do, isn’t it? But I’m sure our Joe is in good hands. We’ll have to trust in God, won’t we, to…to bring him back to us?’

Anna did not return his embrace. She pulled away from him, and when she looked at him her vivid green eyes gleamed with a venom that verged on hatred. ‘Don’t you dare talk to me about trusting in God!’ she raged. Her voice was not loud; it was more of a vengeful whisper. ‘This is your fault. This is God’s punishment because you turned your back on Him. But why it should be your brother I don’t understand. It should have been you, under the wheels of that tram, not our Joe.’

‘Anna, that’s a wicked thing to say!’
remonstrated her husband. ‘Of course it wasn’t Daniel’s fault; it was an accident, pure and simple. I hate to say it, but it was probably Joe’s own fault for not looking where he was going.’

‘And why?’ retorted Anna. ‘Why wasn’t he looking where he was going? Because he was worried, that’s why. I know he wanted things to be right with Daniel again. But now they never will be.’

‘Mammy, you’re upset, and I don’t blame you,’ said Daniel. ‘You have every right to be upset…and angry with me as well, if it helps. But it’s not my fault; it’s not anyone’s fault. It was a tragic accident. You know how dozens of people are knocked down every year by trams. We’re always reading about it in the newspapers. They seem to creep along so quietly and there’s no barrier by the tramtrack… And I meant what I said; we’ll have to trust in God to make Joe well again.’

At that moment a doctor appeared in the room. ‘Mr and Mrs Murphy…’ he began. ‘I am pleased to say that your son has survived the operation. We have done all we can, but he is still very poorly.’

‘Can we see him, Doctor?’ asked Anna.

‘You may see him for a few minutes, but he is still unconscious. It may be quite a while before he comes round from the anaesthetic… I have to tell you that there were a few internal injuries and bleeding, as well as a broken arm and a severe blow to the head. But I assure you that we will do
everything we can. Now, if you would like to come with me…’

Joe was on his own in a small room at the side of the main ward. His eyes were closed, his head swathed in bandages, and there was a mask over his face to assist with his breathing, as well as tubes attached to other parts of his body. He was deathly pale and it seemed to them all, at that moment, that it would be a miracle if he were ever to come round.

‘Just a few moments, now,’ said the doctor. ‘He won’t regain consciousness for a while yet.’

‘Oh, my poor baby,’ said Anna, taking hold of the hand that lay on top of the counterpane. The other hand and arm were encased in plaster. ‘Joe…oh Joe, please come back to us.’ She did not hurl anymore acrimonious words at her elder son, but she looked at him keenly as he stood at the other side of the bed.

‘Pray that your brother recovers,’ she told him. ‘And if he does, then you know what you must do, don’t you, Daniel? To put things right and to show that you are thankful? You must turn back to God. It’s all been a lot of foolishness, giving up on your studies, but He will forgive you. Promise me that you will. Make a promise to God that you will, if He answers your prayer. I know you believe in the power of prayer, at least you used to.’

‘Mammy…you don’t know what you are asking!’ he cried. ‘You can’t make bargains with God. It isn’t right.’ He shook his head. ‘Of course I
will pray that Joe recovers. But as for anything else…I’m sorry, but I can’t do it.’

Anna did not answer. She turned to her husband. ‘Come along, Thomas. I want to go home now.’

‘Mammy…’ said Dan. ‘You must see that I made my decision ages ago. It doesn’t mean that I’ve turned my back on God. That’s what I’ve been telling you all along. It can’t possibly make any difference to whether or not Joe recovers. But he will; if we pray hard enough, he will.’

Anna ignored him. She went over to the bed and gently kissed her younger son’s cheek. Then she walked from the room with Thomas following her.

He turned to say goodbye to Daniel. ‘She’s upset,’ he said, which was a great understatement. ‘She doesn’t really mean it…’

But Daniel knew only too well that she did. He stayed for a few moments after his parents had gone. He took hold of his brother’s hand, looking down on his waxen pale, but untroubled face. Joe had never been one to worry unduly about anything, but Dan knew he had been anxious about the ill feeling caused by his decision to live his life in the world and not wholly in the service of God.