A Pocket Full of Shells (7 page)

CHAPTER 16

     A gentle tap on the door failed to elicit a response from the young man who lay facing the wall, a grey woollen blanket pulled over his shoulder. Mary slowly pushed open the door and crept into the darkened room. The only sound was the high pitched squeals of children playing in the street outside, filtering through the closed window. Mary had the best of intentions when she began to climb the stairs. If she found James sleeping, she was determined to wait until he woke up, to be patient and let him have his rest. All her resolve melted upon entering the room. The frame that lay under the cover was a shrunken version of the man who had kissed her goodbye on the quayside in Dundalk.

     “James, are you awake, do you need anything?” whispered Mary, standing just inside the door.

There was a slight movement of the blanket as he answered. The emptiness in his voice tore into her heart.

     “No thank you, Maggie,” James thought that his sister had come back up the stairs.

Mary tip toed across the room and sat on the edge of the bed. She gently stroked the back of his head, curling his hair around her finger out of habit. The young man’s body stiffened and Mary waited for an angry outburst.

     James was unable to speak, even though he knew from the touch who it was behind him. He did not want his wife to see him in such a state. For the first time in weeks he felt emotion stirring. Gentle hands caressed his shoulders. Soft fingers wove through his hair, making his scalp tingle. Slowly turning around, hi
s eyes closed, James reached up searching for the face he knew was above him. His palm cradled a tear stained cheek then curved around a slender neck. The familiar touch broke through the wall of sadness that James had built around himself and he drew Mary towards him, releasing his love with a gentle kiss.

     Silently, they lay clinging to each other for a long time, until voices and laughter from below alerted them to the fact that Rose was home. Mary sat up, fixing her hair back into place, and wiped her tears away.

     “Close your eyes and hold out your hand, I have something for you from Catherine – a present she chose all by herself.” 

Mary reached into her pocket. James did as she said and felt some cold, small objects being placed in his upturned palm.

     “Smell them,” whispered Mary.

His eyes still closed, James brought his hand up to his nose and immediately an image of the sea flashed through his mind. Tears streamed down his face as he clutched the shells in his fist, holding them close to his heart.

     “Mary, go on down to Rose, she will be anxious to see you. Leave me on my own for a little while to gather myself together.”

     “You’re not mad at me, are you, or at Rose for sending for me?”

James smiled as he shook his head. 

     “So that’s how you found out,” he said, “No, I’m not mad at anyone, not even at myself anymore.”

     Mary kissed him before leaving the room. James felt drained, but it wasn’t the empty feeling he had before. It was a pleasant tiredness. He struggled out of bed, determined to join his family for supper, something he had not been able to do since his arrival. The laughter of his brother Owen, as he lifted Mary to swing her around the parlour, drifted up the stairs to James. The sound of it made him smile as he took his first shaky step, back into his life.

CHAPTER 17

     Owen and Rose's parlour was filled to the brim with relatives. Their children had called to the various houses on the street announcing the news of Mary’s arrival. By the time James rounded the bend in the stairs, most of the family had gathered, including some neighbours who were caught up in the excitement of it all. There was an abrupt silence as soon as James made an appearance and Owen ran over towards him as he was about to collapse on the last step. Peter, another of his brothers,
gave a hand and between them they half carried the young man to a chair by the fireside. Rose wrapped a blanket around his knees and the laughter and well-wishing started up again. Everyone was throwing questions at Mary and she had to ask them to take it in turns so she could hear them clearly. The evening was spent listening to news from home and the events of Mary's trip over. 

     When Rose noticed that James was looking quite drained she whispered into her husband's ear. Owen stood up and clapped his hands together.

     "Well now, I think we should let the young couple spend a bit of time together, and all you children should get to your beds before it's time to get up," he said, herding his own young ones towards the stairs. 

One by one, the visitors shook hands with James and Mary as they left the house. Rose was surprised when her sister-in-law handed her a white cloth bag, tied with a blue ribbon. 

     "I brought these cakes from Liverpool for the children. They might be a little bit stale but I'm sure they won't mind."

Owen offered to help his brother back to bed, but James said he wanted to stay by the fire with Mary for a while.

     "I've spent long enough in that bed, it's good to be out of it," he said.

     "We will go on up and leave you two alone. The children have carried their mattresses into our room, so you both have a bit of privacy," Rose said.

     "I'm sure you will have a lot of catching up to do,” Owen said, winking at James.

Rose slapped him on the back and pulled him by the hand towards the stairs, laughing.

     As James stared into the fire, Mary pulled a chair next to his and held his hand. He wrapped part of his blanket around her knees and they sat together, neither one feeling the need to speak – she with her head resting on his shoulder and he kissing her hair.

     Their intimate silence was broken by a light tap on the window. A young man's face was pressed against the glass. Mary ran to open the door. The cool, night air carried in with it the smell of alcohol, as Michael stepped inside. He looked very sheepish as Mary sniffed, scolded and hugged him. 

     "Honestly, it's only the odd time I go for a drink. I promise you, Mary."

The young woman stood, hands on her hips, looking from one man to the other.

     "What are ye like, the pair of ye? One drowns in his sorrow while the other drowns in his drink. I think I got here just in time."

     "I was just in the door when Maggie sent me over to look in the window, she said someone might still be up. She told me that you had arrived earlier, Mary. I got such a shock when I saw himself sitting there at the fireside. What magic did you use to get him out of his bed, we have all tried to coax him downstairs, but nothing worked?" Michael patted James's back.

The young couple smiled at each other. James reached into his jacket and held out his hand to Michael.

     "It was a handful of shells that did it, a present from Catherine. Although, seeing Mary helped a bit, too."

     Mary pulled her chair aside for Michael to sit down. She lowered herself gently onto James's knee, his arm automatically curling around her small waist. It gave him the feeling of being back home, in his aunt and uncle's house. Michael smiled wistfully at the two of them. James knew how much he was missing Brigid, although he would never admit it.

     "How is my wee
family keeping back home, Mary?"

     "
Brigid and Francis are both very well, Pat and Annie are taking good care of them, and our little Catherine, too."

Michael stared into the red glow of the slack covered coals.

     "Strange," he said, "I don't think we ever had a coal fire in our house, I'm sure I never sat at one until I came to England, did you, James?"

The young couple exchanged puzzled glances.

     "No, I don't think I did, it was always turf fires at home. Why do you ask?" said James.

After a minute of silence there was a deep sigh from Michael as he turned to face them.

     “Do you think my Brigid would like it here, Mary?"

CHAPTER 18

     The following morning, James watched Mary as she tidied around the parlour. He lifted his young nephew up onto his lap so he could reach the table with more ease and eat from his bowl, without dribbling the food all over his clothes. Those small, familiar actions on his part served to anchor him in the present. They reminded James he had a part to play in other people lives and a family that needed him. His resolve to get his health back grew stronger.

     "Maggie is delighted to have a day to herself," said Mary, “And young Jamie doesn't seem to be missing her too much, yet."

     "Catherine must be missing you though. Maybe you shouldn't stay too long, one of us needs to be with her."

James didn't want her to go, but felt the need to say it, hating to see her torn between her husband and her daughter.

     "James McGrother, I did not come all the way over here to go back without you. We are going home together, never mind the work. We can manage, like we always have."

     James was quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts. If he returned with Mary, his trip would have been a waste of time. At least there was work in England for him. He just needed to save enough money to see them through to the next harvest, three months away. 

     "Do you think Brigid will move over here with Francis, to be with Michael?" Mary asked, her question breaking into his thoughts. 

James noticed that his nephew had finished his breakfast and sat him down on the bench beside him before answering.

     "I think she will, Mary. Are you thinking of moving here yourself?"

     "No, I could never live here, not unless it meant a better life for Catherine, which I doubt."

     James stood and stretched his legs, relieved at what his wife had said. He could never leave Ireland for good, but a few months away wouldn't do him any harm. Having been so sick both in health and spirit, James knew he would never allow those feelings to suffocate him again. As long as he was fit, there was no reason for him to go back with Mary. He would talk her into going home to Catherine and letting him get on with what he had set out to do in the first place.

     "Let's take young Jamie for a walk, the fresh air will do us all some good," he said.

CHAPTER 19

     Mary reluctantly agreed to return home before the week was out, but only because James promised that he would be careful with his health and would stay no longer than three months. Owen had secured him a job at the forge where he worked, that way an eye could be kept on his younger brother. The heat of the place would be better than being outdoors shovelling soil or breaking stone in wet weather, as Michael was doing.

     "The pay is not so good, James, but the work will be a lot more manageable for you after the illness you've just come through."

     "Thank you, Owen. I'll do any job, as long as I can save a bit of money to send home, and of course pay my way here, too, Rose." James did not want to be a burden on them.

His sister-in-law smiled and looked across the room at her husband. Owen smiled back, remembering the conversation they had been having that morning, before leaving the house. Owen had confessed to Rose that his boss at the forge would take James on, if he would take a cut in his wages. He had agreed without discussing it with her and at first Rose had been annoyed.

     "Oh, it's done now, so let's not fuss about it anymore," she had said, "Anyway, if I know James, he will insist on paying for his keep, so we won't be any worse off than we are now."

     "Make sure you don't let it slip, or tell anyone. He would never forgive me if he found out," Owen had replied.

     The night before Mary's departure, Michael called to see her. He was just home from work and Rose invited him to stay for dinner.

     "I've just had some at Maggie's, thanks," he said.

     "Well I'm sure you can fit another wee bit in, couldn't you?" Rose was already filling up a bowl for him.

     Michael turned to Mary and said, "See how I can get two suppers in one day here. Sure why would I want to go back to Ireland, where I am lucky some days to get any? Would you not consider moving over, Mary? At least for a year."

As she opened her mouth to answer, James took hold of her hand and squeezed it. She took a spoonful of food instead, grateful for being rescued from an argument that would have developed around the table, had she spoken her mind. She shook her head and smiled at Michael. Everyone, except James and Mary, felt they had made a fresh start by leaving their homeland. They didn't need to be reminded of their heritage, their ancestors, or their roots. They were more concerned about the future, for themselves and their children.

The atmosphere that evening remained light and pleasant, in spite of the fact that a member of the family was soon to leave. Michael gave Mary some money to bring home to Brigid. There was enough to clear any debts she might have and pay her passage over. He would meet her in Liverpool off the same ship that Mary had arrived on. 

     "Do you need money yourself, Mary?" he asked.

     "Mary earned herself a nice little sum selling her story to a newspaper man on the way over. The laugh of it is, my wife has earned more than I have in this country so far," teased James.

     "Why James
McGrother, I do believe you are jealous," exclaimed Mary, "Maybe it is me should stay and you go home to Catherine."

    Michael went very quiet and pulled a newspaper from the inside pocket of his jacket. Mary recognized it as being similar to the one she had been given by the gentleman who helped her make her way to Sunderland. James was the only one in the family who could read and Michael handed him the paper. 

     "One of the men I work with said there was something in here about a young Irish woman who was travelling across England to meet up with her sick husband. He said he was finished reading it and that I could take it with me. I never thought for a moment it could be you, Mary, I was going to make a joke of it," said Michael.

A hush fell across the room as James read what Alexander Somerville had written. Apparently, the article was one of an ongoing series that had been published about the conditions in Ireland due to two years of potato blight, evictions and a great hunger throughout the land. 

     Michael was first to break the silence.

     "Is that what you want to go home to, James? Talk some sense into your wife, make her see how bad it really is there, and it can only get worse. I'm sorry, Mary, I have to go. I am only going to upset you if I stay."

He embraced her and left, apologizing once more for his outburst. Poor Mary felt the eyes of everyone in the room on her. James took hold of his wife's hand and looked around at his family. 

"It's me that wants to stay at home, you all know how I feel about moving away. Mary would settle here with Catherine if it was what I wanted, she told me so yesterday, besides, Pat and Annie need us. They are like parents to us and are the last of that generation left in our family."

     Nobody spoke for a minute until Owen stood up and announced he was going to get Peter to come up with his fiddle.

     "Let's give Mary an Irish send off," he said, telling his children to gather the relatives and neighbours together. 

Mary's cheeks were damp with tears as James held her close. She could hear the steady beat of his heart and closed her eyes, memorizing it’s comforting sound for those lonely nights ahead, when she would lie awake missing him.