normal, I don’t. Best thing to do is bang ’em up as much as ye can and as soon as possible and then ye can’t go wrong. It’s natural.’
Having both spoken enough for working men, they sat on the wall in silence, looking down at their boots while they finished their ciggies. Jerry was lost in thought as to how things would have been different if he had led his life according to Tommy’s simple rules.
One day, Jerry invited Alice to stop, spend the evening and eat with him and Nellie. He felt bad that she had arrived with a meal and wouldn’t take a penny off him.
His mornings were always rushed. On his way to work he took Nellie down to Maura’s, with a basket full of nappies, and collected her on his way home. He often left the kitchen in a mess and felt horribly guilty at how much this nice, kind woman, who wouldn’t stay longer than five minutes once he and Nellie got in, did to help them. He felt he should do something in return. Initially, she refused every single time but then slowly she began to accept the occasional invitation, always manufacturing reasons as to why she couldn’t accept most times he asked.
Over time, although he had never so much as touched her, Jerry realized that Alice was becoming a fixture in his life and that others would regard her as more than a friend. Alice was odd, he recognized that.
Maura remembered the stories Bernadette had told her about Alice. Maura hated Alice, which made things difficult. Every time Jerry dropped Nellie off at Maura’s, he was assailed by a storm of questions. He assumed that Alice didn’t relate very well to Nellie because she didn’t want to step on Maura’s toes. Even he was aware that when Maura came into his house and Alice was there, the hostility between them froze the air within seconds. However, he knew that when Alice wasn’t around, life was just that bit harder.
After about a year, he began to invite Alice to go with him to the Irish centre on a Saturday night, and on Sunday afternoons she would occasionally meet up with him, as he pushed Nellie around in her pram for a change of scenery. Jerry would do anything to keep moving and to blot Bernadette out of his mind. Thinking about her wasn’t the source of comfort he once thought it would be; it was torturous and painful.
As Alice became a regular feature at the house, Maura grew spitting mad. If she could have poisoned Alice and got away with it, she would have. One day, when Jerry wasn’t around, Maura decided to meet Alice on her own terms. When she saw Alice enter Jerry’s house via the entry, she followed her into the house and pretended to be shocked when she found Alice in the kitchen. Alice was so much at home that there wasn’t much acting involved in Maura’s being stunned.
‘Can I help ye?’ she said. ‘Are ye here for anything special? Only Jerry didn’t mention youse was comin’.’
Alice knew she would have to deal with this one carefully. Maura might be bog Irish, but she could tell she was sharp.
‘He doesn’t know,’ she responded, without a hint of friendliness in her voice. ‘I finished early at the hotel and thought I would pop down to help him out.’
‘Did you now,’ said Maura, instantly affronted and her temper rising. ‘Well, let me tell ye, miss, there are plenty of us here on this street to help out. Jerry doesn’t need a stranger to do it for him.’
‘Oh, I’m no stranger, Maura,’ said Alice tartly. ‘In fact, Jerry is taking me to the Irish centre on Saturday night. So I am sure we can chat there, but for now, if you don’t mind, I have a meal to make.’
Maura stared with envy at the meat Alice had unpacked from her basket. A dark piece of brisket sat on the table covered in a dark-veined, deep-yellow fat. Maura could never afford meat like that in her house. The two women looked each other in the eye. Maura had met her match. As she retreated from the kitchen, Maura spotted the statue of the Virgin Mary on the
Having both spoken enough for working men, they sat on the wall in silence, looking down at their boots while they finished their ciggies. Jerry was lost in thought as to how things would have been different if he had led his life according to Tommy’s simple rules.
One day, Jerry invited Alice to stop, spend the evening and eat with him and Nellie. He felt bad that she had arrived with a meal and wouldn’t take a penny off him.
His mornings were always rushed. On his way to work he took Nellie down to Maura’s, with a basket full of nappies, and collected her on his way home. He often left the kitchen in a mess and felt horribly guilty at how much this nice, kind woman, who wouldn’t stay longer than five minutes once he and Nellie got in, did to help them. He felt he should do something in return. Initially, she refused every single time but then slowly she began to accept the occasional invitation, always manufacturing reasons as to why she couldn’t accept most times he asked.
Over time, although he had never so much as touched her, Jerry realized that Alice was becoming a fixture in his life and that others would regard her as more than a friend. Alice was odd, he recognized that.
Maura remembered the stories Bernadette had told her about Alice. Maura hated Alice, which made things difficult. Every time Jerry dropped Nellie off at Maura’s, he was assailed by a storm of questions. He assumed that Alice didn’t relate very well to Nellie because she didn’t want to step on Maura’s toes. Even he was aware that when Maura came into his house and Alice was there, the hostility between them froze the air within seconds. However, he knew that when Alice wasn’t around, life was just that bit harder.
After about a year, he began to invite Alice to go with him to the Irish centre on a Saturday night, and on Sunday afternoons she would occasionally meet up with him, as he pushed Nellie around in her pram for a change of scenery. Jerry would do anything to keep moving and to blot Bernadette out of his mind. Thinking about her wasn’t the source of comfort he once thought it would be; it was torturous and painful.
As Alice became a regular feature at the house, Maura grew spitting mad. If she could have poisoned Alice and got away with it, she would have. One day, when Jerry wasn’t around, Maura decided to meet Alice on her own terms. When she saw Alice enter Jerry’s house via the entry, she followed her into the house and pretended to be shocked when she found Alice in the kitchen. Alice was so much at home that there wasn’t much acting involved in Maura’s being stunned.
‘Can I help ye?’ she said. ‘Are ye here for anything special? Only Jerry didn’t mention youse was comin’.’
Alice knew she would have to deal with this one carefully. Maura might be bog Irish, but she could tell she was sharp.
‘He doesn’t know,’ she responded, without a hint of friendliness in her voice. ‘I finished early at the hotel and thought I would pop down to help him out.’
‘Did you now,’ said Maura, instantly affronted and her temper rising. ‘Well, let me tell ye, miss, there are plenty of us here on this street to help out. Jerry doesn’t need a stranger to do it for him.’
‘Oh, I’m no stranger, Maura,’ said Alice tartly. ‘In fact, Jerry is taking me to the Irish centre on Saturday night. So I am sure we can chat there, but for now, if you don’t mind, I have a meal to make.’
Maura stared with envy at the meat Alice had unpacked from her basket. A dark piece of brisket sat on the table covered in a dark-veined, deep-yellow fat. Maura could never afford meat like that in her house. The two women looked each other in the eye. Maura had met her match. As she retreated from the kitchen, Maura spotted the statue of the Virgin Mary on the
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