A Cuppa Tea and an Aspirin. Helen Forrester

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СКАЧАТЬ ‘Instead, he can have some soup at teatime like the others. Then we can use some of the conny-onny in our tea.’ She got up off her knees, and was suddenly aware of how wet she was.

      She kicked off her boots into the hearth and shook out her skirts, to which a nervous Number Nine was again trying to attach himself. Mother of God, how cold her feet felt. She smiled down at her baby, as she picked up her shawl from the floor and hung it on the oven door to dry. The coal added by a quietened little Joseph was beginning to catch, praise be, so she paused for a moment to warm her hands over the fire and let her feet be eased by the warmth of the hearth.

      Still rubbing her swollen red hands, she turned to Kathleen and ordered her to fill the kettle and put it on the fire.

      Mary Margaret asked Connie to get her precious quarter-of-a-pound packet of tea from underneath her camp bed upstairs.

      ‘And, love, take the jar of soup up for me,’ she instructed. ‘Be very careful, ever so careful not to drop it!’ There was a hint of laughter in her voice at this latter instruction.

      The children caught her lighter tone and began to giggle. Even Bridie grinned slyly. Though she was sick hungry herself, she thought what fun it would be if Connie did drop the jar and break it; then, surely, she would be slapped for clumsiness.

      Bridie thought sourly that she had had it up to there with the Flanagans: Connie had backed up her sister Dollie in her accusation of cheating. She’d learn them, she promised herself.

      As she watched in savage hope, she began to pick the drying blood out of her nose.

      While the younger children watched pop-eyed, Tommy eased the loaves of bread out of their brown paper bags and, on Martha’s instructions, laid each family’s share on top of its bag on the floor.

      He watched Connie climb the stairs, with her mother’s glass sweet jar clutched against her stomach. Despite the shuffling about in Martha’s room, they heard the thud as it was slowly lowered to the floor above, and in a moment a triumphant Connie came whizzing down the stairs with the packet of tea in her hand: unlike Kathleen, she was enjoying being treated as a big girl, while Bridie, who was older, was in disgrace.

      The kettle boiled, tea was made. One of the loaves was handed to Mary Margaret to divide as she thought fit for her own family, the slices laid out in a neat row on the bag. Then the knife was returned to Martha, who also had to divide her two two-pound loaves very carefully.

      The mothers gave each child a slice. Some of them sat on the stairs, the little ones on the floor near the mattress. Then tea was poured, carefully diluted for the children with more hot water from the kettle and a little tinned milk. The mothers then allowed the pot to simmer on the hob for a while so that they could obtain a stronger cup.

      The children wolfed down their share of bread; even little Number Nine came out from his mother’s skirts and was fed piece by piece by her so that he did not abandon any of it on the floor. He ate with gusto, pushing the bits into his mouth with grubby fingers.

      The older children looked longingly at what remained of the loaves, but knew better than to ask for more. Their mothers carefully wrapped the remains in sheets of newspaper and put the bundles inside the brown bags again, to be kept for the members of the family who were absent.

      For the first time since arriving home, Martha relaxed in the chair she owned, while her friend continued to recline on the mattress. The night was drawing in and the only light was from the fire; the little room was cosy.

      After eating their bread, the children had decided that the stairs were a bus; Bridie forgot her blood-stains and appointed herself bus conductor and Tommy became the driver. Their noisy altercations over unpaid imaginary fares were a contented background, broken occasionally by muttered curses, as tenants from the upper floors pushed resignedly by them to get to their rooms.

      ‘Hisself didn’t come home at dinnertime?’ Mary Margaret inquired of Martha.

      ‘Patrick? No.’

      ‘Maybe there’s another boat in?’

      ‘Could be.’ Martha nodded.

      ‘If he is working, it’ll be his third day this week, won’t it?’

      Martha agreed doubtfully. Then she said, with a wistful sigh as she remembered that she had to pay the moneylender on Saturday, ‘I hope he is working, not just hanging around somewhere. But he did tell me that there’s been more ships this last two months than there’s been for a long time.’

      ‘Now, why would that be?’ asked Mary Margaret.

      ‘He thinks there’s a war coming – and the warehouses is being filled up – in case. A lot of grain went into the terminal last week, he said. And maybe it’s true – you could hear the trains shunting all night, as they moved out.’ She made a wry mouth. ‘It’d take a lot more stuff coming in, it would, to give him a chance at a full week. There’s so many men fighting for work.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t need to tell you – there’s half a dozen in these very courts.’

      ‘There’ll be fewer men soon, Martha. Did you hear They’ve closed off Court No. 2?’ asked Mary Margaret. ‘I suppose they’ll pull it down one of these days, like they done the other courts.’

      ‘They’ve closed it? Jaysus Mary!’

      ‘Oh, aye, They have. Thomas says there’s more kids in that court than in any other one, and he said they’re dead set to get them out of it. It’s going to be all boarded up, and everybody’s to be moved out come Friday.

      ‘You must have noticed they’ve been emptying houses there for a while, and boarding them up.’ Mary Margaret hitched her shawl closer round herself, and then went on, ‘I remember your sister saying. And they were real hard on a family which opened up one room again and camped in it – the rent man told on them, and they got marching orders real quick. Alice Flynn upstairs told me.’

      ‘Where are they all going to live?’ asked Martha in a shocked whisper, as the implications of this piece of news sank in. ‘Me sister Maria’s lived there all her married life, as you know. She must have known. She never told me.’

      ‘Well, you had that fight with her not too long back – and I’ve not noticed her visiting us much lately,’ Mary Margaret replied with a sly grin, and then continued, ‘Most of them is going to Norris Green. Some is going into Corporation flats in the city. They decided to do it quick. Don’t ask me why. Maybe the kids was getting sick.’

      Martha did not have Mary Margaret’s calm acceptance regarding the deeds of Them. She exclaimed in horror, shaking her head in disbelief.

      ‘Suffering Christ! Norris Green – or one of them flats? All stairs, they are. But Norris Green, that’s awful; it’s miles away. How’s George going to get hisself down here to work? How’s Maria going to manage, even in a flat, with only City housing round her? In Norris Green, there’s no factories, no markets, no shops, no schools, they tell me; not even letter boxes out there. I’m told there isn’t even a pub!’

      Mary Margaret shrugged. She truly could not imagine the bleakness of a new housing estate; neither Martha nor she had lived anywhere else but in a court.

      She did not seem to realise, however, as Martha immediately did, that the almighty They could descend, next, on their own Court No. 5. Then both their unskilled husbands would probably be out of work for СКАЧАТЬ