Walking Back to Happiness. Anne Bennett

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      She’d been in no mood for the riotous wake after the funeral and was glad that she and Josie were leaving soon. She told the others that work was pressing and that Gloria had written asking about her return and Hannah felt she shouldn’t be away too long, especially as Gloria had been so good both about giving her so much time off and allowing her to bring Josie back with her.

      Most of the family had been relieved that Hannah had agreed to take on the care of Josie as their mother had wanted, though little was said about it. Hannah thought it was probably embarrassment and guilt stopping their tongues. Only Peter and Margaret had said that Hannah’s reward for her generosity would be in Heaven.

      Hannah was tempted to say that was a long time to wait and ask Margaret what was so appealing about black heathens that she could turn her face towards them so stoutly and ignore the needs of her young orphaned sister.

      But of course she said none of this. She just thanked them. Martin eventually spoke about it as he drove them to the station. ‘It’s really good of you to do this,’ he said. ‘Taking on Josie and such. I suppose you think me and Siobhan really selfish taking off for America, but it’s what we’ve both wanted to do for years and it’s been like a carrot dangled in front of me what with me being unable to take it, especially after Daddy died.

      ‘If we don’t go now,’ he went on, ‘we’ll never go, neither of us. Siobhan is as anxious as me. She knows as well as I do that there’s nothing here for me. She sees the life Miriam has and shudders, like I do myself. God! The man she married must be an inconsiderate brute.’

      ‘There are inconsiderate brutes in America too,’ Hannah reminded him. ‘They are not the prerogative of the Irish, you know.’

      ‘I know, I know,’ Martin replied. ‘But … anyway, we both think there’s nothing to keep us here now and you agreeing to look after Josie has made it possible. You won’t lose by it – financially, I mean. As soon as I’m settled I’ll send you something for her.’

      ‘Well, though I’m not saying the money won’t be useful, the point is it’s rationing that’s the problem,’ Hannah said. ‘I’ll have to see about getting Josie a ration book as quickly as possible.’

      ‘There won’t be rationing for ever,’ Martin pointed out. ‘And there might be a bit of money too once the farm is sold. The beasts are all but gone, your father’s had some of them, and the farm goes up for sale tomorrow. ’Course it will have to be split between us all, but there’ll still be a little.’

      ‘However big or small, I’ll put that away for Josie. She will want money in the future,’ Hannah said.

      ‘Aye. That’s a good idea,’ Martin said. ‘Pity I’ll not get to meet this man you’re marrying. Fair sprung that fact on everyone. If you could put the wedding forward a month, it would be before we sail and me and Siobhan could come over.’

      ‘It’s all settled for mid-September,’ Hannah said, and she was glad it was. She didn’t want eagle-eyed and outspoken Martin over there increasing her apprehension about marriage, for she knew Martin would not find much to admire in Arthur Bradley.

      But Martin did not know the whole story and never would. Martin could never know how Hannah longed not only for marriage, respectability and a baby, but also for a man of her own, who would love and cherish her above all others, like her father had never done. Mike had, and oh how she’d missed him and had shed bitter tears when she found out he was dead.

      Josie, Hannah was to find out, was not a good sailor. Her face had taken on a greenish tinge even before the shores of Ireland had totally disappeared from view.

      Josie had never felt so miserable in all of her life, nor had she ever felt so sick, had never been so sick either.

      By the time she’d been half an hour on the boat, her whole stomach ached with vomiting. She leant against Hannah, who was sitting beside her on the bench on the open deck, braving the sharp winds that whipped the seas to rolling white-fringed breakers and carried the drizzling rain with it. Cold and damp though it was, it was better than inside which smelt of Guinness, cigarettes and vomit. Hannah felt a stab of sympathy for the child who must be feeling so lost and afraid and so sick, for her face was still wan and pale, her long brown hair straggly and glistening from the unrelenting mizzle which had thoroughly dampened both of them. But Josie took comfort in Hannah’s arms around her, like she had when Hannah had held her head as she was sick over the side of the boat, pulling her hair back and wiping her face later with a damp cloth she had with her.

      Ever since that day in the barn, Josie had felt differently about Hannah, but for all that, those last traumatic days of her mother’s life were fraught ones and Josie was frightened of the future. But she now trusted Hannah and often sought her out. Hannah was frightened of the future, too, for Arthur’s attitude to her bringing Josie home hadn’t softened. He totally ignored all the reasons she’d listed for having to return with Josie in the second letter she’d written to him. Posthaste, his reply came back. Hannah was to leave the child in the care of the social services who would now be responsible for her welfare.

      Hannah had been simultaneously horrified and angry and she’d hurled the offending letter into the fire, lest Josie catch sight of it. She thought the child had enough to put up with. She’d been wrenched from her home, with her parents dead and her sisters and brothers spread about the globe. She had only Hannah and she’d have to make Arthur see that. She wouldn’t allow Josie to feel the rejection she’d always felt herself.

      Josie would never forget her first view of Birmingham as they emerged from New Street Station. She’d recovered quickly once she’d left the rolling boat and had quite enjoyed the train, though she’d been very hungry and glad of the reviving tea and sandwiches Hannah had bought at the platform buffet at a place called Crewe, where they’d had to change trains.

      She seen little of Dublin as they passed it on the way to the Port of Dún Laoghaire, but the noise and bustle seemed all around her as she surveyed Birmingham, her new home. Hannah had been right that day in the barn, Josie thought, for she had never seen so many lorries, or cars or people – hundreds of people thronging the shops, or alighting from large rumbling buses or swaying trams that rattled alarmingly along the rails set into the road.

      Not that she had time to stand and stare, for she had trouble keeping up with Hannah’s easy strides, especially hampered as she was by a case and a bundle. And all the time Hannah talked, pointing out this shop and that, and telling her she’d take her to something called the Bull Ring soon.

      At last, they stood at the bus stop opposite the police station in a road aptly named ‘Steelhouse Lane’ outside a large building which Hannah told her was a general hospital. ‘Used to be the workhouse, I’m told,’ she said. ‘Gloria Emmerson said the older people still don’t like going in when they’re sick or anything.’

      Josie studied the grim building and honestly didn’t blame them, but before she was able to reply, the bus screeched to a halt beside them. Josie was glad Hannah had chosen a bus. It was unnerving enough and nothing like the cosy single-deckers she was used to where you knew everyone on board, but the trams frightened her to death.

      They sat upstairs, so that Josie could see more of the city she’d come to live in, while Hannah pointed out landmarks to her, like the large green clock at Aston Cross, and Salford Bridge that spanned the canal, unaware how horrified Josie was by everything.

      She’d been as surprised and shocked by the back-to-back houses as Hannah had been when she’d first arrived and depressed by the grim greyness of the whole place. СКАЧАТЬ