Born Bad (6 page)

‘Aw, Harry Boy … will ye look at yourself? Isn’t it the strong fine man you are!’ She held him at arm’s length, her quick brown eyes travelling the length and breadth
of Harry’s physique. ‘Ah sure, you’ve not changed a bit. You’re the same handsome, capable fella with the same dark eyes and wild mop of chestnut-coloured hair.’ A tear brightened her eyes. ‘You’ve a sadness about ye though,’ she murmured. ‘I can see I’ll have to bring back that winning smile, so I will.’

‘Oh, Kathleen.’ Harry was deeply touched by her concern. ‘You can’t know how wonderful it
is to see you again.’ Moved by a well of emotion, he clutched hold of her shoulders. ‘We’ll never be able to thank you enough.’

‘Give over with you! Sure, I’m only glad you’ve arrived safely, so I am.’ She covered him in a beaming smile. ‘And I am so longing to see the darlin’ child.’

Peering into the back of the car, she gleefully clapped her hands together. ‘Oh now, will ye look at the little
fella. Sure, it doesn’t seem a minute since yerself was just a lad.’ She rolled her eyes.
‘I’m sure I don’t know where the years have gone … and now here ye are with a wee bairn of yer own.’

Gently waking Tom, and helping him out of the car, Harry watched as Kathleen took him into those fat little arms, her face wet with tears. ‘Oh, but I’m glad you’re back, Harry,’ she told him fondly. ‘An’
now you’ve brought a little angel with you … Tom, a grand name, and a grand little face.’ She kissed the sleepy upturned face, and thought how lost the little boy must be without his beloved mammy.

Thinking of Harry’s young wife, taken all too soon, she caught his quiet gaze. ‘I’m sorry, me darlin’, about what happened. It’s been hard going for you and the wee bairn, I know that.’

Harry nodded,
tears in his own eyes. ‘I feel lost, Kathleen,’ he admitted brokenly. ‘Me and the boy both.’

Smiling through the emotional moment, she grabbed them both into her embrace. ‘Ah sure, ye have
me
, so y’do,’ she said warmly. ‘I’ll look after youse, don’t you worry about that.’

‘You’re a woman in a million,’ Harry told her. ‘I don’t know what Tom and I would have done without you. And all those years
back, whenever my life took a bad turn, you were always there, ready to put me back together again.’

He had been away for so long, and yet he remembered it all, as if it was only yesterday.

Since the day he left Fisher’s Hill, he had regretted the hurt he caused; though given the same circumstances, he believed he would have to do the very same again.

Standing here outside Kathleen’s house
and looking down that familiar street, he felt oddly out of place. It was as though he was looking through a darkened window into the past. It was the strangest feeling, with his emotions torn in every direction.

Sensing his turmoil, Kathleen assured him, ‘I kept my word, Harry. I never told anyone that you were on your way back.’

Harry nodded. ‘And Judy? How did she get through it? What happened
to her, Kathleen? I need to know.’

The small woman slowly shook her head. ‘Judy is long gone from the street.’ Glancing at the child, she suggested quietly, ‘Best if we talk about it later, eh?’

He understood. ‘You’re right,’ he answered. ‘This isn’t the time.’ He had not expected to be disappointed at the news of Judy’s leaving, but he was.

Kathleen saw his reaction. ‘You’ve had a bad time
of it, you and the bairn,’ she murmured. ‘I know how hard it must have been
for you to come back here.’ Her quick, warm smile was like a ray of sunshine. ‘But if it’s peace of mind ye’re after, sure you’ve come to the right place.’

Harry nodded in agreement. It had taken all his willpower to come home, but he was here now, and more importantly, it was what his darling Sara had wanted.

Not for
the first time, he counted his blessings. He had rekindled his friendship with dear Kathleen, he had his precious son, and the unforgettable memories of Sara, and he was immensely grateful. Yet, even with all of that, he still felt incredibly alone.

Both his parents were long gone; there were no brothers or sisters or any other relatives that he knew of, and his happy-go-lucky schoolmates, with
their passion for girls and motorbikes, by now had probably moved away and had wives and families.

Here in this ordinary place, he had lived with the consequences of drunken, violent parents. He had experienced terror of a kind that no child should ever encounter. But he had forged deep friendships, and found his first real love in a girl called Judy. It had been an overwhelmingly beautiful experience,
and to his dying day he would never forget how it was. But it was never meant to last, and for that he would be forever sorry.

Then, when he was at his lowest ebb, he had found another love – oh, not like before, because a man’s first love is too deep and fulfilling to ever forget – but little Tom’s mother, Sara, was a wise and beautiful creature with a generous heart. He came to love her deeply,
but it could never be the same, all-consuming love he had felt for Judy, the young, sweet girl who had wakened his manhood and opened his heart like summer after winter.

Sara though, had been his salvation. She was forgiving and thoughtful, and he regarded himself as a very fortunate man to have had such joy and beauty in his life.

Over and over, he recalled the night when he had confided in
Sara, revealing how it had been between himself and Judy, and of the awful manner in which their relationship had ended.

Sara did not blame or scold, nor did she judge. Instead, she listened to him, but it was never forgotten; not by him, and he knew not by her. Yet she stood by him, like the gentle person she was.

But it was never enough! He needed to confront the demons. He needed forgiveness
from the very person he had hurt. But that was not to be, and so he had learned to live with the guilt.

‘Come on now, Harry Boy,’ Kathleen said cheerfully, as she waddled back up to the house. ‘Let’s get your man inside.’

Hoisting his yawning son into his arms, Harry took a moment to follow, his attention still trained on number twelve. So, Judy had gone, and now he might never be able to make
amends.

He let the past take him for a while.

Then he turned and hurried after Kathleen.

T
HE MINUTE HE
walked into Kathleen’s cosy little parlour, Harry felt at home. He stood, the child once more deeply asleep in his father’s arms, and took a long look about him.

On the whole, it had not changed from the place he had fondly remembered all those years. The wood-panelled door was still the same, with its brass knocker and big iron handle, and the prettiest stained-glass
window right at the top.

Once inside the tiny parlour his senses warmed to the familiar scent of snuff. He recalled how Kathleen had a weakness for it. When she thought no one was looking, she would take the smallest pinch of brown powder from the little silver box, pop it on the back of her hand, then she’d sniff it up her nose until her eyes watered and the ensuing sneeze took her breath away.
Harry had always thought it comical, how after a pinch or two, the snuff formed an odd kind of moustache round her top lip.

It was oddly comforting to think she still enjoyed that secret ‘little pinch o’ snuff’.

The old leather chair that used to sit beside the fireplace was gone, and in its place was a smart brown chair with wide arms and long wooden legs. The old chair had been special to
Kathleen’s husband, Michael.

Harry had not forgotten the news which Kathleen imparted when they first spoke on the phone. ‘I’m sorry about Michael,’ he said awkwardly now.

Her smile momentarily disappeared. ‘Me too,’ she murmured. Then, in her usual robust manner, she deliberately changed the subject, took a deep breath and brought Harry’s attention to the new décor. ‘As you can see, I’ve changed
a thing or two these past years.’

Looking about, Harry noticed the new lemon-coloured curtains, where before there had been pretty floral curtains of pink and green. The rug before the fireplace had been a crescent-shaped
one, a rag rug that Kathleen had made herself. Now though, there was a smart, oval red rug with a border of cream-coloured roses; and the old brown horsehair sofa had been replaced
with a dark blue cloth-covered one, with big round wooden feet and wooden arms where you might easily rest your cup of tea.

Kathleen’s idea of comfort was as old-fashioned as the darling woman herself. Her home was a welcoming place where folks could put up their feet and rest awhile, or stay a week, whichever suited.

‘We’ve got gas fires now,’ Kathleen proudly informed him. ‘Oh, and we’ve got
rid of the old bed,’ she revealed. ‘Lord knows, I’ve been cracking me head on them iron knobs for long enough. Sure, it’s a wonder me old brains aren’t scrambled.’

She went on with a grin. ‘As you well know, my Michael loved that bed, creaks and all. For years I fought him tooth and nail for a new one, but the stubborn old eejit was having none of it.’

Recalling the fierce but friendly arguments
concerning the bed, Harry was curious. ‘So how did you manage to persuade him?’

Kathleen gave out a raucous laugh, then quickly shushed herself. ‘Michael had a night out with his mates down the pub, dominoes and drinking till the early hours, the buggers! The ting is, he staggered home totally blathered, setting off the dogs and waking up the street, he was! Then he was singing and now he was
threatening at the top of his voice: “Me name is Michael O’Leary, an’ I’ll knock out the lights of any man who gets in me way!”’

Harry had to laugh. ‘So,
did
anyone challenge him?’ Going to the sofa, he gently laid the child down.

‘No, thank the Lord. Sure, they’d have more sense than to tackle the likes of him! Well, anyway, I heard him arriving – in fact, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if
the whole world didn’t hear him! He fell in the door, crawled up the stairs and crumpled into bed. Five minutes later he was away with the fairies.’

Harry had always thought Michael to be a lovable old rogue. ‘But if he was asleep, he couldn’t cause you any trouble, could he?’

‘Aye, well, you’d think so, wouldn’t you, eh?’ she sighed. ‘Had a nightmare, he did, thrashing about in a fight with
some fella down the pub. The old bed was a-shaking and a-heaving, and suddenly it collapsed. The bedhead fell over and trapped Mikey by the neck. He was yelling and bawling, and saying how he could “feel the vengeance of the Lord”.’

With a hearty chuckle she finished the tale. ‘I told him to shut up his yelling, or he would feel the vengeance o’ me yard-broom across his backside!’

Harry was
laughing as he had not laughed for weeks, until he thought of poor Michael. ‘He wasn’t hurt bad, was he?’

‘Aw, bless ye, Harry Boy … sure he wasn’t hurt at all; or if he was, he didn’t admit it.’

Taking a breath, she went on, ‘The very next morning he was off for a game o’ pool with his mates, but before he left, he called Patrick Mason. He asked would he call round and see if he could mend
the bed. A while later, Patrick came and took a look. “I’ll have it good as new in no time at all!” he said.’

There was a definite twinkle in her eye. ‘I asked him how much would it cost to have it mended, and he said four pounds, so I gave him six and told him to say it was beyond repair. So there it is! Everyone was happy. Michael had the satisfaction of knowing that he was a better man than
the bed, Patrick found a few quid in his pocket, and I got the new bed I’d been after for years. So there youse have it!’

She laughed out loud. ‘Sure I couldn’t have planned the whole thing better if I’d tried.’ Making the sign of the cross on herself, she muttered humbly, ‘Poor Mikey … may the Lord rest his soul.’

‘And may the good Lord forgive
you
, Kathleen O’Leary.’ Harry mimicked her Irish
accent well. ‘You’re a wicked woman, so ye are.’

Her burst of laughter was so infectious that Tom stirred in his sleep. ‘Away with ye, Harry Boy!’ she cried. ‘A woman has to beat the men at their own game, so she does.’

Her Irish eyes dimmed over. ‘All the same, it’s a pity he never lived long enough to enjoy the new bed,’ she sighed. ‘If he hadn’t gone into that beer-drinking contest, he might
still be here to this very day.’ Then she gave a cheeky grin. ‘Mind you, I reckon he had a fine old life, and if you ask me, he’s up there with his mates – the lot of ’em drinking and carrying on like they ever did … bless their merry hearts!’

It was a tonic for Harry to hear her stories and her laughter, for it took him away from the grief and the loneliness of these past weeks. ‘You’ll never
change, will you?’ he said affectionately. ‘Honestly, Kathleen, you can’t know how good it is to be here with you.’

Smiling bashfully, she brushed away his compliments. ‘I dare say the pair of youse are starving hungry, so while I go and get us a bite to eat, you’d best wake the bairn up, or he won’t sleep tonight.’

With that she left him to it, and hurried off to the kitchen.

Soon the little
house was filled with the smells of wholesome good cooking. ‘Come on, you two.’ Harry was out in the back garden with Tom when she called them in. ‘The table’s all set and
the food is ready, so it’s just the two of youse I’m waiting for.’ She ceremoniously ushered them inside, then told them to tuck in. ‘You’ve got fat pork sausages new from the butcher this very morning, with vegetables so fresh
they stand up on the plate, and potatoes mashed from my very own kitchen garden.’ She gave Tom a wink. ‘I’ve got a juicy apple pie for afters,’ she whispered, ‘all smothered in thick creamy custard. What d’you think to that, eh?’

Tom whispered back, ‘Can I have a big piece with crust?’

Kathleen laughed aloud. ‘As big as ye like,’ she answered with a wink, and though he tried really hard, Tom
could not manage a wink back, so he gave her a big gappy smile instead – which then opened the conversation as to how he lost his front tooth.

Tom explained that the fairies had taken the tooth and left him a whole shilling under his pillow, along with ‘a note, saying they were building me a new tooth straight away!’

‘Ah, well now, isn’t that grand?’ Kathleen gave a knowing wink at Harry, who
was watching the two of them with a quieter heart than of late. ‘I’ve lost four back teeth meself, so I have,’ she said. ‘How much d’you think they’ll charge me to get new ones?’

Tom was amazed. ‘I don’t know.’ He frowned. ‘You’ve got big, grown-up teeth, and the fairies are only little.’ He looked at his father, then he looked at Kathleen, and in a sombre voice informed her, ‘Maybe you’d better
go to the blacksmith.’

Trying not to laugh, Kathleen asked innocently, ‘The blacksmith, eh? And what does he do?’

‘He makes big shoes for big horses – I read it in the book Mammy got me for Christmas.’

For a second or two, the silence spoke volumes. ‘Oh, I see,’ said Kathleen, lightening the mood. ‘So you think I’m big as a horse, do you?’

‘Oh, no.’ Tom shook his head vehemently. ‘But he’s
got bigger tools than the fairies, and he could make your big new teeth on his fire.’

‘Right.’ Kathleen plopped another sausage onto his empty plate. ‘So that’s what I’ll do then,’ she promised. ‘I’ll get my new teeth from the blacksmith. Shake on it?’ She held out her hand.

‘Shake on it!’ Tom’s happy grin said it all.

When conversation was done, and everyone was full to contentment, Kathleen
left Tom and Harry chatting while she went upstairs. A few minutes later she returned with a flowery pinnie wrapped round her ample middle. ‘I’ve run a bath for the child,’ she told Harry, ‘so now you take it easy, while I get Tom ready for his bed.’

Dismissing Harry’s protests, she took the boy by the hand and chatted with him all the way up the stairs. ‘So now ye can tell me all about these
fairies who had the cheek to take your lovely tooth and make you wait for a new one. If you ask me, they want a good telling off!’

Harry smiled at her antics. ‘She’s not changed,’ he chuckled to himself. ‘She’s still the same Kathleen as ever was.’

While Kathleen and Tom were getting to know each other, Harry set about clearing away the dishes and wiping down the table. He put the kettle on
to boil water for the washing-up.

Kathleen was none too pleased when she bustled in. ‘Hey, you’re not here to do my job,’ she chided. ‘You leave that to me, and get yourself up them stairs. There’s a wee bairn in his bed, waiting to say goodnight to his daddy.’

Tom thanked her. ‘I’m surprised he let you wash him,’ he said. ‘It’s usually a big struggle at bathtime.’

‘Ah well now, the trick is
to keep the water out of his eyes and keep him busy, with stories of hobgoblins and things of a child’s imagination.’ Regret coloured her voice. ‘I never had childer of my own, but I’ve looked after a few in my time, I can tell ye.’

‘Including me,’ he reminded her.

‘Oh, my!’ She had that mischievous look again. ‘So I did,’ she tutted. ‘Isn’t that dreadful? I’d completely forgotten about you.’

Smiling to himself, he crossed the room. ‘You’ll find him in the box room,’ she called out. ‘He’ll be watching for you, I’m sure.’

It was a while before Harry came down, and as he walked towards her, Kathleen thought he seemed more at ease. ‘Is the bairn sleeping?’ she asked.

‘Like he hasn’t slept since—’ He pulled himself up short. ‘Yes, he’s sleeping soundly, thanks to you and your magic stories.’

‘It’s always wise to have a few magic stories up your sleeve; you never know when you might need them,’ Kathleen said.

Harry glanced at the pile of dishes to be put away. ‘D’you need a hand?’

‘No, thank you. What I need is for you to sit down and put your feet up. Sure I’ll have these dishes sorted in no time, then, if you’re up to it, you and me will have a heart-to-heart. Would you like that?
Or are you feeling a bit weary, what with the long drive an’ all?’

Harry was not ready for sleep. In fact, he desperately needed a catch-up with Kathleen. He had so many questions, and so much to tell. ‘Yes, I’d like that – if you’re sure?’

‘I said so, didn’t I?’ She shook her dishcloth at him. ‘Go on
then. Take yourself away to the sitting room and I’ll be with you in no time at all.’

Harry
gratefully took his leave. He went into the front room and sat awhile, thinking how welcoming Kathleen’s little house was. He thought about the past and the present and the future, and he grew increasingly restless. It was only a matter of minutes before he got out of the chair and, passing the kitchen, strolled out of the back door and into the garden where the evening shadows had begun to move
in.

For what seemed an age he stood by the door, his gaze sweeping that pretty, tiny garden he had known so well as a boy.

Few things had changed. The apple tree was still there, its far-reaching branches touching the bedroom windows as always. The wooden gate that led onto the back lane was still wonky, and the bolt that secured it was still hanging by a thread.

The garden path was new though;
where before it had been hardcore and broken concrete, it was now paved with pretty square blocks. The vegetable patch was obviously still in use, because the fork was standing up in the soil. And the patch of grass under the window was forever worn where Kathleen walked when cleaning the windows.

Walking to the far end of the garden on this, the last day of summer, he sat on the same iron bench
that he had sat on as a teenager; though it was succumbing to rust in places. As he looked about at all the familiar things, he felt a great sense of homecoming.

He closed his eyes and he could see Judy, the girl who had awakened him to beauty and love, and whose image he had never really lost.

In that split second, steeped in memories, he could not see his beloved Sara. That was when the tears
broke loose and he could not stop them. Instead he leaned forward, head in hands, and sobbed at the cruelty of it all. ‘Sara.’ He said her name over and over. He had never wanted anything more in his life than to see her right there, where he could stretch out his arms and hold her so tight she would never leave him again.

From the kitchen window Kathleen saw, and her heart ached for him. ‘Oh,
dear boy,’ she murmured. ‘Stay strong. The pain will surely ease, but maybe not the loneliness … ever.’ She knew all about that, since the loss of her own dear Michael.