Divided loyalties (WORK IN PROGRESS)

‘I am going to marry Maggie Dalston’. The silence that suddenly fell over the dining room felt louder than a bomb going off to Arthur as the words left his mouth. He immediately made eye contact with his father and he held his gaze as he waited for a reply. Arthur was not going to back down this time. Over the last five months he had tried on many occasions to convince his father that he was serious about Maggie. He had initially agreed not to court her as his father had outright refused to allow his son to step out with a member of the Dalston family. It was bad enough they came from drunken Irish stock but to top it all, they were Catholics. But Arthur Galvin had soon realised that he was in love with Maggie and that there was no way he would give her up. A cold war had then developed between father and son, but Arthur was sure that his latest declaration was going to heat things up.

Harry Galvin’s eyes narrowed as he absorbed his youngest son’s words. He felt his stomach tense as he tried to remain outwardly calm. He felt the ends of his bushy moustache twitch at the infernal thought of his son marrying that Irish Catholic whore. Harry had done his homework on young Maggie. She was well known around the pubs of Camberwell and Peckham. According to his informants it sometimes only required one drink to get Maggie Dalston to give up her mystery and now his stupid son had fallen in love with her. At first Harry had thought Arthur would realise what a scrubber she was but he had thought wrong. It soon became clear that Arthur had fallen for her. It had to be a mixture of youthful foolishness and lust, as Harry had no doubt that Maggie had been indulging Arthur in her sinful ways.

Harry looked at his family sitting around him now. To his left sitting opposite Arthur, his eldest son Henry. At twenty he was two years older than his brother. He had been in the army since he was eighteen and although Harry didn’t agree with his son being a lowly infantryman he was proud of him in his own way, although he would never let anyone know this. Being nice to people, even his own family was not a priority to Harry Galvin. Both his boys had jet black hair brushed back in the style of the times. They had the dark tint to their skin as all the Galvins had. They both resembled young versions of Harry himself and people often mistook one brother for the other.

Sitting opposite Harry at the foot of the dining table, was his wife Frances. He noted the panic in her eyes as he glanced at her. She had suffered the most during the last few months. She had watched her youngest son drift away from his elder brother and father. She had often lay awake at night crying silent tears as her husband lay next to her. For twenty two years she had been married to Harry Galvin and each passing year he grew more mean and spiteful. She struggled to remember the young charming man she had fallen head over heels in love with all those years ago. Frances held her breath as the silence covered the room.

All eyes turned to Harry as he quietly said through gritted teeth ‘you are not marrying that woman’. Harry stared deep into Arthurs brown eyes as he spoke. Arthur felt deflated. How could his father be so horrible? Why couldn’t he treat him like a man? He was eighteen now, not a baby anymore. This was the 1920’s and his father was still living as a Victorian throwback. Well he was not going to back down this time. Arthur sat up in his chair as he braced himself for the unavoidable clash that was about to happen. ‘i am marrying her and, there is nothing you can do about it dad’. If you don’t give us your blessing then we will go away and do it’. Arthur felt better now he had said it. Maggie would be his wife no matter what happened tonight. He had heard all the rumours about her being loose. But rumours were rumours. He knew Maggie was an experienced girl, she had shown him often enough. But he loved her and that was enough for him.

Harry exploded. How dare his son talk to him like that? ‘You are just a boy! Don’t you dare speak to me like that in my house’ Harry saw his wife flinch as he shouted. She would just have to put up. He had warned her many times that Arthur was a fool for messing around with that whore. But Frances was a woman herself, he didn’t expect her to have the intelligence to realise how stupid their son was being. Henry turned to his brother. ‘You have got to listen to dad Arthur. Can’t you see the mistake you're making? Why don’t you join the army like we talked about’? Henry was forcing himself to be calm. He felt as angry as his father. He hated the thought of Maggie Dalston being around. At the same time he loved his brother and was worried about him but, Arthur had to realise that he had to obey his father and get rid of her.

Arthur turned to his brother ‘this is none of your business Henry, keep out of it’. Arthur felt the heat of anger building inside him. He did not want to lose his temper. Not in front of his mum. He knew the arguments were killing her. Frances grabbed Arthurs hand and spoke to him softly, ‘why don’t you take your time. You have only been courting for a few months, there is no rush to marry’.

Harry turned on his wife now. ‘That is not going to be a solution woman. He won’t be marrying her now or ever!’ Harry stood now, he placed both hands on the table and lent over Arthur. His cheeks were red with rage and his voice full of malice as he growled ‘if you choose to marry her, then i will never speak to you again. You will not be welcome in my house again’. Arthur remained seated but stared straight back at his father. He no longer feared him. He knew he could put him down if he wanted, but he would never raise his hands to his own dad.

‘I don’t care if you never speak to me. I can make my own way. We won’t need or ask for anything from you’.

Henry listened to this exchange and had had enough of his brother’s naivety. He was running out of patience now. ‘Stop being so bloody daft Arthur. You’re eighteen. Why have you got to marry her?’ Henry didn’t realise he was shouting. He was in full flow now, Arthur needed to be told. ‘Why don’t you just get rid of her? She is just an old slag anyway!’

It was so quick that Henry didn’t see the punch coming. Arthurs right fist connected with his nose and knocked him clean out of the chair. He landed, dazed on the floor, the blood from his nose running into his eyes. Arthur’s anger gave him speed as he roared round the table and grabbed his brother by the throat. He drove his fist into Henrys face again. This time the nose broke. The crack sounded round the room. Frances screamed as she watched her beloved son's on the floor. She was frozen in her chair. Shock gripped her like a vice. Harry tried to push Arthur away but he didn’t realise how strong he was. Arthur hit Henry one more time and then let him go and stormed out of the dining room. The sound of the front door slamming told everyone that he had gone for good.

Harry bent down to his battered and bleeding son. Henry was just about conscious. Shock had enveloped the room. The only sounds were Henry's laboured breathing and the muffled sobs of Frances as she laid her head in her arms and cried for her sons.

To be continued......