Fanny McBride Page 11

  ‘Gran?’

  ‘Aye?’ she called back.

  ‘Me ma thinks she’s got the chance of a house. It’s fine and big.’

  ‘Well that’s a God’s blessing. Where is it?’

  ‘Up on the new estate; it’ll have a bath.’

  ‘A bath?’ said Fanny, coming back into the kitchen. ‘That’s nothing to recommend it.’

  ‘But it’ll be fine to have a bath,’ said Corny.

  ‘Aw, what can you do in a bath that you can’t do in a tub?’

  ‘Lie down, Gran.’

  ‘You’re right there.’ Fanny paused as she put the soup plate on the table, then she laughed and looked with fondness at this grandson and added, ‘And drown yersel’.’

  Now they both laughed, and Fanny said, ‘Your ma’ll be like the rest and make a showpiece of it. Like your Aunt Lily in Scotland. Do you know, when your Uncle Jack went up there he wasn’t allowed to wash his hands in the bathroom, much less take a bath, in case he splashed the paint. Tour of inspection, he said your Aunt Lily had, around that bathroom when anybody fresh came. And there’s your Aunt Peggy in London. Years ago they put them in a house with a bath, and what you think they did with it?’

  ‘Put the coal in it,’ said Corny with relish.

  ‘They didn’t then,’ said Fanny. ‘They used it as a cold storage like a fridge and kept the fats in it and the bacon, even the bread. It was a few years ago when we were having a hot day or two and your cousin Peter…you remember your cousin Peter? Well he turned the taps on and they were so stiff he couldn’t get them off again. And he took fright and dashed out in case his mother caught him, and the next thing they knew was that the water was pouring like Niagara Falls down the stairs, and all the food soaked and ruined. The place was like hell let loose. That’s baths for you.’ Fanny suddenly burst out laughing. She laughed and laughed, but it was forced laughter, and when she stopped as quickly as she had begun she lifted up the corner of her apron and blew her nose on it.

  Corny, once again on the mat and fondling Joe, looked up at his grannie. Oh, his grannie was funny. His ma said when they were little they had all been scared of her and daren’t answer her back, not a word. He couldn’t imagine anybody being scared of his grannie. She was always ready for a bit carry on.

  Now he got on all fours and barked at Joe, and Joe, taking a firm stand on his rickety legs, barked back. And the sound made Fanny screw up her face and cry, ‘For God’s sake stop him making that noise, he sounds like a tormented soul in purgatory! And you stop it an’ all. Stop it, the pair of you!’

  When Joe’s unearthly bark was silenced Fanny held up her hand and said, ‘Listen…that’s the lad comin’ in. That’s his step. Go and fetch him in if you want to.’ And Corny, bounding up, dashed to the door with the dog at his heels, and Fanny was forced to smile to herself as she heard the virtues of the odd animal being extolled on the one hand and appreciated on the other. But the continued draught from the hall swirled into the kitchen and made her cry, ‘Come away in, the lot of you,’ and when they trooped back into the room, Corny leading the dog and the boy from upstairs patting it, she addressed Tony saying, ‘What d’you think of him now? Isn’t he a sketch?’

  ‘I think he’s fine.’

  The boy was unsmiling, his face pale and sad-looking. The sadness lay deep in his eyes, and Fanny felt there was a great deal too much of it to be healthy. What this lad wanted was a month or so spent with Corny.

  ‘Well,’ she said jokingly, ‘I’m afraid I differ from you. To me he looks a mongrel of the first water.’

  ‘He’ll be better when he’s grown and filled out,’ said the boy solemnly.

  ‘Aye, I suppose he will.’

  The lad was so serious there wasn’t a laugh within a mile of him. He had a dampening effect.

  ‘Will you stay and have some tea?’ she was asking him, when out of the corner of her eye she saw Joe, and with a loud bellow she turned on him crying, ‘No, you don’t, begod you don’t! Not in here. I’ve had enough,’ and grabbing up the big multi-coloured tea-cosy she levelled it at him.

  Joe had been in the act of relieving himself against the chair leg, for to him at that moment the old armchair with its varying smells was the most comforting thing in the room, but Fanny’s yell, entirely new to him, and the soft woolly thing that hit him were too much for his untrained nervous system. With a loud yelp he sprang across the room with a dribble of water in his train, and as Corny made a grab at him he blindly collided with the corner of the dresser, overbalancing a small work-box standing on the edge.

  The bobbins, pins, and oddments from the box, seeming to come at him from all directions, sent Joe’s remaining wits out of him and he leapt three times his height, then bounded between Fanny and the boy.

  Within seconds the room had become a place of pandemonium. Corny’s voice, nearly as loud as Fanny’s, was yelling, ‘Joe! Joe! Give over, Joe. Come here!’ Then missing Joe’s tail by a matter of hairs, he cried, ‘Open the door, Tony, and let him out.’

  ‘Do no such thing!’ yelled Fanny on top of this. ‘Do no such thing till we catch hold of him, or he’ll run so fast you’ll never see him again.’

  Joe was now partly under the back of the couch. Like an ostrich, his head was well covered, but he could not bring his hindquarters in. Corny, moving cautiously now, grabbed hold of his hind legs, and so causing a series of frantic wriggles from Joe, which almost lifted the couch but still did not afford him adequate cover. The wriggling did succeed, however, in releasing him from Corny’s grasp, and with another twist he made his escape from the side of the couch and bounded away.

  It was a matter of bad timing that Fanny should be directly in his path, and Joe, not having breath or sense to make a detour, went straight between her legs.

  If Fanny had followed the fashions in only one way and had possessed a shortish skirt all would have been well, but her long skirt brought Joe to an abrupt halt, and almost immediately Fanny’s legs went up and she was on the floor, and partly on Joe, who proclaimed this in blood-curdling howls. Unfortunately, in her descent, she also clutched the cloth on the table and brought down the broth, the bread, and the dishes, all of them.

  As quickly as the pandemonium had begun it ceased. Corny, kneeling on the floor, was clutching the quivering Joe to him, while he stared pop-eyed at his granny sitting in the middle of the mess, and listened to Tony as he enquired, almost tearfully, over and over again, ‘Are you hurt, Mrs McBride? Are you hurt, Mrs McBride?’

  Fanny made no answer, but from where she sat she turned her head slowly and surveyed her room. It had all been so nice and tidy, she had spent the whole morning doing it, and now look at it. As if it had been hit by the devil in a gale of wind. She looked from the concerned face of the lad to the even more concerned face of her grandson, and then from them to the quivering beast who had made an unholy mess of her room. Then, eye to eye with the dog, a bubble of laughter rose in her, and her fat slowly began to wobble. She had thought she was in for a night of the miseries, and here she was laughing. Thanks be to God and the animal here she was laughing. What matter about the mess, she was laughing…really laughing, no make-game.

  To join her laughter now came Corny’s high-pitched, relieved giggle, but what was more satisfying to her was the sight of the lad. His was a quiet laughter she could see, an aching laughter, and outside of her own laughing she was thinking, ‘It’ll do him good, the best medicine in the world for him.’

  The tears were pouring down her face, her cloth was ruined and her floor was an unholy mess, and she’d have to buy new plates. What of it?

  ‘Here.’ She stretched up her arms to the boys. ‘Give me a help up so I can lay me hands on that animal. Begod! I’ll teach him to pay a penny on me chair.’

  ‘Oh! Gran. Eeh! Gran.’ Corny’s laughter became hysterical, and Tony’s was not far removed. They were pulling at her with more show than strength when the door opened and into the strange scene walked Philip and Margar
et.

  After one startled glance which took in the shambles of the room and the exclamation of ‘Good God!’ Philip moved swiftly forward towards Fanny and with his hands under her armpits from behind, and with Margaret’s and the lads’ help from the fore, he gently eased her to her feet.

  Standing leaning for support on the table and trying to still quivering flesh, Fanny looked at the strained, concerned face of her son, and while she listened to his wordy demand to know how all this had come about, she could not help but think, ‘Ah, if it had only been the other one, he would have sat on the floor and laughed with us.’ But her mind was taken from Jack again by the fact that Philip had not come in alone. The lass was with him. Well, well. What had she said earlier on? He had fallen all right. And for that matter, be damned, so had she, for her hip bones felt as if they had come through her shoulders.

  Corny was singularly quiet. He was proffering no explanation that would bring his uncle’s tongue on him, so pointing offhandedly to the dog, she replied to Philip’s earnest enquiry as to how all this had happened, saying, ‘It was Holy Joe there.’

  This light remark of Fanny’s caused Corny to splutter, and the spluttering released Tony’s dry laughter again, and Philip, now leading his mother towards her chair, said sharply, ‘Be quiet now.’

  ‘Oh, leave them be.’ Fanny glanced towards the girl with words of welcome on her lips, but the girl was looking at her brother and her face was full of surprise, pleased surprise. And Fanny watched it slowly crumple, and in a second she, too, was laughing.

  Now Joe, suddenly realising that there wasn’t anything more at present to be afraid of, yawned, then barked, and the sound, so odd as to appear like an inarticulate voice, set Fanny herself off again. They were all laughing now, all, that is, except Philip. His face was dead straight and full of concern as he looked in perplexity about the room, and when his gaze became fixed on Joe, and Joe, from his temporary haven under the table, stopped his barking and looked back at him with equal solemnity, Fanny’s laughter burst forth on a top key. God was good after all…He provided distractions from heartbreak in the form of Holy Joes.

  Later that night when they were getting ready for bed Philip, moving towards his door and without any lead-up, remarked, ‘By the way, she’s just turned twenty. Goodnight.’

  Fanny did not return the salutation. Her apron rolled up in her hand, she stood looking at the closed door. Well, so he had found out that much. He was in earnest an’ all, begod he was. She unloosed her clothes and one by one put them across the foot of her bed. Whose was the child then, if not the lass’s? There was a mystery here all right…there was a mystery about the whole bang lot of ’em up there. She turned slitted eyes towards her son’s room. His lordship would sleep better the night now that he had sorted that out. Yes, he must have got it bad.

  She was climbing into bed when a thought brought her to a pause on her hands and knees. If he got thick with the lass, would it prevent him from leaving?

  Slowly she slid round onto her back and, pulling the clothes about her shoulders, she lay staring into the darkness until she exclaimed to herself, ‘But what difference will it make to me? If he gets that job, he goes…if he marries her, he goes. He goes in any case.’

  Chapter Five

  Mary Prout was installed in bed and she looked at Fanny tearfully as she said, ‘It’ll be another week or more, Fan. I haven’t got to hobble about, he says to keep it up. Do you mind, Fan?’

  ‘That’s all right.’ These few words succeeded in conveying to Mary that it was a bit of a nuisance having to keep on the job, but for such a friend as herself she would do it.

  But Fanny did honestly try to stop herself from hoping that Mary’s leg would keep her tied to the bed for a good many weeks yet, for the job suited her down to the ground. That’s when she was inside The Ladies. The travelling back and forth wasn’t too good, and took toll of her own legs and her puff. Sometimes, when she came back at night, she could hardly get her breath to stagger up the steps into the house.

  Now she said kindly, ‘I’ll tell Mrs Proctor. And don’t you worry…take it easy, your job’s there for you when you want it, and I’ll carry on for you till then.’

  ‘Thanks, Fan. I’ll never be able to repay you. And I told that to Nellie Flannagan herself this mornin’ when she was in. I did, Fan. I said, “I’ll never be able to repay Fanny for standing in for me like that.”’

  Fanny folded her arms across her chest before asking, ‘And what did she want?’

  ‘Well, she said she came to see me, to see how I was, but she really came to spill the beans about them in your attics.’

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘Well, she told me a tale, Fan, about the woman stoppin’ her and asking her to get some laudanum for her, she said it was for cleaning.’

  There was a pause before Fanny said, ‘Well, it could have been couldn’t it?’

  Mary leant forward over the clothes towards Fanny, her voice low. ‘No, Fan, it wouldn’t be for cleaning, not in her case. You remember Tilly Concert and her methylated spirits. As mad as a hatter Tilly could get on sixpence, and as mad as a hatter she finally went with it. That one over there puts me very much in mind of Tilly, Fan.’

  ‘Well, what of it?’

  This disconcerting remark from her friend nonplussed Mary, and she lay back on her pillows saying, ‘Well, it explains the way she goes on, acting educated-like, doesn’t it?’

  ‘There’s no need for her to act that,’ said Fanny, ‘she is educated. But that’s no credit to her.’

  ‘No, Fan.’

  There followed an uneasy pause before Mary continued, ‘And there was something else Nellie Flannagan was on about, Fan. She said that the child couldn’t be the woman’s, she was likely its grandmother. And you know what, Fan?’ Again Mary was sitting forward to draw Fanny’s interest. ‘She says it’s the young lass’s.’

  ‘It’s no such thing. You can tell that big-gobbed, mischief-making madam that the girl is only turned nineteen.’

  Philip’s defence of Margaret’s purity was nothing now compared to Fanny’s. Even if she had been convinced that Margaret was Marian’s mother she would have still fought for her against the accusations of Nellie Flannagan.

  ‘You tell her that if she’s not careful she’ll be had up for libel.’

  ‘Yes, Fan.’

  Now Fanny leant towards Mary and asked, ‘And where did the lad come from? Has she worked that one out? Perhaps the lass had him when she was eight. You tell Nellie Flannagan to work that one out.’

  Something had got into Fan. It was usual, Mary knew, for her to go off the deep end when Nellie Flannagan’s name was mentioned, but not to take such an aggressive attitude when Nellie’s verbiage wasn’t directed against herself. ‘I never open me mouth to her, Fan. I play dumb. I do, Fan.’

  ‘Well, I’d continue to play dumb,’ said Fanny stiffly.

  There followed a prolonged silence during which Mary plucked at the threads on the patchwork quilt and Fanny several times adjusted her apron. Then Mary asked what she thought would be a placating question. ‘Did Philip have any luck with his job?’ she said.

  ‘He had luck all right.’ Fanny’s voice was flat.

  ‘Oh, I’m glad. Did he get it then?’

  ‘Yes, he got it.’ There was no change of tone as Fanny said this.

  ‘When will he be goin’?’ asked Mary quietly.

  ‘Not till the New Year.’

  Mary now pulled herself up into a very straight sitting position and, rubbing the top part of her sore leg and with her eyes directed on the business, she said diffidently, ‘Fan, there’s something I think you should know.’

  ‘Aye?’ Fanny’s eyes were hard and bright as she looked at Mary’s bent head.

  ‘You know the lass, the lass Phil used to go with in Binns…Sylvia?’

  ‘Aye? what of her?’

  ‘She’s goin’ to have a bairn.’

  There was no change of expression
on Fanny’s face. ‘You sure?’

  ‘Aye, Fan. Monica told me…And, Fan…well, Fan, I think you should know this. Well, she’s forever on the lookout for your Phil.’

  Now Fanny reared. ‘What you suggestin’?’

  ‘Nowt, Fan, why nowt, not a thing. I was just sayin’ I thought you should know.’

  ‘You were saying she’s forever on the lookout for our Phil, you’re sayin’ it’s his.’

  ‘No, no, Fan. Why no, I’m not. I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t.’

  Mary was in a sweat, and Fanny continued to stare at her, but she was looking beyond her and asking, Was this why he had gone after the job? No. No, it wouldn’t be, he wasn’t the type to take a lass down. Aw, why didn’t she stop kidding herself, he was a man, wasn’t he? And these quiet ones were usually furnaces underneath. So that was it…or was it? From what she’d heard of the piece she seemed too smart to be dropped in her sleep.

  ‘What about the other fellow she worked for?’ asked Fanny. ‘She was thick with him by all your accounts.’

  ‘Aye. Aye, Fan, but he’s married, Phil isn’t. It makes a difference.’

  Aye, it did make a difference. She’d seen innocent blokes tied up for life before the day. She had a sudden urge to get across the street and see him before he went out. She had left him at his tea.

  She rose, saying, ‘I’ll be goin’. Keep what you’ve told me to yourself. And mind—’ She raised her finger, and with her eye hard on Mary, she added, ‘I’m tellin’ you.’

  ‘Aye, Fan.’

  ‘If I hear a cackle of it, you’ll get somebody else to do your job. And then you won’t have one to go back to.’

  ‘Aye, Fan, I know. I’ll keep me mouth shut.’

  Fanny went quickly out, across the lamplit road and up the steps into Mulhattan’s Hall.