Free The September Girls by Maureen Lee

held out her arms. ‘Come along, me darlin’ lads. We’re going home.’
     
    They went to bed, Fergus and Tyrone, completely exhausted, having raced around the house, up and down the stairs, in and out of the rooms, at least a dozen times. Brenna felt obliged to go next door and apologize to her neighbour, who turned out to be a tough Scotswoman called Katie MacBride, for the unaccustomed noise.
    ‘Och, it don’t matter,’ Katie assured her. ‘It’s nice to have bairns next door for a change. The man who used to live there was a miserable ould git. If you’ve a minute to spare tomorrer, girl, come round and have a cup of tea with us.’
    Colm had lit a fire in the living room, using the bits of coal from the washhouse and all the wood he could find. He and Brenna sat and watched the flames die down. Tomorrow, he would look for work again and she planned to take the boys on a hunt for firewood. But that was tomorrow and tonight was tonight and they were happier than they’d been in a long time.
    Eventually, after the fire had lost virtually all its warmth, Colm turned off the gas mantle and they went to bed: not in the big bed in the front room where Cara lay sleeping, but the little one that Paddy would have occupied had he been living with them. There, they made love, something they hadn’t done once since they’d come to Liverpool because they’d felt too desperately miserable, and the dark, dank cellar hadn’t seemed the right place.
    Afterwards, they crept, hand in hand, to their own bed, glancing in on the lads on the way. They were dead to the world, one at each end of a single bed, because Brenna didn’t have enough bedding for two.
    ‘It seems so big , our house,’ she whispered. ‘We’ve got a landing, Colm. I never dreamt one day we’d have a landing.’
     
    Earlier that night, Marcus had entered the house in Parliament Terrace and was just divesting himself of his hat and overcoat, when Nancy came running up from the kitchen. She actually smiled, took the clothes off him and put them on a hook on the wall. He wondered what on earth he’d done to earn such a friendly reception.
    ‘Oh, Mr Allardyce,’ she said in a voice throbbing with warmth, ‘thank you for cutting that notice out the Echo . I found it on your desk. You must’ve meant to show it me, but forgot. I rang the solicitors, I hope you don’t mind, and it turns out the Caffreys had a house all this time. I’m going to see it tomorrer. Brenna and Colm are ever so grateful. If it weren’t for you, they’d never have known.’
     
    Christmas was only three days away and still Colm hadn’t found a job. He managed to earn a few extra bob delivering Christmas trees and fowl by horse and cart to rich houses in Princes Avenue and other fine addresses in the area, as well as packing boxes of fruit for those who could afford such luxuries. He brought home a bunch of purple grapes for Brenna.
    ‘Are these pinched?’ she asked sternly.
    ‘No, luv, it’s just a bunch that was over,’ he answered with a straight face.
    The house was warm: a fire burnt from early morning until late at night in the living room. With the extra money Colm was earning, Brenna had ordered a sack of coal and each day bought a penny bundle of firewood. She would lay the fire before she went to bed so it was ready to light as soon as she got up next morning. Katie MacBride from next door had unearthed two pairs of curtains, so thin and faded that the patterns were barely visible, but Brenna didn’t care. They would do for downstairs until she could afford better. She tacked newspaper over the bedroom windows, bought a second-hand mat for in front of the fire, more blankets so the lads could have separate beds, and a clothesline for the yard. Spending so much money made her feel like the Queen of England.
    Colm said one night that he was worried about her. The children were in bed and they were enjoying a few peaceful hours in the fading firelight, so saving