Across a Summer Sea (26 page)
‘You’d be better to take care of where you walk, Mary,’ Mrs Moran advised as she came in with more turf and tipped it into the basket beside the hearth.
‘She shouldn’t need to. It’s a fine thing if a woman can’t take a short walk outside her own door without being afraid of who she’ll meet.’
‘Then it’s about time something was done about the likes of
him
!’ the woman retorted. She sniffed in disapproval, then left.
him
!’ the woman retorted. She sniffed in disapproval, then left.
‘Maybe she’s right.’
‘No, please! I don’t want to cause any trouble for you!’
He nodded slowly. ‘If you’re sure you’re all right.’
She rose and handed him the glass. ‘I’m fine now, thank you, sir. Let’s just put it all behind us. The children will be home any minute and I don’t want them to be worried.’
‘Then you won’t be . . . leaving?’
‘Leaving? Why should I do that?’
‘Some have.’
‘It’s happened before?’
He nodded. ‘Twice. I suppose I should have warned you but . . . I didn’t want to alarm you or lose you.’
She smiled wanly. ‘It will take more than that to make me leave. We have been very happy here - all of us.’
‘And that’s how I want it to continue, Mary. If ever there is anything,
anything
at all, that is troubling you, you will come to me?’
anything
at all, that is troubling you, you will come to me?’
She nodded. ‘I will, sir. I promise. Now, I’d better go back to the kitchen.’
‘Where’s Lizzie?’ he asked.
‘She went with Bridie to see the new lambs in the far paddock.’
‘Good. At least she was far enough away from here not to see anything that might disturb her.’
When she’d gone he sat down and poured himself a brandy. It was something he rarely did. It was all too easy a habit to acquire, drinking during the day, but he often felt like it. He frowned. Dinny Casey was getting out of hand. The man had terrified Mary and if he hadn’t been there God knows what would have happened, although he’d meant what he’d said to her. Dinny wouldn’t intentionally set out to harm her. But she could have ended up in the canal and perhaps have drowned. He had a mental vision of her struggling in the cold treacherous water. Seeing her in such danger and so vulnerable and terrified had disturbed him greatly. He had such respect and admiration for her . . . but was it something more? The incident had shaken him and now forced him to look more closely at his feelings for her. Yes, he
was
fond of her. She had brought so much into his life, but was that all it was? You fool! he thought irritably. What else
could
there be? She was a married woman with three children. She was of a different class, background and religion. There could be nothing more and not just because of those reasons.
was
fond of her. She had brought so much into his life, but was that all it was? You fool! he thought irritably. What else
could
there be? She was a married woman with three children. She was of a different class, background and religion. There could be nothing more and not just because of those reasons.
Julia Moran was very concerned about Mary as she fussed over her in the kitchen.
‘Are you
sure
you’re all right?’ she pressed.
sure
you’re all right?’ she pressed.
‘Yes. Yes, I’m fine now.’
‘You still look very pale.’
‘Don’t worry.’
‘I don’t want you to be thinking about packing your bags.’
‘Mr O’Neill asked me the same thing. I’m not. Why should I leave here because of . . . that?’
‘Well, I’m glad of that, Mary.’
Mary sipped her tea. ‘Why did he say those things?’
‘Ah, his brain is addled! The old eejit!’
‘But why does he
hate
us so much?’
hate
us so much?’
Julia sighed. ‘I once told you this is a country with a troubled past but many look to the future too. I don’t approve of violence but there’re many who will resort to it. Oh, I’m not saying we don’t have grievances, we do. We lack so many basic rights.’ She looked reflective, choosing her words carefully. ‘We’re not even free, Mary. We can’t govern ourselves, make our own laws, decide our own future. Every country has that right. We’ve never taken to English ways; we have our own. Our culture, religion and even language - though few now speak it. We can’t own our own land; our wealth is taken from us; we can’t hold high office. Yet we have a right to all those things. We have a right to
justice
, Mary. Can you understand that?’
justice
, Mary. Can you understand that?’
Slowly Mary nodded. She was beginning to comprehend. It wasn’t just a matter of land and money, it was far more.
‘I never really grasped it. I don’t suppose I ever needed to before. But what about everything . . . else that man said?’
‘Put it out of your mind, Mary! Forget all about it! Now, we’d better get cleaned up before the children arrive home.’
Mary nodded, although she was still troubled. However, she could see by the set of the older woman’s lips that there was to be no further discussion. The subject was closed. Julia had said all she was going to say.
Later that night, when Mary sat alone in her small sitting room, she watched the shadows of the flames from the fire making patterns on the wall. She’d drawn the curtains and pulled her chair close to the fire. It wasn’t often she chose to sit in here alone. She usually preferred the warmth and the company in the kitchen. Tonight was different. Tonight she felt the need to be alone with her thoughts.
The events of the afternoon had deeply disturbed her. Not just Dinny’s attack but his words, his accusations. She did understand more now, thanks to Julia Moran, but could she sympathise with or fully understand people who resented and even hated the monarchy? Never in her life had she questioned the monarch’s right to rule her and the countries within his kingdom. But far worse were Dinny’s accusations against Richard O’Neill. Were they true? Did he have a wife he kept locked up because she was mad? His instructions about never going to the upper storeys because of their dangerous state of repair came back to her. No, it couldn’t be true! she told herself firmly. Mrs Moran and Sonny would surely have let something slip, nor could you keep anyone a prisoner in a house without some sign of it becoming apparent. She had never seen or heard anyone going up to the rooms beneath the five huge chimneys. And food would have to be taken up and she saw everything that was prepared in the kitchen
and
she cleared up. It was nothing more than the ravings of a man unhinged by a lifetime of heavy drinking. She’d seen it happen before in Liverpool. There had been too many old men staggering from the pubs, shouting abuse, in the neighbourhood she’d lived in.
and
she cleared up. It was nothing more than the ravings of a man unhinged by a lifetime of heavy drinking. She’d seen it happen before in Liverpool. There had been too many old men staggering from the pubs, shouting abuse, in the neighbourhood she’d lived in.
She sighed and covered her face with her hands, trying to blot out the images, but failing. She’d never seen her employer so angry or act with such violence and it disturbed her. Yet when it was over he had shown such concern and gentleness that he couldn’t be a
bad
man. Her cheeks flushed as she remembered how she’d clasped her arms tightly around his waist on the horse and then clung to him as he’d helped her across the yard and into the house.
bad
man. Her cheeks flushed as she remembered how she’d clasped her arms tightly around his waist on the horse and then clung to him as he’d helped her across the yard and into the house.
She got up and leaned her head on the mantelshelf. Stop it! Stop it! she told herself firmly. There was no use tearing herself apart like this. She was still married to Frank and she
didn’t
love Richard O’Neill! She should just be so thankful that she had a good job, a little money saved, a comfortable home and a good life for her children. She must control her feelings and her imagination. He was her employer. He was an educated man. He was of a station in life far above her own. He was a different religion. She must never,
never
, let stupid, irrational feelings rob her of all that good fortune had showered on her.
didn’t
love Richard O’Neill! She should just be so thankful that she had a good job, a little money saved, a comfortable home and a good life for her children. She must control her feelings and her imagination. He was her employer. He was an educated man. He was of a station in life far above her own. He was a different religion. She must never,
never
, let stupid, irrational feelings rob her of all that good fortune had showered on her.
Life settled back into its normal routine and she put the incident to the back of her mind, but she noticed that Richard O’Neill seemed less talkative and somehow subdued towards her, and it made her feel uneasy and strangely hurt. It’s your imagination, she told herself sternly, you’re reading far too much into this relationship, which, when all’s said and done, is only that of master and servant.
Easter came and went and the weather became warmer. The evenings drew out and she often sat on the river bank while Katie and Lizzie played nearby and Tommy fished. It was so peaceful with only the sound of the rushing water, the lowing of the cattle in the water meadows, the birds in the trees and hedgerows and occasionally the sound of church bells in the far distance.
Once or twice Richard O’Neill had walked past them and as always had stopped and spoken kindly to Tommy and Katie and bent to make the strange signs with his hands that he had taught Lizzie to use. He’d have made a good doctor, she thought once, seeing Lizzie smile as she’d had the strange ‘conversation’ with him. The children all looked so much more healthy. They had grown taller and sturdier and their cheeks were rosy. Tommy was a great help to Sonny; he was now quite competent at driving both the trap and the cart and was similarly proficient at fishing, which he delighted in. Katie often helped her and Mrs Moran and had developed a friendship with Bridie, who seemed to have no friends of her own. But it was Lizzie whose progress gave her the most satisfaction. She, too, had grown physically but it was the confidence the child now seemed to show that made Mary so thankful and grateful to Richard O’Neill, for the time and patience and interest he gave unstintingly to Lizzie. Lizzie in return offered him a devotion never before given to anyone other than Mary herself. The child had come on in leaps and bounds and was now capable of things Mary would never have dreamed possible when they’d left Dublin.
One morning in mid May, Sonny came bursting into the kitchen with the post. ‘There’s your usual one from herself in Liverpool, Mary,’ he said, passing over Nellie’s letter, ‘but none from Dublin.’ He took a keen interest in everything that was delivered; Mrs Moran had often remarked that if you didn’t keep your eye on him he’d have the letters over the kettle to steam them open.
Mary wiped her hands on her apron, took it from him and sat down at the table to read Nellie’s news.
Mrs Moran was plucking a chicken for the evening meal but she stopped and let the bird fall into the stone sink as Mary groaned and covered her face with her hands. The letter fluttered to the floor.
‘Mary! Mary, what is it? Bad news?’ she cried.
‘The Lord save us!’ Sonny exclaimed, crossing himself.
‘Mary?’ the cook pressed.
Mary looked up. ‘Frank, my husband, has had an accident on the docks, where he works.’
‘Oh, God have mercy on him! Is it bad?’ Mrs Moran sat down opposite Mary.
‘Yes. Nellie says he’s lucky to be alive. They say he’ll never walk again. He’s broken something in his back.’
‘Is he in the hospital?’ Mrs Moran was very concerned.
‘Yes, but when he comes out Nellie says he will need someone to look after him day and night and . . . Oh, I wish this had never happened!’ she cried in anguish.
‘Who has he?’ Sonny demanded.
Mary shook her head, tears filling her eyes at the decision she must now make. ‘No one.’
‘Not a sister nor brother nor cousin?’ Mrs Moran demanded.
‘No. Just . . . me.’ It was a whisper.
‘Ah, Mary, no!’ Julia Moran cried as the full implication of the situation dawned on her. ‘Didn’t he throw you all out? Didn’t he make no attempt to stop you coming here? He’s not written a single line to you in all this time! How does he know if you’re alive or dead and the children too?’
‘I know! Oh, Mrs Moran, I
know
all that, but . . . but it must be terrible for him and he is the children’s father.’
know
all that, but . . . but it must be terrible for him and he is the children’s father.’
‘He’s no right to expect you to leave everything and go to him, no
right
at all!’
right
at all!’
‘I’m his wife. “In sickness and in health . . .” Isn’t that what Father McGrath will tell me?’
‘He will and I’ve never gone against a priest of God in my life before, but, Mary, that man cut you out of his life and for no good reason. What right has he now to expect you to come running and wait on him hand and foot?’
Mary dropped her head in her hands. She agreed with every word the woman said. She didn’t want to leave here. She
never
wanted to leave here and return to the tiny slum house in the narrow, crowded streets of Liverpool. Back to poverty and hardship and despair and with the memory of the life she had here always to torment her. But what choice did she have? Even if Frank didn’t want her to go back - and Nellie hadn’t said that he did or that he’d even asked for her - he had no one but her and she had stood by her wedding vows despite everything. Suddenly, the sunlight had disappeared; the day had become dark and so very depressing.
never
wanted to leave here and return to the tiny slum house in the narrow, crowded streets of Liverpool. Back to poverty and hardship and despair and with the memory of the life she had here always to torment her. But what choice did she have? Even if Frank didn’t want her to go back - and Nellie hadn’t said that he did or that he’d even asked for her - he had no one but her and she had stood by her wedding vows despite everything. Suddenly, the sunlight had disappeared; the day had become dark and so very depressing.
Other books
One Hot Night by West, Megan
Possession by Missy Maxim
American Dreams by John Jakes
Santa Fe Fortune by Baird, Ginny
In Search of the Past (Stacey and Shane Mcleod, #2) by Rikki Dyson
EcstasyEntwined by Ju Dimello
Freeform by Neal, Xavier
Ignite Me: Shards of Glass, Part One by Mills, L. C.
Depths of Madness by Bie, Erik Scott de
The Art of Death by St. John, Margarite
