A Handkerchief for Maria - 22
Day 22
It's finally finished, Alice, all of it. The Yanks dropped two huge bombs, atomic bombs they've called them, and now the Japs have packed it in. The wireless is saying thousands and thousands were killed in the raids. Serve them right I suppose, but you can't help feeling sorry for all those poor souls who've died. And their families.
Josie said in his last letter there were rumours everywhere that the Americans were about to do something big to bring it all to an end. He didn't have much else to talk about only the heat and the dry dust, they don't let him tell us anything about what he's doing in case it gets out.
So that was one good piece of news, I suppose, and I was so cheered up last visit, after I remembered about us in the garden, I thought I'd tell you about a time in Ireland where my life took a turn for the better when I met an old friend. Really, I met two.
*
I was so, so lucky after Billy dropped me off. It seemed later that the good times started when we met that night. Josie and me finished the walk into Wicklow and were heading for the church, hoping to sneak into a corner to sleep. A woman pushing a pram walked towards, then past, me, giving me a really friendly smile. Most people don't bother when you look like a bag of rags. Two seconds later she stopped.
'Maria Byrne? It is you, isn't it?'
I turned and tried to pull her features to mind. Then I had her.
'Kathleen? Kathleen Breslin?'
She'd filled out, a lot, since she left St Gregory's, and I guessed the baby in the pram wasn't her first. Her clothes were new and well pressed, and her brown curls gone, now bleached blond in the latest cut.
Kathleen hugged me and we were both in tears until poor Josie began to be upset. He couldn't understand how happy we were. She insisted I went home with her.
'Just for the night. Get you warm then we'll eat and catch up.'
You have no pride when you've been on the streets for a while. Kathleen had been there and knew I wasn't about to refuse her offer. We'd stood by each other when we were in the home, so she also knew I'd do the same for her if the boot was on the other foot.
My friend had done well for herself, marrying a lovely man, Francis, twice her age who was already successful in business. He'd a large grocery shop, with a bakery next door, on the main street, and a fine house in the better part of town. Kathleen fed us, let me take a bath, and gave me some of her old clothes to wear, declaring they no longer fit her. Whether this was true or not I don't know, but they were still a couple of sizes too big for me. Even so, I was still grateful for them.
I slept the soundest night I had for ages and next day Kathleen was beside herself with excitement at breakfast.
'I had a word with Francis in bed last night,' she gave me a broad smile and a wink, 'and he says he can give you a job in the shop. Only for three weeks mind, he's nothing permanent. You can stay here with us. Put a few bob in your purse to get back on your feet. What do you say?'
I felt dizzy. What could I say?
'Who'll look after Josie?' was all I could manage.
'Sure, he can stay with me up here. One more's not going to make no difference. Please say you will.'
So I did. Kathleen and her husband were so kind. She seemed glad of female company and we talked and laughed every night, sharing stories with Francis of the games we'd got up to in St Gregory's. Sometimes her face would darken when she remembered the beatings and bad times, and I'd change the subject or just hold her hand till she was through it.
On Wednesday of the third week, Francis called me into the room in the shop he used for his paperwork and apologised that he couldn't keep me longer. He'd a townswoman coming back after being ill and she'd been a good worker for a long time. He told me he felt duty bound to let her pick up her job again and I understood. In a small town you have to keep in with the locals or you lose business. Francis said he'd pay me to the end of the week 'with a bit of a bonus' for helping him out when he was stuck. He handed me a letter.
'Take this to James McFadden, remember that name, at McFadden's Emporium in Dublin. He's a long-time friend of mine and owes me a favour or two so he's guaranteed to give you work. Nothing fancy mind, just same as here, in the shop, but he pays well enough and is a decent boss.'
Francis passed me another sheet of paper.
'This here's a lodging house run by another friend. The rooms are only a walk away from McFadden's. The rent's paid for the first month, give you a chance to settle.'
I protested and asked why he was doing all of this for me.
'My Kathleen is the best thing that's ever happened to me. I was on my own for a long time. Too long. She's told me all about the two of you in that damned place and it seems to me the least I can do is return the favour for getting her through it.'
Three days later I was on the bus to Dublin. Me, Josie, a new suitcase packed with nice clothes, and a good few pounds in my purse.
*
I arrived in the city on Saturday afternoon, the bus conductor much pleasanter than when I'd left because he didn't recognise the woman he'd been rude to less than a week earlier. Kathleen's cast-offs, which we'd altered to fit, plenty of baths and a decent haircut had done the trick. I looked like a good, respectable shop assistant at last and he even helped me off with my case.
All the way from Wicklow I'd worried about what I'd do with Josie. If I couldn't find someone to look after him I'd not be able to take the job, and I'd be out on my ear again as soon as the month's rent ran out.
I went straight to McFadden's where the boss read Francis' letter and, without hesitating, told me to come back Monday morning ready for work. As I turned to go, he asked me to wait for a minute.
'Can I ask you what you'll be doing with the wee one?'
There was nothing I could think to say, so I looked at the floor.
'I thought so.' He smiled. 'You're not the first and I expect you won't be the last. I've a few girls here who've lost their husband,' McFadden looked at my cheap wedding aring 'or maybe never had one in the first place. Things happen in life and we're not always in control, are we? There's a woman, Mrs Brown, an English lady, lives not far from where you're staying. Looks after children while their mammies are at work. She'll help you out if you need her. Use my name if you need to.'
He gave me her address and one of his assistants lived in the same street as my lodgings so she gave me directions. It was only twenty minutes to walk from the Emporium, but it felt like I floated all the way to my new home.
*
I took Josie to Mrs Brown's every morning at half past eight, chatted and settled him for fifteen minutes, then left in good time to be at the shop. James McFadden was as helpful as Francis had said he would be. He put me on a counter selling silks, patterns and cottons for embroidery. Even though I'd been hopeless at needlework in school, I'd taken in all my lessons and understood what I should be doing, even though I had no practical skill. In the shop, the theory was good enough and, as a result, I got on well with the customers, who were often well-heeled ladies looking for something to do with their time. Within a month the word of a good, new assistant had gone round and their friends were also coming in. Mr McFadden told me he was very pleased with my work.
I had a happy time there. Most of the girls were friendly, my ladies were nice to me, and the wages were enough to pay Mrs Brown, my rent, send something to Daisy Farina, and have enough to get us through every week. Never quite enough to put much by, but you can't have everything.
One or two of the men who worked in the warehouse of the Emporium asked me out but I always refused. For one thing I was deadly tired after being on my feet for eight or nine hours every day, for another, I was away from my little boy all that time and didn't want to be leaving him in the evenings as well. Besides, at the beginning I was still hoping I might magically bump in to Danny and, even after everything I'd been through, he'd say he'd been waiting for me to come back.
A month after I was settled in the Emporium, Mr McFadden asked a few of us if we'd come in on Sunday to help with stock-taking in exchange for a day during the week. It made no difference to me which days I worked so I agreed. On my weekday off I left Josie with Mrs Brown as usual. I couldn't really afford the extra but I couldn't take him with me. Not this first time. The bus took me out towards Irishtown then it was a quarter of an hour's walk in the rain to Sandymount. Danny's shop was still there but there was no sign of him. After a while I went inside and a young man with a moustache asked if he could help me.
'I'm looking for a friend. Danny Walsh. He used to work here.' 'Not in my time, Miss. Are you sure?'
'It was at the start of the War. He was a delivery boy.'
He shrugged and said he'd ask his boss. A couple of minutes later, the butcher came through, wiping bloody hands on his apron.
'You're a friend of Danny's?' I nodded.
'I'm sorry Miss but he never came back.'
'Do you know where he went?'
'No, no, you don't understand. He never came back from France. Killed he was. Only there a few weeks -'
The rest of the day is a blur. I think I ran from the shop all the way to St Gregory's where I hammered on the door and screamed at the nuns. I swore at them for taking me away from him when we'd have had so little time anyway. I don't know where I went after that or how I got home, though it was dark and Mrs Brown was angry I'd left Josie for so long. I wandered around for the next week in a daze, until Mr McFadden took me to one side and told me I needed to pull my socks up. Danny and I had only seen each other a couple of times but he'd grown over the years into my special one. A silly, childish, dream.
*
Every Sunday, most of the women who worked at McFadden's and had their children with Mrs Brown would meet if the weather was fine. Usually we'd just take a walk round Merrion Square, or Stephen's Green where a band might be playing in the summer. Once we agreed to save for a month and take the tram to Phoenix Park. All of the boys and girls loved the zoo, I think all of their mothers did too. Then afterwards we pushed to the front of the crowd at the barracks gates and watched the cavalry trotting up and down the parade ground in their finest uniforms.
Most of the women either said they'd lost their husbands in the war or some, like me, didn't bother to say anything. One of them, Winifred, claimed she'd left her husband because he beat her. Another girl, who knew Winifred well, told me it wasn't true and he'd seemed a quiet sort of a man who upped and ran off with a younger woman from his office. Winifred was always trying to become friendly with me though I wasn't too keen. I'd see her smiling and chatting to someone then ten minutes later would be saying the most awful things about her to me. I didn't think I could trust her so I stayed civil but kept my distance.
The Emporium was by far the biggest department store I'd worked in, with three floors and a basement, almost the biggest I'd been in, even in Liverpool, and my area was towards the back of the ground floor. One day in April, there was a loud bang out on Great George's Street, followed by a commotion at the front of the shop. Three men wearing scarves across their faces ran down the hall, chased close behind by a squad of British soldiers, all carrying rifles but not able to take aim due to the dozens of customers panicking between them and the men they were after. I was so scared when the crowd cleared in front of my counter and three soldiers lifted their weapons until their sergeant shouted to watch out for me.
One of the soldiers stopped and looked at me before running out of the back door, still trying to hunt down the brave boys. I was sure it was the soldier I'd met on the road, Billy Garner. Two minutes later a dozen shots echoed down the lane at the back, quietening the buzz in the store. It was a strange, deathly quiet, lasting ten seconds or more, before the chatter started again even louder than it had been. Mr McFadden was soon walking the floor, making sure none of his workers were hurt, and settling the nerves of his more fragile lady customers. He called me over to assist one, Miss O'Hagan, who had dropped the items she'd bought from me earlier. She looked up,
alarmed, when some of the soldiers came back inside. The first was Billy and he stood by my counter for a moment, waiting for his mates to join him. I wanted to catch his eye but was afraid I'd be seen, so just continued to re-wrap Mrs O'Hagan's purchases.
When I returned to my own position, a slip of paper was tucked into the frame round the glass top.
Meet me at eight. Outside McFee's Bar. B.G.