Life and Mary Ann Read online

  Mrs Flannagan’s head made a half-moon turn as she took them, one by one, into her glance again. Then after a gulp that had nothing ladylike about it whatever, she addressed Michael pointedly. ‘There, that’s what I said to her. I said, “It would be different altogether if you were engaged or something.” That’s what I pointed out to her. I said, “If there was an understanding or something.”’

  Oh, Lord. Mary Ann’s head dropped. This was enough to break up any romance. Poor Michael. Poor Sarah.

  ‘Michael will do what he thinks is right in his own time, Mrs Flannagan.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I’m sure he will, Mrs Shaughnessy.’

  ‘You might as well know I don’t hold with this business of holidaying together any more than you do.’

  ‘Oh, it isn’t that, Mrs Shaughnessy.’

  ‘No, no, it isn’t that.’ Mike’s voice was a deep bass as he repeated Mrs Flannagan’s words. And it was evident he meant to go on, when Michael cut in sharply on them all, and he was on his feet when he spoke. ‘Leave this to me, Father…and you, Mother.’ And now he looked straight at Mrs Flannagan while he said, ‘Sarah and I have the same ideas about an engagement. We’ve talked it over. In the meantime we want to go away together…We don’t intend to sleep together…’

  ‘Michael!’ Lizzie, too, was on her feet, and Mike, sitting up straight in his chair, said quietly, ‘It’s all right, it’s all right. It happens, don’t be so shocked. Nor you, Mrs Flannagan. Go on, son.’

  Michael swallowed before saying, ‘What we do want is to go away for a time and enjoy ourselves, and be together all day. And see different places…together. On our own. And you know’—he was now not looking at Mrs Flannagan but casting his glance sideways at Lizzie as he went on—‘It’s not held as a sin any longer when a fellow and a girl go off holidaying together. It might be frowned on but—’

  At this point Michael stopped and jerked his head towards the sitting-room door. Mary Ann, too, was looking towards the door. Her attention had been drawn to it before Michael had stopped talking, and now Lizzie said, ‘What is it?’ and following Mary Ann’s gaze she asked abruptly, ‘See if anyone’s there. It might be Tony.’

  Mary Ann was at the door before her mother had finished speaking, and when, pulling it open with a quick tug, she almost fell onto the high breast of her granny, she let out a scream.

  Her granny. Of all days her granny had to come today. Of all times her granny had to come precisely at this time, when Mrs Flannagan was here. She had always considered her granny a form of witch who went round smelling out mischief for the sole purpose of enlarging it. As far back as she could remember she had hated her granny. There was no alteration in her feelings at this moment. In the presence of her granny she lost all her girlish charm. Mrs McMullen had the power to bring out the very worst in Mary Ann, and she always put this power into motion as soon as her eyes alighted on her granddaughter.

  ‘Well, knock me over. That’s it, knock me over.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Mary Ann heard her mother’s stifled murmur, and above it came Michael’s audible groan. Mike alone made no sound. But Mary Ann knew that of all of them her father would be the most affected by her granny’s visit. Whereas he would only have chipped Mrs Flannagan, and revelled, no doubt, in the superiority of his family’s position now that the tables were almost completely turned, the afternoon, nevertheless, would have gone off with a veneer of smoothness, but when her da came up against her granny veneers were useless. For her granny hated her da, and would do until the last breath was dragged from her.

  ‘What are you gaping at? Standing there looking like a mental defective.’

  ‘I’m not then…’ Whether Mary Ann was denying that she was standing gaping, or that she was a mental defective was not plain. The only thing that was plain was the aggressive note in her voice.

  ‘Well, there’s one thing I can always be sure of when I visit my daughter, and that’s an all-round welcome.’

  Mrs McMullen was now in the room, and her chin went up and her abundantly covered head, both of hair and hat, were slightly to the side as she feigned surprise at the sight of Mrs Flannagan.

  ‘Well, well! And who would have expected to see you here!…Good afternoon, Mrs Flannagan.’

  ‘Good afternoon, Mrs McMullen.’ Mrs Flannagan was smiling her thin smile but it was evident that she was more uneasy now than she had been before Mrs McMullen’s entry.

  ‘Well, Lizzie.’ Mrs McMullen looked at her daughter.

  ‘Hello, Mother…I wasn’t expecting you.’

  ‘Are you ever?’

  ‘Well, you rarely come on a Sunday. I’ve never known—’

  ‘All right! All right! I rarely come on a Sunday. But I live alone, don’t forget, and people do forget that old people are living alone and without company. So I felt that I would visit my daughter, and have a look at my grandchildren.’ She made no mention of her son-in-law who was now sitting, legs uncrossed, his spine tightly pressed against the back of the chair.

  ‘Sit down. Give me your hat…Will you have a cup of tea?’

  ‘Well, I won’t say no. I’m practically frozen to the bone.’

  ‘Pour your granny out a cup of tea, Mary Ann.’

  ‘Why does she have to look so gormless?’ Mrs McMullen had turned her gimlet eyes on her granddaughter, and Mary Ann, rearing up now well above the side table and Mrs McMullen’s seated figure, spat out, ‘Do you make a list of all the sweet things you’re going to say before you—’

  ‘That’s enough!’ Lizzie was not only speaking to Mary Ann as she extended her one hand towards her, but was already addressing Mike with a warning look, for Mike had pulled himself to the edge of the chair—his face dark with temper.

  It was at this point that Mrs Flannagan, seeing herself in the light of peacemaker, turned to Mrs McMullen and remarked, ‘I was just saying to Mr Shaughnessy, what a delightful room this is.’

  Mrs McMullen’s head moved in a series of short waves as she calmly and aggravatingly surveyed the room; then her verdict came. ‘It’s too light.’ There followed a pause when no-one spoke, and she went on, ‘Never put good pieces of dark furniture against light wallpaper. I’ve told her.’ She looked towards Lizzie. ‘I was picking up things in antique shops long before she was born and I’ve always said dark paper, dark furniture…haven’t I?’

  Lizzie did not answer her mother. And Mrs McMullen took a sip from her tea, only to comment, ‘No sugar.’

  ‘I did sugar it.’

  ‘Well, I should say that in this case the sugar is about as sweet as the donor.’

  It was evident to all that Mrs McMullen was in a temper. She was usually in a temper. It seemed to be her natural state. But she generally waited until she could diplomatically fire her darts. Unfortunately, whatever had upset her today had robbed her of her finesse. And then she gave evidence of the source of her annoyance by turning to Michael for the first time.

  ‘What you want is a visit from the priest.’

  ‘WHAT!’

  ‘You heard what I said.’

  There was a wrinkled query spreading over the faces of them all as they looked towards the old woman, ageless in her vitality. ‘You heard what I said. A priest…going away with a young lass for a week!’

  The comments to this remark seemed to come simultaneously from all directions of the room.

  ‘Mother!’ This was Lizzie.

  ‘Look here, Gran.’ This was Michael.

  ‘Really, Mrs McMullen!’ This was Mrs Flannagan.

  ‘Well, I’ll be damned! Your cuddy’s lugs got working quick, didn’t they? Did you find it draughty standing in the hall?’ This from her beloved son-in-law.

  Only Mary Ann made no comment, for she was thinking rapidly. She would have to get her da away out of here else there would be a row. This would have to happen when Mrs Flannagan was here, wouldn’t it?

  Mrs McMullen, it would appear, had not heard her son-in-law’s remarks, for she turned now to Mrs Flann
agan, and her tone was sympathetic as she said, ‘I can well understand how you feel, I would be the same in your shoes. And you’re right to put your foot down and forbid such a carry-on…’

  ‘But…Mrs McMullen, it…it isn’t like that.’ Mrs Flannagan was definitely floundering. She held out a wavering hand towards Mike, who looked livid enough to explode, and he cut in on her in deep, deep tones.

  ‘If my son wants to take Sarah away, then he has my permission and my blessing on the trip…Are you listening?’

  ‘Mike…Look, wait a moment.’

  ‘I’m not waitin’ any moment, Liz. I’m making this clear once and for all. My son is not a boy, he’s a man.’ This was the second time Mike had spoken of Michael as my son, not our son, and he had stressed the ‘my’ this time.

  ‘You know my opinion, Mrs Flannagan.’ Mrs McMullen was entirely ignoring Mike, and doing it in such a way that a saint would have been forgiven for springing on her and putting a finish to her mischief-making existence. ‘You must be very worried, and you’re quite right to put a stop to it…’

  ‘But, Mrs McMullen, wait…’ Mrs Flannagan was leaning towards the old woman now with her hands raised in an agitated flutter. ‘You’ve got me slightly wrong. I trust Michael with Sarah.’ She glanced with her thin smile towards Michael’s stiff countenance. ‘Mr Flannagan and myself think very highly of Michael, and now that, well…they’re going to be engaged, I can’t, as I was saying to Mr Shaughnessy a moment ago, see any harm in them having a holiday together, now they’re going to be engaged…You see, Mrs McMullen?’

  Mary Ann had never liked Mrs Flannagan, and she had imagined that she never could, but at this minute she had a strong desire to fling her arms around her neck and hug her. True, she had precipitated an engagement, but that’s what she had come for. Still, no matter how she had accomplished it she had got one over on her granny. But, what was much more significant, she had sided with her da against her granny. This was indeed a change of front and a blow to her granny, because Mrs Flannagan and her granny had been on very polite speaking terms simply because they both had a joint enemy in her da. And now Mrs Flannagan had blatantly left her granny’s ranks and come over to their side. Oh, if only her da would use this turn in the situation and play up. And her da, being her da, did just that.

  Undoubtedly Mrs Flannagan’s statement came as a surprise to Mike, and that is putting it mildly. Perhaps before the end of her visit she might have indicated that if the couple were engaged, they would have her blessing to take a trip together. Whether she had cunningly grasped at the situation to use a little motherly blackmail didn’t matter. She, Mrs Flannagan, the thorn that had been in Mike’s other side for years, had openly flouted his mother-in-law, and had openly agreed with him. Whatever he had thought of her in the past, this afternoon he would be for her. He reached for his pipe and once more lay back in his chair and crossed his legs, before saying with a smile, which he directed entirely upon Mrs Flannagan, ‘Yes, you’re right. An engagement makes all the difference. You can trust your daughter as I can trust my son. And I don’t think there’ll be any need for a priest. Do you, Mrs Flannagan?’

  Mrs Flannagan blinked, she preened, she returned Mike’s smile in the face of Mrs McMullen’s thunderous countenance as she replied banteringly, ‘Well, not just yet awhile, Mr Shaughnessy.’ And she continued to smile across the hearthrug towards this big rugged, red-headed man, who had more than once threatened to throw her down the stairs if she didn’t mind her own so-and-so business. But those things were in the past. For now she was delighted that her Sarah would marry into such a family. Into a family that would soon be connected with Mr Lord, and him owning a shipyard. She knew why Corny Boyle had been sent packing, She couldn’t get much out of Sarah these days, but some time ago she had let slip that old Lord had his grandson all lined up for Mary Ann.

  ‘What do you say to this?’ Mrs McMullen had turned her whole body towards Lizzie, and her attitude would have intimidated anyone less strong. From anyone less used to the subtleties of this woman it would have brought forth the truth. And if Lizzie had spoken the truth at this moment she would have said, ‘I’m as against it as you are.’ But she could never desert Mike openly in the face of her mother. Nor could she stand on one side while Mike was taking sides with Mrs Flannagan. Where Mike stood in this she must be also. She looked down into her mother’s face and said, with just a little side dig of censure at Mrs Flannagan, ‘I think we are all concerning ourselves far too much about something which isn’t entirely our business. Michael and Sarah will do what they want in the long run, with or without our consent.’

  ‘You’ve gone soft, me girl.’

  A silence followed this remark, and Mrs McMullen moved her body slowly round again and surveyed the company. And when her eyes came to rest on Michael, his dropped away, and he tried his best at this juncture not to laugh…Talk about manoeuvring and counter-manoeuvring. They had settled his life between them. He was already engaged; if they only but knew it, he had been engaged to Sarah from the first moment he set eyes on her, and she to him. But let them have their say, let them think they were fixing everything. There would be no harm done.

  He looked towards his father, and Mike, catching his eye, gave the faintest of winks. As Michael grew older he found he liked his father more and more. It hadn’t always been like that. He knew now that Mike was enjoying the situation, he had got one up on the old girl, even if it meant joining forces with Mrs F. It was as good as a play, the whole set-up.

  Lizzie broke the awkward silence now by saying, ‘I think I’d better set the tea.’

  ‘I’ll help you, Mother.’ Mary Ann, glad of the chance to escape, was about to move from behind the table when Mrs McMullen, turning her cold fish eyes on her, remarked, ‘Nice goings on among your friends, eh?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Is that all you two can say?’ Mrs McMullen flicked her eyes between Michael and Mary Ann: ‘WHAT!’

  ‘No, it isn’t all I can say.’ Mary Ann defended herself, standing squarely in front of her grandmother now. ‘And what do you mean about my friends?’

  ‘That Schofield piece, no better than should be expected.’

  At the name of Schofield, a swift glance passed between Lizzie, Mike and Mary Ann. Then Mary Ann’s eye came to rest on her granny again. It was true what she had always maintained, her granny was in league with the devil. Father Owen had told her years ago that the devil walked the earth in different guises, and for a certainty, she would maintain, he had taken on the guise of a bitter, envious, hateful, cantankerous old woman. How else would her granny know of Janice’s trouble? But now Mrs McMullen gave her the answer.

  ‘A comedown for the Schofields, I’d say, wouldn’t you, them having their daughter tied up compulsorily with the Smyths?’

  ‘Which Smyths are you talking about?’ Lizzie, now, not Mary Ann, snapped the inquiry at her mother.

  ‘The Smyths above me, you know them well enough. Two doors up. It’s their Freddie she’s got mixed up with. And there was her dear papa yesterday afternoon in his car as big as a house, and May Smyth in tears after. But they weren’t too salt, for there’s money there.’

  ‘What do you know about it?’ Mike’s voice was harsh. ‘You’re just surmising, as always. Putting two and two together, a putrid two and two.’

  Mrs McMullen did not turn her superior expression on her son-in-law, but looked up at her daughter as she said, ‘Mrs Smyth told me the whole story after Mass this morning.’

  ‘She’s a blasted fool then.’

  Mrs McMullen continued to ignore Mike as she went on, still looking at Lizzie. ‘Of course it didn’t surprise me, with a mother like she’s got gallivanting here, there and everywhere. Never in, I should say. Every bazaar and flower opening, there she is, with that Mrs Willoughby and Bob Quinton’s wife. They have nothing better to do, the three of them, but going around showing themselves off on platforms and not attending to their families. It will be the Wi
lloughby one next…and you, me gel.’ Now Mrs McMullen brought her face sharply round to Mary Ann’s dark countenance. ‘You should go on your bended knees every night and thank God you haven’t got a mother who gallivants—’

  ‘When I go on my bended knees every night, it isn’t to thank God but to ask Him—’

  ‘Mary Ann!’ Lizzie had to shake Mary Ann by the arm to bring her riveted attention from her granny.

  ‘Oh, leave her alone, leave her alone.’ Mrs McMullen flapped her hand at her daughter. ‘I suppose it shows some good quality when she tries to defend her friends. And they need some defending is all I can say…With the girl in a packet of trouble, and the mother joyriding up the country lanes with that young fellow.’

  Mrs McMullen did not go on to give the name of the young fellow, but she looked around her silent audience, waiting for one of them to prompt her disclosure. But when no-one spoke, she wagged her head before ending, ‘I wonder what the almighty Mr Lord will say to his grandson running round with a married woman?’

  ‘Oh, you! You wicked old…! You always were a wicked creature, you…!’

  ‘Stop that.’ It was Mike speaking now, his voice low and steely. ‘Let your granny go on, she came to give us this news. She won’t rest until she tells us.’

  But Mary Ann didn’t allow her grandmother to go on. She was quivering with rage as she blurted out, ‘You’re lying. Tony never saw Mrs Schofield until yesterday.’

  Mrs McMullen’s eyebrows went up just the slightest at this new piece of information and she replied coolly, ‘Yesterday? I’m not talking about yesterday. I’m talking about today, not an hour gone. The police were holding the traffic up, there’d been an accident, and as I sat in the bus I happened, like any ordinary person, to look at the passing cars. He was letting them pass one by one as the lorries were half over the road, and there, sitting side by side, was your Mr Tony and the Schofield woman. And something else I’ll tell you, she had her head down, but that didn’t prevent me from seeing one of the best black eyes I’ve spied for a long time.’