Born Bad. Josephine Cox
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a night out with his mates down the pub, dominoes and drinking till the early hours, the buggers! The ting is, he staggered home totally blathered, setting off the dogs and waking up the street, he was! Then he was singing and now he was threatening at the top of his voice: “Me name is Michael O’Leary, an’ I’ll knock out the lights of any man who gets in me way!”’
Harry had to laugh. ‘So, did anyone challenge him?’ Going to the sofa, he gently laid the child down.
‘No, thank the Lord. Sure, they’d have more sense than to tackle the likes of him! Well, anyway, I heard him arriving – in fact, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the whole world didn’t hear him! He fell in the door, crawled up the stairs and crumpled into bed. Five minutes later he was away with the fairies.’
Harry had always thought Michael to be a lovable old rogue. ‘But if he was asleep, he couldn’t cause you any trouble, could he?’
‘Aye, well, you’d think so, wouldn’t you, eh?’ she sighed. ‘Had a nightmare, he did, thrashing about in a fight with some fella down the pub. The old bed was a-shaking and a-heaving, and suddenly it collapsed. The bedhead fell over and trapped Mikey by the neck. He was yelling and bawling, and saying how he could “feel the vengeance of the Lord”.’
With a hearty chuckle she finished the tale. ‘I told him to shut up his yelling, or he would feel the vengeance o’ me yard-broom across his backside!’
Harry was laughing as he had not laughed for weeks, until he thought of poor Michael. ‘He wasn’t hurt bad, was he?’
‘Aw, bless ye, Harry Boy … sure he wasn’t hurt at all; or if he was, he didn’t admit it.’
Taking a breath, she went on, ‘The very next morning he was off for a game o’ pool with his mates, but before he left, he called Patrick Mason. He asked would he call round and see if he could mend the bed. A while later, Patrick came and took a look. “I’ll have it good as new in no time at all!” he said.’
There was a definite twinkle in her eye. ‘I asked him how much would it cost to have it mended, and he said four pounds, so I gave him six and told him to say it was beyond repair. So there it is! Everyone was happy. Michael had the satisfaction of knowing that he was a better man than the bed, Patrick found a few quid in his pocket, and I got the new bed I’d been after for years. So there youse have it!’
She laughed out loud. ‘Sure I couldn’t have planned the whole thing better if I’d tried.’ Making the sign of the cross on herself, she muttered humbly, ‘Poor Mikey … may the Lord rest his soul.’
‘And may the good Lord forgive you, Kathleen O’Leary.’ Harry mimicked her Irish accent well. ‘You’re a wicked woman, so ye are.’
Her burst of laughter was so infectious that Tom stirred in his sleep. ‘Away with ye, Harry Boy!’ she cried. ‘A woman has to beat the men at their own game, so she does.’
Her Irish eyes dimmed over. ‘All the same, it’s a pity he never lived long enough to enjoy the new bed,’ she sighed. ‘If he hadn’t gone into that beer-drinking contest, he might still be here to this very day.’ Then she gave a cheeky grin. ‘Mind you, I reckon he had a fine old life, and if you ask me, he’s up there with his mates – the lot of ’em drinking and carrying on like they ever did … bless their merry hearts!’
It was a tonic for Harry to hear her stories and her laughter, for it took him away from the grief and the loneliness of these past weeks. ‘You’ll never change, will you?’ he said affectionately. ‘Honestly, Kathleen, you can’t know how good it is to be here with you.’
Smiling bashfully, she brushed away his compliments. ‘I dare say the pair of youse are starving hungry, so while I go and get us a bite to eat, you’d best wake the bairn up, or he won’t sleep tonight.’
With that she left him to it, and hurried off to the kitchen.
Soon the little house was filled with the smells of wholesome good cooking. ‘Come on, you two.’ Harry was out in the back garden with Tom when she called them in. ‘The table’s all set and the food is ready, so it’s just the two of youse I’m waiting for.’ She ceremoniously ushered them inside, then told them to tuck in. ‘You’ve got fat pork sausages new from the butcher this very morning, with vegetables so fresh they stand up on the plate, and potatoes mashed from my very own kitchen garden.’ She gave Tom a wink. ‘I’ve got a juicy apple pie for afters,’ she whispered, ‘all smothered in thick creamy custard. What d’you think to that, eh?’
Tom whispered back, ‘Can I have a big piece with crust?’
Kathleen laughed aloud. ‘As big as ye like,’ she answered with a wink, and though he tried really hard, Tom could not manage a wink back, so he gave her a big gappy smile instead – which then opened the conversation as to how he lost his front tooth.
Tom explained that the fairies had taken the tooth and left him a whole shilling under his pillow, along with ‘a note, saying they were building me a new tooth straight away!’
‘Ah, well now, isn’t that grand?’ Kathleen gave a knowing wink at Harry, who was watching the two of them with a quieter heart than of late. ‘I’ve lost four back teeth meself, so I have,’ she said. ‘How much d’you think they’ll charge me to get new ones?’
Tom was amazed. ‘I don’t know.’ He frowned. ‘You’ve got big, grown-up teeth, and the fairies are only little.’ He looked at his father, then he looked at Kathleen, and in a sombre voice informed her, ‘Maybe you’d better go to the blacksmith.’
Trying not to laugh, Kathleen asked innocently, ‘The blacksmith, eh? And what does he do?’
‘He makes big shoes for big horses – I read it in the book Mammy got me for Christmas.’
For a second or two, the silence spoke volumes. ‘Oh, I see,’ said Kathleen, lightening the mood. ‘So you think I’m big as a horse, do you?’
‘Oh, no.’ Tom shook his head vehemently. ‘But he’s got bigger tools than the fairies, and he could make your big new teeth on his fire.’
‘Right.’ Kathleen plopped another sausage onto his empty plate. ‘So that’s what I’ll do then,’ she promised. ‘I’ll get my new teeth from the blacksmith. Shake on it?’ She held out her hand.
‘Shake on it!’ Tom’s happy grin said it all.
When conversation was done, and everyone was full to contentment, Kathleen left Tom and Harry chatting while she went upstairs. A few minutes later she returned with a flowery pinnie wrapped round her ample middle. ‘I’ve run a bath for the child,’ she told Harry, ‘so now you take it easy, while I get Tom ready for his bed.’
Dismissing Harry’s protests, she took the boy by the hand and chatted with him all the way up the stairs. ‘So now ye can tell me all about these fairies who had the cheek to take your lovely tooth and make you wait for a new one. If you ask me, they want a good telling off!’
Harry smiled at her antics. ‘She’s not changed,’ he chuckled to himself. ‘She’s still the same Kathleen as ever was.’
While Kathleen and Tom were getting to know each other, Harry set about clearing away the dishes and wiping down the table. He put the kettle on to boil water for the washing-up.
Kathleen was none too pleased when she bustled in. ‘Hey, you’re not here to do my job,’ she chided. ‘You leave that to me, and get yourself up them stairs. There’s a wee bairn in his bed, waiting to say goodnight to his daddy.’
Tom thanked her. ‘I’m surprised he let you wash him,’ he said. ‘It’s usually a big struggle at bathtime.’
‘Ah well now, the trick is to keep the water out of his eyes and keep him busy, with stories of hobgoblins and things of a child’s imagination.’ Regret coloured her voice. ‘I never had childer of my own, but I’ve looked after a few in my time, I can tell ye.’