Mother’s Only Child (22 page)

Before the shores of Ireland had disappeared in the early morning mist, however, she was less concerned with these niggling worries than with her stomach, which was churning in quite an alarming way. She soon began to wish she hadn’t eaten the sandwiches she’d packed for the train journey.

She wasn’t the only one to be in such dire straits.
Many of the passengers had a greenish tinge to their faces. Others seemed to have stomachs of iron and swilled back their pints of Guinness, despite the early hour, until the saloons reeked with the smell of the black stuff. This, mingled with the stink of cigarette smoke, didn’t help anyone feeling the slightest bit delicate.

When the boat docked, Maria left it thankfully and followed the swell of people streaming into the smallish station and onto the waiting train. She perked up considerably in the train and watched the rolling countryside outside the window with interest until the swaying movement, together with the stress of the journey and the fact she’d had little sleep the night before, eventually overtook her and she slept.

There were no names on any of the stations, and when Maria awoke, she was disorientated, sure she’d sailed past New Street Station. More seasoned passengers sharing her carriage put her right. They told her where to get off, but she was still mighty glad to see her uncle waiting for her as she alighted from the train.

His arms went around her immediately. ‘Ah, Maria,’ he said, his voice husky with emotion. ‘God, but you are a sight for sore eyes.’

Maria leant against him with a sigh, so glad he was there, for the size and clamour of the place unnerved her totally. People thronged the platform, shouting, laughing and crying, while above the noise, porters with laden trolleys were cautioning people to ‘Mind your backs’. A newspaper vendor screamed out his wares, though Maria couldn’t understand a word he was saying. Sean, taking Maria’s case in one hand and
holding her arm with the other, steered her through this mayhem, past the ticket collector, to the taxi rank outside.

How much more alarming it would have been without her uncle beside her, she thought, leaning back in the taxi with a sigh.

‘Bad journey?’ Sean asked.

‘Unnerving just,’ Maria said. ‘And then I felt horribly sick on the boat.’

Sean smiled. ‘So was I when I came over. And I’m sorry you had to suffer it too, but I can’t put into words what it means to have you here for my wedding day.’

‘Ah, Uncle Sean, you know you mean the world to me,’ Maria said. ‘And the journey is already forgotten.’ She turned her attention to the city centre, shocked to see what a decimated place it was. There were huge gaps where she imagined once stores had stood.

Sean, guessing at her thoughts from her face, said, ‘Aye, the city took a pounding, right enough. Martha said it was terrifying. Thank God that’s all over now.’

‘Are you sure it is?’

‘Oh, aye,’ Sean said. ‘The war is coming to an end. Mark my words.’

Maria hoped he was right. Her work might be at an end then too, but she’d have to leave work anyway if and when she was ever to have a child, though sometimes that possibility seemed so far away.

Stop thinking about it, she told herself firmly. It only saddens you, and you are here to celebrate a wedding.

So she turned her attention back to Sean, who was proudly pointing out his adopted city to her as she
passed. He indicated the big green clock at a place called Aston Cross.

‘I live not far from here,’ he said. ‘Until the wedding, that is. Martha, of course, lived here too until she moved into the house a month ago. Grand place for work is Aston,’ he went on. ‘I might have tried my luck in one of the factories here if Kenny O’Connor hadn’t spoken up for me at Dunlop’s. They used to turn out all manner of things here too, so Martha told me, though much of what they make now is war-related, of course.’

Maria smelt a vinegary smell in the air, which Sean told her was from HP Sauce, overlaid by another heavier, sweeter smell.

‘Oh, that’s the malt,’ Sean said when Maria mentioned it, ‘from Ansell’s brewery here.’ He pointed out the tall, solid building of light-coloured brick beside the road.

Minutes later they were at Salford Bridge and Maria saw the network of sludgy canals that met there. ‘Birmingham has more canals than Venice,’ Sean told Maria proudly. ‘Now we go up the hill here, and I’ve told the driver to go the length of Erdington village so you can see the shops that are just a stone’s throw from the house.’

The taxi driver took them down a wide street, tramlines running the length of it. On each side of the road was every shop imaginable. There were grocery shops, butchers and greengrocers, drapers and haberdashery shops, even a few cafes. About halfway down they passed a churchyard on the right-hand side, graves grouped all around it behind a stone wall.

‘Is that the church you go to?’ Maria asked.

‘No,’ Sean told her. ‘That’s Church of England, the parish church. We’ll be going to the abbey on Sutton New Road, which is where the wedding will be. Now we’ll be passing the cinema in a minute.’

That did impress Maria. ‘The Palace Picture House,’ she read, and was slightly envious. Fancy having a cinema on the doorstep like that!

‘We’re coming to Erdington village green now,’ Sean said. ‘Martha tells me most days she goes no further than this, for it has all the shops she needs. And, of course, these days you have to register with a shopkeeper to get your rations.’

‘Of course,’ Maria said, though the idea of rationing was an alien one to her. She looked with interest at the shops surrounding the grassed lawn ahead of them. It had obviously once had a fence around it, but all that were left were metal stumps in the ground.

Before she could query this strange sight, Sean pointed to the other side of the road and said, ‘That imposing building there is a public library. You can take two books out for nothing and keep them for a fortnight.’

Maria could think of nothing nicer, for though she had little time to read now, as a child she’d always read the books her father had bought her for school from cover to cover before the term began. There had been precious little other reading material in the house, except perhaps a paper.

But before she had time to digest this properly, Sean said, ‘And this is Mason Road and the public swimming baths.’

Maria was amazed. So much entertainment and all close at hand. ‘How far away is the house now, Uncle Sean?’

‘No distance at all,’ Sean said as the taxi turned left at a little crossroads ahead of them. ‘It’s just at the end of this road, in fact.’

The road was wide and lined with trees. Behind them were imposing terraced houses with steps up to the front doors and the taxi driver drew to a halt in front of one of these. Two young boys almost leapt on Sean as he got out of the car. Maria saw an older girl, but she stood a short distance away, by the gate.

‘Away out of that,’ Sean said, turning his attention to the boys after paying the taxi driver. ‘Where are your manners? Greet your cousin Maria properly.’

‘Hello, Maria,’ the two boys chorused, but the girl, Maria noticed, said nothing. ‘This young rip here is Tony,’ Sean said, pointing to the sandy-haired boy with the dark, mischievous eyes. ‘And this here is Paul.’ He was younger and quieter than his boisterous brother. His hair was blond, his eyes blue, and he was not so cheeky-looking. ‘And this young lady, of course, is Patsy,’ Sean said, drawing her close and putting an arm around her. Patsy, who had been regarding Maria with dislike, now had a look of triumph on her face as she leant against Sean.

She’s jealous of me, Maria thought suddenly. That’s what’s the matter with her. She decided to take no notice. It was something the young girl had to get over and if she didn’t, it hardly would matter for the few days she would be there. She followed her uncle through the wrought-iron gate, down the side of the little lawned
garden. There were six steps leading up to the front door. As they mounted them, Maria saw the window of a cellar room peeping from below.

She’d been impressed by the road and she was equally impressed by the house. The front door opened on to a small lobby. Another door with stained-glass windows opened on to a hall covered with patterned tiles.

‘You have a fine house, Uncle Sean,’ Maria said. ‘How many bedrooms have you?’

‘Four and a bathroom up there,’ Sean said, jerking his head towards the wide staircase to the left-hand side. ‘And two large attic rooms above that.’

‘Wow, a mansion of a house.’

Sean laughed. ‘Not quite,’ he said. ‘Come on and meet Martha.’

To the right was a long corridor with two doors leading off it and another at the end, but Sean didn’t open the first door. ‘The parlour,’ he said, by way of explanation. ‘It’s Martha’s pride and joy. What’s the betting it will seldom get used.’ Maria thought he was probably right and it seemed an utter waste of a room to her, but it wasn’t her place to comment and so she kept quiet.

Sean hadn’t noticed, because he was opening the next door, saying as he did so, ‘Now this is lived in.’ Maria saw the newspapers on the table, some of the cushions from the comfy-looking settee on the floor and cigarette ends in the ashtray. ‘I come in here sometimes,’ Sean said with a wry glance at the children, ‘to try and get a bit of peace. It seldom works. You can only come here when the weather is mild,’ he added, ‘for we can only get coal enough to heat the one room,
so we tend to all live in the breakfast room. Thank God there is plenty of space in it.’

He had his hand on the door at the end of the corridor as he spoke, when suddenly it opened from the other side. Maria didn’t need Sean telling her who it was, for Martha was the spit of her daughter only smaller and plumper. Her hair was dark and so were her eyes, and her face, like Patsy’s, was long. The difference was that Martha’s wide mouth was caught up in a smile of welcome, while Patsy’s wore a sulky pout.

Maria extended her hand. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said, but Martha brushed her hand aside and put her arms around Maria. ‘We have all heard so much about you, my dear. I feel as if I know you already,’ she said. ‘Come in, come in. You must be worn out with the travelling.’

She ushered Maria into the room, saying as she did so, ‘I’d have been outside to welcome you, along with the children, but I was trying to get everything ready.’

‘Please don’t concern yourself, or go to any trouble.’ Maria said, putting her case on the table and beginning to unfasten it. ‘Knowing of the food shortage here, I’ve brought some food over for you.’

There was a large cooked ham wrapped in muslin, a whole dozen eggs, a large piece of cheese, a round of soda bread and another of barnbrack, and even some butter in a covered dish.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ Martha said.

Sean, with a wink at Maria said, ‘God! That must be a first if you are stuck for words, woman.’

Martha flapped her hand at him. ‘Don’t mind him,’
she said. ‘He is just as grateful as I am, even if he is too pig ignorant to say so.’

Sean let forth a gale of laughter, the laugh Maria remembered from her childhood that she hadn’t heard for years as he cried, ‘I’ll give you pig ignorant when I catch hold of you.’ Martha gave a squeal and tried to twist away, but Sean caught her easily and held her tight.

Maria, though she was glad her uncle had found such happiness, felt suddenly bereft and alone, for she knew there was not that warm, comfortable feeling between her and Barney any more.

‘Won’t you sit down for a minute?’ Martha said. ‘The meal will be on the table in a jiffy and Sean will take your case up.’

Maria was glad to sit on the settee, for she was weary. The fire blazing merrily in the hearth was very welcoming. As she sat, she looked around the comfortable room. A fluffy cream rug was pulled up before the gleaming brass fender, covering some of the lino, which was patterned with dainty little blue cornflowers. On either side of the fireplace were filled bookcases, a wireless to one side on a small table. But dominating the room was a large wooden table.

Sean said to Maria, ‘That’s done sterling service. It was one of the first items Martha bought with her first husband, and now the children do their homework at it, especially in the winter months when their bedrooms are like ice boxes.’

‘Some of us do homework,’ Patsy said disparagingly, with a glare at the elder of her two brothers. ‘Some thickos don’t seem to have homework at all.’

‘Who you calling a thicko?’ Tony said. ‘Anyroad, I do homework if it’s set.’

‘Doesn’t seem to be set much then,’ Patsy said and added, ‘I suppose they think there is little point.’

Tony glared at her. ‘Like our mom says, if you can’t say nowt nice, you should keep your gob shut.’

‘Why should I? Just ‘cos you say so?’ Patsy said sneeringly. ‘And you are stupid. Paul gets more homework than you,
and
he gets it done quicker.’

‘That will do, Patsy,’ Martha said, coming in from the kitchen. Though her voice was quiet, it was firm.

‘But, Mom—’

‘You heard what I said,’ Martha said. ‘Come and get the knives and forks and lay the table.’

‘Bloody great know-all,’ Tony said to Patsy’s retreating back.

‘Tony!’ Sean rapped out. ‘We’ll have less of that. If your mother had heard that she would wash your mouth out with carbolic. Anyway, I’m surprised at you arguing with your sister on Maria’s first night here.’

‘She started it,’ Tony protested.

‘Anyway,’ Paul put in, ‘Maria will probably get used to it.’ And he added in an aside to Maria, ‘Tony and Patsy is always at it, like hammer and tongs.’

The laughter resulting from this comment covered any awkwardness.

After the meal Maria tried hard with Patsy, asking her questions about her life, but Patsy made it clear Maria was not her favourite person by any means. She was too clever to be downright rude, but she still was able to make Maria feel she had no right to ask her any
questions at all and any she did deign to answer she did briefly and brusquely.

When Maria went up the bedroom allocated to her later, to unpack her case, Martha followed her.

‘Can I have a word?’