A Glimpse at Happiness (22 page)
‘I have to stay with me mam for the formalities,’ Patrick said, giving her a heart-stopping smile
‘Of course,’ Josie replied. She let go of his arm and he stepped behind his mother again.
Someone else came forward to greet the happy couple so Josie walked away to chat with the neighbours. Colly Bonney, whom she’d met before the ceremony, came over with her colourful children and introduced her to some of the other boatmen’s wives and, after sharing some good-hearted banter, a comforting sense of belonging stole over her.
She wouldn’t wish Bobby, Lottie or the boys to live the life she’d known as a girl, with barely enough to eat and the terrible spectre of the workhouse if Mam was unemployed, but then again they wouldn’t know the comfort of knocking on any door in the street, always sure of a welcome. The people in Knockfergus didn’t worry about what next door had, because everyone had the same: nothing.
Patrick’s speech was well received and Josie smiled as she listened to him extol Brian’s bravery at taking on a Nolan woman as a wife. This brought him a thump on the arm from Mattie and a loud cheer of approval from the men in the audience. A cake of salt and oatmeal was offered to Mattie and Brian and they took three bites each to protect them from evil. They then stood up to lead the dancing. Annie came over and stood next to Josie and the little girl’s eyes sparkled as she watched the adult members of her family dance in the middle of the street.
‘Why is Aunt Mattie dancing in that funny way?’ she asked Josie, as they both clapped in time with the music.
‘Because the fairy people love a bride and if she takes both feet off the floor before she’s - err - properly wed,’ she said, carefully, ‘they can spirit her away.’
The fiddler drew out a long note calling the dancers to order. The men stood up and, with their hands on their hips, started to twist their feet heel to toe. Patrick joined them, stylishly dipping and leaping between the other men. After a few moments, he took off his jacket and cravat and threw them to Sarah.
A couple of his fellow dancers pushed him into the middle. With his thumbs in the armhole of his waistcoat he swaggered around in time with the music then did some high steps, which earned him thunderous applause, before he returned to the circle and another dancer stepped in.
‘He’s a fair one for the dance is your father,’ Josie said to Annie.
‘That he is,’ Annie agreed. ‘He said that he danced with you at your mam’s wedding.’
Josie glanced down at Annie. ‘He did,’ she replied, thinking of how he’d also swirled her onto the front porch and kissed her.
The dance finished and Patrick came over. ‘I’ll get you a cup of punch.’
Annie saw a friend sitting on one of the doorsteps at the end of the street and so dashed off to join her.
Patrick strolled across the street to the refreshment table, dodging between dancers as he went. A couple of men gathered around the table slapped him on the back and he exchanged a joke with them before making his way back to Josie.
He handed her the glass of punch and their fingers touched briefly. The expression in his dark eyes set her heart racing again. She took a sip of the punch and it scorched her throat.
‘My goodness, it’s almost pure spirit,’ she said, placing her hand on her chest and coughing.
Patrick laughed. ‘Jamaican Rum, of course. Just be thankful it’s spillage and not brewed from potato scraps in someone’s zinc bath.’
Josie took another sip and Patrick swallowed a long draught of his beer. They stood for a while as the dancers swung around.
‘It’s a wonderful wedding,’ Josie said. ‘And everyone can see that Mattie and Brian are so much in love.’
‘Aye,’ Patrick replied. ‘And even Mattie’s bouquet couldn’t hide it.’
‘Oh, Patrick,’ Josie laughed, and when she glanced up at him she felt the passion in his eyes warm her even more than the fiery punch was doing.
The fiddler struck up another long note to start the next dance. Patrick took her drink from her and put it with his own on a nearby windowsill. He grabbed her hand.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘It’s a mortal sin not to dance when an Irish jig’s calling you.’
He shouldn’t dance with her of course, it was asking for trouble. When she’d arrived that morning, he had only just managed to hold himself back from gathering her in his arms to kiss her until she was breathless, so holding her hand and waist, even in a dance, was utter madness. But with the sun in her hair and the merriment of the day he couldn’t stop himself.
But, even if he were free, what did he have to offer Josie? He was a man with two dependant children, living upstairs in two rooms in a damp cottage with his mother. He worked when there was work, and notched in his belt when there wasn’t. He had missed his chance with Josie and he would have to force himself to accept that.
The tune started and Patrick bowed.
‘I don’t suppose you remember this one,’ he said.
She picked up her skirt and swung to one side. ‘Of course I do and I haven’t got two left feet to dance it with,’ she answered, twirling around.
She sidestepped and passed behind him. Patrick stood and clapped as she circled, hopped to one side and then back, his eyes never leaving her laughing face.
God, she was beautiful, he thought, watching as a small tendril of hair escaped from her bonnet.
She doubled-stepped back into place and then it was his turn to circle her. She clapped and beat time with her foot as he strutted past her. Someone knocked her bonnet, tipping it sideways.
She laughed, pulled the ribbon and threw it behind her. Patrick slipped his arm around her waist then they turned around each other. Her hips butted against his and she smiled up at him.
‘You told Annie about dancing with me at Mam’s wedding,’ she said, as they changed arms and stepped back the other way.
‘I did,’ he replied, enjoying the sensation of his arm around her slender waist.
‘That’s not all you did! If you remember.’
The tone of her voice caught him in the stomach and stole his thoughts. He only had to dip his head and he could press his lips on hers.
‘I’ve never forgotten it.’
Her eyes opened a fraction and her lips parted. He hadn’t lived the life of a monk since Rosa left but the flirtatious glance Josie threw him caught his vitals as no other woman had done.
He
had
to stop this. With her in his arms he was on the brink of doing something he should not. Thankfully, the dance broke them apart. They wove through the other dancers and then back to each other. The music stopped and they stood facing each other. Suddenly for Patrick there were no broken promises and no years of regret, there was only Josie. Josie, who he had walked home from school and whom he’d vowed to marry and who would be his only love until the last breath left his body. Heedless of the press of people around them, he stepped forward and took her hand.
had
to stop this. With her in his arms he was on the brink of doing something he should not. Thankfully, the dance broke them apart. They wove through the other dancers and then back to each other. The music stopped and they stood facing each other. Suddenly for Patrick there were no broken promises and no years of regret, there was only Josie. Josie, who he had walked home from school and whom he’d vowed to marry and who would be his only love until the last breath left his body. Heedless of the press of people around them, he stepped forward and took her hand.
‘Josie,’ he said, and then suddenly became aware that there was an eerie silence in the street.
She noticed it too and turned.
Ma Tugman, flanked by Charlie to her right and Harry on her left, was standing at the end of the street.
Moving Josie behind him, and fixing the latecomers with an unwavering stare, Patrick strode towards them. Every other man in the street did the same.
Chapter Twelve
Ma stopped at the end of Walburgh Street and six pairs of studded boots ground on the cobble stones behind her. As she recovered her breath Ma glanced up the street.
The wedding party was now in full swing, with children dashing back and forth cramming handfuls of cake in their mouths as they dodged through the adults’ legs. The tinny strains of some diddly-diddly tune screeched out while men and women cavorted about in the centre of the road like fleas on a dog’s back. Men in their cheap suits, pints of ale in hand, stood chatting while the old women sipped cherry brandy and watched the youngsters dancing.
These men, laughing and joking with each other, were the same men who’d refused to do Ma Tugman’s bidding. She watched them enjoying themselves, anger simmering within her, and then she saw Patrick. Her anger flamed into hatred.
She’d have liked to have one of her boys take him out and gut him but he could handle himself, could Patrick Nolan. Even her hardest men were wary of challenging him because there was a fair chance it would be them washed up on the tide with a knife in the ribs, not him.
Even if her lads did get the drop on Nolan, if his corpse was found floating in the Thames she’d have a war on her hands, with every last Paddy down to the Boatman like hounds from hell. Those mealy-mouthed shopkeepers and tradesmen who paid her to keep glass in their windows and their stock from the flames would start whispering to the police and very soon she’d find the filthy nabbers crawling over the cellars in Burr Street.
Ma’s eyes narrowed as she watched him enjoying himself in the dance, and then she noticed his partner. A twisted smile spread across her lips.
‘I see your little lady love’s here,’ she said to Harry.
‘Oh, is that the famous Miss O’Casey,’ Charlie drawled. ‘Nice, very nice. She seems very taken with our friend Nolan.’
Ma studied Josie as she dipped and swirled around Patrick.
‘Jumped up madam,’ she said with a harsh laugh. ‘She wouldn’t give our Harry a second look and yet she’s making eyes at fecking Nolan like one of China Rose’s girls after a trick.’
‘I wouldn’t mind a chance at her myself,’ Charlie said, turning to the men behind and grabbing his crotch.
‘Now, Charlie, I don’t want no trouble,’ she said mildly.
Charlie gave her an innocent look. ‘I ain’t out for trouble, Ma.’ The boyish expression changed to a leer. ‘But I can’t answer for them, can I?’
Ma’s eyes settled on Patrick again. He was trouble! Although she’d long finished with the jiggy-jiggy she could see that he had that rough appeal women craved. Even with his two half-dago brats, half the women in the neighbourhood were after getting his feet under their table. Her gaze moved to the woman with her arm hooked in his. It would seem that for all her expensive clothes and big house Josie O’Casey had the same need between her legs as any other woman.
A few people at the end of the street noticed the Tugman crew. The music stopped mid-chord and the women called their children back to them and slid back into their houses. The men put down their drinks and picked up bottles. Then Patrick Nolan turned and saw them.
Ma grabbed Harry’s arm again. ‘Come on then, boys, let’s go and give our respects to the ’appy couple.’
She started forward but Patrick stepped in front of her.
‘You and your bully boys are not welcome here,’ he told her flatly.
‘Ah, Patrick, Patrick,’ she said in her soft poor-little-old-woman voice, and shook her head. ‘Surely you don’t mind me wishing your dear sister and her new husband well.’
Patrick’s mouth curled into a mirthless smile. ‘You? Wishing anyone well?’
Ma put an offended expression on her face as she noticed Miss O’Casey moving alongside Patrick.
‘It’s only proper. I don’t want you Irish to say the Tugmans don’t know what’s right and what’s not.’ She stretched her neck and looked past Patrick to where Brian had escaped Mattie’s grip and was on his way to join the rest of the men.
‘What do they want?’ he bellowed as he came abreast of Patrick.
Patrick gave a dry laugh. ‘Ma says she’s come to wish you well.’
Brian snorted. ‘What, with a pack of murderers at her back?’ He jumped in front of Patrick and shoved Harry in the chest. ‘Feck off, the lot of you!’ he yelled. ‘I’ll not have you scum upset my Mattie.’
Harry pushed him back and Brian raised his fist, but Patrick caught him. The men behind Ma jostled forwards.
Holding hard to Brian, Patrick patted his shoulder. ‘Don’t give ’em the excuse, pal. They’re not worth it.’
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