Dangerous Lady (13 page)

Father McCormack drank his tea. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he spoke again.

‘I know an awful lot about you, Michael Ryan. There’s

nothing I can’t find out if I want to. All I am asking is a little donation now and again. You’d be surprised at how many people give money to the cause. The Americans have regular collections in their bars and churches. Ireland is a poor country and needs all the help it can get.’ ‘

Michael laughed.

‘Supposing I give you some money… now and again … what would you do in return?’

The priest took a handkerchief from the pocket of his black cassock and mopped his forehead.

‘I would tell your mother exactly what she wanted to hear. If it came from me she would believe it. I can be a very persuasive man.’

Michael ran his tongue over his lips, and shook his head.

‘What about the poor orphans and the starving blacks?’ His voice was sarcastic.

‘Sure, they would get a bit as well, God love them. Though I think most of the blacks are in Notting Hill.’

Michael burst out laughing.

‘All right then, Father. You’ve sold me. But I’m warning you now, you’ve got to keep my muwer sweet.’

Father McCormack smiled.

‘I will, Michael son.’ He sighed heavily. ‘Sure, it’s a terrible world we’re living in today. Money makes it so much easier. I remember this room when there was hardly a thing in it… except children, of course. Your mother always seemed to have plenty of those. Well, I must be off. It’s been grand chatting to you, Michael. I’ll expect you at the Presbytery in a few days with your donation.’ He held out his hand. ‘I won’t give you a blessing … I don’t think you need one!’

Michael shook his hand. ‘I have a feeling I’ve just been conned, Father. An Irish Catholic Northern Ireland? Donations to the IRA…?’ He smiled. ‘If it was anyone

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else I’d kick their arse out of the door.’

The priest’s face straightened and he looked meaningfully at Michael.

‘Don’t mock what you don’t fully understand. Your religion is the mightiest in the world. Remember this? Dominus illuminatio men, et salus men, quern timebo?

Michael translated it for him, smiling as he did so. ‘The Lord is the source of my light and my safety, so whom shall I fear?’

‘Would you listen to that! You remembered your Latin.’

‘Yeah, I remember it all right. And I don’t fear anyone, not even God. You remember that.’

Father McCormack digested the veiled threat gracefully. ‘How could I forget? But I’ll tell you one thing before I go. One day the troubles in Northern Ireland will be known all over the world, and the British will have to listen to us. When that day comes you remember my words, Michael, because we won’t forget our friends, whoever they are.’

With that the priest picked up his hat and left the room.

Michael watched him leave. He felt like laughing out loud. The old boy had lost his marbles somewhere along the line. Still, if it kept his mother off his back, he didn’t care. He picked up the tray of tea things and took them to the kitchen where he glanced at the clock. If he got his head down for a couple of hours he would be nice and fresh for the evening. His new club was raking the money in. After the lean war years, people wanted a bit of fun. And he would make sure they got it!

Chapter Seven

1966

‘You look nice, Maws. Where you off to?’ Sarah’s voice

was tight.

‘I’m going up Tiffany’s with me mates.’

‘Tiffany’s? Where’s that?’

Sarah’s voice had taken on the tone of an interrogation. Garry answered for Maura.

‘It’s in Ilford. The old Allie Pallie.’

‘What’s she going up there for? What’s wrong with the Hammersmith Palais?

Maura sighed and tossed back her hair. ‘There’s nothing wrong with round here, Mum. I’m just meeting some of the girls from work, that’s all.’ Her voice was beginning to rise and she tried in vain to control it.

Sarah wiped her hands on her apron and stared at Maura, her face wrinkled in concern. ‘Well, it’s a bloody long way to go if you ask me.’

‘Well, I’m not asking you, Mum. I’m nearly seventeen and I can do what I like.’

Sarah walked towards her daughter. Garry tried to pull her back, holding her arm gently.

‘Let me tell you something, Madam. You can’t do what you sodding well like …’

Her diatribe was cut off by Michael who stormed into the kitchen. The constant bickering between Maura and his mother was beginning to get on everyone’s nerves.

‘For Christ’s sake, Muwer, give it a rest. Let the girl go out if she wants to. Anyway …’ he put his arm around his mother’s shoulders ‘… Garry’s going up there tonight. He can give her a lift on the back of his scooter.’

‘I’m not getting on the back of his scooter with all my new gear on!’ Maura’s voice was horrified.

‘Just as well, ‘cos I ain’t going up the Palais.’

‘Tiffany’s.’

‘Tiffany’s then. I’m going to the pictures with me mates.’

Maura smiled triumphantly. ‘Well, that’s settled then.’ She picked up her shoulder bag. ‘Gawd Blimey, it’s worse than living in Scotland Yard here. Where you bin? What you been doing? What did you talk about? Did he kiss you? I wouldn’t mind, but I can’t get a bloody boyfriend! As soon as they find out who I am they shy off.

‘ “You Mickey Ryan’s sister?” they say. “Yes,” says I, and watch them poodle off down the road. So stop worrying about me getting in the club, Muwer, I don’t get the bloody chance!’

She snatched her coat off the kitchen table and stormed out of the kitchen, shouting, ‘And if by any chance I do need an escort, it won’t be my bloody brother. Ta rah!’

She walked out of the front door and gave it a satisfying slam behind her. In the kitchen Michael and Sarah stared at one another, shocked. Garry went to the sink and washed his hands. In the back of his mind he was cheering Maura on.

‘Well, I never, Michael. Did you hear the way she carried on?’

He sighed heavily. ‘I think the whole of Notting Hill heard it.’

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Garry wiped his hands on a tea towel and faced his brother. ‘She’s got a point though, ain’t she?’

Michael looked at him. It was like looking at a miniature version of himself. ‘What do you mean by that?’ His voice was cold.

Garry plucked up every bit of courage he had.

‘Well, the way that everyone’s at her. If I was her, it would drive me up the wall.’

‘If you was her you’d be getting the same treatment. She’s our sister, our responsibility. If we don’t look after her, who will? You want to put your brain in gear before you open your trap, Garry. Our Geoff was right about you. He said an original thought in your head would die of loneliness. After hearing the crap you just come out with, I’m inclined to agree with him.’

Garry’s face was scarlet with embarrassment.

‘Come on, you two, get a move on or you’ll be late.’ Sarah was worried. She knew that Michael was capable of attacking Garry for what he had said. In Michael’s mind it was tantamount to mutiny and he would not stand for anyone disagreeing with him.

He took a comb from the pocket of his suit and stood at the sink. Looking in the mirror that was perched precariously on the windowsill, he combed back the hair that hung over his eyes. Then, turning to Garry, he pointed the long steel comb at him.

‘In future, Bruv, keep your nose out of what don’t concern you.’

He kissed his mother lightly on the forehead and walked out of the room. Garry was fuming inside. Sensing this, Sarah went to him.

‘He don’t mean it, Gal. But he’s right about Maura, you know. You should all look out for your sister.’

Garry shrugged her arm off and picked up his crash

helmet. ‘We’re not looking out for her, Mother. We’re

trying to own her, and that’s a completely different thing.’

When he had gone Sarah carried on with her chores, but

Garry’s words stayed with her all evening. Maura breathed a sigh of relief as she slammed the front door. It was getting more claustrophobic in that house by the day. If it wasn’t for Margaret she would go mad. They were as close as two friends could be. They worked in the same office, they ate their lunch together, they went down the Lane on Sundays and the Roman Road on Fridays. The only cloud on the horizon was a boy called Dennis Dawson. Margaret had been seeing him for nearly a year and Maura had the feeling that they were going to get married. Still, she consoled herself, she would always have Margaret as a friend.

Tonight the two girls were meeting Dennis and one of his mates up Tiffany’s. She had nearly had heart failure at the thought of Garry going up there. That was all she needed. The only reason they were going there was because they could be pretty sure that one or other of her brothers would not be up there and Maura would have a bit of privacy. How she hated the way her brothers protected her, and her mother was all for it. She was beginning to dislike her mother. The last few years Sarah had practically suffocated her only daughter. Maura wished that she could meet a nice bloke and get right out of it. If she married, at least she would have a life of her own, away from prying eyes. She daydreamed sometimes about finding a little flat but knew they were just that - daydreams. There was no way she would ever be allowed to go and live alone.

She saw Margaret waiting for her outside her house and she gave her a little wave. They made a funny pair. Maura

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was tall, nearly five ten, and big-boned. She was what her father jokingly called ‘a good eyeful’, with her large breasts and wide hips. Her long blonde hair was backcombed up into a beehive, kept firmly in place with sugar and water, making her look even taller - like an amazon. Her eyes, still a startling blue, were now heavily made up, with black liner and white eye shadow, the false eyelashes giving her a startled doe look. In her short shirt waist dress and white winklepicker shoes she was the height of fashion.

Margaret on the other hand was still under five feet tall. Her orange-red hair was worn bouffant, and her orange lipstick made her look like a small circus clown. She was very flat-chested but had big legs and a large behind. When they were younger the boys in the streets whistled the Laurel and Hardy music as they passed. Nowadays they took no notice if people stared at them, they were used to it.

‘You managed to escape then?’

‘Oh, don’t talk to me about it, Marge.’

Margaret laughed her billy goat laugh.

‘You’d better check in your bag. It might be bugged.’

‘Don’t even joke about it, Marge, I wouldn’t put it past them.’

They began to walk to the bus stop.

‘What’s Dennis’s mate like?’

‘Well, he’s tall and very good-looking. He’s twenty-four years old.’

‘What job’s he got?’ ;’

Margaret shook her head. ‘Dunno. Dennis did tell me but we was too busy … well, you know.’

‘No, I don’t know. And you know that. Come on, Marge, tell me. What’s it like?’

Margaret pursed her bright orange lips. ‘What?’ Her voice was innocent.

‘You know very well, Marge. A bit of the other?’

‘Maura Ryan! I am not discussing my sex life at a bus stop!’

Maura burst out laughing. ‘Why not? It’s never stopped you before!’ ‘ ‘

Both girls laughed and pushed each other in the chest.

‘Come on, tell me.’ Maura’s face straightened and she looked earnestly at her little friend.

‘Well, I’ve only done it a couple of times as you know. But… I like it. It’s nice, but a bit embarrassing. Dennis said that I’ll get over that. In fact, he says I’m a natural!’ The last piece of information was given with a toss of her head.

‘Oh, hark at the Duchess of Duke Street.’ They both laughed again. The bus pulled up and they jumped on it, going upstairs so they could smoke.

‘Two to Holborn, please.’ As they lit their cigarettes Maura felt the familiar annoyance wash over her. This was another bugbear. Her brothers all smoked yet when Mickey had seen his sister smoking he had snatched the cigarette from her hand, grinding it out with his heel, shouting at her that only slags smoked. He had done it in the street in front of everyone. She had thought that she was going to die of shame. Now she could only smoke when well away from them.

They got off the bus at Holborn and got a train to Mile End, from there taking another train to Ilford. They were in Tiffany’s at nine forty-five. If they got in before ten it cost only a pound. They went straight to the toilets and! repaired their makeup and hair. As they came out of the toilet and into the bar Maura’s heart stood still in her chest. Standing beside Dennis was the best-looking man she had ever seen in her life. She looked at Margaret with a question in her eyes and when she nodded felt a burst of

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happiness like she had never felt before.

‘Hello, darling.’ Dennis kissed Margaret on her cheek. ‘Maura, this is me mate Terry. Terry, this is Maura.’

She shook the stranger’s hand timidly. Terry Petherick was well over six foot. It seemed strange to Maura to look up at someone. He had dark blond hair yet his eyes were a light brown. Maura was besotted after one smile.

‘Would you like a drink?’ His voice was deep and it sent her pulses racing. ‘ ..

‘Please.’ Her throat was dry with nerves. ‘I’ll have a scotch and dry.’

She was surprised at her answer. What on earth had made her say that? She drank half of bitter normally, but somehow she couldn’t say that to him. He would think her terribly unsophisticated. ‘Ice?’

She nodded at him. As he took Margaret and Dennis’s orders she watched him. When he went to the bar she whispered into Margaret’s ear, ‘He’s gorgeous!’

At the bar Terry Petherick was thinking about Maura. He had been surprised at how big she was, but she was absolutely fantastic. She was incredibly sexy and didn’t even realise it! As she had walked towards him he had felt a physical pain in his guts. She was like one great big present, just waiting to be unwrapped. He paid for the drinks and took them back to the others.