Child on the Doorstep. Anne Bennett

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      They didn’t see Daniel for a few weeks after this and Angela wondered if he would bother coming again.

      ‘After all, he is nothing to us,’ she said to Maggie, who had popped in one evening just after she had helped Mary to bed.

      ‘Um, I suppose,’ Maggie said. ‘Where’s Connie?’

      ‘At Sarah Maguire’s,’ Angela said. ‘They’re as thick as thieves, the pair of them. They remind me a bit of me and you. Now the summer holidays have begun, I don’t have to be so strict about bedtime, and anyway it’s a fine light evening and Connie is only at the end of the street.’

      ‘Oh, it will do her good,’ Maggie said. ‘Young people should be together. So, you think you’ve seen the last of Daniel then?’

      ‘We could have,’ Angela said. ‘I mean, he’s a nice young man, I’m not being nasty about him at all. It’s just that he only made contact with us to learn more about his real father.’

      ‘Your mother will miss him.’

      ‘Aye, if she remembers him at all,’ Angela said, a little sadly. ‘Sometimes she looks at me a bit strangely. Funny thing is, though, she always knows Connie, though she does sometimes call her Angela. The thing is, it’s not just her mind, she is almost bedbound now and you know she was always such an active person. Time hangs heavy on her and I suppose gives her too much time to think. Norah Doherty pops along to see her fairly often. She is a similar age but far more aware than Mammy.’

      ‘That’s life though, isn’t it?’ Maggie said. ‘No one really knows how life is going to be for us as we age.’

      Angela sighed. ‘Aye, that’s true enough.’

      ‘You’ll miss her when she’s gone.’

      ‘I know,’ Angela said. ‘But the fact is, I miss her now. The real Mary is hidden away somewhere and sometimes it barely surfaces. I used to talk to her about anything and everything and, though I love Connie, there are things I cannot discuss with a child – for that’s all she is.’

      Maggie nodded, for she could see that. ‘You can load it on me if you like. I have broad shoulders.’

      Angela smiled. ‘I value your friendship, Maggie, and not just as a sounding board.’

      ‘I know,’ Maggie said. ‘My mammy will pop in and see Mary if I ask her to. She thought a lot of her.’

      ‘I know,’ Angela said. ‘But, as I said, the schools have broken up for the summer now, so Connie will be here most of the time if I ask her to and she is always very good with Mammy. She gets her talking about the old days, even before my time, when her and my real mother were girls growing up together and where they met their husbands and all. She’s really interested in that sort of thing, and Mammy loves talking about her memories. It’s strange that sometimes she is very vague and by dinnertime has trouble remembering what she had for breakfast, and yet you get her talking about the olden days and she has no trouble remembering everything.’

      Maggie nodded. ‘I’ve heard of that before in older people. Odd, isn’t it?’

      ‘Oh I’ll say,’ Angela said. ‘But Connie encourages her anyway and doesn’t seem to mind if she repeats herself and she never corrects her. Course, Connie loves her to bits and will be devastated when she is no longer with us.’

      Maggie didn’t say anything more. She had seen herself how frail Mary had become over the last months.

      And Angela went on, ‘At the moment Mammy is often quite silent or sleeping much of the time. I almost look forward to pulling pints at the pub. At least there is a bit of conversation there, even if it is pretty male-dominated.’

      ‘Yeah, but what sort of conversation?’ Maggie said. ‘Men seem interested in only two things, football and sex.’

      Angela laughed. ‘We manage, though I am not a whit interested in football and put a veto on sex from the beginning. You would be surprised though how many men, hearing I was a widow, asked me if I was ever lonely at all. I know of course what that is a euphemism for and they got short shrift from me. I mean, I wouldn’t mind, but most of these are married men. I know their wives and even if I was looking for another husband, and I’m not, I would not consider a married man.’

      ‘Nor me,’ Maggie said.

      ‘Well, Michael might have something to say if you did.’

      ‘Oh yes,’ Maggie said and then added with a grin, ‘And then Michael’s response would be nothing to the reaction of Father Brannigan if he got the merest hint of impropriety. God, he’d burst a gasket.’

      ‘He would that,’ Angela said and the two women laughed at the vision conjured up.

      Despite the hilarity though, Angela had been shocked at first by the men who wanted to keep her company, stop her from feeling ‘lonely’. Unbeknown to her, initially Paddy Larkin had watched carefully, ready to step in if ever the matter got out of hand. But he soon saw that Angela was able to refuse any liaison without causing offence, but in a firm enough voice that very few asked a second time, and so was able to relax slightly. The men appreciated the fact that Angela was a pleasant little body, always had a smile on her pretty face, with a good sense of humour so that she liked a joke as well as the next person. The fact that she wasn’t sharing her favours with all and sundry marked her as a woman of principles, and the majority acknowledged that and treated her with respect so she was able to enjoy her job.

      There was one particular man who seemed more keen on Angela than the others. His name was Eddie McIntyre, an Irishman who had spent time in America and who was now in Birmingham on business. He had become a regular in the pub and always made a beeline for her. He was full of confidence and funny stories. He made Angela laugh and forget about the cares of the day, but although she knew he was a bit sweet on her, she was careful not to give him any encouragement and refused his tips. She had no intention of getting a reputation, for once sullied it could never truly be wrung clean, she knew.

      She did wonder though how long she would be able to work the long hours at night and leave her mother. Connie was good but only a child yet and Angela wasn’t totally sure she realised just how sick Mary was.

      However, Connie did; she was no fool. She thought Mary might like it if Daniel came to see them again, for her granny had enjoyed talking to him, but Daniel seemed to have gone back to his suffocating life in Sutton Coldfield. She was sorry about that in a way, and yet she had to admit he might find himself completely alone if he rejected the only parents he knew, because he seemed totally friendless. Connie couldn’t understand it because he seemed nice enough and lovely with her granny.

      But if Daniel wasn’t going to come then he wasn’t, and meanwhile she knew her granny was lonely. So, one morning, when her mother was out cleaning, she helped her granny on to the settee and manhandled her chair to the window where she could see out and watch the world go by.

      ‘That will be better for you, Granny,’ she said. ‘Now the summer’s here you won’t need the warmth of the fire so much.’

      It worked a treat, for as Mary waved at neighbours going past many would pop in and have a word. Some days she couldn’t cope with much more than that, and on her vaguer days, if she wasn’t always absolutely sure who everyone was, no one seemed to mind.

      ‘God, СКАЧАТЬ