A Glimpse at Happiness by Jean Fullerton Page B

her and her mother next week. Patrick said he would be there and I’m determined to get his “long story” out of him then.’ The pounding in her temples started again so she lay back. ‘I’m sure that, whatever the reason for his disappearance, it will be an interesting one.’
     
     
    As he turned into Walburgh Street, Patrick’s weary eyes rested on his front door at the end of the road. There were already new gas lamps along Commercial Road but he guessed it would be many years before such an innovation reached his street and, until it did, he would only have the candlelight flickering in his front window to guide him home.
     
    Like the rest of the street, number twenty was a two-up, two-down with a small back yard which led out to a narrow alley at the back. Although it was larger than their previous house in Cinnamon Street, the Nolan family packed it to the brim, which is why he was thankful when Gus decided to seek his own lodgings a year ago.
     
    His daughter Annie shared a large bed in the downstairs front room with her aunts, Mattie and Kate, while Mickey bedded down alongside his gran in a truckle bed. As the man of the house Patrick had the small back room above the kitchen to himself. If he stretched his arms wide he could almost touch the walls, but the room did have a small fire and a rag rug and he’d managed to squeeze a compact easy chair next to his bed. Cramped though it was, the room allowed him the privacy that no one else in the house enjoyed.
     
    As he opened the front door, warmth and the mouth-watering smell of oxtail stew wafted over him. On entering the kitchen he greeted his mother and his sister Mattie. Sarah Nolan acknowledged her son with a nod but stayed seated by the fire. Patrick strode over and kissed her on the head then slipped half a dozen coins in her hand.
     
    ‘That should keep the rent collector happy for another week,’ he said.
     
    Mattie looked up from stirring the pot over the fire and smiled at him. She was still dressed in her drab workaday gown but she had taken off the tight-fitting cap that kept her hair clear of the machinery in the sugar refinery where she worked. She shared her brother’s colouring, his green eyes and his coal-black hair, but whereas his hair just curled around his ears hers cascaded down her back when it was allowed.
     
    ‘No Kate?’ he asked.
     
    As if she had heard her name, Kate appeared at the back door. She too had an abundance of curly hair but, whereas Mattie’s was black like Patrick’s and their pa’s, Kate’s was fair, like her mother’s. She looked particularly pale as she entered the kitchen and there was a fine sheen of flour dusted over her.
     
    ‘You’re late,’ Mattie said.
     
    ‘We had a batch of pies ruined so we had to make up another two dozen ready for the morning,’ Kate replied, taking off her cap and sending a puff of flour into the air. ‘I found this on my way home, too.’
     
    She cocked her head behind her to where Gus was standing. He drew in an exaggerated breath through his nose.
     
    ‘Am I in time for supper?’
     
    Sarah laughed. ‘When are you not?’
     
    Gus grinned. He had yet to fill out and still had three or four inches to go before he would match Patrick’s height, but he promised to match Patrick in stature. Like Kate he had their mother’s fairer looks, but like the rest of the Nolan menfolk he was always hungry.
     
    ‘It’ll be ready soon, won’t it Mattie?’ he asked, pulling out a chair from the corner and sitting down.
     
    Mattie rolled her eyes at her younger brother then turned back to Patrick. ‘Annie’s taken Mickey to bed and is probably reading him a story by now,’ she told him. ‘Have you been for a drink?’
     
    ‘Me and Brian had a pint at the Town. He said he’d be around later.’
     
    ‘Never mind about Brian,’ Sarah said, folding her arms across her bosom. ‘A birdie told me you were arguing with Harry Tugman outside the Boatman the