Patsy of Paradise Place, page 5
‘I expect he’s partial to a piece of carrot or an apple,’ he told her. He fished an apple out of his pocket and handed it to her. ‘Here, give him this.’
Patsy held the apple gingerly between two fingers and darted her hand out in front of the horse, then pulled it back just as quickly.
‘No, no! Don’t tease him like that or he might accidentally bite you,’ her dad said quickly. ‘Place the apple flat on the palm of your hand and hold it out and keep your hand perfectly steady.’
‘I can’t! He might bite me!’
‘No he won’t. He’ll take it very carefully and all you will feel is his lips brushing your hand.’
Patsy shook her head doubtfully.
‘Come on, I’ll show you.’
He balanced the apple in the palm of Patsy’s hand then, keeping his own hand underneath hers to steady it, held her arm out in front of the horse.
Patsy held her breath and screwed her eyes tight shut as the horse began to lower his head towards her outstretched hand. When, as her father had explained, Samson took the apple and all she felt was his warm lips as he did so, she opened her eyes again in wonderment.
It was the start of a tremendous bond between the huge brown-and-white horse and the diminutive red-haired girl. Patsy took an immediate liking to Samson and he responded to her voice and touch as if he accepted she was his friend.
Every night after school she would wait impatiently for her dad and Samson to return from their haulage work at the docks. The moment he crossed the cobbled yard into the stable, she had an apple or piece of carrot waiting for the horse and though she now held them out quite fearlessly she never failed to marvel at how gentle the huge animal could be. As soon as Samson’s harness was removed she would help to feed and groom him. Maeve hated the horse. She declared him to be a great lumbering, smelly creature and she wanted nothing whatsoever to do with him. She complained bitterly when John and Patsy came indoors after being in the stable that they smelled of the animal and insisted they took their shoes off and left them by the back door.
Now that she knew there was no possible chance of John ever going back to sea again Maeve studiously began to replan her own life. She hated the ordered round of domesticity. She liked to dress up in her prettiest clothes, but there was no point in doing that unless there was someone to admire her and pay her compliments.
Most nights John was far too tired after his heavy day moving cargo down at the docks to want to go out. Even after he got home there was Samson to be fed and watered, the stable to be cleaned out and fresh straw spread on the floor. Even with Patsy doing her utmost to help it usually took well over an hour. Then all he wanted was a good wash, a filling meal and a quiet evening by his own fireside reading the Echo.
At first, Maeve contented herself with visiting the pub at midday, but most of the men whose company she enjoyed were working then. The evenings were prime time for company and after a great deal of argument and continuous nagging she managed to persuade John to take her out every Saturday night as well as at least one night during the week.
The thing John Callaghan disliked most about this arrangement was leaving Patsy at home on her own. As spring advanced and the nights became lighter and lighter it was only natural that she wanted to play out in the street after school with her friends. He had no objections to her doing this, but he was well aware that if he and Maeve were out then Patsy was in the habit of staying out until well after dark and he worried in case she ended up in some kind of trouble.
‘Stop worrying your head about her,’ Maeve told him crossly. ‘I’ve told you before she’s well able to look after herself. She’s never got into any sort of bother up to now, has she?’
‘No, but she is getting older, and prettier, and I don’t want her in any trouble,’ he would argue.
‘Then make her stay home when we go out.’
‘I don’t like to think of her left here in the house on her own either.’
‘Then tell her to have young Maureen Murphy in to keep her company, or Janie Grant. They’re both in her class at school.’
When he mentioned this idea to Patsy she wasn’t at all enthusiastic.
‘Maureen won’t want to stay in, she likes playing out and Janie is such a little goody-goody that she’s no fun at all. I’d sooner be on my own than have her in here to keep me company.’
‘So who would you like to have here with you?’
‘You, of course!’ she told him with an impudent grin. ‘I love it when it’s only the two of us and you tell me stories about all the foreign places you visited when you were at sea and about when you were a boy in Ireland. Me mam never tells me anything like that. All she talks about is clothes.’
John felt torn between the two of them. He knew what Patsy said was right, but he also knew that unless he took Maeve out she would either sulk or go to the pub on her own. She enjoyed the company of her friends who drank there, but he found them raucous. He was glad of the excuse to leave early because Patsy was at home on her own.
As he took on more and more work at the docks he felt the need for early nights rather than outings to the pub. Looking after Samson took up a lot of his time and in the end he decided he would have to find someone to help with mucking out the stable and grooming Samson. Patsy was more than willing to do it but she couldn’t wield the heavy yard brush or reach up high enough to groom Samson properly.
He talked to Patsy about it and asked if she knew any likely young lad who might be interested.
‘Billy Grant would jump at the chance,’ she told him. ‘He’s always asking me about the horse. Billy loves animals. He used to take old Mr Peterson’s dog, Nipper, for a walk every night after school, but then it died and Mr Peterson said he was too old to get another one.’
‘You mean Janie’s brother? I don’t think he would be any use. He’s not even as tall as you are.’
‘Not her little brother, her older brother. He’s nearly thirteen and ever so tall. He could reach up to groom Samson and put on his harness quite easily. And he’d be ever so good with him.’
John promised to give Billy Grant a trial. It turned out to be a tremendous success. As well as helping out after school Billy came round early in the morning to give Samson his feed. In next to no time he had learned how to harness Samson up ready for his day’s work.
With help at both ends of the day, John found he was less stressed and had far more time for both Patsy and Maeve. As a routine acceptable to them all became established he congratulated himself that things were at last turning out exactly as he had hoped they would.
Chapter Six
PATSY’S TOUSLED RED head was barely visible over the half-opened door, but the sturdy brown-and-white dray horse whinnied a greeting as she came inside the stable.
‘Yer late, kiddo! Samson’s been getting restless thinking yer weren’t coming,’ Billy Grant said mildly as he carried on grooming the horse.
‘I know I’m late, Billy,’ Patsy sighed as she fondled the warm soft nose that the horse thrust inquisitively towards her hand in search of the apple or raw carrot that was his usual treat.
‘So what kept you?’ he asked
Patsy shrugged. ‘This and that, you know how it is.’
Billy’s eyes narrowed as he cleaned out the curry-comb and studied his work on the horse’s coat.
‘Is yer ma playing up again, then, kiddo?’ he asked casually.
‘Yeah. She’s got a bit of a cob on. Her head’s bad and so she spent the day in bed and I had to do all the cleaning. Me dad’s nipped out to the shops because I had no money to buy any food.’
Billy shook his head sadly. ‘So what are you doing here?’
‘Well, Mrs Murphy has just dropped in to see me mam so I took a chance to pop out and come over to see Samson.’
‘Well I’m off home for my tea now,’ Billy said as he reached up for the old plaid blanket that he draped over the horse’s back after he’d groomed him. ‘See yer at the usual time tomorrow.’
Patsy nodded, but said nothing. She felt too choked to speak. She’d been looking forward all day to having a chat with Billy. It mattered almost as much to her as seeing Samson.
Billy Grant was almost three years older than her, sturdy and capable with thick brown hair, light blue eyes and a square jaw with a cleft in the centre of it.
Patsy liked being with Billy because he always treated her as an equal and they had become very good companions. Unlike the other boys she knew at school he never made any derogatory remarks about her red hair or her freckles. In fact, he never teased her at all.
He seemed to understand how much she cared about Samson and didn’t laugh at her for bringing the horse an apple or a piece of carrot every night. He encouraged her to tell him what she’d been doing and sympathised with her when, like today, her mam was so hungover that she had to stay in bed.
They met up and talked to each other nearly every day and she often wished he was her brother. She felt she could tell him anything and he always seemed to understand her problems even if there was nothing he could do to help her.
What was more, he confided in her, telling her things he said no one else in the world knew. She knew exactly how he felt about school and his teachers, which ones he liked and which he hated. And he told her about his mates and warned her which ones to avoid because they were bullies.
Billy had also told her that he intended to leave school the minute he was fourteen and old enough to do so. It worried Patsy because she was afraid she wouldn’t see very much of him once he went to work.
‘Why don’t you let my dad know when you’ll be leaving school and ask him if you can work for him full time?’ she had suggested.
Billy shook his head. ‘He probably couldn’t afford to employ me full time,’ he told her. ‘I want a job where I can earn a really good wage because I’m saving up for something special.’
It had taken her almost a week of deft probing to find out exactly what it was that Billy was saving up to buy. She’d turned it into a guessing game, naming everything from football boots to a cricket bat, or even a wireless set, but he’d shaken his head each time and his lips had remained sealed.
Then one day, out of the blue, he said he was going to tell her what it was. First, he swore her to secrecy. He said he didn’t want anyone to know what he was saving up for, certainly not his sister Janie who would be bound to tell his mum and dad.
‘I won’t tell a soul. Cross my heart and hope to die,’ Patsy promised and held her breath waiting to hear what it was.
‘I’m saving up to buy a Harley-Davidson,’ he confided.
‘A Harley-Davidson?’ Patsy looked blank, then her green eyes danced with excitement. ‘You mean a motorbike?’
Billy nodded. ‘That’s right, but not any old motorbike. I want a Harley-Davidson. I know they cost an awful lot of money, but since I’m not old enough yet to ride one, that doesn’t matter. I want to have the money saved up ready, though, so that on the day I am old enough to ride one I can go out and buy it.’
‘They’re those great big powerful bikes!’ Patsy exclaimed in awe.
Billy’s face lit up with enthusiasm. ‘A Harley-Davidson is the most expensive motorbike in the world and that’s because it’s the very best motorbike in the world, too.’
Patsy frowned. It seemed a pretty daft thing to her. ‘Have you ever been on one, Billy?’ she asked dubiously.
He shook his head. ‘Not on a Harley, but I have ridden pillion on a Rudge. The Harley is ten times better though.’
‘How do you know it is if you’ve never been on one?’
‘A chap who has been on both of them told me so.’
‘Will you give me a ride on it when you get it?’ she asked hopefully.
He laughed. ‘Yeah! I’ll make sure it has a Buddy seat fitted so that I can take you for a spin on it,’ he promised. ‘You’ll love it.’
‘Ta! You would still consider working for my dad full time when you leave school if he was to pay you a proper wage, though, wouldn’t you?’ she persisted, her eyes anxious.
Billy looked thoughtful. ‘Well, I might consider it,’ he grinned.
‘Samson would like that,’ she insisted.
‘What about you?’
‘Yeah! I want you to,’ Patsy told him eagerly. ‘I’d miss you a lot if you left.’
‘Well, that’s nice to know,’ he said. ‘Afraid you’re going to miss me now as well, kiddo, because I’m off home to get me tea. Come on,’ he went on as he propelled her towards the door. ‘I want to lock up the stable.’
Despondently Patsy now walked back across the cobbled yard that separated the stable from the street. She couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing Billy every day. He was so very much part of her world, the best friend she had ever known.
She cheered up slightly when she saw that Maureen Murphy was sitting on the front doorstep waiting for her.
‘Been sneaking out to the stable to see Billy Grant then?’ Maureen teased.
Patsy blushed, her face flaming, making her freckles look like a sprinkling of brown dots over the bridge of her nose. ‘’Course not, I always take an apple or something over to Samson at this time every day.’
‘Oh, yeah? And what about an apple for Billy? Or perhaps he gets something better, like a kiss and a cuddle,’ she said archly.
‘Don’t talk daft!’ Patsy said crossly.
‘You telling me you’ve never kissed him or had a bit of a cuddle?’ Maureen persisted, tossing back her long dark hair and staring at Patsy intently with wide blue eyes.
‘Of course I haven’t,’ Patsy told her indignantly, her own eyes flashing angrily.
‘Why not? He’s ever so handsome. I bet you’d like to kiss him,’ Maureen sniggered.
Patsy looked thoughtful, holding her lower lip between her small white teeth. ‘Not really,’ she said slowly, ‘but I like him as a friend.’
‘Yer daft, you are!’ Maureen told her. ’He’s in our Megan’s class at school and she said most of the girls are dotty about him.’
‘Your Megan would be dotty about anything in trousers,’ Patsy scoffed.
‘Oh no she’s not!’ Maureen defended her. ‘She wouldn’t even give Billy Grant a second look. He might be good looking but he’s too scruffy. He smells, too, of that horse. You wouldn’t notice that, though, because you stink of that old horse the same as he does.’
Patsy shrugged her scrawny shoulders. ‘What are you doing here, anyway?’ she asked as she hunched down on the front doorstep alongside Maureen.
‘Waiting for me mam. She’s having a jangle with your mam. Probably wants to know what’s up with her this time.’
‘Me mam’s got one of her bad heads,’ Patsy muttered evasively.
Maureen gave her a sideways look. ‘Do I look that daft that I’m going to believe that?’ she smirked. ‘C’mon, what’s really wrong with her?’
‘She’s got a bad head!’
‘I heard what you said first time,’ Maureen snapped. ‘I ain’t stupid, you know, nor deaf.’
Patsy didn’t answer, and she avoided Maureen’s sharp look.
‘You weren’t at school again today,’ Maureen said accusingly. ‘Miss Richardson was asking where you were.’
‘Me mam was bad in the night so me dad said I might as well stay home as someone ought to be with her.’
‘My mam says if her headaches are as bad as she makes them out to be then she should be in hospital being properly looked after and getting her head examined and put right.’
‘She is properly looked after,’ Patsy said defensively. ‘I look after her better than they would in any hospital. Anyway, it’s only headaches she gets and she’d sooner be at home than in one of those places.’
Maureen shrugged. ‘I don’t suppose they’d take her anyway. The headaches she keeps on getting are because she has hangovers all the time and that’s because she drinks too much.’
‘What do you mean by that, Maureen Murphy?’ Patsy drew in her breath sharply and her expression changed to one of anger. ‘I suppose that’s why your mam’s here, isn’t it? Poking her nose in! Come to read me mam the riot act, has she?’ Her voice rose hysterically. ‘She needn’t bother! Father O’Brian and me dad can do that without any help from anyone else.’
Tears of outrage spurted from her eyes and she wiped them away on her sleeve. Then she scrambled to her feet and pushed past Maureen.
Blindly she stumbled up the stairs to the front bedroom where Mrs Murphy was sitting by the bedside talking to her mother. She paused in the doorway of the darkened room, her breath catching in her throat as the smell from the vinegar-soaked compress that her mother insisted on having on her forehead stung her throat.
‘Is that you, Patsy?’ her mother asked in a tremulous whisper. ‘Could you get me a drink, lovey, I’m absolutely parched. It must be all this talking.’
Patsy nodded, too choked to speak. When she returned with the mug of water she noticed that there were dark shadows beneath her mother’s green eyes, that her hair was mussed into a straggly mess, her cheeks drained of colour and her skin a sickly yellow.
‘Give it here, chuck.’ Bessie Murphy held out her hand for the water.
Short, plump with very dark straight hair, blue eyes and a round florid face, she contrasted so sharply with the woman lying in the bed that for a minute Patsy hated her. Why should Maureen and Megan’s mother be so fit and healthy when her own mother was so sickly? It didn’t seem fair, Patsy thought rebelliously. Deep down, though, she knew her own mam could be as fit and well as anyone else if she didn’t drink so much.
‘There, come along then, let’s prop you up so that you can take a sip of this,’ Bessie Murphy encouraged Maeve as she slid an arm under her shoulders and effortlessly raised her into a half-sitting position.
‘You go on down and talk to our Maureen then, Patsy, I’ll only be another minute or so. Your mam and me are having a little talk, private like.’
Patsy bit her lip. She knew now why Bessie Murphy was there and she didn’t like the idea one little bit. She wanted to be the one by her mam’s side, holding her hand and comforting her. She wanted to be the one to tell her that she must stop drinking because next to her dad she mattered more than anything in the world. Even Samson wasn’t as important to her as her mam.
