At My Mother's Knee

Free At My Mother's Knee by Paul O'Grady Page B

Book: At My Mother's Knee by Paul O'Grady Read Free Book Online
Authors: Paul O'Grady
recently
demobbed from the air force, treated himself to a new
wardrobe as well: bespoke suits, shoes, overcoats and trilbies,
so he cut a dash when he went for a drink to St Laurence's
club. On a Saturday night the walls of Holly Grove would
shake, the windows vibrate, only this time not from the effect
of German bombs but from the racket as my mum and dad
partied into the night. They went on a glorious spending spree
– and who could blame them? After the misery and austerity of
the war years, this influx of cash gave them a chance to live it
up.
    Back in 1936, Paddy was green to the gills on that morning
when he dragged his case down the gangplank and on to the
landing stage at Liverpool pierhead. The Dublin-to-Liverpool run is a notoriously rough crossing and my dad was no sailor.
His one and only suit was crumpled and creased. He'd tried to
get a good night's sleep on the deck of the lurching vessel,
curled up underneath his overcoat for warmth, resting his head
on his folded cap, one arm flung across a battered suitcase held
together with string and a belt. Its contents were pitiful: a few
shirts, a change of underwear, a sweater, a pair of trousers, his
prayer book and a couple of pounds of bacon and sausage
wrapped in newspaper to keep him going when he got to
'heathen England'.
    The landing stage was teeming with people, mostly immigrants
like himself. Thankful to be back on dry land, he stood
for a moment to catch his breath and acclimatize himself to his
new surroundings. He was still rolling slightly from the motion
of the ship. Jesus, he was feeling rough; his eyes burned from
lack of sleep, he ached all over and for a moment he thought
he was going to throw up. A good few pints of Guinness
and numerous shots of whiskey had been taken in Dublin and
on board the boat as he bade farewell to the owld country.
Little did he know that he would soon be bidding farewell to
his surname, for when war broke out and he joined the RAF a
careless government official mistakenly added an 'O' as a prefix
on his identity papers and we've remained O'Grady to this day.
    Lighting a Sweet Afton to calm his churning stomach, he
looked about to find a place to get a cup of tea and something
to eat. The pierhead had plenty of cafés to choose from. He
found a hatch in the wall of a dilapidated hut and ordered a
cup of tea and a couple of rashers on toast.
    'D'ya mean a bacon sarnie, paddy?' the ferocious-looking
woman behind the counter barked in her unfamiliar Scouse
twang. He'd changed his Irish punts for English currency in the
bank in Dublin and counted out the unfamiliar pennies and
farthings on the counter. ' 'Urry up, will ya,' urged the woman
impatiently, 'I haven't got all bloody day.'
    'Now just hold on there, missus, and take a breath. I'm just
off the boat from Dublin,' said my dad in his easy way.
    'Bloody micks,' spat the woman. 'Place is crawling with
them. Here's your tea.'
    Feeling better after his breakfast, he rinsed his face and
hands in the public fountain, dampened down his unruly hair,
took out his cap and put it on. He weighed up his situation. He
had a couple of bob in his pocket, a local contact and the
promise of a job as a navvy on a building site. His sister was
living over in Birkenhead along with a smattering of cousins,
so he wasn't entirely alone. What was his problem? Wasn't this
what he'd left the farm for? Wasn't this what he wanted? A
fresh start? Maybe he'd even meet a decent girl and fall in
love.
    'C'mon, Pakie, get yourself on that boat to Birkenhead,' he
told himself, suddenly optimistic as he joined the crowds fighting
their way up the gangplank of the Mersey ferry.
    He found lodgings with a Mr and Mrs Fawcett, a couple
known as 'Old Ned ' and ' Ma Fawcett '. They had two sons
called William and Harold, both merchant seamen. Harold
had married my mother's sister Anne, so my dad would already
have been a familiar face through his friendship with Harold
when he approached my mother in that dance

Similar Books

Oblivion

Dean Wesley Smith, Kristine Kathryn Rusch

Lost Without Them

Trista Ann Michaels

The Naked King

Sally MacKenzie

Beautiful Blue World

Suzanne LaFleur

A Magical Christmas

Heather Graham

Rosamanti

Noelle Clark

The American Lover

G E Griffin

Scrapyard Ship

Mark Wayne McGinnis