It Was Only Ever You (21 page)

The moment Ava told him she was pregnant the problem of breaking off with Rose seemed to go away. His answer had been given to him.

The very next day, he asked Gerry for an advance on his wages then took the afternoon off and shopped around the city until he found a ring he could afford. It was plain gold from a discounted and seconds jewellery shop. She smiled quietly as he placed it on her engagement finger.

‘Are you sure?’ she said.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I have never been more sure of anything in my live-long life.’

She looked into his eyes and it seemed as if he meant it.

On their way to City Hall, Ava and Patrick passed through Columbus Park. They were early and sat for a moment on a bench. There was a small group of hipster students sitting on the grass. One of them had a guitar and another was singing, all under a cloud of pot smoke as Patrick lit his own cigarette.

Ava looked down at her legs, encased in tan tights, crossed at the knees, barely covered with the skirt of the cream woollen dress she had bought for the occasion. Patrick was wearing a suit he had borrowed from one of his friends at work. It was navy and slightly too long on the leg. Ava had made the decision to get married without her family there. Patrick had not written to tell his family about the wedding. ‘They are so far away,’ he said, ‘my mother would fret. I will write after we are settled.’ Ava was hurt that he didn’t want to share the news, but when she pushed him on it, saying that she would arrange a telephone conversation, he put her off, quite abruptly. She didn’t question him further. Perhaps there was some estrangement she didn’t know about. She knew so little about Patrick’s life. Although she knew all that she needed to know, which was that she was madly in love with him. And, if Patrick could not have his family there to support him, she decided to do without her parents. However, Ava did feel sad that she was taking this step without them. Seeing the hipsters cheered her up. People like that didn’t worry about marriage or doing the right thing. Soon people would not bother getting married at all. Not that Ava would have wanted that. She loved Patrick and they were having a baby together. That was what you did when you felt strongly enough about somebody to make a baby with them. You married them. You pledged to spend the rest of your life with them. That was God’s will.

One of the couples began making love, right there, under the tree. Kissing with a messy, wet passion, their hands exploring, crawling all over each other’s bodies. The man’s hand shoved under the girl’s blouse and began kneading her breasts. Ava felt a sudden shiver of shame and embarrassment. She looked at Patrick, panicking at the thought that he had seen it too. He said nothing, only turned to her and said, ‘We had better be making a move.’ He took her hand then raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them.

This wasn’t ideal. The baby, the shotgun wedding – any of it.

But in that kiss, as with every kiss Patrick gave her, Ava felt everything in her world come right again.

O
N
THE
train to Dublin Rose read and reread Patrick’s letters over and over again. Declaring his love for her.

My darling girl, you cannot imagine how hard it is for me not to be able to hold you in my arms. How I miss your face and the touch of your small hands upon me.

Begging her to get in touch.

I cannot understand why you have not written up to now. I can only imagine that you are busy with your studies. Please write to me and tell me you have forgiven me for leaving you behind.

Innocently recalling the machinations of his escape:

My mother had an awful job trying to find my birth certificate! Your father was great though – he made a phone call and got me a passport in double quick time. He could have sent me across on the boat like my grandfather, but he paid the full price of an aeroplane ticket. He is a generous man, Rose, make no mistake. A good man. I know this has been difficult for you, having me gone, but it is for the best. Thank your father again and tell him I will pay him back in full although he knows that we are both gentlemen and I won’t let him down.

His family knew as well. Had they all plotted to keep them apart? No. They were nice people. It was her own parents that were behind this nasty trick. Rose’s fingers tightened around the letters and her heart hardened with fury. Part of her wondered how Patrick could have been so stupid not to see what was going on. It seemed so obvious to her now, but then she thought how could she have been so stupid? She knew what a snob her mother was and how her father played man-of-the-people, but really was as much a snob as her mother. But this? Even she could not quite believe that they would go to these lengths to stand in the way of love. Who had told them? How had they found out? It didn’t matter now. It was all over. She would never speak to them again. She would go to America and find Patrick and be with him, for ever. She was finished with her parents.

Rose looked out of the window at the passing countryside. It was a flat day, but the grey sky against nature’s colours only served to make them appear brighter: the green grass of the grazing fields, the copper moss of the bogs and the messy yellow gorse that lined the train tracks. On another day, in another life, Rose would have snatched up her pad and started drawing. Not today. Today, the lacy outlines of the trees against the sky, the hares hopping across the fields, the whitewashed cottages dotted across the Mayo landscape like little rays of hope and home, were all invisible to her. There was nothing she wanted to do until she saw Patrick’s face again.

She took the drawing of him out of her bag, and unrolled it to remind herself of what he looked like. She remembered pulling the drawing out from its hiding place between the floorboards, and realizing that her mother must have found it. Perhaps the first day she had drawn it, before she had time to hide it properly. That was how all this had started. Well, she determined, her parents wouldn’t find her out so easily again.

Rose and her family had flown to London on a surprise trip the year before. Rather than book their flights by phone and risk his wife and daughter receiving them by post, spoiling the surprise, John had simply said they were staying in Dublin. After a night in the Shelbourne he had walked them down to the Irish Travel Agency on D’Olier Street and paid for the tickets in cash. They had issued them straight away, and it had been so thrilling going to the airport and on to her first flight. The three of them had been so excited, travelling by air for the first time. ‘All you need to go anywhere in the world these days,’ her father had told her, ‘is a spirit of adventure, a passport and a ticket!’ Once they had returned her father noted to her, with interest, that they were thinking of bringing a ‘visa’ system in to America for travellers, ‘but it’s a long way off yet’, he had said. When the flights to New York from Dublin had launched the year before Tom had also pointed them out in the paper with the idea that they all might go on a family holiday there. Well, now she was going. On her own. Without them!

When the train arrived in Heuston Station, Rose went to the bathroom and changed into a smart dress and jacket, stockings and shoes. She tied up her hair into a tidy top-knot and applied some lipstick to make herself look older. In the cubicle she counted out the money she had stolen from her father. There was nearly six hundred pounds. She was shocked to find so much. It was an absolute fortune. Perhaps even a year’s salary. She blushed and thought of how scandalized her parents would be to find she had taken such a huge sum. Then she thought of how much money her father must have spent sending her lover away to America, and her resolve hardened again. Rose took a taxi from the station down to D’Olier Street, went into the travel agency and bought a ticket for the following day. She had wanted to travel that day but the girl in the office, not much older than herself, had explained that the first flight out was in the morning.

‘You’ll need to give them the name and address of the people you are staying with in New York. It’s very straightforward,’ she said. ‘Once you have an airline ticket and a passport, there’s no fuss. As long as you’re not planning on getting work...’

The girl looked at her keenly, but Rose smiled and assured her she was only going on a short holiday. It was her intention to get a job and stay there for ever, with Patrick, but she would never be allowed on the plane if she said that, so she gave Patrick’s name and the address of the golf club where he worked. Even if they bothered following it up, which she doubted, Rose knew that Patrick would sort everything out. The most important thing was to find him.

At the travel agent’s suggestion, Rose stayed overnight in a small boarding house off O’Connell Street. She barely slept a wink, ploughing through the landlady’s copies of Irish
Tatler
magazines in the dusty downstairs lounge, trying to keep herself distracted. Every inch of her body was simply fizzing to get on the plane.

The following morning, she took a taxi out to the airport. She went over to the Aer Lingus check-in desk and presented her passport and ticket to the ground hostess.

The woman looked her up and down. Moira had been working for Aer Lingus for ten years, and this route had only been opened a few months ago. This girl did not look like the typical transatlantic passenger. Only the very wealthy could afford to fly anywhere, let alone New York. To Moira’s seasoned eyes, this young woman did not look rich. Plus, her passport said she was barely eighteen. Moira thought she had better check with her boss.

‘Excuse me for a moment, miss.’

In the back office she found the new ground-staff boss, an Englishman called Mr Simpkins.

‘Sorry to disturb your lunch, Mr Simpkins, but there’s a girl out here that seems rather young to be travelling alone.’

‘Is she eighteen?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is her passport in order?’

‘It seems to be but—’

Percy Simpkins had only been in Ireland for a few weeks working the new transatlantic route. He did not like having his lunch interrupted.

‘Can you not deal with it?’

‘Well, I’d rather you checked her in.’

Moira was nearly thirty and one of the older ground hostesses. She was less easy to boss about.

Percy put his sandwich back on his plate, irritably placing his napkin down on top of it.

The young woman at the front desk had her back to him. He assessed her briefly, thinking that her jacket looked a little crushed. He was about to give Moira an approving nod when the girl turned. Her extraordinary beauty hit him so hard that he stepped back slightly. With her hair pulled back, the young woman had a gloriously striking face. High cheekbones, blue eyes glimmering out at him, she smiled and asked: ‘Is there a problem?’ Mr Simpkins decided she could only be from the highest European aristocratic stock.

‘None at all, miss, just checking that your passport is in order.’

‘Is everything all right?’

Rose gave him her best smile and Percy’s jaw dropped at the sheer, Hollywood dazzle emanating from her.

‘Just fine, miss. Where would you like to sit?’

He handed Rose a boarding card and her passport whilst not taking his eyes off her face.

‘Have a good flight,’ he said, regretfully, as he watched the slim, elegant figure walk away from the desk towards the departures gate.

It was not until Percy Simpkins was back at his desk eating his lunch that it occurred to him how strange it was that the young woman was travelling with only hand luggage.

*

When they sat down, the air hostesses handed everyone three picture postcards with their drinks. The first had a photograph of a jumbo jet on it, the second an illustration of the interior of the plane, the third a picture of the food they could expect to eat, arranged neatly on a little white tray. Rose put the three cards straight into her bag. She would not be writing to her parents and she would be seeing Patrick in person soon enough. The flight itself was very long, bumpy and quite frightening. The man sitting next to her vomited into a small paper bag for much of the journey.

Rose was exhausted, and managed to sleep a little on the flight. For the last couple of hours before they landed she revved up, not just with the knowledge that she would soon be seeing Patrick, but also with the excitement of simply being on this crazy adventure. Soon she would be in America! She was there for the sole purpose of seeing her lover; without him she would have no reason to go there. She took out his last letter and checked the address, repeating it to herself – Westchester Lakeside Golf Club, 500 Ridgeway – over and over again until the destination was seared into her mind. It sounded like a simple enough place to find. What a surprise he would get when she walked in the door! She couldn’t wait!

They landed in Newark airport early in the morning. Rose changed her Irish money at the bureau and found she had less than fifty dollars left. The flight had cost a fortune. She wondered how far fifty dollars would get her in America. She had no idea about American money. She had little enough idea about Irish money. Her parents paid for everything.

She bought a map in the airport and looked up the address of the golf club in Westchester County but she could not find it on the map. She had no idea what the nearest train station was and decided that the easiest way to get there was probably by taxi. Even though her father had a car, she and her mother would often call a taxi to take them up to Galway for the day.

The taxi driver was black. Of course, she had seen black people in the movies –
Gone with the Wind
was her favourite film and the church sent money across to the priests who were working in Africa – but Rose had never actually met a black person before.

She sat in the back of the yellow taxi and told him the address.

‘That’s a long way, miss,’ he said. ‘It will cost you ten dollars, maybe more on the meter.’

That seemed to be a lot of money but Rose didn’t mind. Even if Patrick wasn’t there, she would wait for him until he came in. Then he would look after her.