The Four Streets Read Online Free PDF

and bright blue Irish eyes, had spoken in detail about this day ever since they had first known she was pregnant. Not a drink had passed Jerry’s lips from that time, as they had saved every penny to buy a cot and turn the second bedroom into a nursery fit for their child. They had managed to completely refurnish and decorate their home. Each time a room was finished, almost forty couples traipsed through the rooms to ooh and aah. Bernadette was meticulous. She fought the dock dust and smog hand to hand; the windows shone, the nets gleamed and pride reflected from her white windowsills.
    Once Bernadette had been cleaned up, Jerry was allowed into the labour ward. He had paced the corridors the entire length of the hospital during the birth, desperate for it to be over so that he could be allowed back at Bernadette’s side. No father was allowed in a delivery room in the nineteen- fifties. The baby business was women’s work. He held his precious bundle in his huge muscular arms, more used to lifting cargo than babies, and could barely see her little face through his tears. Being careful to protect their tiny, fragile scrap, he turned towards his wife and their eyes met.
    ‘She looks like ye,’ whispered Jerry. His voice was thick with emotion as the tears trickled down his cheeks. ‘She is the most beautiful baby in the whole world.’
    Before Bernadette could protest, she gave in and didn’t argue. Was there ever a man who could love his new daughter more? Let him think what he wants, she thought.
    ‘Ye will have your lad next,’ she said with a smile and such confidence, he believed her without question.
    She smiled up at him tenderly, her love for this man who was different from all others pouring out despite her exhaustion. He leant over and kissed her dry lips, thinking that he had never seen his wife as lovely as she looked right now, after twenty-four hours of hard labour and no sleep. His tears wet her face and as she laid a hand on the side of his cheek, she kissed them away and tasted the salt on her lips. Between kisses, they were quietly sobbing and laughing at the same time, flooded with the love their new baby had brought to them as her gift. Jerry hitched the newborn up so that she was wedged between them both and they each gave a nervous laugh as they leant down and kissed her too. The three of them, wrapped in one warm embrace, filled with the smell of the newborn. They were both high on the miracle of life.
    ‘I feel so scared,’ confided Bernadette to Jerry, looking up at him. ‘We have this little life to look after, she needs us for everything, Jer, we can’t fail her.’ Bernadette spoke with a degree of urgency, referring to the conversation they had had many times into the small hours of the night.
    ‘Shh, I know, my love, and we won’t,’ said Jerry. ‘She will be a princess, she will have everything she needs. I will never be out of work or let her down.’
    Bernadette smiled up at him again. She felt safe and secure. She had no idea how happy one could possibly be, but she couldn’t help worrying about money.
    Worry was in her Irish DNA. Famines had left an invisible footprint. Jerry and Bernadette had plans for their baby daughter. For months they had talked and plotted about how their children would be schooled. Regardless of what the priest said, they would have just the two, so they weren’t reduced to total poverty. They wanted their children to live a better life than their own had been and that of others on the streets. Bernadette was surely right: a son would be next. Jerry did not want his son to have aching bones every day from a lifetime of hard toil, or to be injured in one of the accidents that happened all too often on the docks, or to develop premature arthritis due to the excessive wear and tear on his joints from manual labour. He wanted his daughter to be more than a shop assistant or a cleaner. He wanted her to be a lady, a beautiful, kind lady who possessed all