Finding Friends on Beamer Street, page 1
FINDING FRIENDS ON BEAMER STREET
SHEILA RILEY
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
More from Sheila Riley
About the Author
About Boldwood Books
Sixpence Stories
PROLOGUE
CASHALREE – IRELAND, JULY 1921
‘Shaving on a Friday! Are you in court, Paddy?’ Christie ‘Red’ Redfern focused on his twin brother with blurry, beer-soaked eyes and gave a mirthless laugh.
‘You know your own tricks best, Red,’ answered Paddy, soaping his chin. ‘I am in no humour for you today.’
‘For sure.’ Red shrugged his shoulders and scowled, his head thumping, he could well do without Paddy’s pontificating. Older by just half an hour, Paddy never failed to remind him by word or deed that he was The Chosen One. Ever eager to show him the error of his ways. Red thought of the trips he made to Liverpool when he could do whatever he liked away from Paddy’s scrutiny and constant nagging.
‘Have you fed the pigs?’ Paddy’s reflection glared through the rust-speckled mirror.
‘It’s done,’ Red replied with a definite nod of his head. Well, it will be when I get me head on straight. What a blinding night that was.
‘What time did you get in?’
Here we go again. Red sighed deeply, unable to recall the exact time, maybe around dawn. ‘Not late.’ Red was desperate to put his head on the pillow and sleep. Depending on how you look at it. I was home very early – but not on the same day I went out. He decided not to share this information with Paddy. He looked as happy as a man going to the gallows. Still drunk, the thought made Red want to giggle. Nevertheless, Saint Paddy would not approve, so he remained as straight-faced as he could. Paddy was an eejit. Working all the hours sent. He was good for a few bob, though, when times were hard, and friends were few.
‘It’s about time you pulled your weight, Red, I won’t always be here.’
‘I don’t know why you put so much work into the place, it isn’t even ours.’
‘No, the farm isn’t ours. But it could be,’ Paddy answered through the mirror.
‘Sure, why would I be after breaking my back for such little reward?’ When I can tap a mug like you.
‘Instead of drinking every penny, you could save up, like me.’
‘Well, seeing as you’re so flush, could you see your way clear to—’ His head bobbed like a cork on water, his hazy eyes wide and expectant.
‘I’m not lending you another penny!’ Paddy cut his brother’s begging request mid-sentence. Ever since they were born, Red had depended on his twin’s generous nature.
Red scowled, pulling down the peak of the cap he had worn from the night before, his corduroy trousers and shirt crumpled, he had missed some badly needed sleep rehearsing what he would say to Paddy, to whom, he had conveniently forgotten, he still owed money. His refusal was like a smack in the kisser, for sure!
‘C’mon, Paddy, it’s only for a few days.’ He tried not to sound desperate as he eyed the determined jut of Paddy’s jaw through the mirror.
Slowly, tantalisingly, Paddy drew a long streak of soap and stubble from the side of his face with an open razor, saying nothing, building up Red’s hope.
‘Sure, you’ll get it back by next Friday. It’s only a loan. Seven measly days.’ Red tugged the cotton loops on the blue candlewick bedspread until there was a bald patch. ‘I’ll even pay you interest. How’s that?’
‘That’s good of you,’ Paddy said ruefully, dimming Red’s hopes.
Sitting on the end of the double bed he shared with his twin brother, Red was silent as his foot impatiently tapped the bare floorboards. It would not do to rush Paddy into a decision. He liked his bit of power, and Red was usually happy to oblige. But today, he was in a hurry. He had to pay Dinny O’Mara. Although, he knew if he sounded anxious, Paddy would make him wait until the very last minute before giving him the money he so desperately needed. The last minute is here, Paddy and you are my only chance of staying attached to my kneecaps.
‘You want to buck your ideas up.’ Paddy said through a face half full of lather.
I’ll keep it in mind, Father Christmas. Red’s thoughts were as sour as the taste in his mouth. He did not voice his thoughts, obviously. Instead, he went for a repentant expression, nodding his head in all the right places. ‘I know. You’re right, Paddy. And I will.’
‘You’ve got to get a grip of yourself, lay off the drink,’ Paddy told him. ‘Come in at a respectable hour, and stay away from the rebels.’
‘This’ll be the last time, Paddy. Honest t’ God.’ He wanted to knock Paddy’s patronising block off so much.
‘You say that every time.’
Fer Jaysus’ sake! Will yer leave me with a bit of dignity! Red raked stubby fingers through thick black hair. D’you want me to get down on bended knees? Do ya? Red knew he had to keep his paper dry. Once he had the money, he could tell Paddy exactly what he thought, but until then, he would have to play the penitent, apologetic game.
‘Well, you’re out of luck this time, Red, I am sorry.’
‘What!’ A small explosion went off inside Red’s head. He checked it. Paddy was serious. Red glared at his brother through the mirror, leaning over the washbowl. Paddy’s expression was one of determined concentration. An expression that told Red he had closed the subject. It was over. Done with. Red felt the anger swell inside him, his temples throbbing. He had to sit here and listen to Paddy spouting rubbish about him saving for a future, and the bastard wasn’t going to lend him the money after all!
‘There’s no end to it, Red,’ Paddy said, waggling his razor in the water to remove the thick white suds. ‘My money feels like it’s on an elastic band. Back and forth, I’m losing track.’
You are loving this. Red knew he could not blow; Paddy might just change his mind. He tried another tack. ‘I wouldn’t ask, Pad, but you see…’ Red would play on his brother’s protective nature. ‘I owe Dinny O’Mara, and he wants his money today.’
‘Then he will have to want,’ Paddy said, calm as you like, ‘because I haven’t got it to lend you.’ He turned his cheek and slid the open razor down the other side.
‘C’mon, Paddy, you know as well as I do, O’Mara’s not a man you can say no to.’ Red glared at the back of his brother’s head. Paddy wouldn’t deny him now, surely?
‘That’s a pity, Red, but I have not got the money.’
‘What d’you mean you haven’t got it? You’re loaded!’ Red swallowed the volcanic anger rising inside of him. Paddy was being awkward. He wondered if he should mention what he saw his twin brother and Mary Jane Starling doing in the hayloft… He decided against it and would drop that bombshell only if matters got desperate and Paddy dug his size twelves in.
‘I was loaded, Red, but that was before.’
‘Before what?’ Red’s curiosity tempered the rising anger he found hard to quell.
‘Before I bought a couple of boat tickets and decided to go to church.’ Paddy looked smug as he continued shaving.
‘I hope you’ll say one for me while you’re there.’ If Dinny O’Mara got hold of him, he was going to need all the prayers he could get.
‘I’m not going to mass; I went to the early one this morning.’ Paddy’s voice held a note of admonishment ‘But you wouldn’t know that because you weren’t home.’
‘So why are you going?’ Red ignored the slight, but he knew confession was not until tomorrow.
‘Because, brother, I’m getting married.’
So, that’s what the boat tickets were for. A honeymoon!
‘Mary Jane?’ Her name came out like a gasp of air.
Through the looking glass, Paddy stretched his neck, pressing soapy lips together while making little upward swipes to his chin with the lethal-looking razor.
‘Jaysus!’ Red’s voice was hang-over hoarse. He could not believe it. ‘Mary Jane?’ Slowly he shook his head.
‘Just a quiet ceremony.’
‘I’m happy for you.’ You bastard. Mary Jane was the most beautiful girl in all of Cashalree, if not the whole of Ireland. Did Paddy have any more grenades to throw? First the money, then Mary Jane! The girl he had set his sight on years ago. ‘When are you going to marry her?’
‘Half an hour,’ Paddy answered succinctly. ‘I want you to be my best man.’
‘Are you mad?’ Red could not keep the astonishment from his voice. ‘Do her brothers know?’ Mary Jane had three older, very protective, well-respected brothers who would not take kindly to losing the only woman of the house.
Watchin
g Paddy finish his shave, softly whistling as he dried his cut-throat razor on the towel around his neck, Red knew Paddy was taunting him. The low, arrogant whistle told Red he was the loser.
However, he wouldn’t be if he opened his mouth, would he? Red knew what they had been getting up to. He had followed them into the barn, and what he saw had confirmed his suspicions. Nevertheless, from that moment on, he knew no peace. Thoughts of Mary Jane tormented him day and night. In his dreams, it was not Paddy enjoying her soft silken flesh and seductive curves, Mary Jane was not making passionate love to his brother – she was with him. The dreams were driving him mad. Goading him. Tormenting him. Reminding him, he was second best. Why else would he drink strong beer and whisky every night? It was all Paddy’s fault. Once again, Paddy had landed on his feet. Paddy, his father’s golden boy. The chosen one. The second bloody coming of Christ!
‘Too slow to get out of your own road…’ Paddy’s words rang in his head.
‘Not like your brother, the first-born.’ Dar had said, more than once. Paddy was akin to royalty in their parents’ eyes.
‘Have you told Dar?’ This, he had to see. Their father would go berserk, his eldest son marrying on the quiet, he would want the biggest of hoolies for Paddy. Red suspected the uncontrollable rage that made grown men scatter was the only thing he would ever inherit from Dar.
‘I’m not telling him.’ Paddy shook his head, taking great care to straighten the grey tie over his good white shirt. A new one. ‘Let’s get it over with.’ Paddy hoisted his charcoal-coloured jacket off the hook behind the bedroom door. When he turned to face him, Red was sure he could see doubt in his brother’s eyes.
‘You want me to stand for you? You won’t even lend me the money to get O’Mara off my back.’ Red could not believe the arrogance of his twin brother.
‘Be told, will you!’ Paddy flung the words over his shoulder as Red followed him. The pounding in his head was getting louder.
‘Why didn’t she tell her brothers about the marriage?’ Red asked as they headed down a narrow path that sliced through the barley fields towards St Helen’s church.
‘They’d kill her… and me.’ Paddy’s dark eyes were hooded, and he took a deep breath. ‘But she’ll have nothing to fear when we move to Liverpool’.
Red stopped. They weren’t coming back! The news hit him like a runaway stallion and took the wind right out of him. He couldn’t breathe. Paddy was taking Mary Jane away!
‘What about the farm?’ he gasped. Surely Paddy wasn’t expecting him to tend it.
‘We’ll be back in a couple of years maybe. We’ve got no choice.’
Red’s body tightened. What a bloody fool he had been. Biding his time. Waiting for Mary Jane to tire of his workhorse of a brother. What kind of life was that for the beautiful girl he wanted so badly it hurt? ‘And you’ll all live happily ever after in Liverpool.’ Red’s voice was dull and flat, and he gave another scornful half-laugh.
‘It’s not what we planned,’ Paddy answered, enraging him even more. Some men didn’t know how lucky they were.
Red, walking beside Paddy, hands in pockets, resented his brother more than he had ever done. Good-fellow-well-liked. Always doing the right thing. Always rubbing my nose in it. The back of Red’s throat curled.
‘You’ll have to work the farm. Stay away from the rebels,’ Paddy threw the words over his shoulder, ‘make something of yourself… Hurry now, we don’t have much time.’ His voice went on, and on, and on until the mist that gave Red his colourful sobriquet descended.
1
CASHALREE – JULY 1921
‘Run, Mary Jane. Run like the wind. Don’t look back!’
Twenty-one-year-old Mary Jane Starling turned instinctively, her feet moving faster. She had wings on her sturdy heels as Red pulled her from the edge of the Castletown River that flowed into Dundalk Bay on the east coast of Ireland. She had been expecting to meet Paddy. Something was wrong. Every nerve in her body screaming, instinctively knowing she should not ask. But still she asked the question. ‘Red, what is it?’ She kept pace with his rapid strides, her heart pounding. ‘Where’s Paddy?’
‘We’ve got to get out of here before they see us,’ Red gasped, dragging her further up the hill.
Mary Jane was wary, Red had not the same temperament as his mild-mannered brother. ‘Who? The Black and Tans?’ She knew Red liked a bit of excitement and was mixed up with people who had strong opinions and acted upon them. He was always up to something; it was only a matter of time before his antics caught up with him.
‘No, not the Black and Tans!’ Red spat. ‘Your brothers. They’re after scull-dragging our Paddy…’ His twin brother marrying Mary Jane, not even giving his predicament a second thought, had been the last straw for Red.
‘Jaysus!’ Mary Jane gasped. ‘What did they do that for?’ Her three brothers, although fiercely protective of her, were in different stages of becoming doctors like her deceased parents and were accustomed to heal, not harm. Barely able to breathe, she kept running, trying to heave air into her lungs. Everybody in the small village of Cashalree knew her highly regarded brothers, and this action was out of character for any of them. But she didn’t have time to think straight, everything was moving so fast. Her heart hit her ribs like the bullets from the Vickers machine gun Red had secreted in his family’s barn after coming back from the trenches.
When they reached the top of the hill, they flopped down, breathless, and Mary Jane’s delicate stomach turned in disgust when she saw Red hawk thick mucus from the back of his throat and spit it onto the grass.
After a few silent minutes, her breathing calmed. There were so many questions going round in her head. She could hardly make sense of them all.
‘We told nobody of our plans,’ Mary Jane said eventually.
‘The priest’s housekeeper could have told someone,’ Red sneered. ‘Cashalree is a small village. It wouldn’t take long for word to get out.’
Mary Jane’s heart sank. Looking to her trembling hands, she knew the left one was the wrong side of a wedding ring. Paddy had her gold band in the jacket pocket of his only suit. He was going to make an honest woman of her.
Red, quiet, his eyes lowered, avoiding her questioning gaze, knew dread weighed heavily on Mary Jane’s slim shoulders, and he was glad she was afraid. It would make things easier.
‘Something bad has happened?’ There was a quiver in her voice when she spoke. ‘Tell me, Red…’ Terrified, her voice rose. ‘Where is he?’
Hugging his knees to his chest, Red blew out his cheeks, looking out over the patchwork fields below, choosing his words carefully, he eventually lifted his head to answer. ‘They… they left him for dead, Mary Jane…’ His stilted words were little more than a whisper. ‘Paddy’s dead.’
‘No!’ She bit back a scream. ‘My brothers?’ She watched involuntarily, as blood dribbled down his forehead to mingle with the tears running down his cheeks.
‘It’s not safe for you here,’ Red cut in quickly. Standing up, he reached for her hand, ‘I’ve to get you to Liverpool. They’ll come after you next!’
‘They attacked you, too?’ Mary Jane registered the deep, open gash in his forehead.
‘Never mind that. We can’t stop.’ He pulled her to her feet, and Mary Jane disregarded the mud that splashed her loose, pale blue coat, fastened at the hip with a single button, which she had bought specially for her wedding day. Nor did she notice the damage to her silk stockings from the gorse bushes that gouged her legs. She felt nothing but fear twisting her insides. Paddy was dead. Paddy was…!
‘But how?’ she gasped, holding on to her pale blue cloche hat with its white silk, eye-level daisy, her eyes darting over her shoulder, keeping a look-out for any sign of her brothers. ‘Why is he dead?’
