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Authors: Maureen Lee
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owner, which was more than he was himself.
‘It’s not like our Paddy to come and see a man of the law.’
‘It is when it comes to property, sir. Documents have to be drawn up, stamped and signed, searches instituted, deeds altered. Your brother was very astute. He knew you couldn’t just win a house and move in without a piece of paper to prove it’s yours.’
‘I never knew you could play cards for houses,’ the wife said. She had released the baby from her shawl and it stared at Ambrose in a friendly fashion. He smiled and it smiled back.
‘You can play for anything on earth,’ he explained. ‘According to Mr Caffrey, they played all night. There were five of them at the start, but three dropped out when the stakes got too high. At one point, he nearly lost all his money, then, “his luck turned”, as he put it, and he won it back. It was early morning when they played one last game and his opponent wagered the house he’d just inherited from his uncle. Your brother must have had nerves of steel, risking all his money on the turn of a card.’ He would have loved to be there. The only card game he knew was whist, which he played with his wife for milk bottle tops.
‘I’m surprised our Paddy didn’t shout the news from the rooftops,’ Colm said with a rueful smile. ‘It’s not every day a person wins a house, but not even his landlady knew about it.’
‘That’s because the loser is a man well known in the area. He asked Mr Caffrey to keep the matter confidential, not wanting his spectacular loss to be made public and let people know what a fool he’d been. Now, Mr Caffrey,’ the solicitor said briskly. ‘I’d like you to sign a few papers - do you wish to leave the deeds and other important papers with Connor, Smith and Harrison? We can store them for you in our strong room.’
‘Can we get the tram home?’ Brenna asked when they were outside. She still felt exhausted after the walk into town in the freezing cold carrying a twelve-week-old baby who had felt more like a ton of bricks by the time they’d got there. ‘Surely we can spare the tuppence. We won’t need to pay rent next week.’ She still couldn’t believe they had a house .
Colm seemed amenable to the extravagance. They sat on the tram, hardly speaking throughout the journey, too stunned to believe their good luck.
‘Our Paddy turned up trumps, after all,’ Colm said at one point.
‘Indeed he did.’ Brenna felt ashamed of all the names she’d called her brother-in-law. She resolved to say a prayer for Paddy’s soul every night for the rest of her life.
Shaw Street was only a short walk from Upper Clifton Street, and their house was the first in a neat terrace of eight, the front doors separated from the pavement by a single step. Colm produced the keys on a ring - two for the front and two for the back - and opened the door. They looked at each other, took a deep breath and stepped inside, Brenna and Cara first, into a narrow hall with stairs at the end and two doors on the left leading off: the first to a parlour in which there was a worn, but comfortable leatherette three-piece, the next to a sitting room that had a table and four chairs and a door leading to the kitchen. Brenda was surprised: she hadn’t been expecting furniture.
Wordlessly, they examined the grubby wallpaper, the cracked oilcloth on the floor, the kitchen with a deep brown sink and wooden draining board and a cupboard to store food. One of the walls had been painted white and there was a tin of distemper on the draining board and a clean brush. They looked in the tiny yard, the stinking lavatory with squares of ancient newspaper jammed on a nail and two large spiders that raced up invisible threads and disappeared through a crack in the ceiling, the washhouse with its rusty boiler and lumps of coal left on the floor, then went upstairs to where there was more grubby wallpaper, a cracked window in the box room, the fireplaces in the
‘It’s not like our Paddy to come and see a man of the law.’
‘It is when it comes to property, sir. Documents have to be drawn up, stamped and signed, searches instituted, deeds altered. Your brother was very astute. He knew you couldn’t just win a house and move in without a piece of paper to prove it’s yours.’
‘I never knew you could play cards for houses,’ the wife said. She had released the baby from her shawl and it stared at Ambrose in a friendly fashion. He smiled and it smiled back.
‘You can play for anything on earth,’ he explained. ‘According to Mr Caffrey, they played all night. There were five of them at the start, but three dropped out when the stakes got too high. At one point, he nearly lost all his money, then, “his luck turned”, as he put it, and he won it back. It was early morning when they played one last game and his opponent wagered the house he’d just inherited from his uncle. Your brother must have had nerves of steel, risking all his money on the turn of a card.’ He would have loved to be there. The only card game he knew was whist, which he played with his wife for milk bottle tops.
‘I’m surprised our Paddy didn’t shout the news from the rooftops,’ Colm said with a rueful smile. ‘It’s not every day a person wins a house, but not even his landlady knew about it.’
‘That’s because the loser is a man well known in the area. He asked Mr Caffrey to keep the matter confidential, not wanting his spectacular loss to be made public and let people know what a fool he’d been. Now, Mr Caffrey,’ the solicitor said briskly. ‘I’d like you to sign a few papers - do you wish to leave the deeds and other important papers with Connor, Smith and Harrison? We can store them for you in our strong room.’
‘Can we get the tram home?’ Brenna asked when they were outside. She still felt exhausted after the walk into town in the freezing cold carrying a twelve-week-old baby who had felt more like a ton of bricks by the time they’d got there. ‘Surely we can spare the tuppence. We won’t need to pay rent next week.’ She still couldn’t believe they had a house .
Colm seemed amenable to the extravagance. They sat on the tram, hardly speaking throughout the journey, too stunned to believe their good luck.
‘Our Paddy turned up trumps, after all,’ Colm said at one point.
‘Indeed he did.’ Brenna felt ashamed of all the names she’d called her brother-in-law. She resolved to say a prayer for Paddy’s soul every night for the rest of her life.
Shaw Street was only a short walk from Upper Clifton Street, and their house was the first in a neat terrace of eight, the front doors separated from the pavement by a single step. Colm produced the keys on a ring - two for the front and two for the back - and opened the door. They looked at each other, took a deep breath and stepped inside, Brenna and Cara first, into a narrow hall with stairs at the end and two doors on the left leading off: the first to a parlour in which there was a worn, but comfortable leatherette three-piece, the next to a sitting room that had a table and four chairs and a door leading to the kitchen. Brenda was surprised: she hadn’t been expecting furniture.
Wordlessly, they examined the grubby wallpaper, the cracked oilcloth on the floor, the kitchen with a deep brown sink and wooden draining board and a cupboard to store food. One of the walls had been painted white and there was a tin of distemper on the draining board and a clean brush. They looked in the tiny yard, the stinking lavatory with squares of ancient newspaper jammed on a nail and two large spiders that raced up invisible threads and disappeared through a crack in the ceiling, the washhouse with its rusty boiler and lumps of coal left on the floor, then went upstairs to where there was more grubby wallpaper, a cracked window in the box room, the fireplaces in the
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