Rainbow's End (23 page)

‘Yes, it were odd,’ her mother agreed. She was darning her stockings, a task with seemed never-ending to Ellen. Sometimes her mother’s stockings were more darn than anything else, but new ones were a price, so she darned on. ‘Odder, when you think that I wouldn’t have known the Burren from what my mam told me. Which wasn’t much. I wonder who this pal is they talk about?’

‘Well, it’s a big secret now, but they’ll get tired of it one day and it will probably all come out,’ Ellen said. ‘He’ll be Irish, of course. Have you noticed, when she’s been with that particular pal, Dee comes out with little Irishy bits? This evening she said “We’re starvin’, so we are”.’

‘All the kids do it,’ Ada said. ‘You know somethin’, Ellie? Whenever I see you workin’ on that blanket you remind me of me gran. She were always makin’ somethin’ wi’ wools or bits o’ material. She wanted to mek her own picture, like the one you’ve hung on your wall, but I don’t think she ever completed it. When she died one of your aunts took it, otherwise I’d suggest that you finished it. You like fiddly, pernickety sort of work, don’t you?’

‘Yes, some,’ Ellen agreed rather cautiously. Dochertys learn not to agree to liking any work if they can help it, she thought. ‘Do you like ‘broidery an’ such, Mam?’

‘Never had the time,’ her mother said. ‘Have you been out to the yard yet? A lavvy of our own, queen, an’ quite a decent plot o’ ground! There’s a jigger round the back an’ all, we’ve gorra little gate set into the back wall so’s we can go in an’ out that way. It’s awright, ain’t it?’

‘It’s lovely, Mam,’ Ellen said sincerely. ‘We’re goin’ to find this house suits us much better than the last. An’ I’m sure when Mick comes home he’ll love it too.’

She was watching Ada’s face as she said it, and to her surprise her mother’s expression grew melancholy at her words. ‘Yes. If he comes home,’ she said. ‘It’s been a long while, Ellie. An’ he’s not written.’

‘But he hates writing,’ Ellen said quickly. ‘You know he does, he’s always said so.’

‘Aye. But he’s never been away for quite so long before. An’ I’m not gerrin’ any younger, the kids tire me out more . . .

‘Oh, Mam, you’re worryin’ over nothin’, Ellen assured her. ‘Mick’ll be back . . . come to that, when did you last write to him?’

‘How can I write? I dunno where he is,’ Ada admitted. ‘Or d’you mean to address the letter to the old folk? Because all I know is they live somewhere in Ireland . . . it’s not much help, that.’

‘But Mam, you must have
some
idea,’ Ellen said, scandalised. ‘You know the name of his ship, where it sailed to this time! You could . . . you could get in touch with the shipping line, find out where the ship is now.’

‘Yes, of course. Yes, I’ll do that,’ Ada said, looking more cheerful. ‘But . . . near on five months, Ellie! It’s a fair old length of time for a husband an’ wife to be apart.’

Ellen agreed that it was indeed and continued to knit, but presently she looked up. ‘Mam . . . Mick’s real fond of the twins, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Aye, he is,’ Ada agreed. ‘He loves kids, does Mick.’

‘Yes, he does. He’s ever so proud of Sammy as well, wouldn’t you say?’

‘I would,’ Ada said. ‘What’re you gettin’ at, queen?’

‘Well, he loves you ever so much, I can tell that even if you can’t. But . . . you can’t think he’d leave the littl’uns, can you?’

After a moment a big smile broke over Ada’s face, completely transforming it. ‘Eh, Ellen, you’re right,’ she breathed. ‘I’ll go down to the shippin’ office first thing Monday mornin’.’

Next day, the twins were given no chance to escape but were put to work at once, much to their annoyance.

‘You’ll clean the cabbage for dinner, you’ll help Ellen wi’ mekin’ beds an’ tidyin’ rooms, then you can start in to tidy up the yard,’ Ada told them. ‘I’m not havin’ the pair of you slidin’ off here whenever you’ve gorra mind, like you did in the court. The cabbages are in a basket out the back; git movin’.’

‘We don’t wanna,’ the twins whined with one voice. ‘It’s Sunday, we wanna play out.’

‘Do as you are told,’ Ada said, enunciating every syllable with great clarity. ‘Bertie, get me some coal in. It’s in the shed.’

‘A shed?’ Deirdre’s eyes brightened. A shed had definite possibilities, particularly if they could somehow be given the chance to tidy it, or even to take a look at it. ‘I didn’t know we had a shed, Mam! Can we help Bertie? Coal’s that heavy . . .’

‘DO AS YOU ARE TOLD,’ Ada said again, this time in capitals. Fetch the cabbages an’ don’t let me see you sneakin’ off or it’ll be bed all day an’ no dinner. Go on, off wi’ you.’

The twins trailed sulkily out and came in again, lugging the basket with various vegetables in it. They selected the cabbages, laid them on the kitchen table and returned the basket to the yard.

‘Good. Ellen, you finished them spuds yet? Right, move over then, so’s the twins can clean the cabbage. An’ I’m warnin’ the pair of ye’, she added ominously, ‘that if I find a caterpillar still in it when you’ve done . . .’

‘Or half a caterpillar,’ Bertie suggested, coming in with the hod full of coal.

‘Yes, or half a caterpillar,’ Ada agreed, ‘then you’ll be in real trouble.’

Deirdre, despite herself, giggled. And as she and Donal separated the cabbages into single leaves and extracted some interesting insect life, she whispered to her twin that even cleanin’ cabbages couldn’t tek all day and they’d be free some time.

‘And it’s not as bad as it would have been in the court,’ Donal reminded his sister philosophically. ‘We’ve an indoor tap here . . . no sharin’, either. It’s awright, ain’t it, Dee?’

‘Not bad,’ Deirdre agreed. She had found a fine caterpillar which was exactly the same green colour as the inner leaves and was wondering whether she could ensure that it got cooked and also reached her mother’s plate and not someone else’s. Mam, she decided, would almost certainly shout and yell, but it would serve her right for keeping them in, and imagine if she ate it! What smirks she and Donal would exchange, how they would laugh!

But of course there were too many risks and anyway, when she picked it up the caterpillar turned round and looked at her with its big, bulbous eyes and Deirdre knew she could never consign it to death by boiling water. No, she would take it somewhere nice and release it, to live out its life until it died of old age. She slid it into the little pocket on her pinafore and patted it kindly. Stay there, caterpillar, and Deirdre will see you right, she told it silently.

‘Deirdre, what are you doing? I said clean the cabbage, not moon over it.’

‘I am cleanin’ it, Mam,’ Deirdre protested. ‘No one can’t moon over a bleedin’ cabbage! Anyway, I’ve finished my share now, the rest’s Donal’s.’

‘You will clean that cabbage until it’s
all
clean, not just half,’ her mother said sharply. ‘Never did I know a more difficult kid! And then git up them stairs, your sister’s waitin’!’

It had been a rotten morning, Deirdre thought as the family sat down to dinner. She and her twin had seldom worked so hard, but the cabbage looked nice, the ‘taters were big and floury and the best end of neck had been cooked until it fell off the little bones and was far easier to eat. Deirdre saw, vaguely, that it wasn’t such a bad thing to help in the making of a good dinner. But despite the fact that everyone was feeding their faces and no doubt enjoying the food, no one had commented on the lovely clean cabbage. She sighed, knowing herself unappreciated, but rammed a piece of potato into her mouth just as a tiny movement on her blue-and-white gingham lap attracted her attention.

It was the caterpillar! Perky, inquisitive, it had climbed out of its nice safe pocket refuge and was steadily marching up her stomach.

Deirdre looked round. No one else had noticed; they were all too busy eating. Her hand stole down and gently encompassed the caterpillar. She leaned forward and speared another piece of spud. Then spoke in a carefully surprised tone. ‘Oh, look, Mam, what just crawled off of your plate!’

The caterpillar was humping quickly across the table. Ada gave a squeak and shot her chair back. Dick and Ozzie laughed. Ellen began to poke worriedly at her own helping of cabbage. And Fred reached across the table . . .

‘Don’t!’ Deirdre shrieked. ‘Don’t, Fred, it’s a
joke
, honest! It’s me lickle pet caterpillar, don’t you go hurtin’ him! I only put him there to tease our mam!’

She and Donal dived simultaneously, Donal reaching the caterpillar seconds before Fred’s thumb descended. Deirdre grabbed Fred’s hand and bit it, Donal scooped the caterpillar up and ran for the back door, and Dick reached out a long arm and grabbed Donal by the collar.

‘Bring it back – I’ll teach the pair of ye to go bringin’ livestock to the table,’ he shouted. ‘Mam wants it dead, don’t you, Mam?’

‘Just take it away,’ Ada implored. She did not like creepy-crawlies. ‘Take it away at once, d’you hear me?’

‘Kill it,’ roared Fred. ‘The little bugger bit me thumb near to the bone!’

Deirdre shrieked again: her best shriek, the one like a steam train going into a tunnel. Ellen ran for the back door and opened it and Donal, still held captive, threw the caterpillar as far as he could. The last Deirdre saw of her friend was its tiny shape soaring up against the blue sky . . . then down, into the weeds which flourished at the bottom of the yard.

‘The
caterpillar
bit you, Fred?’ Ellen was asking in a worried voice. ‘Are you awright, la’? Not feelin’ the heat? ’Cos somethin’ tells me caterpillars aren’t very well off for teeth. Now if you’d said it
gummed
you . . .’

‘You know what I meant,’ Fred growled, but he was laughing, Deirdre could tell. ‘Deirdre’s got teeth – I’d like to ram ’em down her throat right now, mind.’

‘You’ve thrown away me little pal,’ Deirdre wailed, making the most of the opportunity. ‘Now we’ll have to spend hours searchin’ for it, Donny an’ me.’

‘You’re not bringin’ bleedin’ livestock to this table . . .’

‘You’re more trouble than you’re worth, the pair of ye!’

‘To the bone, Mam – look, them’s her teeth marks!’

The infuriated chorus of her elders made Deirdre blink. She had planned on disruption, but not on such a scale. I don’t know me own cleverness, she thought, awed. Why, I reckon I could start a bleedin’
war
if I had a mind!

‘All right, all right, you’ve all had your say, now let’s gerron with dinner,’ Ada said at last, when the noise had died down. ‘There’s a spotted dick wi’ custard for them as are still hungry.’

Everyone was and to the twins’ great relief everyone, including them, was served, though as she put the dishes in front of them their mother gave them a penetrating look. ‘Now eat that up and then try and find somethin’ quiet to do this afternoon,’ she said. ‘Because it’s Sunday, so I’m goin’ to have a nap. Ellen, take the littl’uns for a walk, would you?’

‘Oh, Mam,’ the hapless Ellen said. ‘Must I?’

‘It’s all right, Ellen, we’ll go an’ play out, we’ll be back in time for supper,’ Deirdre said eagerly, but at this their mother, beginning to eat her own pudding, shook an admonitory finger at them.

‘No you don’t! You had me worried out of me life yesterday, gettin’ lost an’ all, so today you’ll be wi’ your big sister. And behave – understand me? If you want any supper at all, that is.’

Deirdre knew the die was cast. She heaved an enormous sigh, then gave in. ‘Awright, Mam, we’ll go wi’ Ellen an’ the babies. Is there a park somewhere round here? Can we go there, Ellie? Can we, can we?’

‘If I can find one,’ the kind-hearted Ellen assured them. ‘But first you’re goin’ to help wi’ the washin’ up.’

As soon as the meal was cleared away and washed up Ellen put the babies into the big old perambulator, bade the twins hold on to the handle, one to a side, and started off. It was a fine afternoon and although she hadn’t planned to spend it babyminding, it didn’t really matter all that much. It wasn’t as if she had any pals of her own to go around with – yet. That would come later. For now the twins were usually good company when they were doing something they liked and she had promised them a park, if there was one in the vicinity, so a park would have to be discovered.

She pushed the perambulator along Mere Lane and, at the end, hesitated. She could go left, up Heyworth Street, but she had gone that way the previous day and could not recall passing a park. Perhaps it would be best to turn right, then, and go up St Domingo Road?

After a moment’s hesitation she turned right and was glad she had done so when she passed the Free Library. Unlimited books, and so close, she thought, hugging herself. She had missed books terribly since she left school; this would make up for the lack.

Presently they passed a very large building surrounded by trees and grass. ‘St Edward’s College’, it said on a board. A little further and there was a church, then another building with a great deal of ground around it. But no park, not yet.

‘Never mind,’ Ellen said, when the twins whined a bit. ‘We’re bound to come across a park soon.’

And then, as they were crossing Penrose Street, they heard the music.

It was loud and catchy, and it seemed to be coming from in front of them and sure enough, when they hurried, they saw ahead of them the black-and-red uniforms and the marvellously trumpeting trumpets of a Salvation Army band.

‘Catch ’em up, catch ’em up,’ Deirdre screamed, breaking into a trot but not letting go of the perambulator handle. ‘Ooh, they’s better than a park!’

‘They’re probably going to a park,’ Ellen supplied, hurrying as hard as she could. ‘We’ll foller ’em, that way we might kill two birds wi’ one stone.’

And follow them they did, until they were so close that they were in danger of driving the perambulator into the legs of the last players in the procession.

Ellen was right. When the band came level with Devonshire Place they swerved smartly to the left . . . and there was the park! Green grass, a few bushes . . . space to knock a ball about, or run, or play relievio . . . or just space to listen to a band.