With Love From Ma Maguire (63 page)

Janet and Molly worked the haberdashery side of the business, though Janet spent much of her time in a back room where she made curtains and chair covers. The orders arrived thick and fast; soon, anyone who was anyone at all bought Maguire’s soft furnishings because the quality was good while prices remained competitive.

Ma’s kitchen was a sight for sore eyes. The walls were of thick stippled plaster and the open fireplace was flanked by a pair of Irish dressers covered in brass, copper and clay cookware. Pies were brought straight from the huge fireside ovens and served steaming hot to hungry customers. A pan of Irish stew sat eternally on the grate while bread dough rose in white enamel pans on the hearth. Often a line formed as people waited for space at one of the six tables where two young waitresses, hair scraped tightly under white caps, took orders and gave out meals. Ma, noticing that the queue grew daily, took to serving ‘carry-outs’ to those who brought their own dishes for spare ribs, baked potatoes, slices of pie. The box of herbal remedies would make an appearance once the dinner trade slackened and Ma sold cures while the waitresses washed dishes and took their own meal.

Faces became familiar after a time. Ma, remembering the lesson learned in Freddie Chadwick’s clog shop, took a careful interest in her regulars and their daily problems. When a customer came in for advice or escape, a space was made next to the sink in the small scullery and here Ma listened and nodded while keeping a weather eye on the staff through the open door. Thus the shop became a place of refuge with Ma as unofficial Mother Confessor, a woman who might be trusted with secrets. It paid off. They came in to moan, went out with nothing more than a lighter heart, then returned days later with a friend or two and an order for ham and eggs all round. Things were going well, everything according to plans laid fifteen years ago.

It was a Friday evening at the end of October. All the shop signs showed ‘closed’ and the five of them sat at a table polishing off the day’s leavings. Paddy leaned back expansively and picked his teeth with a matchstick. ‘I never thought as how I’d feel so well again in me life!’ He beamed at his family. ‘No sign of me fevers – even this here hand feels on the better side just lately.’

‘And your stomach improves too!’ Ma clattered the plates into a pile. ‘You’ve eaten more than the rest of us put together!’

Molly smiled at her husband. ‘And we all believed he was at death’s door, the road he carried on. Still, coming off the drink has done you good, lad.’

‘He’ll outlive us all,’ pronounced Ma. ‘Like a creaking gate, he’ll carry on and never mind the rust.’

Janet glanced down at her new wristwatch. ‘I’ve a big order on. Happen I’ll stay behind and get it done. If I make a good job of it, I’ll likely get more work off Chorley New Road and they go in for velvet and brocade up there, pelmets too.’

Molly tutted impatiently. ‘You’ll make yourself ill, mark my words. There’s no need to go hammer and tongs all the while. Leave it till tomorrow.’

‘But Mam—’

‘Do as you’re told for once,’ snapped Ma. ‘And you’ll be needing to take on help, child, or you won’t manage at all. That’s a desperate big order now, isn’t it? How can you hang curtains nine feet long without an assistant?’

‘I know. I will take somebody on. Ronnie’s mam’s going to start soon and I’ll set a girl on, somebody young and hefty.’

‘Aye.’ Paddy grinned. ‘Somebody with arms six feet long eh, lass?’

Ma and Molly went through to the scullery to wash dishes while Paddy, who was now considered fairly trustworthy, wandered off to count the day’s takings in the bike shop. For the first time in weeks, the twins were left alone together.

‘It were electrical!’ began Joey without preamble. ‘I’m glad you’re here with us, Jan, glad you’re not still in the mill. But what happened – that fire – don’t go on blaming him. He’s a nice bloke in his own way—’

‘In a pig’s eye! He’s one of them, one of the takers who’d stand on your face for a chance of an extra tanner in a back pocket! Just ’cos he showed you round his house—’

‘Stop being so damn stupid!’ Joey’s face was reddened by anger and indignation. ‘He took me up there on account of what I did – the break-in and that. He wanted to make sure I wouldn’t do it again.’

‘Don’t talk so daft! He was showing off, enjoying being powerful while he frightened you. He doesn’t care about Miss Leason, doesn’t give a damn! He’s just doing what he thinks looks right by giving her that little house and a few hens. I reckon he’s bothered about nobody but himself.’

‘That’s not true!’ Joey jumped up from the table. ‘He cared about his kids and his Missus. He’s lost everybody, Jan. Now, he’s even lost one of his sheds—’

Janet rose quickly and leaned across so that her face almost touched his. ‘Don’t worry, he’ll be well insured against fire, Joey. I bet Ronnie wasn’t, though. There’d only be a penny a week on Ronnie for a decent coffin. But he doesn’t matter, does he? Who gives a damn for a penny a week lad, eh? I’m telling you now, I don’t want to talk about this. If he comes in my side of the shop, I’ll walk out till the air clears up a bit.’

‘You’re a right hard-faced bitch at times, you are . . .’

‘Me?’ She chuckled humourlessly. ‘You two-faced beggar! I wouldn’t leave me mam or me gran. I wouldn’t write me dad off as useless and stupid. You were the one as wanted that, Joey! You were the one for getting away till this money turned up.’ She beat her breast with a closed fist. ‘I know how I feel. I don’t change with the wind.’

He nodded slowly. ‘You said I were unforgiving. Can’t you forgive either? Me for robbing Witchie Leason, him for something as wasn’t even his fault? He’s paid Robbie’s mam, hasn’t he?’

‘Not enough!’ she spat. ‘I’d like her to sue bloody Swainbank, drag him through the courts for leaving that place dangerous. Ronnie was in my class ten years – yours too – only you seem to have forgotten your mates all of a sudden. Have you ever seen a burnt body, ever caught a whiff of one? ’Cos I have and it’s not something I can live with easy. And it’s not just Ronnie! It’s the fact that Swainbank can just walk away! I want his name dirt in this town. If it takes me all my life—’

‘But that’s not fair!’

‘Tell me what is fair, then. You hated him for taking me on in the mill, didn’t want me slaving. A ride in his posh car and all that’s changed. I’ve no time for you, Joey! And I think we’d be best not talking about this any more.’

She moved away and began to stack the chairs. After a few moments, he came to stand behind her. ‘We’re going up, Jan. Soon, we’ll be like Swainbank ourselves, nice new house, a van – happen a car in time. Why do you think we’re working so hard, eh? To give it all away, to worry over other folk?’

‘Not to trample on them, that’s for sure. Anybody as works here will get a fair deal, a bonus on profits if we make good. This business is not just for our pockets – it’s for decent working folk to come and buy a bargain or earn a living wage. Don’t you ever say we’re like Swainbank!’

‘And you’re buying curtain linings wholesale from a mill?’

‘Not from his mill!’

‘What’s the difference? They’ve all been the same!’

She stood, cheeks flushed, feet apart and arms folded, an expression of fast diminishing patience on her face. ‘Not to me, they haven’t. Leatherbarrow didn’t kill Ronnie.’

He sighed heavily and turned away to look through the lace-curtained window. ‘You’re going to be what Gran calls a bitter woman. You know what she always says – “Don’t carry a grudge because it’s an awkward shape and has no handle.” I’ve been wild and grabbing, I know that now. Whether I’d have learned to behave without this chance at me own shop – well, I’ll never know. But you’re worse than me, our Janet. You’ve picked on a man to hate without even getting to know him proper. He’s done nowt to you, nowt to this family. I know I didn’t like him meself at one time, only it didn’t go as deep as what you feel now.’ He gazed at her over his shoulder. ‘It’ll eat you up. And I’ll tell you summat else – Mrs Bowles won’t go to court and sue him, ’cos he’ll see she’s looked after. Please, Janet—’ But she was already out of the shop, coat trailing from a hand along the pavement behind her.

Paddy arrived and placed an arm about his son’s shoulders. ‘Let her go, lad. Women is a thing we can never understand, ’cos we’re only men. They’re all the same, son – not one to mend another.’ He shook his head. ‘Yet they’re all different. Even one on its own can be half a dozen all at once. As long as you know that, as long as you can predict that they’ll be unpredictable, then you’ll keep in front. Well – alongside, which is the best you can hope for really.’

Joey stared in amazement at this man who had always been labelled daft, who seldom had anything interesting or meaningful to say.

Paddy grinned sheepishly. ‘I know, Joey, I’ve ever been thought on as a few butties short of a picnic, but I’m not. Nay, I’m all there with me lemon drops as me Ma says, though I get away with murder when it suits. Acting dumb can get you a long way. But about our Janet – she’s had a right bad shock with her friend dying like that and him nobbut fifteen, poor beggar. Death’s never what you might call acceptable, Joey. Best we can hope for is that we’ll stop being angry. She will. In time, she’ll learn—’

‘No, Dad. There’s something in our Janet – I can’t pin it down, only it’s as if she’s always going to be mad about something or other.’

‘Nay, it’s her age. Most are a bit rebellious at fifteen, some do odd things, things they grow out of towards twenty—’

Joey’s chin dropped. ‘I did a burglary, Dad.’

‘I know.’

‘You . . . you knew? You knew and you did nowt?’

Paddy stood his ground, the only sign of discomfort showing in his hands as they twisted together on his chest. ‘Not because I don’t care, lad. Never think that. Only I’ve lived that long in a house of women, folk who reckoned to know better than I did – well, I’ve had to keep me place to keep the peace! When you get treated as stupid, you act stupid. And there’s no two ways, Joey – I was fair pickled at the time, knocked out with drink and fever. But I knew what was going on – or had a fair idea. And I’ve been a lazy sod, I admit that right enough. I knew your mam would see to things. Yes, you did wrong, but you’re never a wrong ’un. No lad of mine could ever be that bad.’

‘Thanks, Dad.’

Paddy moved towards the scullery. ‘Are you coming home with the rest of us?’

Joey glanced at the wall clock above Ma’s range. ‘No. It might get to about half past ten – I’ve had a fair amount of stock through and it needs checking. Then I said I’d have that kiddy’s trike ready by morning. Customer’s got to come first, Dad.’

‘That’s right. See you later, then.’

Joey Maguire watched his family disappearing round the corner, Paddy pushing a small handcart containing all the dishes and pie plates for tonight’s cooking session. It was a long walk along Bradshawgate, through Deansgate then up to School Hill, especially for the old one with her dragging foot. Yet they managed it daily, found the strength somehow, drew on this newborn promise for a better future and channelled all energies into making the business work.

Tomorrow would be brighter. Tomorrow, he’d make his peace with Janet, give a bit of ground in the hope that her anger and hatred would begin to burn out as Paddy had predicted. Whatever had gone wrong could be put right.

He walked into the back yard, took up his brush and began to paint the small tricycle. Yes, there was always tomorrow . . .

Chapter 16

Paddy Maguire was a truly contented man. It occurred to him from time to time that he was forgetting to be ill, that his various wounds and disorders should perhaps be troubling him more, that everything would surely catch up with him in the end, make him suffer twice over. But the opportunity to ail was now denied him, the need to hide away and drink was suddenly absent, for he found himself caught up in a project so exciting as to leave little space for self-indulgence. He felt proud of his family, proud of what they were making of the shops and, most importantly of all, Paddy was happy with himself, enjoyed a sense of usefulness and fulfilment at last.

He sat alone in the kitchen, the proof of his worth spread out before him on the table in the form of account books and receipts. He had rediscovered his good head for sums, was given the weekly task of balancing the sheets, took great care to keep his work neat and legible.

‘Paddy? Have ye the ledgers filled yet?’ called Ma from the scullery.

He scratched his head with the end of the indelible pencil, then licked the point before inserting a final digit. ‘We’re more than eighty quid to the good this month – that’s clear profit after Janet’s paid off her materials and the butcher’s bill’s seen to. Next month, we might hit three figures.’

Ma came to stand at her son’s side. She stared down at the rows of meaningless hieroglyphics on the page. ‘Humph!’ she muttered. ‘Daisy is showing me the reading – or trying to, at least. It’s a jumble of nonsense at the best of times. What’s this?’ She pointed to an item on the list.

‘Linings – best cotton.’

‘Ah yes.’ She moved her eyes downward. ‘And there’s cotton again and here’s . . . no . . . don’t you be telling me now! B – U – T . . . that must be buttons. If it were butter, sure it would be on another page altogether. Turn over to the next and let me see. Well now, there we have eggs and lard. I’m improving, am I not?’

‘You are that, Ma. We’ll have you reading out the news on the wireless before we know where we are.’

She sat down opposite him, rubbing floury hands on her apron as she studied this new man who was her only son. ‘ ’Tis a fine boy you’re making, Paddy, a person a mother might take pride in after all. Not a penny piece have you taken from the business and you’re after becoming a decent sober man at last.’

‘Happen all I needed was a chance, eh?’

‘Aye well, good man yourself – I have never before seen you make an effort the size of this. By the way – where is Joey?’

Paddy piled the takings into a green drawstring purse. ‘Stopped behind to do up a trike and check his stocks. They’ve had another row, them two. Over Swainbank, I think. Poor old Charlie. He never did me no harm – I got many a laugh out of him and a few bob extra for droving and mucking out. Anyroad, far as I can work out, our Janet’s for having him tarred and feathered while Joey wants him knighted down the palace. Like chalk and cheese – I don’t know about twins. Who’d have thought they’d turn out so different from one another?’