“Tell Maggie our good news,” Mary said in a loud voice.
“Catherine is coming home, isn’t that grand, Maggie?” said James.
Mary frowned at her husband. “What he meant to say was Catherine and Patrick are coming home, to stay. Isn’t that great news? They are hoping to lodge with you for a wee while, until Patrick has work got.”
“My hearing isn’t so bad you have to shout every word at me. Of course they can stay here, for as long as they care to,” Maggie glared at Mary before turning to her brother. “Does that mean you’ve forgiven the poor lad for having the cheek to marry your daughter, James?” There was no response and Maggie huffed. “I thought as much, seeing as you still haven’t forgiven me for encouraging him.”
“Ah would you stop with your old nonsense. Sure he put that behind him long ago. Isn’t that so?” Mary shot a warning glance at James.
“Of course I have. What’s done is done. I may not welcome him with open arms but I’ll not turn him away either.”
“That’s very considerate of you, James. I’m sure Patrick will be honoured by your half-hearted attempt to welcome him to the family.”
James stood and fixed his cap firmly onto his head. His sister had always been able to get under his skin, in a way that not even his wife had managed to do.
“Well, that’s all he can expect, for now at least. Maybe he’ll grow on me the longer he’s here. Does that cheer you up at all?” James glared down at Maggie.
“Would you look at the face on that, Mary? Keep it away from your hens or they’ll stop their laying. Even his beard is in a tizzy.”
Both women laughed heartily as James’s hand instinctively flew to his chin. He looked disparagingly at each of them before turning his back and heading out through the open door.
“The two of ye are as bad as each other, behaving like that,” admonished Mary. “He’ll be sour for the day.”
“Ah, James doesn’t harbour ill feelings for long, except where young Patrick Gallagher is concerned. It’s a blessing they’ll be living with me and not under his nose in his own house. Mind you, they could be fishing together on the same boat, have you considered that?” asked Maggie.
The thought had never seemed of much significance to Mary until that moment and her face clouded over. She considered the situation before responding.
“James is not a foolish man, he knows better than to bring quarrels out to sea, but Patrick is younger and I fear somewhat excitable. I might have a word with Matthew Clarke. He is sure to keep an eye on the two of them,” said Mary.
******
In the Gallagher home in Sunderland, Patrick dragged himself out of a warm bed taking his clothes from under the blankets. Shivering in the cold air, he climbed into his shirt and trousers. Having been sourly all morning, refusing to attend Mass with his wife and children, he left the chill of the bedroom to sit by the warm stove.
The young man mulled over his family’s situation, things had been happening too fast for his liking. His eyes were drawn to the small window across the room and Patrick watched as a beam of dust-filled sunlight forced its way inside. It washed over an old kitchen table and highlighted the one splash of colour in his dismal surroundings – a single flower in a jar of water. Catherine’s eyes lit up every time he brought one home to her and he never tired of her joyful reaction.
Two steps towards the window had Patrick warming his back in the sunlight as his eyes scanned the opposite wall. A deep crack ran jaggedly down its centre. If the family had still been living in the house behind, they could have passed cups of tea to each other, the opening was that wide in places. Catherine had stuffed the draughty gap with old newspapers in an attempt to keep the heat in their own house.
Patrick pulled open the door, allowing the warmth of a spring morning stream into the cottage. Breathing in a lungful of moist air, he stepped into the centre of the alley to survey the surrounding buildings. Of the sixteen houses that only a few years before had been home to more than eighty people, five were lived in. Each building had an identical one attached directly to its back. They would soon be demolished and Patrick’s family forced to leave anyway. Giving in to Catherine’s pleadings to return to Ireland had made sense at the time but the young man was beginning to regret that decision, as the move to Blackrock drew nearer.
The sound of his children’s laughter could be heard before they even turned the corner into the alleyway and Patrick couldn’t help but smile. Mary was carrying Maisie and young Tom launched himself into his father’s arms.
“Mammy has a surprise for you. Close your eyes and hold out your hand,” the little boy’s eyes shone with delight.
Patrick complied and felt something small and light being placed on his palm.
“You can look now, Daddy.”
“Is this all for me, Tom?” asked Patrick, licking his lips.
“It’s only a wee cake,” said Catherine. “We thought it might cheer you up.”
“I think we can share it between us. Sure it’s no fun eating such a delicacy on your own, is it?” the young father smiled at the whoops of joy from his children.
Patrick’s doubts about moving melted away at the look of contentment on his wife’s face. He hoisted Tom onto his shoulders and suggested they have their picnic in the park. Catherine protested that Maisie was too heavy for her to carry any further.
“Give her here to me,” Patrick plucked his daughter from her mother’s arms. “Don’t I carry much more than the weight of these two every day at the quarry?”
“Aye, I suppose that’s true. Sure if I get tired of walking, a fine horse of a man like yourself would have no bother carrying the three of us home, would you?” teased Catherine
“No bother at all. In fact, I’d be carrying four of ye. You’re forgetting about one of the children, aren’t you?”
Catherine’s hands automatically went to her swollen abdomen.
“Right so, it’s off to the park with us. We might as well get used to being surrounded by grass, it won’t be such a shock for the children when we move them to Ireland,” laughed Patrick.