Towards a Dark Horizon Read Free Page B

The women in that family haven’t a decent dress between them but their men can still find money for beer.’
    Thankfully, the tramcar arrived at that moment and put a temporary stop to her tirade. Even so, she was like a coiled spring all the way home and it was a wonder her gloves weren’t torn to shreds by the way she twisted them. It was like sitting next to a smouldering volcano and an erratic one at that. I had no idea when it would erupt.
    The eruption came in the kitchen at the Overgate. Granny almost fell backwards under the onslaught. Hattie’s voice had even risen a decibel or two and Granny had to tell her to be quiet. ‘For heaven’s sake, keep your voice down. I don’t want Dad or Lily to wake up.’ She nodded over to the bed in the corner of the room where Grandad lay snoring. On the Richter scale it would have registered a three.
    There was no sign of my sister but I knew she would be in the tiny room that was just off the lobby – the room that resembled a cupboard and had been mine in my younger days.
    Hattie was in full flow although she did lower her voice, a lowering that emphasised her words and they emerged from her mouth like machine gun bullets – sharp, fierce and hurtful.
    She repeated her earlier tirade then started on the Ryan family. ‘What a bunch of bloody morons they are – letting Danny go to a morbid thing like that and him having to get up for his work tomorrow.’ She then whirled on me. ‘And what about your father? If he misses a day then he’ll get his books and his marching orders.’
    I opened my mouth but Hattie hadn’t finished.
    ‘Bosses nowadays don’t have time for outdated and moronic customs like wakes.’
    I opened my mouth again but this time Granny butted in. ‘Well, Danny isn’t a laddie any more, Hattie. He’s almost a grown man and as for Ann’s dad …’
    Her silence unnerved me. ‘Please don’t let Dad go back to his drinking,’ I said in a mental prayer.
    ‘Well, as for Johnny,’ said Granny, ‘he’s also a grown man and able to take responsibility for his actions.’
    I got the impression this wasn’t what she meant to say but her better judgement had prevailed. We all knew that, since Mum’s death in 1931 after giving birth to Lily, he had walked a tightrope kind of existence – drinking heavily and getting into the wrong sort of relationships. It was still common knowledge that Marlene Davidson, one of his ex-girlfriends was still telling everyone who would listen, ‘Yon Johnny Neill is a rotten beggar.’ She was still bemoaning the fact that he hadn’t married her – in spite of her looking after him so well when he lodged with her.
    Then there was Rosie from next door. She worshipped him but even she couldn’t get him to pop the question. She visited the house every spare minute she had and she had even given up her work with the Salvation Army, which had been a big thing in her life, but to no avail.
    Hattie’s voice brought me back from my reverie. ‘All I’m saying is this – it’s a disgrace and the funeral will be an even bigger booze-up.’
    ‘Still, you said you would go,’ I said.
    Hattie glared at me. ‘What else could I say with them all looking at me like I was some kind of freak?’
    Granny was annoyed. ‘I wish you would stop all this moaning about wakes and funerals. After all, this sitting up all night with a dead body is just a custom and it’s probably a tradition with the Ryans.’
    Hattie wasn’t giving up her anger without a fight. She snapped, ‘Well, thank goodness Danny has been kept away from all these so-called traditions and customs. Another thing – I know Pat wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with this because he was too good and much too sensible.’
    ‘That’s the truth,’ said Granny, ‘but don’t forget that the only perfect husbands in the world are the ones who are dead.’ She glanced fondly at Grandad whose Richter scale had now dropped to zero.
    I felt I had to say