The Bells of Scotland Road Read Online Free PDF

Father Bell’s coming down from Blackburn specially. He’ll be your big brother. How do you
fancy having a priest in the family?’
    The girl’s words cut through Bridie’s rambling thoughts. ‘Is he . . . is he Mr Bell’s son?’
    Nicky nodded vigorously. ‘There’s Liam and Anthony. Twins. Anthony’s nice, but Father Liam, well . . .’ She wet a forefinger and drew it across her throat. ‘All
hell’s flames and misery, me mam says.’
    Bridie swallowed. How old was this Sam Bell? Da had informed her that the bridegroom was ‘slightly older’ than Bridie, but priests? Surely priests went to college for ever and a day?
Weren’t they well into their twenties before being qualified? ‘How old are Anthony and Liam?’ she managed finally.
    The eldest of Big Diddy’s daughters sucked her teeth for a second. ‘About thirty, I think. Me mam says they were born the year the queen died.’
    So Sam Bell, the father of these two, must be at least fifty. She was going to the altar to fasten herself to an old man. No wonder Da had been grinning like a clown these past weeks. Several
times, Bridie had caught him smiling secretly to himself. She took a deep breath, tried to wipe from her mind those pictures of home. Mammy’s sewing basket sitting in the hearth, peat glowing
beneath a hanging kettle, soft snow clinging to a window-sill. Her mother’s home was Da’s house now. She would not go back, could never go back.
    ‘Are you ready, then, missus?’
    Bridie stared hard at Nicky Costigan, thought she saw something akin to mockery in those pale grey-blue eyes. Could a girl of this age see straight into the soul of a grown woman? Surely
not.
    ‘You’d better go and see Mrs Bell first,’ advised Nicky, pausing for a few seconds when she saw Bridie’s confusion. Had this bride been told about the old woman?
‘She’s Mr Bell’s mam and she lives in the back bedroom.’
    Bridie’s left hand climbed of its own accord to her throat.
    ‘She’s in bed. She’s always in bed. Mr Bell’s had to pay to get her looked after. I suppose you’ll be doing it now.’
    Bridget O’Brien swallowed bile and temper. She would not go upstairs. She would not do anything that might persuade her to run back to Galway in the company of Thomas Murphy. ‘Time
enough for me to meet Mrs Bell later,’ she told the girl. ‘After all, we must not keep the gentlemen waiting.’
    The children followed their mother through the shop. Cathy stared at the strange young man behind the counter. He had a large head, a twisted arm and very strange eyes.
    ‘That’s our Charlie,’ volunteered Nicky. ‘He’s a cripple, but a clever one. Aren’t you a clever boy, Charlie?’
    Bridie shuddered. The mischievous young woman might have been talking to a colourful member of the feathered kingdom. ‘Hello, Charlie,’ said Bridie. ‘I’m pleased to meet
you.’
    Charlie’s mouth spread itself into a huge grin.
    ‘He likes you,’ pronounced Nicky. ‘Well, you must be all right, ’cos our Charlie only smiles at nice people.’ She rubbed a hand on her apron and touched
Bridie’s shoulder. ‘I hope you’ll be happy, missus,’ she mumbled. ‘And our Charlie hopes so too.’
    Bridie strode forth into the din of Scotland Road with a child on each side of her and a lead weight in her heart. Da was outside the shop talking to a man in a black coat. ‘Here she
comes,’ shouted Thomas Murphy. ‘Bridie, come away now and meet your stepson.’
    The man turned and looked at his father’s bride-to-be. Such a little thing, she was, no more than five feet two, blonde and quite beautiful. His heart leapt about in his chest, because he
understood what it was to lose someone who was meant to be a partner for life. This girl had lost a husband, while Anthony had been deprived suddenly, cruelly, of the woman he had loved. And Bridie
was so young, so lovely. ‘I’m Anthony,’ he told her. Could he go into that church? Could he? There was