Read Online The Four Streets by Nadine Dorries - Free Book Online Page A

cried tears of exhaustion, Bernadette had lent a hand.
    She had hugged away the fears of some of the wives and laughed with the men as easily as he did.
    His own eyes swam with tears to see so many people lining the street to say goodbye. As he looked towards the steps he saw the men from the dockyard lining the top together and, on the edge of the green, the shopkeepers and the ladies from Sunday school where Bernadette had helped with the classes. They all swam before him, blurred.
    He felt Kathleen’s hand in the small of his back, pressing gently as she stood behind him.
    ‘C’mon, lad,’ she whispered, ‘one foot in front of the other, steady now, you have the babe.’
    And as she nodded to Mr Clegg, the funeral director, who signalled to the horsemen, the wooden carriage wheels slowly inched forward, lurching to the left slightly, lifting from a groove in the cobbles and settling into the next, then lifting again, until the horses increased their speed to allow the wheels to glide over the top.
    As they moved down the street, the sobbing of the women could be heard, following them in waves, the slow repetitive peal of the death bells ushering them along.
    Jerry had used the money saved for their future to buy his love a wicker casket and to use Clegg’s best horses and carriage.
    Bernadette had exchanged her silver heels for silver wheels.
    As the procession slowly moved towards the end of the street, those who were attending the requiem mass got up from the chairs and fell into a regimental order behind Jerry and his family. The sound of their footsteps took on the rhythm of an army of mourning soldiers, as they marched in time, as methodically as the horses’ funeral walk.
    Those still in their headscarves and nightdresses, battling to keep out the cold with their overcoats, watched as the last black mantilla turned the corner. And then silently, they watched some more, before, with heavy hearts, they took the chairs back inside.
    Jerry handed Nellie to Kathleen as he and Tommy moved towards the carriage. And now their friends would support him. The men he lived alongside and worked with every day of his life were about to help him to carry Bernadette in love and duty, and he needed them, as the tears poured down his face so hard he could barely see where he was going.
    ‘Hold up, mate,’ said Tommy, as he steered Jerry to the foot of the hearse. ‘We need to unload her.’
    Tommy used the language of the docks, as though the hearse were a ship. He was worried about Jerry’s ability to walk straight, having never seen a man cry like this before. None of them had. Jerry seemed to have lost all composure.
    ‘Me and Jerry will lift from the front, Seamus and Tommy Mac, get the end, Paddy and Kevin, move into the middle and bear the weight even. Now, steady, after three.’ Tommy was taking charge, his way of coping.
    Jerry began to shake. At first it was just his hands but as soon as he had handed Nellie over to his mother the shaking seized his whole body. When the men slipped the coffin along the waxed wooden runners, the shaking became violent, as he and Tommy lifted Bernadette up onto their shoulders, in unison and with the same control that they lifted heavy weights every day of their lives.
    He felt Tommy’s arm slap across his back, grab him firmly and rest on his shoulder, hugging him as close as possible. The men were carrying Jerry, a human wreck, as much as they were Bernadette. Their footsteps shuffled, haltingly at first, and then fell into time as they slowly marched up the path and in through the church doors.
    At the moment the large wooden doors of St Mary’s church closed, the bell above the door of the bakery tinkled as Mr Shaw returned from the green and let in a customer who had stood outside, patiently waiting. Life on the streets had already begun to move on.
    The men who were returning to their work on the dockyard slowly replaced their caps and turned to walk back down towards the