Rose of Tralee (48 page)

But she could not say any of that to Tommy. Instead, she had pleaded feebly, ‘I’ll lose me job, Tom, if I don’t do somethin’ pretty fast. Couldn’t you lend me the cash?’

‘
Lend
it?’ Tommy had said, in the very way the girl had done when Mona had first suggested a loan. ‘And how would you pay it back?’

‘Out of me wages. A few bob a week,’ Mona had said. And then, suddenly sick, had turned away from him and headed for the back gate, for they had been talking in the jigger, Mona having hung around waiting for him to come off shift. ‘It don’t matter,’ she had muttered dully. ‘I’ll think o’ somethin’.’

But she hadn’t been able to think of anything – her
mind was a horrible, empty blank. She moped around at work, making mistakes in the bouquets, so that a dozen roses were carnations and a mixed bouquet for an important customer had included a pair of scissors for which the staff had searched fruitlessly all day. Only at home, with Rosie and her aunt, was she able to keep some semblance of naturalness and that was because she had somehow managed to tell herself that inside the house she was not pregnant at all, it was just outside.

She had only been sick a couple of times, thank the Lord, so that was all right. But sharing a room with her cousin had meant that she knew that sooner or later Rose would notice her burgeoning figure, and she had remarked upon it this very morning, though Mona had been able to turn it off without too much trouble.

‘Dale Street!’ called the conductor. ‘Come on, gals, let’s be havin’ you!’ Mona jerked out of her seat and made for the exit, telling herself that she would see if she could borrow the money off Rose when she got home this evening. She knew that her cousin had been saving up to marry Colm and to go over to Ireland this summer. Rosie was generous, always had been. She would lend the money, if Mona thought up a good story, and would be happy enough to get it back bit by bit. And I’ll be back to bein’ meself again, Mona thought pathetically, jumping heavily down off the tram and setting out towards the arcade. After all, it isn’t so bad really, gettin’ rid of it, because it isn’t a real baby, not yet. And I’ll have proper ones of my own one day, when I’m older and married to a decent, respectable fellow. Not a fly-by-night no-good like Tommy Frost.

*

‘Have a good day, Mona?’

Mona had been half-way down the Vale when Rose had come pedalling along on her bicycle and slowed beside her. Mona felt weary and dejected, but the sight of her cousin’s smiling face made her grin too, especially when Rose got off her machine and slowed her pace to suit Mona’s.

‘You look worn out,’ Rose said. ‘Want a seater?’

Mona giggled and indicated her straight skirt. ‘Can’t, norrin this skirt, queen. As for a good day, how can anyone have a good day when they’re workin’ wi’ that old cat Ellis? A lovely feller came in for flowers for his mam an’ she wouldn’t let me serve him, though she kept me servin’ every other awkward cuss who come through the door all day, and grumblin’ that I hadn’t done anythin’ right for weeks, what’s more.’

‘Oh, well,’ Rose said tolerantly. ‘She’s jealous of you, I expect. But if you want to meet lovely fellers you ought to start comin’ to the Daulby again. With me.’

‘I might,’ Mona said. ‘Does Tommy still go?’

‘Sometimes,’ Rose admitted. ‘But he hardly ever asks me for a dance. Well, he doesn’t have much chance,’ she added honestly. ‘I’m steerin’ clear of complications, like fellers who live in the same house.’

‘I don’t blame you,’ Mona said. ‘Oh Rosie, could you lend me some money, d’you think? I’d pay it back, week by week.’

‘’Course I could,’ Rose said promptly. ‘What d’you want it for? Seen a nice spring costume, or a coat?’

‘No. I want to get rid of a baby,’ Mona said and stopped short, a hand flying to her mouth. What on earth had made her say a thing like that? Oh, God, let
her not have heard, she prayed. Let her think I was joking.

Rose stopped too, and stood with her legs astride the bike and her mouth open. She glanced all round her – the street was bustling with people returning from work or going out for the evening – and lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘
What
did you say?’

‘I’m . . . I’m in trouble,’ Mona muttered. ‘There’s this woman who can help me, she lives off Netherfield Road. Only ... only she charges a deal o’ money, and . . .’

‘And you’ve not got it,’ Rose interposed. She moved nearer her cousin and dropped her voice. ‘Whose baby is it, chuck? Won’t the feller ...’

‘It don’t matter who it is, it’s me what’s in trouble,’ Mona said sharply. ‘If you can lend me the money I’ll tell the old cat I’ve got flu an’ I’ll go along to Mrs Hancock. It don’t take long, I believe. Then everything’ll be awright again.’

‘Oh, but Mona, it’s a sin,’ Rose said earnestly. ‘It . . . it’s killin’ someone, isn’t it? I don’t think Father O’Rahan would want you to do a thing like that.’

‘He won’t know,’ Mona said defiantly. ‘Who’s goin’ to tell him, pray?’

‘Well, you; at confession,’ Rose said. ‘In fact I suppose you should tell him before you do it, then he could tell you not to.’

‘Oh aye? Well, he can whistle for me until it’s over an’ I’m meself again,’ Mona stated. ‘Gi’ me the money, Rosie – lend it, I mean – and you won’t have to think about it again. You aren’t involved, norrin any way.’

‘I am so,’ Rose said. ‘If I lend you the money, an’ I suppose I will, then I’m comin’ wi’ you to old Ma Hancock’s place. Women like that . . . well, I’m goin’
with you or you don’t get the money. Is that clear?’

‘But if you go you’ll split on me in confession,’ Mona wailed. ‘You dunno what it’s been like, Rosie, facin’ this for weeks an’ weeks, an’ then findin’ out that To – I mean that the feller won’t help. I don’t think I can bear Father O’Rahan rantin’ on at me and tellin’ me I’m damned for sure. If you split I’ll run away, honest to God I will.’

‘I won’t say a word, because I can’t confess your sins, can I?’ Rose pointed out equably. ‘It’s no sin to lend a pal a few quid. And since you’ve more or less said it, I’m ashamed o’ Tommy. He’s got plenty of money, he’s always savin’ up for this or that. Does he know what you’re goin’ to do?’

‘No,’ Mona muttered. ‘But he knows I’m in the family way an’ he just said I was a knowin’ one and he’d relied on me to tek care of things like that.’

‘He didn’t!’ Rose said, much shocked. ‘Just wait till I get him alone, I’ll give him a piece of me mind!’

‘It don’t matter, norrif you’re goin’ to lend me the money,’ Mona said rather drearily. ‘Tommy’s got his way to make, I know that. He’s set on havin’ a good future, that’s his trouble, so he hasn’t got time to worry about me, or ... or babies.’

‘Well, I’ll lend you the money,’ Rose said soothingly. ‘Now come along, let’s get home or Mam will wonder what’s up.’

Despite her resolve to give Tommy a piece of her mind, Rose was unable to do so that evening, for he did not come in until both she and Mona were in bed. He was working at the garage, Mrs Ryder explained, and had taken sandwiches to work with him sufficient for an evening meal as well as for his midday break. He must have left at the crack of dawn
next morning, too, because Rose made sure to be in the kitchen bright and early, only to find her mother clearing away his breakfast things. So later that day Rose withdrew the necessary amount from her savings account in the Post Office and tipped Mona the wink that all was well so far as the money was concerned. She had racked her brains to think of a better solution, but so far had failed to come up with one. For Mona, so bright and fun-loving, to be saddled with a fatherless child would, Rose thought, be disastrous. And if her mother knew . . . well, Mrs Ryder would not countenance her niece staying in her house, babe and all, Rose feared.

‘I’m to go round, wi’ the money, tomorrer after dark,’ Mona muttered, as the two of them were getting ready for bed that night. ‘Tommy’s keepin’ well out o’ the way, you notice. I’m glad you’re comin’ too, Rosie – you won’t let her kill me, will you?’

‘Norrif I can help it,’ Rose said grimly. She was horrified both by what had happened to her cousin and the action she was about to take, but she saw that there was no alternative. She could get up at five o’clock and catch Tommy when he sneaked downstairs, shoes in hand, but doubted her ability to get through his self-satisfaction to force him to do his duty by her cousin.

The thought of getting up at five o’clock put her forcibly in mind of the story of the three little pigs and the apple orchard, and this made her smile for the first time since she had heard Mona’s unhappy story. She did think, however, that she would keep an ear open and if she heard Tommy either sneaking up the stairs this evening or down them tomorrow morning, she would go out and tell him what was about to take
place, hoping to make him see that he was forcing her cousin into a most sinful and dangerous action.

So, lying there in the dark, Rose listened and hoped. She had wound the alarm clock and saw by its luminous hands that it was after midnight; surely he would be in soon? He could not possibly still be working, he was clearly keeping out of the way.

She fell asleep soon after this, however, and because she was so tired, did not wake until the alarm sounded shrilly in her ear. By then, it was too late to catch Tommy, unless he had overslept. He did not usually leave the house until around seven fifteen, however, so Rose woke Mona, then picked up the tall enamel jug and scuttled downstairs, hoping to find him still at breakfast.

Lily Ryder looked up as her daughter entered the room. ‘You’re early,’ she said brightly. ‘Somethin’ special on at work today?’

‘No, but I fancied a hot wash; is the kettle ready?’ Rose asked, vaguely waving her jug. ‘Tommy gone?’

‘Not as I’ve noticed. Unless he went without his breakfast,’ Lily said. ‘Help yourself to hot water and then refill the kettle, chuck. You might give Tommy a shout; he’ll be late for work, else.’

Glad of the excuse, Rose headed for Tommy’s room, meaning to check the bathroom as she went, only Mr O’Neill was just going in as she passed it, so Tommy was clearly not in there. When she reached the room she tapped on Tommy’s door and, when she heard no sound from within, cautiously turned the handle and pushed it ajar. The room was bright with daylight, the bed clearly unslept in. Slowly, Rose went right inside. It looked . . . odd, somehow. She crossed to the chest of drawers with the mirror propped up against the wall on top of it. She
registered no hair brushes, no bits and pieces of change laid out on the top, no clothing scattered around. She pulled open the top drawer. Empty. She turned to the door; there was no dressing-gown hanging on the back of it, no pyjamas on the bed, no tin for Tommy’s carry-out, no bottle for his tea. She noticed bitterly that the wastepaper basket was also empty save for an elderly copy of the
Echo
; it looked as though he had even taken his rubbish with him. It was a waste of time crossing to the wardrobe, but she did so anyway and swung the doors apart. Emptiness met her gaze, not a shirt nor a pair of old shoes were left, though a few pathetic coat hangers swung from the central bar.

Rose closed the cupboard again and went up the next flight of stairs to her own room. She gave Mona another shake and her cousin sat up groggily, groaned and lay down again. ‘It can’t be mornin’,’ she muttered, trying to tug the bedclothes over her head once more. ‘I don’t want mornin’ just yet, I can’t bleedin’ face it.’

‘Well, you’d better make up your mind to it,’ Rose said briskly. ‘Because there’s somethin’ more we’ve got to face, chuck. Tommy’s done a moonlight.’

Mona sat up, her eyes rounding. ‘
Wha-at
?’ she squeaked. ‘Tommy’s done a what?’

‘A moonlight flit, which means he’s gone,’ Rose said impatiently. ‘Without tellin’ me mam or anyone else so far as I know, without leavin’ a note or his rent or nothin’. He’s cleared out all his things, even the stuff in the wastepaper basket except for an
Echo
about a week old, an’ the bed’s not been slept in. Mam asked me to go up an’ give him a call because he was late, so I went up and saw he’d gone.’

Mona swung her legs out of the bed and stood up.
‘The bleedin’, cowardly little rat,’ she said fiercely. ‘Still, he wouldn’t of stood by me no matter what. I think I knew that all along.’

Rose remembered her mother, calmly cooking breakfast. ‘Oh damn, I’d better nip down an’ tell me mam not to bother with Tommy’s breakfast, nor his carry-out. Oh Lor’, I wonder how much he owed?’

She hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen where Mrs Kibble was now making toast under the gas grill. Her mother swivelled round on her entrance, then turned back to the bacon she was minding in the frying pan. ‘Oh, it’s you, queen. I thought it were Tommy. Is he on a late turn today?’

‘He’s skedaddled,’ Rose said briefly. ‘His bed’s not been slept in an’ there are no clothes or anything in his room. I checked the wardrobe an’ it was empty. How much rent did he owe, Mam?’

‘Rent? Well, a week I suppose, since today’s Friday,’ Lily said, worried. ‘But why on earth should he flit? Are you certain, Rosie love?’

‘As certain as I can be,’ Rose assured her. ‘I can’t understand . . .’ she broke off. Could Tommy have actually run away from Mona because he knew of her condition? But surely he would have left her mother’s rent money and some kind of note? She glanced around the warm comfortable kitchen, but then remembered that presumably Tommy had made up his mind the previous morning since he had not been in the house, to her knowledge, since then. ‘Mam, didn’t he say anything yesterday, when he left for work so early? Didn’t he leave his door key with you or ... or mention that he might be going? You would have noticed if he’d gone with his suitcase an’ his ukelele, and all his bits an’ bobs?’

‘He didn’t, I’m sure of it,’ her mother said firmly.
‘What he must of been doin’, Rosie, was takin’ a few things every day, so’s we wouldn’t notice. Well, of all the mean, low-down tricks ...’

‘Perhaps he’ll send the key through the post – an’ his rent,’ Rose said, but without much hope. She felt hot hatred for Tommy rise in her throat, almost choking her. It was bad enough to behave as he had towards her cousin, but to bilk her mother of the rent money and to leave with the key, which he could well have simply put down on his chest of drawers, seemed a petty meanness of the lowest kind.