Free Polly's Angel by Katie Flynn Page A

though it was a good deal longer. It smelt strongly of damp and the pigeon droppings which came through the missing roof tiles, but Angela, after one somewhat startled glance around her, made no comment. Instead, she admired the tree in the fireplace and the huge, leathery brown fungus with yellow patches, and only looked once at the beds, which were mostly piles of rags and straw, with one thin blanket apiece to pull over each boy.
    â€˜Where does your mammy and your sisters sleep?’ she enquired, after Tad had pointed out which boy slept in which bed. ‘I didn’t notice another room.’
    â€˜They sleep in the living room,’ Tad explained. ‘It’s a big room. They have to put their beds away before we go off in the mornings, though. Mammy as well.’
    â€˜Oh,’ Angela said. ‘And – and your daddy?’
    â€˜Left. He’s been gone more than a year, thank the good Lord,’ Tad said piously and with some satisfaction. ‘Good riddance, Mammy says. He was a docker, and he could drink the Liffey dry, so he could. We’s better off now than we was afore, ’cos he used to take Mammy’s money off her. And mine too, if he could find it.’
    â€˜Oh,’ Angela said again. ‘But aren’t you the lucky one to have all those brothers and sisters – you’ve always got someone to play wit’ when you fancy a game.’
    â€˜Ye-es, only I’m the eldest, you see,’ Tad explained. ‘The eldest does the messages an’ helps in the house an’ finds firewood to light the fire, you know.’
    â€˜I don’t, really,’ Angela said. ‘Micky’s the eldest, but he’s been workin’ as long as I can remember, pretty near. And there aren’t many jobs like fetchin’ firewood when there’s only four of you. But I get the messages for Mammy,’ she added, clearly anxious not to appear too different. ‘And I put the delft out on the table, and the knives and forks and that, and make my own bed and—’ She stopped short. ‘Well now, what’ll we do next? Your sisters seemed to be managin’ the supper wit’out too much fuss, even though they’re young.’
    Tad considered. He had meant to write to Polly, but he could do that any time, he told himself. ‘What would you like to do?’ he asked at last. ‘You won’t want to be too far from home as it’s late or your mammy might worry.’
    â€˜I’d like to look in the shop windows on O’Connell Street,’ Angela said longingly. ‘But you’re right, it’s too late. Mammy’s not workin’ yet, so she’ll be home. Would you like to come back wit’ me and stay for a bit?’ She added: ‘Mammy wouldn’t mind.’
    â€˜Well, I’ll walk you home,’ Tad said. ‘But after that I’d best be gettin’ back home meself. The kids’ll see to the supper all right, but Mammy will wonder if I’m not there to give a hand. Only if you tell me where your school is I might meet you out tomorrer an’ we could go on to O’Connell Street from there.’
    â€˜I t’ought you were workin’,’ Angela said artlessly. ‘Suppose you’ve got a job tomorrer? No, you come round to Swift’s Alley when you finish. If it’s too late for window-shoppin’ then we can always go up to my house and make ourselves toast before the fire or somethin’ of that sort.’
    Toast before the fire! Shades of Polly’s mammy and the uproarious games the family had sometimes played whilst waiting for toast, or chestnuts to roast, or the cake in the oven to rise flickered temptingly in Tad’s mind. He swallowed. ‘That ’ud be grand,’ he said. They had reached Angela’s tenement now and they crossed the cramped little foyer and began to mount the stairs, but on the half-landing Tad paused. ‘You can