With Love From Ma Maguire (24 page)

Paddy shook his head vehemently. ‘Never mentioned you. It was obvious you weren’t worth talking about – I can see that for myself now. And I don’t want my little lad or lass having a jailbird for a grandad, so you’d best be on your way.’

Seamus Maguire seemed to deflate suddenly, like a balloon with all the air released from its elastic casing. ‘I need a place for now, just for the while—’

‘Why?’ Ma’s tone was steely.

‘Jaysus, woman – have ye no imagination at all? And did you never hear of the Risings? English poliss we have over to home, English bastards who blame the innocent for what’s their own fault! Sure, if they’d leave us alone—’

‘You’ll not hide here, that you won’t! You’re gone all these years and never a penny in support for your wife and son, then back you come with your tail between your legs expecting me to protect you from the law!’

‘For God’s sake, Philly!’

She held up her hand. ‘For Paddy’s sake, for Molly’s, for the child and aye – for myself too – I am ordering you out of my house. Your name is no longer on the rent book, so you have no right to be here—’

The door flew open. ‘It’s all right, Missus,’ called a deep male voice. ‘We’re here to take the burden off you.’ Three huge policemen jumped into the room. Seamus flattened himself against the dresser.

‘You are Seamus Maguire?’ No reply came from the cowering man’s whitening lips, so the sergeant stepped forward, a truncheon dangling from his right hand. ‘I arrest you for crimes against the State. Namely, that you did knowingly and wilfully smuggle illegal arms into Dublin, that you committed arson in a public building, that you caused the deaths of two policemen and nine civilians—’

Ma leapt across the room, hand raised to strike.

‘No!’ yelled the sergeant. ‘Don’t do it, lass, or he’ll say it was us. I want him unmarked and pretty for when he comes up in front of the judge.’

Because she could find no other safe way of expressing her contempt, Ma spat into her husband’s face, leaning back to watch as the spittle ran down his cheek. ‘Hang him,’ she said quietly. ‘And keep our names out of it. No doubt the neighbours have noticed already that you are here to arrest him, but I want it made plain that I have not seen this man since before my son was born. In fact, this is the first time Paddy has met his father – if we can call him a father, that is.’

Paddy nodded slowly, his eyes wide with terror after hearing such a terrible list of crimes. ‘That’s right.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I have no father, never did have. Just take him away – I don’t want me Ma and me wife upsetting any more.’

Molly had reached the upper storey and was lying on the bed, her breath coming in short gasps as labour pains began to rack her body in earnest. But she did not call for help; Ma had explained that this stage might go on for hours and there was enough trouble in the house already without her adding to it before absolutely necessary. In spite of the pain, she grinned. She felt so proud of Ma. Yes, what was a father after all? Nothing. Ma had managed to rear a son alone. With Paddy’s help and Ma’s support, her child’s real father could remain completely unimportant.

Downstairs in the street, neighbours lined the short route from house to police van as Seamus Maguire was carted off to prison. When the black vehicle had turned the corner, Ma addressed the onlookers. ‘Yes, that was Himself, the husband whose life I made a misery all those years ago. Well, now you all know why, for he’s a desperate sort who’s going off now to where he rightly belongs.’ She nodded wisely. ‘Ah yes, those of you who are old enough will remember how I was treated, looked upon with fear because I hunted him away and made medicines – a witch I was called.’ The small crowd sighed and nodded in unison. ‘Well, he’s gone now, so you can get back to your chores with the show over.’

Pierce Murphy stepped forward, cap in hand, coal-rimmed eyes shining over-brightly beneath heavy black brows. ‘We’ve always known you were all right, Ma. Sure, you’ve stuck by us through thick and thin, given cures for free, picked coal off the heaps with the rest of them when the pits closed. There’s not a man or woman here would condemn you for having a criminal for a husband.’

‘Thank you, Pierce Murphy. I am grateful for such good neighbours. And now, if you will excuse me, I have a meal to eat and a bed to get to.’

She was hardly through the door before Paddy grabbed both of her hands tightly. ‘Ma! She’s started . . . Molly . . . hurry up . . . she’s early, isn’t she?’

‘Don’t be bringing the house down with it, Paddy! Haven’t we had enough excitement for the one day? By all that’s holy, I swear you’ve had the heart scalded out of me every minute since you were born—’

‘But Ma—!’

‘Away with your bother, man. She’s healthy enough, a fine strong girl—’ She pushed him aside, her heart fluttering wildly as she once again made swift calculation in her head. Although she could not cope with abstract numeration, she could count all right. ‘ – And it’s not that early, for heaven’s sake. Didn’t Bridget O’Leary go but six and a half months and the baby survived?’

‘What can I do? Will I boil water or what?’

Ma opened the door wide. ‘You will go, this time with my blessing and ten shillings from my own purse, into the vault of the Bull. Where, no doubt, you will drink yourself into unconsciousness by nine o’clock.’

‘No!’

Ma leaned wearily against the wall. ‘Look, Paddy. This day I have had two bad cuts off my loom, a husband returned who I never wanted to see again, I’ve learned that my parents are dead, that my brother is in jail and that my daughter-in-law is in labour. And now, to top it all, you’re being a desperate trouble when I could do without it. So go.’

Paddy stepped out into the street and sat at the edge of the pavement. He wasn’t going anywhere. Oh, he had to accept that he couldn’t be with Molly, couldn’t hold her hand and mop her brow when she most needed him. But he wasn’t leaving the street. Should the doctor be required, he’d be on hand to fetch him.

A few interested passers-by asked why he was sitting there and when the answer was given, a dinner appeared as if by magic, then a jug of ale with a blue-rimmed tin cup to drink from, a packet of cigarettes, a cheap and rather flattened cigar. Doors were closed in deference to the activity currently taking place in number thirty-four and Paddy sat in splendid isolation well into the night.

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew was Ma shaking him by the shoulder. ‘Come on now, Paddy. You’ve stiffened up like a corpse – get into the house.’

He got up slowly and stretched his limbs, then, as he became fully awake, he grabbed Ma’s arm. ‘Is it all over?’

‘Most of it. But you can’t go up yet, I’ve the afterbirth to deliver. I wouldn’t have left her, but I saw you through the window stretched out like a side of beef.’

‘The baby?’

‘A boy.’ As she spoke, the unmistakable sound of a new-born baby’s cry came floating from the upper storey of the house. ‘He’s small,’ she said. ‘But fine all the same,’ she added reassuringly.

They stared at one another in disbelief as another and quite separate sound reached their ears. ‘Holy Mother,’ whispered Ma. ‘Is that my hearing gone already with the weaving, or—’

‘No, Ma! I hear it and all! Go on! Go to her—’ But Ma was already in the house and halfway across the kitchen.

She raced up the stairs and found Molly crouched by the bed, just as she’d found the girl’s mother all those years ago. Ma’s hand flew to her throat. ‘Edie!’ she said before she could stop herself. And she was momentarily back in next door’s kitchen with Edie and the new-born Molly all over again.

This second child was stronger and larger than the first, screaming fit to burst although it was not yet fully born.

‘What is it?’ asked the young mother, tears and sweat mingling on her cheeks.

‘I can’t tell yet. Ah . . . it’s a girl. We were both right. Come on now, get back into the bed this instant.’

When the babies were safe in their shared cot, Ma stumbled to the top of the stairs, her voice cracking as she called, ‘It’s twins, Paddy. One of each. Don’t come up yet, lad. I’ll tell you when it’s time.’

After seeing to Molly’s needs, she crept to the side of the crib and stared down at these two Swainbanks, Richard’s grandchildren, tiny, blameless and beautiful creatures, they were. While their mother slept, she took holy water from the side table and blessed them as Joseph Arthur and Janet Edith Maguire, laying particular emphasis on the surname. After that, they were hers, hers and Molly’s and Paddy’s. No matter what happened, nobody could ever take them away.

As she watched Paddy fussing over ‘his’ babies, she backed away into a corner, a lump rising rapidly in her parched throat. Yes, they’d both cheated him, both she and Molly. But as long as he believed the twins were his, as long as he loved them and loved their mother, surely nothing but good could come of this arrangement?

Paddy looked across at his mother, tears making tracks down his haggard cheeks. ‘They’re a bit on the small side, Ma. Will they be all right?’

She nodded quickly, not trusting her voice.

‘Ma?’

‘Yes. They’ll be fine.’ She swallowed hard. ‘The lad’s the weakest, about four pounds, I’d say. But the little girl’s strong, a good five at least. As long as we keep them warm, get them feeding—’

‘What’s up, Ma? Did Molly have a hard time?’

She wiped her eyes on a corner of the capacious apron. ‘No worse than most, Paddy. It’s just . . . oh, I don’t know. Mammy and Daddy dead, two gone and two born—’

‘But that’s the way, isn’t it? Some has to go to make room for others?’

‘Yes. Yes, I dare say that’s the way of it, sure enough. When I came in, after delivering the first, I found Molly on the floor giving birth in exactly the same way as her mother did. I suppose that upset me as well, realizing how much I still miss Edie.’

He crept to her side and laid an arm across her shoulders. ‘You’ve still got us, lass. I know I’m not up to much, but you’ve Molly and the babies—’

She reached out and touched his face. ‘Paddy, you are what the world made of you, no more and no less. Don’t be putting yourself down, for I shall do that often enough with my sharp tongue. They’re lovely babies, babies you can be proud of, son.’ She walked towards the door then turned to look at him. ‘God bless,’ she whispered before disappearing on to the landing.

Paddy knew he was grinning from ear to ear, felt as if his face would split in half at any minute. At last, he’d done something right. He was a family man now, a man with responsibilities. He would change, aye, he would that.

Molly opened her eyes and stared at her husband, watched the pleasure and pride in his face as he looked at the twins. ‘Bring them here, lad,’ she said quietly. ‘Time we taught them how to feed, eh?’

‘Oh.’ He studied his shoes. ‘How do I pick them up?’

She began to giggle. ‘Not by the scruff and not by the feet, Paddy Maguire!’

He fumbled among the tiny sheets and quilts. ‘There’s not a right lot to get hold of—’ He swung round and glared at his wife. ‘What the hell’s up with you at all? There’s nowt to laugh at! I might be used to calves and such, but this here’s a different job altogether. They keep wriggling.’

‘Oh, Paddy!’ She clutched her bruised belly and screamed hysterically. ‘They’ll not break.’ It didn’t matter any more. They were born safely, that was the main thing. And she was wed proper, so there was no need to tell the truth ever. The euphoria of new motherhood filled the whole of her being, put everything into a perspective that seemed so clear just then. Paddy, happy because she was laughing once more, joined in the merriment as he struggled to carry his precious cargo across the room.

‘Thanks, Paddy,’ she said finally.

‘What for?’

‘Well – for marrying me, for the twins – for everything.’

He shook his head in bemusement. ‘And you weren’t for getting wed, were you? Oh no, you were off for a ladies’ maid down London till the job got you down. I’m right glad it did, Molly. Hey, have you seen the size of these fingers? You can hardly see the nails . . . still, that’ll be with them being a bit premature, like. Ma says twins often come early.’

‘Yes. Go and get me a cup of tea. I shall be needing fluids.’

He left the room reluctantly, capering about and dancing as he made for the stairs. Alone, Molly hugged her children and kissed their downy heads. Charles Swainbank would never know the happiness she felt at this moment, would never see or hold his children. Because they weren’t his at all. From now on, they were definitely Paddy’s.

It wasn’t as bad as it used to be, though no doubt it could have been a deal better.

In the mill where Ma worked, cleaners had been taken on, a small army who came in during the night to move the worst of the day’s wastes. But there was still just one lavatory to each floor, while lunchtime facilities consisted of a temperamental boiler from which the workers might take water for tea. Even this was an improvement on several other mills where the workers paid nearby cottagers a few pence a week for hot water, travelling back and forth with billies and jugs during the dinner time break.

In mute deference to frequent demands, a box had appeared on each landing, an old skip containing a few bandages and ointments. As no-one seemed to take direct responsibility for the refurbishment of these containers, Ma filled them up in her spare time, coming in early or staying behind to see what was needed. The bills were written out by Molly and these were always paid through Ma’s packet, though no mention was ever made of the service she provided.

There was a pecking order in the mills, a sort of division of classes within the class, with breakers and carders coming somewhere at the bottom of the list and weavers wearing the crown right at the top. By 1926, Ma was a master weaver, having learned every function of her machines, every pattern card, every quirk of her looms. She’d kept her side of the bargain all right. No longer the prime agitator, she simply followed where the union dictated, made sure her mouth stayed shut and her hands remained clean. The workers had, at first, expressed dismay at this change in her attitude, but she explained it away by telling them to follow the real leaders now, the proper and educated stewards.