A Distant Dream (21 page)

It was early evening when feeling tense and exhausted, they emerged from Lime Street Station, where street lights shone weakly through a misty fog. After their fright at nearly losing Mel's vanity case, and grateful to whoever had pulled the emergency cord so that Patrick could climb aboard again, they had spent the journey in a bit of a dither, whilst checking that their luggage was never out of sight.

Patrick, upon talking to a soldier that had joined the train at Birmingham, who had a three day pass to visit family in Liverpool, learnt that the ferry that would take them to the port of Dunleary, a short train ride from Dublin, left from the dock nearest to the landing stage at the Pier Head. He seemed to think that an Irish mate of his always caught the ship at 9pm, which got him to Ireland in the early hours of the next day.

“I'll walk yer there, if yer like,” said the soldier, quite keen to be seen in the company of this handsome couple, especially the Aussie girl, who if she hadn't been courting, he wouldn't mind a crack at. “I could see me mates in the Baltic Pub, that's just up the road from where you're goin'.”

“I'm sure we'll find it” said Mel, answering for both of them, as she had seen him leering at any pretty girl who had passed them by on the station platform. “If the ship doesn't sail until then, we've chance to get a bite to eat, Patrick.”

“There's the Kardomah, or Lewis's has a restaurant, though it's probably shut by now. Oh and there's a chippy just down the road from here, over across the road. I'd come with yer, but I fancy a pint not a coffee.”

The soldier gave a mock salute, then ducked into a public house that was standing on a nearby corner.

“Do you remember any of this, Patrick?” Mel asked as they set off down the road towards the city. “Perhaps the funny accents? I could hardly understand that soldier or the woman who sat across from us. Look at those streets full of houses, they look so narrow and mean. I much prefer our stone built houses, with our wooden verandahs and slated roofs.”

“Terraces, yes I remember they were called terrace houses. We lived in one in Bootle. That's where I lost my parents because of the bomb. Then they moved me to a place in Walton. That's when they let me out of the children's ward and put me into Dorricott House, which was an orphanage.”

He shuddered, more from remembering the terrible time that he'd had in the children's home, when his accent was mocked so badly that he never bothered to speak in case he was jeered at, than because of the bitter wind that was whooshing up from the Mersey and starting to attack his bones.“It's a city though. You'll see a difference when we get across to Ireland, you'll never want to leave the place once you've seen the lovely loughs and glens. I'll show you the Round Tower, the village of Killala and the town of Ballina. We'll walk along the headland, look across Killala Bay and sit on the banks of the River Moy.”

“Whew, Patrick,” said Mel, changing over her case to carry it in her left hand in an effort to get closer to him, as her body was also beginning to shiver. “ I'm feeling dizzy with all this talk of the sights that you'll be showing me. Let's go and get a meal at that cafe.”

It had been while Mel was visiting the ladies room, after eating their meal of fish and chips in a cafe with red gingham tablecloths, that Patrick searched in his pocket for the envelope that Kathleen had hidden there. He whistled in surprise when he saw the white pound notes and a couple of fivers nestling within it. As it didn't do to bring attention to himself by sitting there counting lots of money, he put them back in the envelope again. There was a rush of love for the woman who had taken him to her heart so easily, tinged with a tingling of excitement, when he realised that she must have put at least twenty pounds in there. It seemed a fortune, which would pay for their dinner, the boat and may even last him until he got a job, if he was careful!

They window shopped, as they strolled down the street towards the River Mersey. Stores in readiness for the coming New Year sales were lit up brightly, advertising all the things that they hadn't sold at Christmas at knock down prices. Mel quivered in her jacket, as she stared at a fox fur coat in the window of Littlewoods and boots that looked warm and cosy, which she knew she couldn't afford. Oh, she had money and could always wire her father and ask for more if she wanted to, but what if she needed funds in an emergency? She might not like this place that Patrick was intent on taking her to and she might decide she didn't want to stay. Not that she had said any of this to Patrick, who was looking with studious interest at the wedding rings that were on display in a jeweller's window. He was under the impression she was his forever and was it fair to hurt him, when she hadn't made her mind up either way?

*

They'd made it. On the 29
^th
day of December, in the early hours when dawn was still some hours away, Patrick Mayo walked down the gangplank of the Dublin ferryboat. It was hard to stop the tears of joy weeping from his eyes, as he and Mel stood hand in hand on the upper deck, looking out across Dublin Bay to the shapes of Dalkey Island and the Muglins. He was back in his beloved homeland. Even the air that he was breathing seemed fresher here and he loved the lilt of the Irish voices. They'd take the train along the coast to Dublin, where they'd inquire about how to get to Ballina, the town that Patrick remembered fondly from his youth.

This
was the boy who would take her home, back to the green fields of her hamlet, the sparkling
river that ran down the side of the hill and to the little church which overlooked the crashing waves of the sea. She would meet her beloved sister either in her native Killala or in the spirit world of the dead.

*

It was eight o'clock before the train chugged into the little station, with many miles of countryside travelled on the way. Cattle grazed on lush, green pasture. Forests, dark and eerie, lay at the foot of the many hills. Whitewashed farms and small holdings, still using their peat beds for fuel, villages and towns, rivers and loughs abounded throughout their journey and Mel, warmly dressed now after making a quick visit to purchase a thicker coat from Switzers in Dublin, thought it was the prettiest place she had ever seen.

Having changed trains for a branch line from Manulla Junction, as the main line continued on to Westport, a town on the coast past the city of Castlebar, it was a tired and grubby couple who arrived in Ballina that evening, hungry and badly in need of a change of clothing. It had been a long and arduous day. Patrick, who had remembered that his childhood friend Billy, had an Aunty Bernadette who had a hotel at the bottom of the High Street, carried their cases wearily, whilst Mel, looking with interest in the windows of the little shops, trailed along behind. There was a chemist, a haberdashery, a dressmakers and tailors, their premises darkened as the trading day was over, but earmarked for a visit by a curious Mel.

“Is it Patrick? Patrick Mayo?” The woman who was standing behind the reception desk in the foyer of the grey stone building named The Heaney Hotel said, as she came bustling around to greet him with a broad smile.

“We thought you'd gone to Liverpool. Freddie, Freddie.” She shouted to someone in the back room, who by looking through the door which was ajar, they could see was a man who was sitting at the table drinking from a glass of beer. The man rushed out in alarm, no doubt thinking that his wife was having trouble with these strangers who had just blown in through the door.

“What is it Bernie?” He asked, pulling his braces up around his shoulders and acting a little menacingly.

“Would yer ever look to see who's come visitin'. It's Patrick, Patrick Mayo, come all the way from England and this is ‘is –” She stared at Mel's gloveless hand and continued, “His girlfriend.”

“Oh Patrick. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, where's Jack? Where's Aileen? We wondered. The last time I saw Jack we was having a beer in Flanagans, then a few days later I heard you'd all gone ter Liverpool, something about a run in with Father Cronin –Aye that was a bad business.”

“They're dead, Mr. Heaney – a bomb got us a few weeks later. Dad was working on the demolition. As you'll know, Liverpool got a terrible pounding. We were just sitting down to our tea when the siren went. The house got a direct hit and –” Patrick's tears, which were never far away when he spoke about his parents, began to fill his eyes and Mel patted his arm in sympathy.

“God love yer.” The woman he had known as Aunty B, took him in his arms and gave him a hug. “And you've come back to see us love – Well our Billy's up above in Dublin with Jessie. Do you remember she was in your class at school? They got married last September and me sister, our Mairaid, is over the moon as she's going to be a grandma in the summer. Oh”. She suddenly looked at Mel, who had been standing looking on in silence

“I'm Patrick's girlfriend – it's a long story.” This was in response to Aunty B raising her eyebrows at Mel's accent. “I'm dying to use your lavatory, could you show me the way?”

“Of course, of course, we're so excited at seein' Patrick after all this time; him and Billy were such good friends when they were little. We've a single room and a double room available and there's a bathroom just down the corridor from there. Patrick, give yer bags to Freddie and he'll show yer where and I'll take Mel along to the convenience.”

*

It was late the next morning when Patrick and Mel walked hand in hand together down Tebley Street. It was a fine, crisp day and Mel, all wrapped up in her new coat and a woolly hat and mittens borrowed from Aunty B, felt warm and cosy and grateful that after a good night's sleep, the floor wasn't coming up to meet her as it had yesterday. Patrick, eager now to visit the place where he was born and grateful that he had achieved his dream, with plenty of time to spare as it was the last day of December, felt elated as they strode past the familiar buildings of his childhood.

They walked over one of the two stone bridges which spanned the sparkling river and its salmon weirs, then on along the street which would bring him to the same winding footpath which had been the route he took on his journey to and from his school. He spoke with pride, as he pointed out the little place that had been his seat of learning, the monumental church, its graves holding the remains of his ancestors and the ruins of a castle on a hill. He spoke of his friends and their mischievous ways when they were children in their Sunday school, about how it was always Brendan Hanley's fault, the one who forever got the cane.

He'd felt angry though the night before, when even though he was dead on his feet, he'd picked up on Freddie's words, when he had said that something had been “a bad business”. Leaving Mel to settle in her room, he had sat with the man into the small hours and learnt the reason for his parents flight to Liverpool. It appeared that Jack Mayo had felt he'd had a calling. From a child, when he'd first looked up and saw his Saviour dying on the cross in the Catholic church along the coast, to growing up and being a leading member of the choir, Jack's only wish was to be accepted as a priest and train at a seminary. Visions of bringing the sinful to purity lasted throughout, even when he became a novice priest in one of Dublin's parishes. Until one day when he was visiting a family in the area, he fell in love with the pretty Aileen Burns, who was working in the city as a shop assistant.

His family, amazed at his decision when he brought his beloved back to Killala to meet them, could only give their blessing on their union and so did the local priest. Life was fine, Jack, earned a living rearing rare breed cattle, alongside Danny, a tenant farmer and family friend, who lived across the way. Until a few years later, when the old priest was replaced by Father Cronin, a zealot and upholder of the power of the Roman Catholic Church, who reprimanded Jack for failing in his vows. According to him, a mortal sin had been committed because if Jack had continued with the priesthood, then the land that had belonged to his parents, should have gone to the church when they passed away.

*

They'd made it. They had walked along the coastal path from Ballina and had reached the hamlet by the early afternoon. It had been a tiring journey, not helped by their need to rest after so many miles had been travelled from Australia and if it hadn't been for Patrick's determination to see his birthplace before 1957 had come to a close, Mel would have advised a few more days with their feet up before they ventured out so far. Though it was worth the blisters and the soreness of her soles, in shoes that were designed for pavements, not the wild and rocky muddy tracks that often wound its way through small dense copses, when she saw the joy in Patrick's face, as they came across the small hamlet that he'd called home. The old stone farm, which was four square with a barn incorporated and a cobbled yard where a gaggle of geese honked and pigs grunted in their sty; the row of stone built cottages; the materials brought across from Foxford over a century before and the footpath which Patrick had said led to the place where his ancestors had lived their lives in turf roofed cabins. All of this had gone now, it had all been demolished when an absentee English aristocrat had wanted grazing on his pastures, instead of the lowly potato plant which had grown on his land before.

They sat for a moment on the wall that ran along the perimeter of the farmyard, looking across with pleasure at the fine row of cottages with their grey, slate roofs and walls of weathered stone, sturdy and attractive, with white, lace curtains at the lattice windows. The end one, which an earlier owner had knocked through to the dwelling next door, had a pretty rose bower in the middle of the picket fence.

“That's where I lived” Patrick said, sounding choked as he gazed over, not able to believe that here he was, outside the place where he had been his happiest.