The Girl From Paradise Alley (ARC) Page 7

  ‘Are you taking the dog, Father?’ I said.

  ‘I am, Nora, for he has nowhere else to go and I can’t see the poor thing wandering around the town with no food or shelter.’

  ‘That’s good of you, Father.’

  ‘Sure, it’s little enough, Nora, and he is one of God’s creatures.’

  ‘Then I hope you’ll be very happy together, Father,’ said Kitty.

  Father Kelly bent down and stroked Sonny’s old head. ‘I’d say we’ll rub along fine, Kitty.’

  ‘This is a momentous day,’ I said.

  ‘And why is that, Nora?’

  ‘It’s our last funeral, Father,’ I said.

  ‘We’ve decided to put away childish things,’ said Kitty.

  ‘Ah,’ said Father Kelly, ‘Corinthians. There comes a time in everyone’s lives when they have to put away childish things; it’s part of growing up. But never stop being children at heart, girls, because after all, we are all children of God.’

  We nodded and jumped down off the wall.

  ‘We’ll see you at confession on Saturday, Father,’ said Kitty.

  ‘Do you have a need to confess then, Kitty?’

  Kitty nodded. ‘I nearly re-wrote the Bible, Father.’

  Father Kelly looked as if he was about to choke and as he walked away. I could see his shoulders going up and down.

  ‘Well,’ said Kitty, ‘I thought Father would be shocked but it looks as if he’s laughing his head off.’

  ‘I don’t think Father Kelly is easily shocked.’

  Kitty closed the little notebook for the last time and we left the graveyard, leaving a little bit of our childhood behind us.

  Eleven

  The next morning, I helped Mammy with the chores. Ever since we’d nearly lost Malachi, I’d changed my ways. Malachi was getting grand and fat and I thanked God every day that he’d found it in his heart to spare him. I changed his little bottom and put the dirty nappy in the bucket to soak. I tickled his little tummy and he laughed up at me. I couldn’t have loved a baby sister any more than I loved my little brother.

  ‘Are you seeing Kitty today, love?’ said Mammy.

  ‘I am, Mammy,’ I said. ‘We’re going down the quay to watch the boys.’

  ‘That’s a strange thing to be doing, Nora,’ she said.

  ‘It’s not me that wants to watch the boys, Mammy, it’s Kitty. She has a desperate admiration for one of them.’

  Mammy raised an eyebrow. ‘Isn’t Kitty a bit young to be admiring boys?’

  ‘I think so too, Mammy, but there’s no telling her while she has the humour on her.’

  ‘You have all the time in the world for boys, Nora, just enjoy being a child for now.’

  ‘I will, Mammy.’

  I kissed Malachi and Mammy goodbye and went off to call for Kitty.

  As I got to the bottom of Paradise Alley, I spotted Eddie leaning against the archway.

  ‘Jesus, Eddie, what are you doing here?’ I said.

  ‘Waiting for you,’ he said, grinning.

  I looked around. ‘You can’t just wait for me, Eddie, people will talk.’

  ‘Talk about what?’

  ‘About me being seen with you,’ I said.

  ‘I’m not a mass murderer, Nora.’

  ‘I know you’re not,’ I said. ‘But I’m not allowed to have anything to do with the Hall and if someone tells my mammy that I have been seen with a strange boy, she’ll be asking who you are. I can’t lie to her, Eddie.’

  ‘I’m clearing the garden ready to plant up for spring and I thought you might like to help.’

  A feeling of pleasure filled my tummy. I thought about the little garden all the time and I wanted to go back there, I wanted to help Eddie. I’d never had a friend that was a boy before – boys weren’t for making friends with – but ever since that awful day, when I thought that Malachi was dead and Eddie had comforted me, I felt like I had made a friend. I just wished he didn’t live in Bretton Hall.

  ‘I’m on my way to call for Kitty,’ I said. ‘And if she’s in the humour to come to the garden, then I’ll meet you there. Now be on your way before we’re seen.’

  ‘Okay, Nora,’ he said, smiling at me. ‘I’ll wait for you.’

  ‘I didn’t say I’d definitely be there; it all depends on Kitty.’

  ‘Then I hope that Kitty is in the humour.’

  I watched Eddie walk away and made my way up the hill to Kitty’s house.

  ‘She has a cold in her tummy, Nora,’ said Mrs Quinn when she opened the door. ‘She lost her good breakfast this morning and she’s in her bed now, feeling sorry for herself. Go on up, she’ll be pleased to see you; she’s only fed up of Breda chatting to her.’

  I kissed the top of baby Sean’s old head and went up the narrow staircase to see Kitty. I could hear her going on at Breda. ‘You have me head ruined, Breda, with all your talking. Will you go downstairs and let me have a rest?’

  Breda’s response was to say, ‘Can I go under the bed then, Kitty?’

  ‘No, you can’t, I want you out of here, I need some peace.’

  I walked into the room. ‘Best go downstairs, Breda,’ I said. ‘While I visit with poor Kitty.’

  Breda grinned at me. ‘Okay, Nora, I’ll go under the table in the kitchen.’

  ‘You do that,’ I said, smiling at her.

  ‘I swear there’s something wrong with that child, Nora, she’s never right.’

  ‘I expect she’ll grow out of it,’ I said. ‘Like we grew out of the funeral watching.’

  ‘Well, she can do it any time she likes,’ said Kitty, hoisting herself up in the bed.

  ‘So, how are you feeling?’ I said.

  ‘I thought I was going to die, Nora. I was terrible sick.’

  Kitty isn’t very good at being ill. If she has a headache, it’s a brain tumour. If she has a pain in her belly, it’s an appendix that’s about to burst and actually being sick is her very worst thing. She was looking very pale and sorry for herself, so I thought I’d take her mind off it.

  ‘Eddie was waiting for me at the bottom of Paradise Alley,’ I said.

  ‘When?’

  ‘Just now.’

  ‘Well, wasn’t that very brazen of him, Nora? To be waiting for you at the bottom of Paradise Alley for the whole town to see.’

  I couldn’t help thinking that if it had been Finn Casey waiting at the bottom of the hill to see her, she wouldn’t be up on her high horse about it.

  ‘What did he want?’ she said.

  ‘He asked if I wanted to help him in the garden.’

  ‘Did he now?’ said Kitty. ‘And does he intend paying you for your work?’

  ‘For God’s sake, Kitty, I don’t need paying. I’d be only too glad to help. I like being in the garden.’

  ‘I know you do,’ she said more gently. ‘But mind you don’t get caught, or you’ll have your mother to answer to.’

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘And that worries me. I feel as if I’m doing something bad behind her back.’

  ‘You need to get to the bottom of why she wants you to have nothing to do with Bretton Hall, for it is indeed a mystery.’

  ‘I don’t think she’ll tell me, Kitty, just like she won’t tell me where I was born.’

  ‘Has it ever occurred to you that the two things might be linked?’

  I stared at her. ‘How could that be?’

  ‘I don’t know, but it makes you wonder, doesn’t it?’

  I left Kitty’s house feeling thoughtful. Could the two things be linked? If they were, I couldn’t for the life of me think how.

  It felt strange scrambling through the undergrowth without Kitty by my side. For some reason, I felt like I was betraying Mammy more by being here on my own. Maybe it was because creeping into the gardens of Bretton Hall had been Kitty’s idea and I could tell myself that I’d just gone along with her, but I couldn’t kid myself today. I was here because I wanted to be.

  After the usual crawl on my han
ds and knees, I eventually came out into the sunshine and was able to stand up. I brushed the bits of twigs and leaves off my dress and walked down the little path.

  I pushed open the old wooden door and was once again in the garden. Eddie was kneeling down, digging in the soil.

  ‘You came,’ he said, looking up.

  I smiled at him, ‘I did.’

  He stood and wiped his hands down his trousers. ‘I didn’t think you would,’ he said. ‘But I’m happy you have.’

  ‘Kitty’s sick,’ I said, shrugging my shoulders, ‘so I thought I’d come anyway.’

  ‘I’m glad,’ he said. ‘Oh, not because Kitty’s sick, you understand, but because you came.’

  I breathed in the smells that were all around me. A mixture of newly turned soil, the sweetness of roses, even the little pond had its own smell, a bit like cold tea. I sat down on the grass and watched Eddie clearing the last of the summer flowers.

  ‘I need to dead-head the roses now,’ said Eddie, ‘so that they can bloom again. Do you want to have a go?’

  I nodded.

  ‘I’ll show you how.’

  We walked across to the old stone wall, where the roses were beginning to die. There was still one rose in full bloom – it was the palest orange, with a pinkish stain at the edge of its petals and still quite perfect. Eddie cut it. ‘The last rose of summer,’ he said, handing it to me.

  I held it up to my nose and breathed in the sweet, warm scent, ‘I can’t keep it,’ I said.

  ‘How about if I press it? Then you can put it between the pages of a book.’

  I knew just what book I would keep it in. ‘Yes, please,’ I said.

  Eddie showed me how to cut the roses at just the right point so that they would flower again. Time seemed to stand still as we tended the small garden. It was so peaceful, the silence broken only by the gentle movement of the branches as the breeze moved through the tall trees and the twittering of the birds as they darted here and there above our heads. I looked across at Eddie and watched as he turned the soil and pulled away the dead leaves. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and every now and again he wiped away the sweat which glistened on his forehead. I was getting hot myself and my arms had begun to ache as I stretched up to clip the roses higher up the stone wall. All of a sudden, I let out a yelp. Eddie leaped to his feet and ran over to me.

  Blood was seeping between my fingers and dripping down onto the grass.

  ‘Let me see,’ said Eddie.

  I held out my hand and he gently pulled out a thorn, then took a white handkerchief out of his trouser pocket. It was a perfect square, as if it had just been pressed. He shook it out and wrapped it around my finger like a bandage.

  I’d never met a boy who carried around a handkerchief before. Even us girls only used rags and that was only when we had a cold in the head. The boys wiped their noses on the sleeves of their jumpers. Yet here was this boy who took a handkerchief out of his pocket as if it was of no consequence at all.

  ‘Look, it’s ruined,’ I said, as the blood seeped through the white cotton.

  ‘Don’t worry about that, it will soon wash off.’

  Oh, I liked this boy, who cared about my sore finger and who talked about pressing a rose between the pages of a book. I wished I could take him home to Paradise Alley to meet Mammy and Daddy, Stevie and baby Malachi and Grandad Doyle. I had a feeling that Eddie and my grandad would get along fine, for they both had a love of books and had the same gentle ways about them.

  ‘Are you hungry, Nora?’ he said.

  I’d been so busy with the roses that I hadn’t thought about food, but suddenly I was ravenous. ‘I am,’ I said.

  Eddie walked across the garden and picked up a bundle from beside the wall.

  ‘I packed a bit of food,’ he said, coming back, smiling. ‘In the hope that you would come.’

  We sat down on the cool grass and Eddie undid the bundle and laid the cloth on the ground between us. There was bread and cheese and a handful of red plums.

  It was lovely sitting there in the afternoon sunshine, eating the delicious food. The bread was soft and the cheese melted in my mouth, like nothing I had ever tasted before. After I’d finished the bread and cheese, I bit into a sweet red plum and giggled as the juice ran down my chin. I unwrapped the hankie from my hand and wiped it away.

  Eddie lay back on the grass and I leaned on my elbow, watching him. A fly landed on his face and he brushed it away but it kept coming back so he sat up.

  ‘I fear that flies have very little brains,’ he said. ‘For nothing deters them, even when you swipe them away.’

  ‘They’re annoying alright,’ I said. ‘But sure, they’re God’s creatures all the same.’

  ‘You’re Catholic, aren’t you?’ asked Eddie.

  ‘Of course I am,’ I said. ‘Aren’t you?’

  Eddie shook his head.

  ‘You’re not Catholic?’ I said, shocked.

  Eddie picked away at the grass. ‘Not everyone is a Catholic, you know,’ he said.

  ‘Everyone I know is.’

  He stared at me. ‘Does it matter?’

  I thought about it and couldn’t see why Eddie not being a Catholic made any difference at all.

  ‘I suppose it doesn’t,’ I said.

  His whole body seemed to relax; it was if he had been waiting for my answer, as if it was of the utmost importance to him.

  ‘After all, you’re still Eddie,’ I said, smiling at him.

  ‘I am,’ he said, laughing.

  We worked happily away until the sun sank behind the tall trees and the shadows in the garden changed their pattern.

  ‘I have to go,’ I said. ‘Mammy will be wondering.’

  ‘You’ll come again?’

  ‘I will, of course,’ I said, handing him the stained hankie. ‘Thanks for the loan.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  As I walked towards the gate, Eddie called me.

  ‘Nora?’

  I stopped and turned around. ‘Yes?’

  He was staring down at the ground and scratching at his ear. ‘Are we friends?’ he said.

  I smiled at him, standing there so seriously, with a smudge of dirt on his nose.

  ‘Yes, Eddie,’ I said. ‘We’re friends.’

  He grinned, a grin so wide it almost split his face in two. ‘I’m terribly glad.’

  ‘Eddie, has anyone ever told you that you’re awful odd for a boy?’

  He shook his head. ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘Not a bit,’ I said. ‘For I’m inclined to like odd.’

  We smiled at each other and then I left the garden.

  Twelve

  Me and Kitty were tending my namesake’s grave.

  ‘Are you still seeing the boy?’ she said.

  ‘I am.’

  ‘In the garden?’

  I nodded.

  ‘I don’t know why you are so set on it,’ she said. ‘It’s just a bit of soil, sure, it’s nothing special.’

  ‘I think it is,’ I said.

  ‘And what would your mother say if she knew? With her so dead set about you not going to the Hall?’

  ‘And what would your mother say if she knew you were running all over Ballybun after Finn Casey?’

  ‘Well, at least Finn Casey is a living, breathing thing, not just a patch of weeds.’

  I glared at her. ‘The garden is a living, breathing thing, Kitty, and it will be there long after Finn Casey has taken himself and his handsome face back to England.’

  ‘Don’t you like Finn, Nora?’

  I looked at my best friend’s sad face and softened. ‘I like him alright, Kitty, and I can understand your fascination for the boy, it’s just that I think we have plenty of time for all that.’

  ‘But Eddie’s a boy,’ she said.

  ‘Eddie’s different, he’s more like Stevie.’

  ‘Are you going to confess your secret to Father Kelly?’

  ‘I suppose I’ll have to.’
>
  I sighed and looked at my namesake’s little wooden cross. I brushed away the leaves and read her name: Nora Foley 1895–1909.

  ‘She died awful young, didn’t she?’ said Kitty.

  ‘She did. She was only a slip of a girl, not much older than we are now.’

  ‘That’s a terrible shame. God must have wanted her desperate bad to have taken her so young.’

  ‘Mammy said that Nora was never strong, so I’m thinking that God must have wanted to end her suffering and take her into the arms of the angels, so that she could get better.’

  ‘Well, that was good of him anyway.’

  ‘They grew up in the workhouse, Kitty, both thinking they were orphans. They were looked after by Mrs Foley, who loved them and was very kind to them.’

  ‘Well, that’s a blessing anyway,’ said Kitty. ‘I’ve heard terrible tales about the place.’

  ‘Well, Mammy said that they were both very happy there, because they had each other and were like sisters.’

  ‘But your mammy’s not an orphan, Nora.’

  ‘That’s the best bit of the story, Kitty. One morning, my Granny Collins took my mammy out of the place and they lived happily ever after in Paradise Alley.’

  ‘That sounds like a fairy tale.’

  I nodded. ‘I think maybe it was.’

  ‘And what about poor Nora? She was still stuck in there, so it wasn’t much of a fairy tale for her, was it?’

  ‘Well, when Nora died, it was then that Mammy discovered that Nora had a mammy all along.’

  ‘Why didn’t her mammy come for her?’

  ‘Because it was Mrs Foley. Mrs Foley was Nora’s mammy.’

  ‘That’s an awful complicated story, Nora.’

  ‘Life is complicated sometimes, Kitty.’

  Just then we saw Father Kelly walking towards us between the rows of wooden crosses.

  ‘Good morning, girls,’ he said, smiling.

  ‘Good morning, Father,’ we said, and stood up as a mark of respect for the Cloth.