Broken Passions
by
Ger Gallagher
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
Ger Gallagher on Smashwords
Broken Passions:
Copyright © 2011 by Ger Gallagher
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Broken Passions
Chapter 1
Dublin 1921
Anna Barry chose to walk along the grass verge of the Grand Canal. It was usual for her to take the path that ran alongside the row of houses which led to her front door on Portobello Road, but the fashionable new shoes she was wearing had cut into the back of both heels and every step of the journey from the tram had been agony. Hoping no one would notice, she had slipped the stiff black leather shoes off, and put them into the shopping bag that hung from her wrist. The grass was long, almost reaching her ankles and the soft carpet it provided felt like a balm to her throbbing feet. She reached an empty bench and sank down onto it, dropping the bag that contained the shoes and groceries she had bought for the tea on her way home. Anna knew that her father and brother would be sitting at home waiting to be fed, but she allowed herself a few minutes’ peace before she went in. The canal water sparkled as rays of mellow evening light shone down from between the trees on the other side of the bank. Anna closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth that spread across her face. May was her favourite month of the year. She loved to see the leaves make a welcome return to the trees, and the evenings begin to grow longer. May had also been the month of her mother’s birthday. Anna sighed and shut her eyes more tightly, trying to summon an image of her mother to mind. Sometimes it worked and within seconds her mother would appear – her dark brown eyes creased in the familiar smile that Anna knew so well, her black hair, streaked with strands of silver, neatly pinned back. Sometimes nothing came, just a blank space. The evening sun created an orange glow behind Anna’s eyelids, and she could see her mother’s face bathed in the soft light. Another few days and she would have been forty-seven. Anna probably would have bought her a new pair of shoes, or a handbag. It was four years since she had died, but Anna still missed her as if it was yesterday. It was different for her father and brother – they missed her as well, but in a more needy way. They missed the comfort she had provided. The fires set, the shirts pressed, the dinners always ready. The house just wasn’t the same without her. Anna had gone some way towards taking over the role of homemaker, trying to keep the place nice and tidy the way her mother had – always having a clean shirt ready for her father and a hot dinner in the evenings. But sometimes it felt so lonely. Anna missed the friend as well as the mother that she had lost. She used to love when her brother and father went off together to the pub; they were the nights that she would sit in with her mother and talk for hours with no interruptions. A loud shout made Anna jump from her quiet thoughts.
“Anna! Is that you?” She turned around and saw her brother hanging from the window of his bedroom at the front of the house. Grabbing her shoes from the bag, she wriggled into them, wincing at the fresh wave of pain that shot through her feet.
“What are you doing there?” shouted Seán, waving at her from the open window. Anna looked around quickly to see if any of the neighbours could see her brother roaring like a lunatic, but the street was deserted. She looked up at him and brought a finger to her pursed lips, in an attempt to silence him. Seán shot down the stairs as Anna turned her key in the front door
“Where were you? We’re starving.” Anna kicked off the offending shoes once again and put her feet into a pair of comfortable slippers. “I had to lock up this evening. Mr Jacob went home sick. Anyway, if you’re starving, why didn’t you make yourself some tea?” Seán took the shopping bag from the floor and struck his head in to examine the contents. “There’s nothing in the house to eat,” he grumbled.
“You could have gone around to the shops and got something,” said Anna, pulling the bag from him.
“I haven’t a shillin’. I don’t get paid for another two days.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake! You know Mr Slattery would let you have a few rashers on credit. You’re just a lazy lump, waiting for me to come in and make it for you.”
Anna brushed by him and walked down to the kitchen where her father was sitting in his chair by the fire, rolling a cigarette.
“Here she is!” he exclaimed, looking up from his tobacco pouch. “We thought you’d got lost.” Anna let the bag fall onto the kitchen table and taking her apron from the hook on the back of the door she put it over her head wearily and tied the strings behind her back. “Hello, Dada, I’m sorry I’m so late. I had to lock up this evening. Mr Jacob went home sick this afternoon.” “What was wrong with the poor man?” “He had a pain in his head.” Anna reached for a frying pan and set it on the cooker, took the rashers and eggs from the shopping bag and proceeded to cook the men their evening meal.
“Will you have a bit of fried bread, Dada?” she asked, reaching for the bread knife.
“I will indeed,” replied her father, moving from the armchair over to his place at the table.
Sean hovered over Anna’s shoulder, picking at bits of bread as she cut the slices.
“Do something useful, Sean!” she said, elbowing him away from her. “Go and set the table!”
Sean grabbed a lump of bread and stuffed it into his mouth. Then muttering to himself, he opened the drawer of the dresser and grabbed a handful of cutlery. He slumped into a chair and dropped the knives and forks down on to the table with a noisy clatter.
As Anna at last carried the plates of food from the dresser to the table, there was a knock at the hall door.
“That’ll be Joe,” said Seán, jumping up from his chair and rushing to answer the door.
Anna could feel her heart sinking. She had hoped that Joe wouldn’t call this evening. They had only recently agreed not to see so much of each other and here he was already, calling on a Wednesday evening. The two young men burst into the kitchen, talking loudly. Anna’s father put down his knife and fork and gave them a wink.
“Well, if it isn’t my future son-in-law, Joe Maguire!”
Anna’s face reddened. “Stop it, Dada!” she hissed.
Joe grinned at Anna and she turned quickly towards the sink to hide her embarrassment.
Joe and Anna had been going together for almost two years, and it seemed that lately Anna’s father never missed an opportunity to bring up the subject of marriage. It was beginning to annoy her, especially as her feelings for Joe seemed to lessen a little more every day. Almost everything he did of late seemed to get on her nerves for no good reason. But she knew it wasn’t Joe that had changed, it was her. It was gradually beginning to dawn on her that she might not love him anymore.
“Hello, Anna.”
“Joe, sit down and have some tea. Will you have a fried egg?” Anna went to the dresser to get an extra cup and saucer.
“I won’t, thanks. I ate earlier.”
Joe’s large frame sank on to the kitchen chair, making it creak under his weight.
Mr Barry buttered himself a slice of bread and gave Joe a knowing nod. “Any action tonight lads?”
“Not tonight,” answered Joe quickly. “There is talk of something happening next week though.” Joe shot a look towards Anna.
“Eh, Anna, love,” said Mr Barry, giving the other two a quick glance. “You wouldn’t run up to my bedroom and get the paper? I must have forgotten to bring it down.”.
Anna pushed her plate away and looked at the three men scornfully, then stood up slowly and left the room, making sure to close the door behind her.
Mr Barry pulled his chair closer to the table and stared at Joe intently. “So, what’s happening’?”
“I’m waiting for orders, but I’m told that they want to arrange a meeting next week. They’re talking about the back room in Lawlor’s pub next Thursday.”
Seán wiped his hands on his trouser legs. “No problem, Joe, we’ll put the word out.”
“Well, hold off telling anyone till they confirm it,” said Joe. “We don’t want people turning up unless it’s definitely happening.”
“Who’s speaking at it?” asked Mr Barry.
Joe opened his mouth to speak but stopped when they heard Anna’s footsteps on the floor outside. The door opened and Anna entered carrying her father’s newspaper.
“There you are, Dada,” she said, handing him the paper.
“You’re a little gem,” he said, putting the paper on his knee. He leaned back in his chair and looked from Anna to Joe. “Are the lovebirds going courting this evening?”
Anna could feel the blood rushing to her face with annoyance. She gathered the empty plates from the table, clattering them together, and began to scrape them clean over the sink.
Joe got up from the table and took his cup and saucer over to her. “Would you like to go out, Anna?” he asked under his breath.
Anna brushed a strand of hair from across her eyes. “Not really, Joe. I’m exhausted, and I have to get in very early in the morning – Mr Jacob is sick.”
“Why don’t you go out and enjoy yourselves? A pair of children like you shouldn’t be exhausted!” exclaimed Mr Barry as he rose from the table.
Anna forced a smile. “I know, Dada, but I want to get to bed early tonight.” She searched Joe’s face and tried to see if he was in any way aware of her complete lack of interest in spending the evening with him. There was something in the way he returned her smile that suggested he did.
Mr Barry walked towards the door. “I’m going inside to sit down.” As he passed Seán he hit him playfully across the head with the rolled-up newspaper. “You come in and play a few hands with me, son, and leave these two in peace.” Seán stuffed the last piece of his bread and jam into his mouth and followed his father out of the room.
Joe stood behind Anna and put his arms around her waist. He kissed the back of her neck and pulled her closer. Anna breathed in sharply and pulled away from him. “What’s wrong with you?” he groaned.
“It’s nothing.”
“Why won’t you come out with me?”
He looked at her, waiting for an answer, but Anna was lost for an explanation. She couldn’t understand why she didn’t want to be with Joe any more. He was the best-looking fellow around for miles. His thick wavy black hair and deep blue eyes had every girl in town competing for his attention. Anna knew he was a genuinely nice person but it made no difference any more, everyone seemed to be in love with Joe, except her.
“I thought we weren’t going to see so much of each other,” she said in her defence. “Why are you calling on a Wednesday evening when we both agreed?”
Joe threw his head back indignantly. “You said we shouldn’t be seeing so much of each other. You said keep it to weekends, but I agreed nothing. And if I can’t call to my girl’s house to see her on a Wednesday evening –”
This time Anna cut across him, not wanting her father to hear Joe raising his voice. “Of course you can call to see me, Joe. I’m sorry, it’s just that I really am tired tonight.”
She moved towards him and put her arms around his neck.
Joe slid his hands around her waist and kissed the crown of her head, then raised her chin gently and kissed her on the mouth. “You know how much I love you, Anna?” he whispered.
“I know.” Anna shot a glance towards the door to see if her brother might be spying on them through the glass panel.
Joe pulled her closer. “We’ll get married one of these days – just as soon as I have the money to buy us a little house.”
Anna felt a flash of panic run through her. “Joe, stop talking about marriage – you know we’re far too young!”
“No, we’re not – plenty of people get married at our age.”
“I’m not getting anytime married soon, and if you had any sense you wouldn’t be talking about it! Anyway, Dada would go mad if he knew we were even thinking about it.” Anna knew this was a lie. Nothing would please her father more than have his only daughter marry a hero of the irregular forces that were wreaking havoc on the city. Joe Maguire never spoke of his involvement with the Irish Republican Army, but Anna knew exactly what they were up to. Michael Collins had signed the Anglo-Irish treaty with the British government which had caused a deep divide amongst Irish republicans. Those that opposed the treaty were determined to fight it every step of the way. Anna believed that the treaty, although far from perfect, was the only hope of achieving peace in the country. One evening, while playing cards with Joe and her father, she had mistakenly voiced her thoughts about this. Her opinion had been met with a cold glare from both men – and Anna knew immediately that trying to argue with them was pointless. Their political convictions were set in stone, and nothing she could say or do would ever make them change their minds.
Anna kissed the tip of Joe’s nose and pulled him towards the door. “Come inside for a while and we’ll play cards with the other two, then I’m going to bed.”
They walked out of the kitchen and across the hall to what Anna’s mother had called the back kitchen. Inside, her father and Seán sat beside an empty fire grate. The evening was mild enough to do without a fire. The last rays of sunshine spilled in through the window that looked out on to the small back garden.
After a few hands of sevens, Anna could feel her eyes getting heavy. Her feet still throbbed from the tight shoes she had worn that day. “I’m off to bed, lads. Goodnight.”
“It’s only half eight!” exclaimed Seán.
“I don’t care. I’m tired and I’m going to bed.”
Joe stood up. “I’ll see you over the weekend,” he said uncertainly.
“Yes,” smiled Anna. “Goodnight all.”
Mr Barry waited until he heard Anna’s footsteps lighten as she ascended the stairs to her bedroom. Then he cleared his throat. “I believe they raided the dairy in Rathfarnham yesterday.”
“It was a good job. No one was caught and no one was hurt, and they all got away,” said Seán.
“Ah, you’d wonder if it’s all worth it.” Mr Barry shook his head as he spoke. “Frightening the innocent decent working people. This struggle will turn us all into a pack of criminals.”
“There is no choice,” Joe broke in quickly. “Until we have a United Ireland and that sham of a treaty is re-negotiated, we’ll have to fight them every step of the way.”
Joe’s voice softened. “I lost my brother in the Easter Rising six years ago. I’m not about to swear an oath of allegiance to the British crown, the very people who murdered him. I’m not giving up now.”
“I’m not giving up either, Joe. It just wears me out sometimes, that’s all.” Mr Barry threw his cards on the table and sat back in his chair. A sombre air descended on the three of them with the mention of Joe’s brother.
Joe looked down at the floor and shook his head. “It makes me laugh – hearing them call us the Free State, with our Free State Army. Until they tear up that treaty, there’ll never be anything free about our state.”
Mr Barry knitted his thick fingers together and sighed loudly. He perked up a moment later as he thought of something that would cheer them up. “Will we go around to Lawlor’s for a pint?”
“Good idea, Da.” Seán jumped up and gathered the deck of cards together. “Joe, are you coming?”
“Might as well, seeing that your woman upstairs is too tired to entertain me,” he said, throwing his eyes up towards the ceiling.
Mr Barry laughed. “Sure she has to get her beauty sleep, son. Keep herself looking gorgeous for you.”
The three men filed up to the front door and left the house. Anna sat at her dressing table and heard her brother laugh loudly out on the street. With a crooked finger she pulled back the lace curtain and looked at the three of them as they strolled away from the house. Her heart sank as she thought of what she had been putting off for months – she didn’t know which bit was going to be more difficult, breaking it off with Joe or breaking the news to her father and brother.
Anna went to her wardrobe and picked out the clothes she would wear to work the next day, placing them neatly on the end of her bed. Today was the first time that she’d had to run the office on her own – Mr Jacob had never missed a day – and Anna had felt nervous being the only person in charge. Even though she was the office manager and could run the company without any assistance, Mr Jacob was always a reassuring presence. Anna had left school at the age of sixteen and started in Jacobs’ shoe shop on Sackville Street as a junior shop assistant. After only a few months on the shop floor, Mr Jacob spotted her bookkeeping abilities and quickly moved her up to the office. Now, five years on, she was his personal secretary and ran the office like clockwork. Mr Jacob trusted her completely and Anna took pride in the fact that she was the only member of staff that was trusted with a set of keys to the premises. The shop opened at nine thirty every morning, and Anna was always there at nine o’clock sharp to get a head start on the day, and open the shop for the staff. It was hard work but she loved her job and was proud of the fact that she had worked her way up from the shop floor to where she was now.
Anna climbed into bed and as she struggled through her prayers she could feel herself beginning to drift off to sleep.
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Anna took the tram to work the next morning. She had planned to walk – she could get from her house to Jacobs’ in twenty-five minutes – but her feet still hurt from the shoes she had worn the day before..
The steep flight of stairs creaked as she walked up to her office at the top of the building. It was a big airy room and Anna’s tidy desk was set into an alcove on the wall opposite Mr Jacob’s office. It looked more like a room in a house than an office. Beside the door was a brown leather couch and coat-stand, and alongside the entrance to Mr Jacob’s office was a fireplace where a fire was lit on the colder winter days. Anna sat at her desk and began work on some import documents she had got a start on the previous evening. Shortly after nine o’clock, Mr Jacob entered the office looking pale and drawn.
“Good morning, Anna,” he said as he hung his hat beside the door.
“Mr Jacob! Are you feeling any better?”
“Yes, dear. Thank you.”
Anna came out of the small recess which served as her office. “You still look very pale.”
“Oh, don’t you start! I’ve had Irene nagging me all morning. I’m fine – just a headache, nothing more.”
“Well, I’m going to make you a cup of tea,” said Anna, moving towards the door.
“That I will allow,” Mr Jacobs replied with a weak smile.
When Anna came back with the tea Mr Jacob was sitting behind his desk thumbing through the morning paper. She stood still for a few seconds and observed him through the glass pane in the office door. His tall thin frame was bent over the desk and Anna could see where he had brushed his hair over the bald spot on the crown of his head. He sensed her presence and looked up. Anna quickly moved into his office and handed him the tea.
“Now this will put me right!” he said cheerily.
Anna noticed that his hands shook as he took the cup and saucer from her.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“Nothing, thank you. I’ll let you get back to work.”
Anna returned his smile as she closed the door of his office. He was the kindest man that she had ever met. He always made her feel like a lady. Even when she worked as an assistant in the shop he had taken care to treat her with the utmost courtesy and respect. Unlike her own father, Mr Jacob was a true gentleman. Anna’s father didn’t say things like ‘utterly’ and ‘splendid’. He didn’t sip his tea noiselessly or crook his little finger as he raised the cup to his lips. Instead he liked to pour his tea into a saucer and drink it, making loud slurping sounds as he did. Over the years Anna had become used to the genteel manners of Mr Jacob and saw how they contrasted sharply with her father’s coarse ways. These unkind thoughts about her father sometimes made her feel ashamed of herself, but there were times when she wished her father could be more like Mr Jacob.
Chapter 2
Anna put the dinner on the table for her father and called out loudly for Seán. He appeared at the kitchen door with a towel around his shoulders.
“How many times do I have to call you? Dinner is ready,” said Anna. “Lovely,” said Seán , pulling up a chair. “Da, would you trim my hair? It’s growing wild.”
Mr Barry was a barber. His small shop on Caple St had belonged to his father and when he had died he’d passed the business down to his only son.
“Who are you scrubbing up for, son?”
Seán laughed slyly. “I’m taking Betty Smith to the dance tonight.”
“She’s a nice girl,” Mr Barry said. Then assuming a more serious tone, he added, “Have her home early.”
“I will, Da.”
Anna shook her head and smiled at her brother’s simple ways. He was twenty-three years of age yet still took orders from their father as if he was still a boy.
“What about you, Anna, any plans for this evening?”
“I’m going to the pictures with Joe,” she said, failing to sound in any way enthusiastic.
“Well, don’t get too excited about it,” Mr Barry muttered.
“I’m just a bit tired this evening,” she said, trying to brighten her tone.
Her father put down his knife and fork and lifted the pork chop from his plate. He held the greasy bone between his fingers and sank his teeth into the meat, a habit that Anna detested.
“Tired again eh,” he said. “I think that Jew boy is working you too hard.”
“Don’t call him that, Dada,” said Anna, standing up from the table, “and don’t eat with your hands.”
Mr Barry stopped chewing his meat and glared at his daughter. Seán lowered his head and stared down at the mound of mashed potato on his plate.
“I’ll eat whatever way I bloody well like in my own house,” Mr Barry said slowly, pointing the pork chop at Anna.
“Yes, Dada. Sorry.”
When Anna had cleared away the dishes, she left the kitchen and went upstairs, cursing herself for snapping at her father. Having to go out with Joe tonight had put her in a bad humour. She had been mean to Seán earlier as well, telling him he looked too scruffy to be going out on a date.
As she changed her clothes she heard a knock at the door and let her brother answer it. The sound of Joe’s voice drifted up the stairs and Anna waited in her bedroom until she heard them go down towards the kitchen. Maybe it’s just the time of the month, she thought as she brushed out her hair. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror and was shocked to see how plain she looked. Her fair hair appeared dull, almost brown. Her blue eyes seemed to have changed to a flat grey. That’s it, she assured herself, I’m just a bit worn out this week. She pinned her hair back and dabbed a bit of powder across her cheekbones, then she straightened her skirt and went downstairs to meet Joe.
Seán was in the hall, looking neater after his haircut. He held a clothes brush in his hand and was brushing some stray hairs from the shoulders of his jacket.
“You look much better now,” Anna said in an attempt to make up for her earlier comments.
Seán grinned and checked his appearance in the hall mirror.
Anna stood behind him and kissed the back of his head. “Sorry I was mean to you.”
Seán blushed. “It doesn’t matter.”
Anna patted his hair down across his forehead like her mother used to do. Seán was two years older than her, but ever since their mother had died Anna had become his big sister.
“Don’t stay out too late. You haven’t forgotten you’re helping with the delivery tomorrow morning?”
“Yes, I know, and don’t wait up for me or keep checking my bed every five minutes. I’ll be there in the morning no matter what time I get in at,” Seán assured her.
He took his coat from the hallstand and opened the front door.
“Don’t be late, Seán,” Anna said sternly.
“Goodbye,” he called as he closed the door behind him.
Seán worked in the post office, but earned extra money every now and then when Jacobs’ had a delivery from the docks. Seán would help unload the crates of shoe-boxes from the van and stack them in the basement storeroom of the building. But he had been late for the last two deliveries and Anna had warned him that he was on his last chance.
The men were speaking in hushed tones as she entered the kitchen. Her father stopped talking when he saw her.
“Don’t stop on my account,” said Anna, glaring over at them.
“Only men’s talk, isn’t that right, son?” laughed Mr Barry.
“That’s right,” agreed Joe. “We’d better hurry if we’re to make it into town to see a picture.”
“I’m ready now.”
“Right, we’ll be off then. I’ll see you on Tuesday, Mr Barry.”
“You will indeed. Mind that daughter of mine, she’s the only one I’ve got.”
“Of course I will,” Joe said with a broad smile. “Goodnight.”
Joe linked Anna’s arm as they walked along the bank of the canal. As was usual in recent weeks, Anna could think of nothing to say. The conversation that had always flowed so easily between them had dried up and it had become an effort for her to think of the most trivial things to talk to him about. Whenever she was with Joe, all the doubts she had about their relationship rushed into her head and clouded her thoughts for the evening. Thankfully Joe had just been promoted in the printing company he worked for and his news of this compensated for Anna’s silence.
“That’s great, Joe. You deserve it.”
Joe smiled and squeezed her arm. “I’ll be earning more money. I’m going to start putting something away every week, so we can get married.”
Anna could feel her face getting hot.
“Another year and I’ll be able to afford a nice engagement ring and have something to put down on a house of our own.”
“Yes,” Anna said in a tiny voice.
They stood in line in the foyer of the cinema. When they reached the ticket booth the man behind the glass recognised Joe and the men nodded to each other.
“Evening, Cathal,” said Joe digging into his trouser pocket for money. “How are you?”
“I’m grand, Joe.”
Joe lowered his voice. “Will we be seeing you on Tuesday?”
“You will indeed,” he said and pushed two tickets across the desk towards Joe.
Joe went to put his money down, but the man behind the booth pushed his hand away.
“No need for that. Enjoy your evening.”
Joe smiled and put his money back into his pocket.
“See you next week, Cathal.”
Anna took Joe’s hand and they walked into the darkened cinema. It was the same everywhere they went. People who recognised Joe treated him with the reverence they usually reserved for the clergy. For those involved in the struggle for independence, people like Joe were heroes, constantly risking their lives for the sake of the country. By day, they lived normal lives, working in offices and factories, but by night they carried out raids on services that would assist in disabling the city leaving the government in disarray. Earlier in the year the Anglo-Irish treaty was signed following a truce in the War of Independence. The treaty established the Free State, granting twenty-six southern counties dominion status within the British commonwealth. It also stated that all members of the Free State government would have to swear an oath of allegiance of the British crown. When the Irish protested that this was unacceptable, Lloyd George, the British Prime Minister, threatened “immediate and terrible war”. Those opposing the treaty refused to be a part of the Irish Provisional Government. The split was deeply personal. The protagonists on both sides had been close friends and comrades during the War of Independence and now found themselves on opposing sides of a deep and bitter feud.
Joe’s beloved older brother Francis had been shot dead outside the GPO during the 1916 rising. His death had devastated the sixteen-year-old Joe, and he had vowed to continue the fight against the British and avenge the killing of his only brother.
After the picture ended they stepped out into the chilly night air on Sackville Street. Joe pointed to the Hammans’ Hotel. “Will we go in for a drink?”
“I’d like to get home, Joe. We have a delivery tomorrow morning and I said I’d be there early for them.”
They walked towards home, neither of them saying much.
“What’s happening next Tuesday?” Anna asked, knowing that Joe hated any questions about his meetings.
“Nothing much. Just a few of the fellas want to discuss some things.”
“What do they talk about?”
Joe stopped walking and turned to face Anna. “Now you know that I’m not able to tell you that.”
“Why not? You tell my father and my brother. Why can’t you tell me?” She glared at Joe. “Are you afraid I’d go to the police on you? I don’t agree with what you are doing, I’ve made that clear already – and I’m entitled to an opinion. But you and Dada and Sean are treating me like some sort of spy ever since I dared to disagree with the lot of you.”
“Anna!” Joe looked stunned.
Her outburst was completely out of character, but she found it hard to resist the urge to start an argument with Joe. “You’re always talking in whispers with them whenever I leave the room. Did you ever think of how that makes me feel?”
They had both stopped walking now and Joe looked around to see if anyone was looking at them.
“Well, did you? It makes me feel like an intruder in my own home, Joe. How can you talk about getting married to someone that you won’t trust?”
Joe made a whistling sound through his teeth. “Jesus, Anna, what brought this on?”
“I don’t know,” Anna said, sulking.
Joe took her arm gently and they fell into step again. “Well, seeing as we’re on the subject, I might as well tell you now that I won’t be able to see you as much over the next few weeks. This meeting on Tuesday is important. There are things about to happen that will take up a lot of my time. Is that enough information for you?”
“Would you tell me more even if I wanted to know?”
Joe breathed out sharply.
Anna could feel her spirits lift. Not having Joe around as much would give her some time to think. “I don’t want any more information, Joe. But it would be nice if you trusted me a little bit more every now and again.”
“It’s not a matter of trust, Anna. The less you know about what I do the better it is for all concerned. I don’t want you ever getting into trouble on my account.”
They walked towards home. A light mist had descended on the canal, giving a still and gloomy appearance to the night. They reached Anna’s house and Joe walked as far as the front door.
“I’ll let you get on to bed.”
“Sorry I was angry with you,” said Anna.
Joe put his arms around her and kissed her goodnight.
Anna closed the front door behind her and walked into the dark hall. When her mother was alive, the hall lamp was always lit until everyone in the house was in bed. Anna had to feel her way along the wall for fear of knocking into something and waking her father. In the darkness, she could hear the loud snores that came from the back kitchen and she crept down the hall quietly. She opened the door and tip-toed into the room. In the armchair by the dying fire was her father, his head drooped to one side in a deep sleep. Anna went over to him and let her hand rest on his arm. Looking into his face she saw the deep lines that ran across his forehead and felt a pang of sympathy as she took hold of his arm and shook it gently. He was fifty years of age but had come to look like an old man since the death of her mother
“Dada, wake up!”
Mr Barry jumped to life and looked around the room in a daze. “What time is it?”
“It’s nearly twelve. You’re cold,” said Anna, feeling his hands.
“I must have dozed off.” Mr Barry stretched his arms above his head and yawned.
“You go on up to bed – I’ll clear away here,” Anna said taking the cup and plate from the floor beside the chair.
“I must have dozed off,” he repeated as he got to his feet. “Good night, love,” he said as he left the room.
“Good night, Dada.”
Anna pulled the fire-guard over the dying embers and wound the clock on the mantelpiece. Beside the clock Anna’s mother smiled at her from the silver picture frame and Anna ran her fingers over her mother’s smooth and ageless face. “Goodnight, Mam,” she whispered.
On her way to bed she checked Seán’s room. He was still out. Anna went back downstairs and lit the gas lamp in the hall, knowing that her brother would definitely crash into something if it was still dark when he came in.
Anna rose early the following morning and washed and dressed herself, before trying to wake Seán . It was always the same on the Saturday mornings that he agreed to help out with a delivery. Seán would go out drinking the night before, and waking him was next to impossible. Anna marched into his bedroom and wrinkled her nose when the stale smell of porter reached her nostrils. With one single movement, she pulled the curtains open and the rings on the curtain rail made a sharp scratching noise as she did so.
“Seán, get up! It smells like a brewery in here. What time did you get in at?” Seán ’s tousled hair appeared from under the bed covers. He opened his eyes in tiny slits. “Shut the curtains for a minute,” he whispered hoarsely.
“No. Get up quickly. I’ll go down and make you some breakfast.”
Anna left the room and heard the sound of the creaking bed as Seán settled back down to sleep. She swung around and entered the room again, this time taking the warm covers from around her brother and pulling them roughly down to the end of his bed.
Seán sat up looking like a madman. “You mean cow,” he moaned, “I’m dying!”
“That’s your own doing,” Anna chided him. “Now make a move or we’ll be late.”
CHAPTER 3
Ben Jacob walked slowly up the steps of his Georgian home on the South Circular Road. He had left the house, and was on the way into the office to oversee the delivery, but the headache that had dogged him for weeks had worsened and he had reluctantly decided to turn back. He was annoyed with himself for turning back, not because he was needed at the office – he could always rely on Anna to do the job every bit as well as he could – it was just that he couldn’t bear the thought of his wife fussing over him again. As he approached the last step, a feeling of lightness came over him and he knew that if he didn’t get a hold of something he was going to fall. He struggled over to the side of the front door and caught the handrail with both hands. His head was spinning and he felt almost drunk in a nauseous way. The morning paper slipped out from under his arm and he reached up to the door-knocker and hit it against the brass as hard as he could. Within seconds, as if she had anticipated his knock, his wife Irene was standing at the open door, her face aghast as she looked down at her husband slumped against the railings. She took his arm and put it around her shoulders and with all the strength she could muster led him inside, feeling his body getting heavier with every step.
Mary the housemaid appeared at the end of the hall and shrieked, “What’s happened to Mr Jacob?”
She ran and took Ben’s other arm around her shoulders and together they walked him into the drawing room and lowered him onto the couch.
“Oh, Mrs Jacob, what’s wrong with his eyes?” Mary cried.
Irene looked down at her husband and saw that his eyes had begun to flicker open and closed in a frightening way. She turned to Mary and caught her by the arm.
“Go quickly and get a doctor.”
Mary backed out of the room, twisting her apron in her hands. “Yes, Mrs Jacob,” she said faintly.
“Quickly!” shouted Irene.
Anna unlocked the huge back door of the darkened storeroom under the building. It made a thunderous noise as Seán pulled it across its rolling frame.
“Jaysus, my head,” he groaned to himself as Anna looked on without a shred of sympathy for her hungover brother.
A shaft of pearly morning light crept across the floor of the dusty cavernous storeroom. Satisfied that she had succeeded in getting Seán to work on time, Anna took the papers from the driver of the van and left them to their unloading. “Right. I’ll leave you two to get on with it. Come up when you’re finished.”
After several hours of paper work Anna checked the clock and wondered why Mr Jacob hadn’t arrived into the office yet. He usually signed off the papers and checked the boxes on the Saturday deliveries. It was two o’clock and there was still no sign of him.
Seán stuck his head around her office door. “We’re finished.”
Anna looked up from her work. “Did you lock the door?”
Seán nodded and moved over to her desk, rubbing his hands together. “Can you pay us now?”
Anna handed over two envelopes and Seán snatched them from her. “Lovely,” he said with a smile. “I’m off home now – back to bed for the rest of the day.”
Anna gave him a withering look. “Well for some. I’ll see you later on.”
Seán winked at her as he stuffed the envelopes into his trouser pocket. “Don’t work too hard,” he said over his shoulder as he left the office and ran down stairs, eager to get home to his bed again.
Anna did some paperwork and waited for another hour in the hope that Mr Jacob might show up, but by three o’clock he had not arrived and was hardly likely to come in so late. Anna had finished her work so she decided to close up the office and go home.
* * * * *
Later that evening when the doctor had examined Ben Jacob for the second time that day, he entered the drawing room clutching his bag and went over to where Irene was sitting.
“I’m afraid Mrs Jacob, it’s as I suspected earlier, your husband has suffered a stroke. He seems to be comfortable and for the moment I don’t see any need to move him to hospital.”
Irene sat by the fire with a frozen look on her doll-like face. “Why is he speaking like that?”
The doctor sat down across from her. “That is what happens. Part of the brain has been damaged and certain things like speech and movement can be affected badly. Sometimes the speech can return but it is too early to tell anything at the moment. There is also a chance that he could suffer another stroke – only time will tell.”
Irene looked lost as the tears rolled down her face. “What can I do to help him?”
“The only thing you can do now is to watch him closely. If he shows any signs of having another seizure, get him to the hospital immediately. I will call again to examine him tomorrow morning.”
Irene wiped her wet cheeks and stood up. “Thank you, doctor. Mary will show you out.”
When the doctor left the room Irene threw herself back into the armchair sobbing loudly. When she was certain that she had no more tears left she went back upstairs to the bedroom. He lay very still in the bed but opened his eyes as she approached. Irene reached down and took her husband’s frail hand. He looked up at her and she recognised the fear in his eyes. He tried to say something but only a strangled sound came from the back of his throat.
Irene put her finger to his lips. “The doctor says your speech will come back – it’s just a matter of time, my darling.”
Ben’s head moved around the pillow in jerking movements and Irene ran her hand along his forehead to calm him. After a few minutes he seemed to drift back into a light sleep. Irene crept out of the room and shut the door quietly behind her. It was the first time she had ever seen her husband sick and it frightened her. It was always she who suffered the ailments, and Ben who sat on the side of her bed and brought her tea and pills when she was blinded by migraine, or had simply taken to her bed with fatigue. How on earth, wondered Irene, was she going to find the strength to look after him?
Later that evening, Rabbi Goldstein called and prayed with Ben and Irene. They lit candles in the bedroom and the rabbi sang the Sabbath prayers over the ghostly figure of Ben Jacob.
CHAPTER 4
Irene watched her husband eat the dinner that Mary had prepared for him. Even though every piece of food had been boiled to a pulp and mashed together with the greatest care to make it easier to eat – Irene could see his face contort in frustration as he tried to swallow it. A trickle of brown gravy ran down his chin and she reached over quickly and wiped it away with her napkin. When he had eaten all he could, Ben dropped his fork beside his plate.
“Well done, darling, you really are improving,” Irene said. “Last week you could only manage one or two mouthfuls on your own.”
Ben looked at her and frowned. He tried to say something but only a strained cry came from his contorted lips. It was the first week since his stroke that Irene did not have to feed her husband every meal, and she had taken heart that he was on the road to recovery. Having to feed him like a helpless child had seemed such a cruel punishment to a man as proud and independent as Ben. He had been confined to a wheelchair, which was the hardest thing of all. Although his speech had not returned, he did not have to say anything – Irene just had to look into his eyes to know how much he hated the loss of independence. Those eyes, which had once been so bright and animated had become lifeless pools that seemed to reflect the sadness within.
Ben tried to talk again, but the same strange sound emerged. He banged the table with his frail fist in a show of frustration.
Irene reached across and took his hand. “The doctor said this would be a slow process. It has only been six weeks, Ben. We have to be patient. You will get better, it will just take some time.” Irene could hear the doubt that crept into her voice as she tried to reassure her husband. The truth was, there really had been very little change in Ben’s condition since his stroke. It seemed that their whole world had been turned upside down. Irene kept hoping that one morning her husband would walk down for breakfast and say he felt altogether better, but she was now beginning to realise that that was never going to happen. Learning to feed himself again had been a huge improvement. He had also on one occasion managed to take a few steps from the wheelchair to his bed, but apart from that he was completely dependent on Irene for everything.
After dinner they sat by the fire. The heat had made them silent and sleepy and Irene watched Ben’s head slump forward as he nodded off. She stood up and stretched her weary arms – they seemed to ache permanently from lifting her husband from one position to another. She crossed the room and pulled the bell and a few seconds later Mary appeared at the door.
Irene smiled at her. “I’m afraid it’s that time of night again.”
Mary saw Ben asleep in his chair and moved nimbly across the room. Her tiny frame belied the physical strength she had shown in the past few weeks. Although barely reaching Irene’s shoulder in height, Mary had proved herself to be as strong as an ox when it came to manoeuvring Ben from his wheelchair into his bed.
Irene released the brake gently and pushed the chair into the hall and down to the study where she had made a bedroom for her husband. The two women undressed Ben and pulled his nightshirt on over his bony blue-veined limbs. Then with an arm around each of their shoulders they heaved his body onto the bed.
“Is that all, Mrs Jacob? Will you be needing me for anything else tonight? Maybe you’d like me to make you some hot milk?”
Irene sat on the bed beside her sleeping husband and stroked his forehead. “No, thank you Mary. You can go home now.”
Mary crept over to the door and closed it gently behind her.
Irene sat in the darkness and whispered a prayer under her breath. Never in her entire life had she experienced the anxiety and desolation she had felt over the past six weeks. At first she could only focus on her husband’s health, but as the weeks had gone by a new worry had emerged, that of the business. It was now clear that Ben would not be returning to work, at least not for the foreseeable future, and Irene was at a loss as to what to do. Anna had been running the company as best she could, working long hours to ensure that Irene had nothing to worry about on that side of things. But Irene knew that Anna was overworked and it could not continue for very much longer. She had visited the office a week ago to sign some papers, and was shocked when she saw how exhausted Anna looked. But what was to be done, wondered Irene as she sat in the dark listening to her husband’s peaceful snoring. Their two sons, Peter and Daniel, had spent some of their youth in Dublin but both had left to live in England. Peter was the practical worker of the two of them. As soon as he had finished with school he had gone to England to work alongside his grandfather in the family shoe factory in Leeds. Old Mr Jacob had died shortly afterwards and Granny Jacob had taken over the running of the entire operation and depended heavily on Peter, although she would never admit this to anyone, especially Peter. Granny Jacob doted on him. He was now twenty-five years of age and still living with his grandmother. Irene sometimes wondered if the old woman ever let any girls near her precious grandson. Every time Peter came to visit his parents, Irene always made a point of asking him if he had met a nice girl yet. Peter reacted the same way every time: he blushed and changed the subject. His younger brother Daniel was very different. He had tried working with Peter in the factory but hated every minute of it. In fact, it had caused tension between the two of them and for the first time in their lives the two brothers had bickered constantly. Daniel had no interest and therefore didn’t work hard enough, causing Peter to lose his temper on several occasions. When Daniel came home two summers ago and told Irene that he had been accepted to study law in Edinburgh University, she was quite relieved. She couldn’t bear the thought of her two sons arguing. They had always got along so well as children, she didn’t want anything to ever come between them.
Irene got up from the bed and walked over to the desk, which had been pushed into the corner of the room. On it was a photograph in a silver frame of her two boys, taken five years ago on Peter’s twentieth birthday. Irene lifted the frame and ran her fingers over the their smiling faces. They were leaning against the huge trunk of the chestnut-tree in the back garden, both with folded arms and cheeky grins. Peter was heavy set with thick black hair and had the dark features of his father. Daniel looked very different. He was slender and fair-haired and possessed the delicate angles of his mother’s face. Irene remembered that the moment he was born she was sure he was a girl. He was far too pretty to be a boy. Even as a toddler, people always mistook him for a girl. His fair hair had begun to recede in the past few years, but to Irene he would always be the most beautiful baby in the world. She kissed each of them and put the photograph back down on the desk. “I miss you, boys,” she whispered. Then she went to the side of the bed and, leaning over, gently kissed her husband’s forehead. She tiptoed across the room and paused before opening the door, looking back to her frail husband who looked so small in the bed. “I miss you too, my dear,” she said softly before leaving the room.
* * * * *
Anna sat in her office surrounded by a mountain of post and papers that had yet to be sorted out. Her stomach began to rumble and she looked up at the wall clock – almost three, and she hadn’t eaten since her meagre breakfast that morning. Remembering Mrs Jacob’s words, Anna forced herself to put down her pen and break for lunch. Outside the icy rain clattered at the windowpanes and in the distance Anna could hear the carol singers outside the GPO. The shop had been busy doing a brisk Christmas trade and Anna finally felt that she was beginning to get on top of things. For the first few months after Mr Jacob’s stroke, she had felt she just could not cope with the amount of work that had been piled on to her, but what she had learned from the experience was that some things could wait until tomorrow. Six months ago, if her desk had looked the way it did now, Anna would have screamed in panic. Now she only looked at the basket nearest to her with the most urgent tasks to be done, and ignored the rest. She had spent the first few weeks of working alone trying to run the company with the same efficiency as she had done when Mr Jacob was there to oversee things. But this soon took its toll and Anna became weak with exhaustion, never leaving the office until her desk was completely cleared of any work. Until the day Irene paid a visit to put her signature to some cheques and papers and was shocked when she saw the pale overworked face of her employee.
Irene made Anna promise that she would only attend to the urgent matters and leave everything else until her husband returned to work.
“You are our only hope of staying in business until Mr Jacob is well enough to get back. If you run yourself into the ground, there will be no one else to take over,” she told Anna firmly.
“I really don’t want to let you down, Mrs Jacob. And I don’t want Mr Jacob worrying about the place, because I can take care of it.”
“We have no doubt that you can take care of things, Anna. But please try to take care of yourself as well.”
Irene scribbled hastily on the mountain of cheques and papers that had been put in a pile for her to sign. As she leaned over the desk her eyes were obscured by the rim of her hat and Anna looked down at the diamond rings that sparkled on her long pale fingers as the pen scratched out her signature on the papers. Mrs Jacob looked a lot younger than her husband. Her face was like fine porcelain and when she smiled only the tiniest wrinkles appeared around her sparkling blue eyes. She had never been anything but polite and friendly towards Anna, yet her fine style and cool elegance always managed to make her feel extremely nervous in her presence.
“Now, Anna, take heed of what I have said and look after yourself. I will not be held responsible for running you into bad health.” Mrs Jacob buttoned her coat and pulled on her beige suede gloves.
Anna stood up from her desk and, crossing the room, pulled the door open for her.
“Goodbye, dear,” said Mrs Jacob.
“Goodbye, Mrs Jacob, and please give my regards to Mr Jacob – we all miss him.”
Irene picked up the back of her dress and gracefully made her way down the narrow wooden staircase.
Chapter 5
Irene hung the last glass angel on the Christmas tree and stood back to admire her work. For the first time in months she had something to look forward to: her boys would be home to spend Christmas with them and Irene had been gripped with excitement all day at the thought of seeing them again.
“There now, how does that look?”
Ben was sitting in his wheelchair with a rug around his legs. “Warry nice!” he shouted, his head rolling with each syllable.
“Yes, it is very nice.” She moved over to him and took his hand. “Oh Ben, I am excited about seeing the boys again.”
“Ish gooood!” His face contorted as he tried to spit the words out. During the months following his stroke, his speech had come back gradually but only Irene could understand him fully.
“They arrive at four o’clock tomorrow,” she said excitedly. “Mary is going to cook a wonderful homecoming dinner. It’s going to be a special Christmas this year, darling.”
“Mmm,” Ben nodded.
Irene stood up and warmed herself by the fire. “Ben, we should agree on something before they arrive tomorrow.”
Ben looked at her questioningly.
Irene’s back stiffened as she gazed into the leaping flames. “We have to face the fact that you are not going back to work any time soon.”
She turned to face him and he threw his hands forward in a gesture for her to stop.
“No, Ben, you must listen to me, because I have thought about nothing else for months and I know what we must do.”
Irene could see how difficult this was for him but she knew she had to broach the subject before the arrival of her sons.