Murphy - A Nest of Singing Birds

For our grandchildren, Andrew, Sarah, Paul, Helen, Catherine, Laura, Peter, Stephanie and Eleanor, with love.

Sir, we are a nest of singing birds.

Samuel Johnson (of his friends at Pembroke College, Oxford),

Boswells Life of Dr Johnson

The big kitchen was warm and quiet with a bright fire burning and a black kettle on the hob beside it, purring like a contented cat.

Although the spring morning was dull and the room shadowy, the flames struck gleams of light from the polished fire irons, and from the glass of a framed photograph which stood on the dresser opposite the fireplace.

The child playing with her toys on the hearthrug left them and climbed on to a chair to reach the photograph which was of her dead brother, Patrick. She was kissing the smiling face of the little boy when her mother came through from the back kitchen.

Anne, be careful child, she exclaimed, You could get a nasty cut from the glass if you fell.

Im just telling Patrick Im starting school after Easter, she explained. Her mother took the photograph from her and sighed as she looked at it.

The years go past so fast, she murmured. Already youre nearly the age he was when we lost him.

She replaced the photograph and lifted Anne down from the chair. Put away your toys now, love, she said. Theyll all be in in a minute for their dinners.

Anne went obediently to pick up her toys. Her big sister Maureen had told her that Patrick had gone to heaven when he was six years old. I was three and Tony was six months old, Maureen said. But it was a long time ago, love. Patrick would be a young man now if hed lived. But to Anne he was always the little boy of the photograph, and the dream playmate who accompanied her in all her imaginary adventures.

Anne was the youngest of the eight Fitzgerald children. She was loved and petted by her elder brothers and sisters, yet she would have been lonely without her dream companion. Since her brother Terry had started school two years earlier in 1923, she had played alone during the day.

Now a noise drew her to the window overlooking the back yard and she saw three of her brothers, shouting and laughing as they scuffled to kick a ball of newspaper tied with string.

Fourteen-year-old Tony was a tall, well-built boy with dark curly hair, and Stephen, four years younger, very like him. Joe who came between them in age was more slightly built but he fought as strongly for the ball, and all showed the same energy and high spirits.

Suddenly they saw Anne peeping through the window and waved to her, then kicked the ball into a corner and trooped into the kitchen. A few minutes later seven-year-old Eileen arrived, holding Terry by the hand. He was carrying a paper lantern he had made in school and rushed to show it to his mother.

Isnt that grand? she said in her gentle voice. Youre a clever lad. Ill put it up on the mantelpiece for your daddy to see when he comes home.

Tony was throwing Anne up into the air and Stephen was trying to tickle her. Their mother said firmly, All of you now, go and wash your hands and come to the table. Although naturally gentle Julia Fitzgerald was strict with her children and they obeyed her immediately.

Their main meal was eaten in the evening when their father and Maureen returned from work. Now their mother placed a boiled egg at each place. Three large plates piled high with slices of bread and butter were on the table as well as a large fruit cake.

Joe put a cushion on the chair beside him and lifted Anne on to it, then he took the top off her egg and made soldiers for her with a slice of bread and butter. Anne beamed at him. She loved all her brothers and sisters but thought that she loved Joe and Maureen best. They and Patrick and herself were like their mother, with clear pale skin, smooth dark hair and very dark brown eyes.

A poster advertising the opera Carmen with a picture of a toreador had been displayed in Cranes music shop, and when Anne had pointed to it and said Joe, Maureen had explained that the toreador was a Spaniard.

Some of us look Spanish, even though we live in Liverpool, she said. You and me and Joe and Patrick, and Mummy because she came from the West of Ireland. Some of the sailors from the Spanish Armada hundreds of years ago were washed up on that coast and married Irish girls, and were descended from them.

Anne had been too young to understand at the time, but in later years she felt proud of her Spanish ancestry and was interested in anything about Spain which came into a History or Geography lesson.

Now Tony said, Your last day at home, Anne, and my last day at school. Youll like school, yknow.

Will you like work, dyou think, Tony? Stephen asked.

Tony shrugged. I think so, he said. Ill soon know, anyway.

Youll like it, son, Julia said. Bensons Engineering has the name of a good employer, and youll finish up with a trade thatll always stand to you. She had been pouring tea. Now she put down the teapot and smiled at Anne.

Your last day at home with me, love. Well make the most of it, and divil take the ironing.

What will we do, Mummy? Anne asked eagerly.

Well do a bit of visiting, and you can wear your Sunday coat, her mother promised.

Tony had been eating quickly, with frequent glances at the clock.

Now he said, Ive got to be back early, Mum, to finish clearing my books and put things away in the classroom, seeing as its my last day.

Yes, all right, Julia said absently. She was piling dishes on to a tray held by Joe and followed him to the scullery, telling him to be careful. Tony stood for a moment looking after her, then shrugged and picked up his cap, and went out unnoticed.

He was soon followed by the other children, then Mrs Fitzgerald damped down the fire and changed her own blouse and Annes pinafore.

All their relations lived near to them in the Everton district of Liverpool, and they went first to visit Mrs Fitzgeralds mother, who lived in a tiny house squeezed between two larger ones in a street off West Derby Road.

Anne was fascinated by her Grandma Houlihans house. Their own house in Magdalen Street was a big old place with four bedrooms and a bathroom with attics above, and a scullery, kitchen and two parlours downstairs. It was set back from the street with a small garden beside a path, with four steps to the front door, and cellars beneath the house.

Her Aunt Carries house was even larger, and although her Aunt Minnie and her Grandma Fitzgerald both lived in four-roomed houses, they seemed large compared to Grandma Houlihans tiny house. Anne thought it was like a dolls house.

Grandma Houlihan was like a doll too. A small woman always dressed in black with a black lace cap on her white hair, she seemed to fit the house but she could be very severe.

Anne enjoyed walking through the busy streets wearing her best coat and hat and holding her mothers hand, but she was nervous about the visit.

Grandma was so very holy, and so easily shocked by the most innocent remark. Her mother had warned Anne not to chatter and she hoped she could remember not to speak.

When they reached the house Grandma opened the door and said, Oh, its yourself, Julia, and Anne. Come in. Ill make you a cup of tea but Im fasting this day. Im only taking bread and water.