The Loom (35 page)

‘
Been out today?’ she said, affecting a casual tone.

He wasn’t fooled for an instant. He banged the pot of beer down on the table. Some of it slopped over the sides.

‘
If you mean have I been to see about a job,’ he replied in a loud, nasty voice, ‘The answer is no, I haven’t and you know bloody why? Because there aren’t any bloody jobs around, or haven’t you heard?’

Stephen and Christine looked at each other. There was going to be another argument and they hadn’t even had their tea!

‘
Can we have tea now?’ Stephen said quickly.

‘
Grandma’s been and she left us some pies.’

Leah looked at Paddy questioningly. He scowled and gave Stephen a nasty look.

‘
You stop interrupting your mother and me when we’re talking.’ He swung back to Leah. ‘Aye, your mother called. She left two meat and potato pies and an apple pie. She put ‘em in the oven but I didn’t know when you’d be home so I haven’t warmed ‘em up yet. Oh, and she left a letter for you to read from Janey.’

She took the letter he held out to her. He could have given the children their tea when he knew they were famished! But no, it seemed that he was too selfish to notice this, too intent on guzzling his beer and all he wanted to do lately was be awkward and get her all riled up. Well, this time she wasn’t going to let him!

‘
I’ll read the letter later,’ she said trying to keep her voice level. She placed it on the top shelf of the dresser.

She looked forward to news from Janey and also from Darkie and Marion. The last time she’d heard from her Janey was trying to get into films, but now that they’d changed to talkies she had to get rid of her accent, which had meant elocution lessons. Fancy, Janey taking elocution lessons! Leah remembered how Janey had laughed at her attempts to improve herself. She had a fleeting sense of nostalgia: of Miss Fenton telling her to ‘articulate’. She’d been a different person then. A person who hadn’t a care in the world! Miss Fenton had since moved to London. She missed her and the little bit of culture she’d brought into her life, even if only for a short while. Her own speech had slipped back into dialect, perhaps not quite as pronounced as it had been, but colloquial all the same, which was to be expected. She associated all the time with people who spoke dialect.

Thinking about Janey made her realize that it had been so long since she’d seen her that she could hardly bring her face to mind. How long was it - eight, nine years? She sighed as she took some crockery out of the cupboard. How time had flown and here she was already nearly thirty and with three children and Janey not even married. She wondered if Janey was happy. She must be happier than she was, anyway and she turned around and placed the cups and saucers on the table, her tiredness making her voice sharp.

‘
Tea won’t be long now. Go upstairs,’ she said to Stephen and Christine, ‘And wash your hands.’

‘
Oh, do we have to?’ Stephen said in a whining voice.

‘
Yes, you do,’ Leah replied. ‘Just look at you both. You’re filthy. Now go on, do as you’re told or you’ll get no tea.’

They went out of the kitchen reluctantly. Leah retrieved Julia, who had scampered under the table. She held her out to Paddy.

‘
Take her into the living room and I’ll get tea ready. How’s the fire in there.’

‘
Nearly out,’ he said tersely.

‘
Well, why don’t you build it up,’ Leah said. ‘It’ll be cold tonight.’

She noticed when she walked into the kitchen that Paddy had not been out all day (she’d only asked him if he had to make conversation, something she seemed to do a lot lately). He looked as though he’d just rolled out of bed, and although he had his faults she knew he had too much pride to be seen in public as he was: unwashed and a day and half growth of stubbly, black beard.

He was aware of Leah’s scrutiny, which annoyed him further, because as usual, in spite of a day’s work she looked as though she’d just stepped out of a band- box. Her close fitting grey wool dress showed how her figure had filled out in all the right places and although she’d borne three children her waist was till tiny, her hips trim and breasts firm, if a little fuller. Her face hadn’t changed and if anything she was even more beautiful than when he’d married her, another thing which narked him because he knew he definitely looked the worse for wear.

So, because he was down in the dumps and could see no way out he decided to rile her further (something he was getting good at), for he could see she was riled by the set of her back as she stood at the kitchen sink.

‘
By the way Miss Smartypants, your mother said to tell you that she’s having trouble getting up here, it’s too steep and too far away and for you to call at Glebe Street after work. I told you didn’t I, that this place is too far out.’

As Paddy spoke Leah was gazing with distaste into the sink. It was filthy, littered with odds and ends of wet food. Pushed into the small grate were two wet cigarette butts. She turned round quickly, anger flaring.

‘
It’s not too far away. It’s not a spit and a stride from the shop and Mam finds it hard to even go to the Co-op these days.’ Her voice was sharp with irritation and rising by the time she had finished. Just what Paddy had hoped for!

‘
No need to get on your high horse with me,’ Paddy yelled. He was just in the mood for it and he jumped so suddenly out of his chair that it fell over with a loud bang.

At his sudden movement, and the noise as the chair hit the floor Leah stepped backwards, hitting her spine on the edge of the sink. She had a birthmark on just that particular spot and it was always very tender.

As she came in contact with the hard edge an excruciating pain shot through her, as though a knife had been thrust into that vulnerable spot. For a moment the intensity of it made her almost faint. She gasped and turned to hold onto the edge of the cupboard. She closed her eyes, waiting for the pain to subside. Then the tears came. Not so much because of the pain but because she was tired and unhappy and she hated Paddy shouting. She felt a tight knot forming in her stomach, which always happened when she was upset. She was aware that Julia was crying loudly and that Paddy was trying to placate her.

She opened her eyes and turned around. Paddy was staring at her in alarm. She was deathly white. He was suddenly ashamed. Ashamed at the way he was, at the way he’d behaved towards her. He was a bastard and she didn’t deserve to be treated like that. He should be shot, that’s what, he thought viciously.

He looked a moment longer into Leah’s pale face, at the tears. Then he put Julia on the floor and impulsively reached over and pulled Leah to him.

‘
I’m sorry, Leah, sorry, love. I should be shot for carrying on like that.’ He stroked her hair as she sobbed into his shoulder, her body shuddering.

Julia began another loud wail and Paddy bent down and picked her up, cradling them both. He was achingly aware of how much he needed Leah. As her sobs subsided he put her away from him. They looked at each other for a long moment, his blue eyes full of remorse. Julia struggled to get out of his arms now the shouting was over.

‘
We’ll have to get ourselves sorted out.’

Leah nodded. Paddy put his arm round her shoulders and walked her out of the kitchen, up the passage and into the living room. She was still white and drawn and he cleared some newspapers off the settee and made her sit down.

‘
I’ll get the fire going. Then I’ll make you a cup of tea and warm the pies up.’

Paddy felt for the ashtray in the dark and stubbed his cigarette out. Leah lay in his arms fast asleep, her hand resting lightly on his chest, her breath warm and sweet on his face. He kissed her forehead. Things were going to be different from now on! So he couldn’t get a job? What of it! They weren’t starving. There were thousands worse off, men without jobs all over the country and
they
didn’t go to pieces. It wasn’t his fault that things were bad. He should stop acting like an old goat and more like a man. He turned on his side, holding Leah close and for the first time in a long time he fell peacefully asleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

L
ife goes in stages Paddy thinks. He’s sitting in front of a roaring fire; it’s cold outside, there’s a Guinness on the table next to him (nice and handy) and he’s in a philosophical mood (the Irish tend to this quite a lot).

In each of these stages he ponders, a different person emerges. Sometimes he’s hard put to recognize just who it is. Sometimes it’s even rather frightening. Child, boy, adolescent, man - all quite unconnected, or so they seem to him; it’s experience, of course, that changes you into someone you hardly recognize. Is this me he’s often thought, over the years? How did I get here? He’s a stranger to himself. Yet, he’s been lucky. He’s missed out on conscription. He’s married the girl he loves. And so on and so on until he reaches the conclusion he’s been so lucky, he’s boring. Still, he’s a lot to be thankful for.

He settled himself in front of a roaring fire, a bottle of Guinness on the table next to him. He’d persuaded Leah to go to the pictures. Her first night out since Julia was born (well over a year ago). After ‘that’ night things had looked up and he’d used his gift of the gab to make her take more time off and, more importantly, not to open another shop.

He’d kept his promise, too, and cut down on the booze. Well, almost. A drop of Guinness wouldn’t hurt. Good for you from all accounts: had a lot of iron in it. He took another swig from the bottle. He still wasn’t having much luck as far as jobs went. Bloody government; bloody strikes, and bloody everything! He took another swig. All his attempts had met with failure, but what was he trained for? Bugger all really, except to go down the pit and most around here were either closed or only working a fraction of the time.

A loud cry from upstairs brought him out of his reverie (something which happened often in this house – the crying, that is). Don’t tell me, he thought, exasperated. Julia’s awake again. She should have slept for hours yet. He listened intently. Perhaps she’d drop off. As this crossed his mind another loud wail drifted down the stairs, then a rattling sound as though the cot was being rattled to pieces; that made him bang his bottle down, jump out of the chair and run to the bottom of the stairwell. He took the stairs two at a time. In the last cot episode Julia had got her head stuck between the cot rails and it had frightened them half to death.

He flung the bedroom door open where the three children slept. Julia was standing up, looking wide eyed and innocent through the bars of the cot, her mop of curly black hair endearingly tangled. When she saw Paddy she put her arms out.

‘
Dada, up, up!’

‘
No,’ Paddy whispered, firmly. ‘You’re not getting up. Now go back to sleep, that’s a good girl.’ He tried to prise the small hands off the cot.

‘
No, no, up, up,’ and she shook the cot again for emphasis.

Paddy looked as his youngest daughter in exasperation. She was the apple of his eye, but she’d also inherited his mother’s Irish temper and had a stubborn streak as wide as his arm. It was no good, he thought as he tried a second time to make her lie down. She looked as bright as a button and if he wasn’t careful the other two would wake up and then his night of relaxation would be definitely over.

‘
All right, then, you little villain, come on.’ He lifted her out of the cot and wrapped a blanket around her.

Christine and Stephen were still sleeping soundly.

He tiptoed out of the bedroom and quietly closed the door behind him. Julia laughed happily at getting her own way and pulled his hair. He’d just give her five minutes or so and she might get sleepy again.

He made his way down the stairs and into the living room. The fire was still blazing away. He put Julia on the floor next to him and gave her a doll to play with. She grasped it, chuckling delightedly. She was the picture of health with her plump, rosy cheeks. Paddy gazed at her fondly. How bonny she was! He reached over and picked up the Guinness.

He sat in the chair next to the fire, leant over and picked up the poker, stirring the coals then added a few more from the scuttle next to him. Julia stood up shakily and staggered to him (she still wasn’t walking properly), the doll grasped tightly in her hands. He sighed, picked her up and sat her on his knee. She cuddled against him, sucking her thumb. She might just settle, Paddy thought, giving her head a light kiss. He sank further into the chair, put his head back and stared into the fire. He glanced down again at Julia. Her eyelids were drooping, her thumb still firmly in her mouth, one finger curled over her nose. His own head began to nod, the Guinness beginning to have its usual soporific effect. He was soon asleep.

The silence was shattered by a loud noise from outside. Julia woke with a jump and struggled to sit up. Paddy snored on. His arms dropped limply to his sides and Julia slid to the floor. She took a few shaky steps to where the blanket lay on the floor. She picked it up, flinging it over her head, chuckling with this new situation. She staggered around for a moment, moving closer and closer to the fire.