Mother’s Only Child (23 page)

‘Of course,’ Maria said. ‘Is there some sort of problem?’

‘Yeah, in a way.’ Martha said. ‘It’s Patsy. I’m sorry about the way she’s behaving in front of you.’

‘Oh, it’s all right,’

‘No, it’s not all right,’ Martha said. ‘I suppose you know it’s jealousy, pure and simple.’

‘I had worked that out,’ Maria said. ‘But soon I will be miles away.’

‘I know that,’ Martha said. ‘The problem is Sean has so effectively taken the place of Ted, something I thought would never happen. She doesn’t like sharing him, even with me sometimes. We have such few family you see, and I don’t suppose that helps. My mother and father, two younger brothers and a younger sister were all killed in a raid on Birmingham in November 1940, when Patsy was just coming to terms with her father’s death at Dunkirk. Then Ted’s father took sick with bronchitis the winter of 1942 and when the bronchitis turned to pneumonia and he died, his wife just sort of faded away. Ted was an only one, you see, and with him gone, and her husband, I think she lost all will to live. Anyway, she was buried alongside her husband and then it was just me and the kids.’

‘Oh, Martha, I am so sorry.’

‘It was grim,’ Martha admitted, ‘and though I weren’t the only one to lose my family by any means,
knowing that didn’t help, and I was so incredibly lonely and sad. But you have to get on with it, don’t you?’

‘Aye,’ said Maria with feeling.

‘The losses of all those close to her affected Patsy most of all,’ Martha said. ‘She told me once she wasn’t going to love anyone any more, because whenever she did, they were taken from her. When I met your uncle, it took ages for her to drop her reserve with him and then, once he’d broken through that, she loved him unreservedly, just like she had her father, though she won’t call him “Dad” like the boys do. She’s terrified of losing the special place she has in his heart, but even recognising this, her attitude towards you can not be tolerated and I will speak to her.’

‘Please don’t say anything,’ Maria said. ‘Now I understand a little more. You mustn’t let this put a damper on your wedding day. I will be home in a few days’ time anyway, and she will have Sean all to herself again.’

However, despite Maria’s spirited words to Martha, she did find it difficult to live in a house where someone actively disliked her. Patsy was either barely civil, or icily overpolite, but the scathing and disparaging looks were nearly as bad as the words.

On Friday morning, Sean went to collect his suit from the cleaners and Martha the dress Maria had sent her, which she’d had altered to fit. The children had taken the day off from school and Maria, finding herself alone with them, commented to the two boys how lucky they were to be living so close to the village with its cinema, library and public baths.

Before either of the boys were able to speak, Patsy said, ‘It’s not so great. Aston was just as good. But,’ she
added scornfully, ‘I suppose you would think anything was great, coming from a little tin-pot village.’

Maria refused to rise to the bait and just said pleasantly, ‘There is little in the village in the way of entertainment unless we make our own, but Derry is only fifteen miles away, where there are attractions galore. I just meant it’s handy to have them all on the doorstep.’

‘I bet Derry is nothing to Birmingham,’ Patsy went on. ‘After all. Birmingham is the second city.’

‘Well, I don’t know Birmingham,’ said Maria, ‘except for the little I saw as we passed through it in the taxi. I did see it has an awful lot of bomb damage and if you have not seen Derry you aren’t in a position either to make a comparison.’

‘Oh, aren’t you Miss Clever Clogs?’

‘That’s you,’ Tony said. ‘Swanking it up at St Aggie’s. Surprised you even talk to the likes of us.’

Patsy’s eyes narrowed. Tony was fair game. She could vent her spleen on him and leave Maria alone, and not have her mother on her back or Sean looking at her with reproachful eyes. ‘I wouldn’t talk to you if I had a choice in the matter,’ she said.

‘Don’t then,’ Tony said. ‘I would suit me. Be a bit quieter with you keeping your gob shut.’

Paul caught Maria’s eye and cast his own to the ceiling as if to say, ‘Here we go again.’

Maria had to nip on her lip to stop herself smiling as Patsy snapped. ‘Why don’t you crawl under the stone you came from?’

‘Why don’t you?’

‘You’re a grubby, stinking, horrible little monster,’ Patsy said, irritated by Tony’s calmness. ‘And I hate you!’

Not sure whether it was a wise move or not, Maria felt she had to try to intervene. ‘Come on, you two.’

The look Patsy gave her was venomous. ‘Keep out of this, you. It’s not your business and the sooner you go home the better I’d like it.’

And me, Maria thought. She felt she already had enough going on in her life without taking on board the problems of a teenager she hardly knew, and whom she wasn’t particularly keen on getting to know either.

She rose and said to Patsy, ‘I think I will go to my room until you are in a better temper.’

‘Huh, that’ll be the day,’ Tony said, with a hoot of laughter.

‘Shut your mouth!’

‘Shan’t, just ‘cos you say so.’

Maria shut the door behind her. They were well used to arguing this fiercely, judging by Paul’s reaction, and anyway, she didn’t care any more. They could go ahead and kill each other and she would leave them to get on with it.

‘What d’you think of the dress?’ Martha said a little later, lifting it from the box,

‘It’s lovely,’ Maria said sincerely, ‘and very different from the way I wore it.’

‘Well, I’m dumpier that you,’ Martha said, ‘and a dropped waist wouldn’t have suited me at all, so I had the waist raised and the leftover material made into two panels either side of the zip to accommodate my larger waist and bust.’

‘The woman has done a good job,’ Maria had to admit, admiring the workmanship.

‘She’s run off her feet with all this make do and mend,’ Martha said. ‘She told me when I took this in she hardly ever gets her hands on such lovely material and would enjoy working on it so much it would be a pity to charge me.’ Martha gave a rueful grin and said, ‘She did though, and a pretty penny too.’

The two women laughed together and then Martha went on, ‘Anyway, because of your generosity in giving me this dress I was able to go down the Rag Market and get enough material to make Patsy a bridesmaid’s dress.’ She drew the beautiful dress of royal-blue satin from the box too.

Maria admired the dress, intrigued by where Martha said she had got the fabric. ‘The Rag Market?’ she asked. ‘Where’s that?’

Martha laughed. ‘Terrible name, I know,’ she said. ‘And they don’t sell rags, though they do have a few second-hand stalls, but it is a place where the bargains are to be had. Next time, if you come on a longer visit, the two of us will go and have a butcher’s. What do you say?’

‘I don’t know when that will be, with Daddy the way he is,’ Maria said.

‘I know,’ Martha said gently. ‘But your daddy won’t always be there. But what am I saying? By then you’ll probably have a houseful of children around you.’ She raised her eyebrows speculatively.

‘I don’t think so,’ Maria said. ‘There’s been no sign yet, anyway.’

‘It’s early days.’

‘We’ve been married fourteen months and it isn’t as
if we are not trying,’ Maria said. ‘But I’m not going to think of it either today or tomorrow. I’m here to see my uncle make an honest woman of you and I intend to enjoy the whole experience.’

‘It’s made the day for Sean, you being here,’ Martha said. ‘And don’t worry, I love Sean very much and intend to make him happy.’

‘Well,’ said Maria, ‘you are doing all right so far, anyway. I’ve not seen Uncle Sean like this for a very long time. He’s like a dog with two tails, so he is.’

The wedding, at the abbey church, went without a hitch. Both Martha and Sean were short on relatives, but many old neighbours had travelled up from Aston. Some of Sean’s workmates were also invited, including Kenny O’Connor, who’d helped him get a job in the Dunlop factory. Everyone seemed intent on making the day special for Sean and Martha. Maria thought back to her own wedding day with sadness.

Later, back at the house, Sean introduced Maria to Father Flynn, who’d taken the Mass, and explained she was over from Donegal for the wedding.

‘I’m from Connemara myself,’ he told Maria. ‘I believe Donegal too is very beautiful.’

‘It is, Father,’ Maria said. ‘My home is in a little village called Moville on the Inishowen Peninsular, and we can look over Lough Foyle and Derry and all. It was beautiful once and will be again, I suppose, but now the docks in Derry has been given over to the navy, and naval ships, rather than fishing boats, fill the waters.’

‘Ah, this war has affected many lives,’ the priest said, shaking his head. ‘Terrible tragedies altogether.’

‘My uncle thinks it will be over soon,’ Maria said. ‘Do you see an end in sight, Father?’

‘Ah, if only I had a crystal ball, my dear,’ he said. ‘I don’t know, but I hope your uncle is right. I see you have a ring on your finger,’ he added, looking around the room. ‘Is your husband with you?’

‘No, Father.’ Maria went on to explain about her father’s accident and the effect on her mother’s delicate nerves, and Barney staying behind to see to things.

The priest listened without a word. When she was finished, he patted her arm as he said, ‘Bear up, my dear. You are young to have such affliction land on you, and though you are not the only one affected by tragedy, that hardly helps. I will remember you in my prayers and you can be grateful at least that you have a good and understanding husband who is able to share this burden.’

If you only knew, Maria thought, watching the priest walking around the room, talking to this one and that one, but she acknowledged that he was right in one way: Barney was very good with her father and had been adamant that she come to her uncle’s wedding. If only she could get him away from his brother’s influence, their marriage might still have a chance. She could only hope that this might happen before it was too late for the pair of them.

Barney was waiting for Maria at Derry Station with a car on loan from Seamus. He seemed pleased to see her back, though he gave her no hug or kiss.

‘How is Daddy?’ Maria asked, as she settled herself in the car.

‘Just the same,’ Barney said. ‘We haven’t let him fade away, but between us both, we haven’t persuaded him yet to go on the wagon, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh, Barney, you are silly at times.’

‘I know it.’ He sighed resignedly. ‘How did it go?’

Maria described first the house in Erdington village, before she got to the wedding itself. She told him of Martha and how kindly she was—just the wife for Sean—and of the children. She didn’t say anything of the antagonism Patsy had shown her, feeling it somewhat disloyal to do so.

Barney listened with half an ear, nodding and commenting in the right places, but inside, he was buzzing with excitement. After the success of the last raid, they were already planning the next one, further inside the six counties. He already had a thick wad of bank notes
in his pocket and he intended at least to treble that. Added to that, the following night, Seamus had a poker school organised after they’d done their drop. Bottles of poteen and Seamus’s special packs of cards virtually guaranteed the brothers winnings—certainly by the end of the evening. That thought also brought a smile, to his lips.

Maria thought the smile for her and she leant back in the car with a sigh of contentment. It was good to be home. Maybe the saying ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’ really was true.

She dozed until they reached The Square in Moville, where the ride over the cobblestones woke her. She looked around with bleary eyes.

‘Hello, sleepyhead,’ Barney said.

‘Sorry.’

‘You likely needed that sleep.’

‘Aye, I did.’

‘Well, then,’ he said, as he drew up by the door, ‘let’s away in. Sam will be delighted to have you home.’

He was. He was at the drunken, maudlin stage, and he cried as he clutched at Maria. She hugged him back, but holding her breath she did so. The smell coming off him, which no washing could get rid of, could sometimes make her feel quite nauseous. Dora was still in the house, and she too was glad to see Maria.

‘There’s a meal for you, in the oven,’ she said, ‘and a round of soda bread to mop up the gravy.’

‘Oh, Dora, you don’t know how good that sounds.’

The thick beef casserole Maria shared with Barney—for Sam would have none of it—put new heart into her. Later, sitting beside Barney before the range with
a cup of tea, watching the peat settle into the grate, she felt contentment seep all over her.

It was even better when Barney said, ‘Shall we go up?’ his voice husky with desire. Her weariness dropped from her and she followed him eagerly. Their lovemaking was better than ever.

The Monday after her return was Easter Monday so Maria was at home when the doctor called unexpectedly.

‘Your mother has pneumonia,’ he told. ‘She’s in a coma.’

‘Can I see her?’

Dr Shearer nodded. ‘I’ll take you. I have the car in The Square.’

‘Will she recover from this, Doctor?’

‘No, I’m afraid not,’ the doctor said. ‘She reached the crisis at three o’clock this morning, so the doctor told me just now on the telephone, and she slipped into a coma afterwards. The priest is with her at the moment. She’s already received the Last Rites.’

‘Hear that, Daddy?’ Maria said gently, crossing to her father.

‘Blessed relief,’ Sam said. Despite the fact it was morning, he already had a bottle of whiskey by his side. He waved this at the doctor and tears streamed down his face as he cried, ‘Best if I follow her. Bloody millstones round Maria’s neck, the pair of us.’

‘Daddy, hush,’ Maria said, but slightly impatiently for she’d heard and refuted that refrain often, and there were things to do.

‘Can you wait while I ask Bella if she wants to come
with me?’ she asked the doctor. ‘She was a good friend of Mammy’s.’

‘Aye,’ the doctor said. ‘But what about leaving your father?’