Coming Home to the Four Streets by Nadine Dorries (best books to read for success .txt) 📕

Her long pigtails hung down her back and the pink ribbons, which had been neatly tied into perfect bows that morning, trailed limp and straight down over her shoulders. It struck Tommy in that instant that she had Kitty’s eyes. Kitty, his Kitty, harmed by a priest, at the hands of another man in authority. A frisson of anger ran down his spine.

‘Where is Mr Cleary, queen?’

‘He’s there, Da, ringing the bell.’

Tommy looked up and saw a small, stocky, red-faced man, holding a brass bell by a wooden handle and ringing it for all it was worth. Tommy frowned, pulled his cap down tight onto his scalp and in a tone harsher and gruffer than was normal, said, ‘Get the kids, Angela. Don’t be asking me any questions and take them up to Liam’s van, he’s waiting. Get out of here.’

Mr Cleary had spotted Tommy and the ringing of the bell lost its pace and ferocity. The news of Harry and how desperately ill he had been had soon reached the ears of everyone around. Tommy walked slowly and purposefully towards his target as his eyes met that of yet another man in a position of trust who had harmed one of his children and his gaze never left the defiant face of his son’s abuser.

‘Da…’ Angela’s voice trembled; she sensed danger and didn’t like it one bit. She was aware that, one by one, the children had stopped screaming and shouting and the cinder yard fell silent.

‘Who is that?’ a voice called out.

‘It’s Harry’s da,’ came the reply.

‘What are you wanting?’ Mr Cleary shouted.

Tommy didn’t reply as a sea of children parted to let him through. His fingers closed over the large penknife in his pocket. He had taken a knife to a man before. A priest. A man who had defiled his daughter, and he had taken his life. And every day since he had repented in his own private prayer. He had never been really sorry. The community of the four streets had gathered around and protected him and his family. They had paid the worst price imaginable. The dark days. The worst days, the days they had run away from to a place where another man had harmed one of his children.

The curiously intent children before him stumbled backwards, faces fearful as a murmur rippled through the yard. He extracted the knife from his pocket and, with one gesture, flicked it fully open and the blade glinted in the sunlight.

‘Da!’ Angela screamed as he drew level with Cleary.

‘What are you wanting?’ Cleary demanded, but Tommy could see he was trembling.

‘You hit my lad. You ripped the skin off his hands with a stick.’ Tommy’s voice was cold, his words, very matter of fact, betrayed none of the emotions coursing through his veins.

Sweat was breaking out on Cleary’s forehead. His hand visibly shook and the bell rattled, but despite his fear he attempted to hold his ground. ‘Aye, and what of it? That’s what we do here. Spare the rod, spoil the child. Do you not read your Bible, man?’

Tommy felt strangely calm. ‘Aye, we take it very seriously over in Liverpool, it’s an eye for an eye – and my lad, he nearly lost his life. Here’s how we take our revenge in Liverpool,’ he said as he pressed the knife against Cleary’s throat.

The white stubbled flesh depressed as the Adam’s apple bobbed furiously up and down. Cleary backed away, almost stumbling until he hit the wall, but there was no escape. Tommy walked faster and pinned him against the wall and with his right foot, bore down hard on Cleary’s own. Cleary was no match for Tommy, a docker all of his life. His face was close to Cleary’s as he hissed, ‘Say your prayers, you evil little man.’

Cleary began to cry and the bell left his hand, clanged on the ground and rolled to the side. Tommy had lost his senses; his breathing became laboured and his nostrils flared. One press, that was all it would take. He would avenge Harry – and Kitty, their Kitty, he would feel the belated joy of revenge for her too.

‘Da, come back!’ It was Angela and her voice cut through his rage. ‘Don’t, Da, please, please don’t.’

She was crying now, but was it Angela, or was it Kitty? He was momentarily confused and in being so, the red mist parted. He heard the sound of running water which jolted him to his senses and he was aware as it splashed onto his boot that it came from Cleary.

‘Go on, piss yourself, you pathetic bully,’ he hissed as he flicked the knife shut and put it in his pocket. No, he would not spend time in jail for the likes of Cleary. Removing his hand from his trouser pocket, he raised his fists and, just as a look of total shock crossed Cleary’s face, he hit him straight between the eyes. The only sound after the impact of knuckles on skin was that of Cleary hitting the ground and lying in his own puddle, followed by the sound of children whooping and cheering.

Angela reached her father’s side and took his hand. ‘Da,’ she said, ‘what have you done? Mam will kill you, so she will.’

Tommy turned and walked away from the sight of Cleary, groaning and crying like a baby on the floor. ‘Oh no she won’t, queen,’ he said to Angela. ‘Your mam will be delighted.’

‘She won’t, Da, she’ll definitely kill you, she will.’

Tommy let out a laugh; for once, his Angela was very wrong.

‘I’ve news, Angela; you are never going back to that school again. Tonight, Liam is taking us to Galway and we will get the train to Dublin and the ferry to Liverpool. We are going home, kids, so go on, get into the back of Liam’s van.’

At that very moment he felt an overwhelming urge to get to his Maura, to take her there and then; he longed for the night to fall