New York - The Novel

right,” she said.
    She couldn’t remember when she’d first given Sean his nickname. A long time ago. The devil. It suited him. She could never be sure what he was up to, and often it was better not to know. He was only sixteen when he first killed a man—or so it was rumored. For when people were killed in Five Points, their bodies usually disappeared. Anyway, his reputation had helped him in his career.
    Not that he was anything but a kind brother to her—she couldn’t deny it—but he was always wanting to control her. And that she couldn’t tolerate.
    “So where are you going? You may as well tell me, since I’m sure to find out.”
    “Damn you to hell.”
    “You’re too late for that, I should think,” he said cheerfully.
    “I’m looking for a position.”
    “I told you there’s a job at Lord & Taylor,” he reminded her. “It’s a good store. Doing well.”
    But Lord & Taylor was in Catherine Street, which was too near to Five Points. She didn’t want to go there. Anyway, she wanted something entirely different.
    “I’m going into service,” she said. “In a decent house.”
    “Does Father know?”
    “No,” she answered, “I haven’t told him.”
    “Well,” said Sean, “I can’t blame you for that.”
    Their father, John O’Donnell, had been a good man, until 1842. That was the year his work on the big aqueduct had ended. Also the year his wife had died. After that, he’d changed. Not dramatically at first. He’d done his best to keep the family together. But then he’d started drinking a bit, and got into a fight or two. He’d been dismissed from his next job, and the one after that. By the time she was ten, although she was the youngest, Mary had been keeping house for him while her two elder sisters went their own ways. Her brother Sean had helped her then, and still helped her now. She had to give the devil his due.
    But the last months had been impossible—since the death of Brian Boru.
    Brian Boru had been her father’s bull terrier, and he’d been prouder of that dog than anything. Whatever money he had was tied up in Brian Boru. “He’s my investment,” he’d say. You’d have thought he owned a bank. Brian Boru was a fighter—put him in the ring, and there weren’t many dogs he couldn’t tear apart.
    John O’Donnell used to bet on Brian Boru. He called these bets investments. So far as Mary knew, apart from the money she brought home and anything Sean gave him, Brian Boru’s winnings had been her father’s only source of income for some years. As the owner of Brian Boru, even when he was the worse for drink, Mr. O’Donnell had carried himself with a certain style. But now Brian Boru was dead, and her father had nothing to live for. The drinking had got worse. If she gave him her wages, they’d be gone in a day. And it wasn’t only the money. The lodgings they had on Delancey Street were no palace, but at least they were a good half-mile up the Bowery from Five Points. The way things were going, however, she was sure the landlord would soon tell her father to leave. Even Sean might have difficulty preventing that.
    “I’ve got to get out, Sean,” she cried.
    “I know,” said the devil. “I’ll take care of Father.”
    “Don’t kill him. Sean, promise me you won’t kill him.”
    “Would I do such a thing?”
    “Yes,” she said, “you would.”
    “You’ve a terrible view of my character,” said Sean with a smile. “Now would you guess where I was before I came looking for you?”
    “With some woman, no doubt.”
    That was how she usually saw him, with a woman on his arm, two women sometimes, strolling down the Bowery dressed in his fancy coat. A poor man’s dandy, with a smile on his face—and a knife in his pocket.
    “No, Mary. I was at a bar mitzvah.”
    “A bar mitzvah? For the love of God why? Are you not a Christian any more?”
    “We don’t only look after the Irish, Mary. Christian, Jew or heathen: if they’re in my ward, I’m their friend. I helped that family get naturalized when they arrived.”
    “I wouldn’t feel comfortable in a Jewish house.”
    “The Jews are like the Irish, Mary. Do a Jew a favor, and he’ll never forget.” He grinned. “They quarrel with each other, too.” He paused. “So where are you going?”
    “Uptown.”
    “I’ll walk with you.”
    That was the last thing she needed. Uptown, the streets became genteel again. Rich people lived up there. The place she was going wanted a quiet,