Coming Home to the Four Streets Nadine Dorries (book recommendations for young adults TXT) 📖

when Maura would know just how much of a man he had been and she could show him how grateful she was for protecting their family. There would be no refusals, no excuses, and besides, wasn’t it time for another child anyway? He felt life surge through his veins. They could never replace Kitty, they could never try, but it was time for new life, that was what mattered. They were going home to Liverpool and Tommy would make sure that there would be a new Doherty arriving not long after.

Chapter Fifteen

Malcolm was waiting at the door for Biddy to arrive, holding a telegram in his hand. Mary had left and, in celebration of the news, Malcolm had opened the bottle of rum he took a tipple from last thing at night and had it on the table with two glasses waiting.

‘What the hell is up with you?’ asked Biddy as soon as she saw him standing there. ‘Where’s Mary?’

Malcolm took her coat and handed her the telegram. ‘Here, read this.’

Biddy took the sepia-coloured envelope which, of course, Malcolm had opened without a single tear with his silver knife and she walked towards the kitchen as she read. ‘The Morry has list. Needed repairs. Wink. Home soon. Jerry be Ready. Tell Mam. What in the name of God does any of that mean?’ she asked Malcolm as she looked up.

He began to pour the rum. ‘In truth, Biddy, I have no idea, but I sense it is good news for the four streets, the store cupboards and pantries of the houses and, if I’m not mistaken, there will be rum, knowing Conor. The Morry is sailing in!’ He raised his glass.

‘What is a list?’ asked Biddy as she reached out to take her glass.

‘It’s when a ship has taken on water, or has a badly stored hold, or it has taken on too much cargo.’ Malcolm winked.

‘What’s up with you, winking at me like that?’ asked Biddy. ‘Have you something in your eye?’

Malcolm looked exasperated. ‘No, Biddy, that’s what Captain Conor says in his telegram – he’s sending Jerry a wink. My bet is that this is going to be a good haul and just in time for the carnival too.’

Biddy smiled as she took a sip of her rum. ‘Right, well, I’ll drink this and then I’ll go and find Ena and tell her, put her out of her misery – and you never know, she might walk home sober tonight.’

‘Oh, I doubt it,’ said Malcolm, ‘but at least she’ll be happy.’

*

Cindy cursed at the hot water that hit the back of her hand just as she tipped the Aunt Sally cleaning fluid into the bucket of steaming water. ‘Damnation,’ she said as she rubbed at the skin and before she continued, fanned out her long and elegant fingers and checked her nails for chips. It was the end of the day and she was ready for an evening spent sitting in front of the fire in the Anchor with Reg.

She thought about Reg now. Maybe she should say yes the next time he asked her to marry him. She looked around her. But who would take over the salon? She doubted if anyone would: there just wasn’t enough money in it. She heaved the metal bucket out of the sink, ready to wheel it into the front and mop the floor, when she heard the bell above the door ring. Cindy took a deep breath; the salon was closed and she was in no mood for a delay right now. She wanted to spend some time on her own hair before she and Reg went to the Anchor. The bell rang again.

‘Hang on, I’m coming, keep your knickers on!’ she called out and screwed the top back on the bottle of Aunt Sally then walked out into the shop.

*

The men down on the docks had knocked off over an hour since, but Jerry had been tipped off by the gaffer and he and a few of the men hung about on the steps.

‘A ship is out on the bar, waiting on the bore; due in over a week ago, they said. It has a bad list, been struggling, and needs to come in as soon as possible. The harbour master wants it to go straight into the dry dock, but the captain is said to be insisting on docking here to unload first. He’s asked for it to be brought down to berth for two weeks, emptied, checked, and then go up into dry dock for repairs. And the gaffer said it would be of interest to all of us.’

Seamus had punched the air. ‘Yes! It has to be Conor, doesn’t it? Who else would it be insisting on docking here.’

Jerry was squinting under his cap, peering down the river. ‘I hope it is Conor, but the gaffer didn’t know the name of the ship or the captain because that miserable bastard, Heartfelt, wouldn’t tell him which ship it was and said he would give him a copy of the manifest only once it had left the bar and was on its way down.’

Big Paddy spat his tobacco to the ground. ‘Heartfelt’s a slimy git.’

‘I’m surprised you remember his name, Paddy,’ said Seamus. ‘I’m sure to God he’s forgotten yours, we see that little of you down here these days.’

Paddy looked wounded, an expression he had perfected over a number of years. ‘Honest to God, Seamus, if you had my back, you’d know about it.’

A couple of the men at the rear guffawed at Paddy’s response and he had the good grace to blush.

‘Is it worse in the mornings then, Paddy?’ asked Jerry.

‘Oh, aye, terrible in the mornings, gets better as the day goes on. I’m a martyr to my bad back, Jer. There are some days I just can’t get out of my bed. Dr Cole says if I don’t take it easy, I’ll be an invalid before my pension is due.’

Jerry resisted