Through the Storm (29 page)

‘Since when have we had a store cupboard, Dad? There was never enough money to have more than a couple of tins put away, and no-one has a store cupboard since the war.’

He looked dismayed. ‘Y’mean, we’ve got nothing ’cept a bit of boiled ham and leftover chicken?’

‘There’s a tin of beans for our tea and mince for tomorrer. Oh, and there’s plenty of Christmas cake and I’ve still got the Christmas pudding.’ Kitty wondered why on earth he was showing a sudden interest in the contents of the larder.

‘It’s just that I’ve invited someone for tea.’

‘Oh, Dad, why on earth didn’t you tell me before?’ she cried. ‘I might have been able to get something special yesterday. It’s too late now.’

‘Never mind, you can probably knock up a meal for five out of that lot,’ he said, ‘though forget about the mince.’

‘Five!’ Kitty said weakly.

‘Morning, Mr Quigley.’ Dominic and Niall Reilly pushed through them kicking a tin can to each other, their cheeks flushed with cold.

‘Morning, lads,’ Jimmy replied jovially. As soon as the boys were out of earshot, he said, ‘Scallies! You’d think Cal Reilly’d keep his kids in hand while he was home. It’s a disgrace the way that lot behave.’

Kitty immediately leapt to the defence of her friend’s family. ‘They’re just high spirited, that’s all. Anyroad, I thought you really liked Dominic.’

‘He’s a good footy player, that’s all. He needs disciplining. A good hiding wouldn’t do him any harm at all,’ Jimmy said harshly.

‘You never hit me when I was little.’

‘You behaved yourself, that’s why. You’d have got
the
back of me hand if you’d carried on like the Reillys.’

‘Dad!’ She decided she far preferred him ill. Lately, she’d been noticing quite a few aspects of his personality which she found unpleasant.

When they reached Pearl Street, he said, ‘Actually, kiddo, I don’t think I’ll come back with you. I’ll be home about five o’clock for me tea. Don’t forget, there’ll be five of us including you.’

Kitty made herself a jam butty for her dinner so as not to use any of the more precious food, and afterwards set the table in the living room with special care, using the best white cloth which hadn’t seen the light of day since the previous Christmas. It was too cold to use the parlour and it seemed a waste of coal to light a separate fire.

She spread the ham and chicken onto five plates, putting the inferior meat on her own, cut several rounds of bread and margarine, peeled the potatoes and put them on a low light to boil, along with the Christmas pudding. There was a packet with just two paper doilies left in the sideboard cupboard, and she cut the cake into dainty little fingers and arranged them in a pattern on the plate.

‘Custard for the pudding! I’ll have to make it out of that dried milk. Oh, I do hope I don’t burn it!’ She discovered there was enough jam left to make a tart, though it meant using the last of the flour and she’d intended making a pie for tomorrow with the mince.

As she worked, she wondered who on earth were the three people who’d been invited to tea? Three people seemed a strange number to ask. She could understand one, but three!

Once the table was set, it looked quite sumptuous. Kitty trailed two pieces of tinsel in and out of the plates in what she hoped was an artistic fashion.

She was a bag of nerves when five o’clock approached. Promptly on the hour, the front door opened
and
Jimmy entered. Kitty stood in the middle of the living room smiling a welcome, and tried to contain her astonishment when her dad was followed by a young woman about the same age as herself and two young children.

‘Kitty, luv. This is Theresa Beamish and her lads, Georgie and Billy. Theresa, pet, meet me daughter, Kitty.’

Theresa Beamish didn’t smile when they were introduced. ‘How do you do?’ she said sourly. She was verging on ugly, with a great white face and cold grey eyes. Her gaberdine mac was buttoned severely up to the neck and tightly belted.

‘Shall I take your coat, pet?’ Jimmy asked in an unctuous voice which Kitty had never heard before.

Theresa removed the mac, to reveal a plain navy-blue jumper and pleated skirt. Kitty noticed her dad’s eyes flicker to her massive bosom.

He fancies her!

She wasn’t sure if the realisation made her want to laugh or cry. ‘Would you like to sit down?’ she said.

‘This looks nice, kiddo.’ Jimmy rubbed his hands together approvingly. ‘Come on, lads, take a seat.’

Neither child had spoken so far. They were solid, well-built boys, neatly dressed, with broad white faces like their mother, and appeared more sullen than shy, keeping their eyes fixed firmly on the floor. Once seated, they waited to be told to eat, hands folded obediently on their laps. When Theresa nodded they began to devour their food slowly and methodically until every bit had gone.

‘Now have some bread and margarine,’ she commanded and they obediently took a slice each. She rubbed at a tiny stain on the cloth which Kitty hadn’t managed to get off in the wash.

When they reached the pudding stage, Kitty apologised
for
the lack of fruit. ‘I’m afraid there’s not much in the cake, either.’

‘Well, it’s hard to get, isn’t it?’ said Theresa. She seemed to have found something on her spoon and was scraping it with her nail.

Jimmy finished his pudding and put his elbows on the table. ‘Is there a cup of tea, luv,’ he asked Kitty, ‘to have with the cake?’

‘The kettle’s already boiled. I won’t be a minute making it.’

Theresa leaned across the table, lightly tapped one of Jimmy’s elbows and gave him a sullen nod. He hastily removed them. ‘Sorry, pet.’

Pet! Wait till I tell Sheila, thought Kitty in the kitchen as she hastily examined the cups to make sure they were clean.

When the meal was finished, to Kitty’s surprise, Jimmy stood and tapped his cup with his spoon. ‘I’ve got an announcement to make,’ he said importantly.

Kitty felt her spirits wilt. ‘Oh, no!’ she thought. She had a horrible feeling what the announcement was going to be.

Jimmy coughed. ‘I’ve asked Theresa here to marry me and she’s agreed. We’re getting wed at the end of February after a short engagement.’ He clapped Kitty on the shoulder. ‘So, kiddo, you’ll soon have a stepmother.’

Georgie and Billy glanced at each other surreptitiously and looked disgusted. Theresa’s sour expression didn’t change.

‘Congratulations,’ Kitty said with a warmth she didn’t feel. She kissed her dad on the cheek and shook hands with Theresa, convinced he was making a terrible mistake. Why on earth didn’t he take up with Vera Dodds, who was more his age and far more fun and whom she’d much prefer to have as a stepmother? Still, maybe Theresa would turn out to be less surly and more friendly once she got to know her.

‘Now that’s over, pet, I’ll show you round the house,’ Jimmy said.

‘You mean you’ll be living here?’ Kitty tried to keep her voice steady.

‘Of course, where else would we live? This is my house, isn’t it?’

Kitty swallowed. ‘I just thought you might move in with Theresa, that’s all.’

‘We’re living with me mam and dad and it’s cramped enough already,’ Theresa said in her dull, rather grating voice.

‘But …’ began Kitty. She wanted to know what was to happen to her. Perhaps they expected her to move out. Where will I go? she wondered in a panic. I really will be on me own then.

Jimmy apparently sensed what she was about to say. ‘Of course there’ll always be a place for you, luv. You can stay where you are, and the lads’ll sleep in the box room, but Theresa will take over the running of the house, which should suit you down to the ground, seeing as how your job takes up so much of your time. You’ll be our lodger,’ he finished with a chuckle.

‘Thanks,’ said Kitty.

Sheila Reilly heard the clip-clop of Nelson’s hooves as he began the day’s rounds. ‘I must ask Bill Harrison for more cobbles,’ she thought. They’d been burning fuel like there was no tomorrow over Christmas and what with Cal being home as well. Doors slammed as people began to go to work and someone whistled ‘Auld Lang Syne’. Of course, it was New Year’s Eve tomorrow.

‘If only Cal could be here. If only … oh, God!’ She was going to cry again, which only upset him. She took a deep breath and blinked furiously in an effort to hold back the tears. She’d cried for hours in his arms the night before, unable to contain her grief. It was their last night together. This was their last morning. In a few hours he
would
be gone. It was bad enough him going and having to live without him, but knowing he could be killed at any time was just too much to bear.

She turned to look at him. He was fast asleep and she held out her hand and left it an inch from his face. ‘I won’t touch him. I’ll let him sleep on. It might be tomorrow till he gets to bed again.’

‘I love you, Cal,’ she whispered. She loved him so much it hurt.

‘Hallo, Sheil.’ He woke up and reached for her. They made love silently and feverishly. ‘This might be the last time ever,’ Sheila kept thinking. ‘We might never make love again.’ She wondered if Cal was thinking the same. She could barely see his face with the blackout curtains drawn, but he seemed less gentle than usual, as if driven by a quiet rage.

‘Oh, Cal!’ she shouted when they came, together as always.

‘Christ, girl, I can’t stand to leave you.’ His naked body, poised over her, glistened dully with perspiration. He collapsed beside her. ‘Jaysus!’

But there was to be no more time alone. There were footsteps on the landing and the door opened. Cal managed to struggle into his pyjama pants and Sheila pulled her nightdress down, as six children poured into the room and threw themselves en masse onto the bed.

For they also knew that this was the last morning in a long time they’d spend with their dad.

Someone had the kind idea of organising a New Year’s Eve dance in the assembly hall for the nurses and Wrens who worked in the hospital. The trouble was, they hadn’t thought to ask any men. The women, giggling helplessly, danced with each other, and ended up having a riotous time. Kitty, however, in one of the two new frocks she’d recently had made, a fine pale blue woollen crepe with a fitted bodice and skirt and long tight
sleeves
, found herself monopolised by one of the few men there. Stan Taylor, anxious to unload his tale of woe and clearly oblivious to Lucy’s desire to take him on as a challenge, pinned Kitty in a corner and bared his soul. Every now and then, she glanced enviously across the room where everyone else was doing the Hokey-Cokey or Knees Up Mother Brown or stamping out a vigorous Gay Gordons. She wondered where Harriet was. She hadn’t turned up for work that week, and when Lucy asked Nurse Bellamy for her address in case she was ill so they could visit her, Bellamy had churlishly refused to let them have it.

‘I expect she wants her privacy,’ she said gruffly.

She and Stan danced the occasional waltz, which was apparently Daphne’s favourite, and when the clock struck midnight, he pecked her cheek and burst into tears. Kitty was forced to take him home to his lodgings and deliver him into the hands of his landlady, who promised to put him to bed.

Then she went home herself, thinking what a washout New Year’s Eve had turned out to be.

‘What’s that doing there?’ Nan Wright stared down at the glass of stout in her hand. She racked her brains and vaguely remembered someone had just been in and given it to her, that busybody of a woman from across the road whose name she couldn’t recall. It was to toast something with.

Nan drank the stout and licked round the edge of the glass where there was still foam. ‘Ruby,’ she called. When her daughter didn’t come, Nan stared deep into the dying embers of the fire and could dimly see Ruby there.

‘Your ould mam wants to go to bed, girl.’ But Ruby was playing with a ball and didn’t seem to hear. The glass slipped unnoticed from Nan’s hand onto the floor. ‘I’m dead tired,’ she complained. The busybody woman
hadn’t
helped her upstairs to bed as she usually did. Nan couldn’t move from her chair nowadays without help.

‘I’ll be back next year,’ the woman had said in a joky voice. That’s right, it was New Year’s Eve. But which year?

‘What date is it, Ruby?’

Ruby’s face grew large amidst the glowing ash. ‘It’s eighteen ninety-nine, Mam.’

‘I’m not half tired, luv.’

‘Then come and sleep with me, Mam.’ Ruby held out her hands.

‘Can I, luv?’ Nan said eagerly.

‘Yes, Mam. It’s time.’

With a superhuman effort, Nan managed to ease her massive frame out of the chair.

‘Come on, Mam,’ urged Ruby.

‘I’m coming, luv,’ said Nan.

At the Reillys’, the New Year, the third since the war began, was greeted with slightly less jubilation than the previous two when everyone had managed to convince themselves that it would soon be over, that war was merely a temporary aberration. But now, what with rationing set in and shortages of virtually every basic necessity, as well as the fighting expanding throughout the world, war seemed here to stay.

The house was subdued. It had become a tradition, with Sheila having got married first, that the family gather there to let the New Year in. Brenda Mahon usually came, even if only for half an hour, along with one or two other people from the street. Aggie Donovan was there, but this year Nan Wright was housebound and unable to get as far as her front door. Jess Fleming popped in just before midnight. Jess had been very quiet since Arthur had returned home. Jack Doyle arrived, as he always did, as soon as the King’s Arms closed its doors for the night, bringing Paddy
O’Hara
with him. Rover immediately settled himself in front of the fire as soon as he was assured his master was comfortably seated.

They sat quietly around the wireless waiting for Big Ben to chime.

‘Happy New Year!’ Sheila said on the first stroke of twelve. Everyone stood up and kissed each other dutifully. Sheila noticed her dad kept well clear of Jess, and wondered what he had against the poor woman.

‘Happy New Year, Dad.’ She kissed him on the cheek.

‘Same to you, luv,’ said Jack. ‘Though it doesn’t seem the same without our Eileen, does it?’