The Bright One (18 page)

Luke's voice was the first to penetrate Molly's consciousness. She raised her head and faced him with a watery smile. ‘Nothing's wrong, Luke. I'm sorry to cause such a commotion in your shop. It's just that I'm so happy . . . '

Her voice faltered. Luke, bewildered, thought she would burst into tears again.

‘It's the twins,' Breda explained. ‘They've landed in England. They'll be home on Saturday.'

‘I must go and tell James,' Molly said. ‘He's helping on the farm.'

‘You had best have a cup of tea first,' Luke said. ‘Come into the living room and Breda will make one.' It was the only thing he could think of to do for her.

‘Well, thank you, I will,' Molly said. ‘If it won't take too long.'

‘Two shakes of a lamb's tail,' Breda promised.

‘I feel very shaky,' Molly apologized.

‘Then Breda can go with you to find James,' Luke said.

Molly stared at him. ‘That's very generous of you, Luke. She'll come straight back afterwards.'

She rose to follow Luke to the living room, then paused and spoke to the other customers. ‘I'm sorry for making such a scene,' she said. ‘It was a shock.'

She became aware that she was still wearing her pinafore, and none too clean at that. It was entirely unlike her to leave the house wearing her pinafore.

‘And was it not the pleasantest shock in the world?' a customer asked.

‘And they are well are they, the twins?' another woman asked.

‘I expect so, thank you, Mrs Fitzpatrick,' Molly said.

She drank the tea and felt better. ‘I feel as though I want to go out and tell the whole of Kilbally!' she said.

‘There will be no need of that,' Luke said. ‘Mrs Fitzpatrick will see to that. In no time at all they will all know!'

It was all go for the next few days; scrubbing, cleaning, polishing, blackleading the range, washing the curtains.

‘Why are you doing all this?' James demanded of Molly. ‘Is not the house always as clean as a whistle? And in any case, will they even notice?'

‘They will so!' Molly retorted. ‘Won't they appreciate a clean home after all the dirty places they've been in? And good food. Who knows what they have been living on, out there in the jungle?'

She could not conceive of the jungle, other than she had occasionally seen it in films she had not particularly enjoyed; giant trees, monkeys swinging from branch to branch, wide rivers infested by crocodiles, and man-eating lions and tigers behind every bush. Her sons would certainly be glad to get back to Kilbally.

Breda would have liked to have spent every spare minute making up the material into her new skirt and blouse, so as to present a smart appearance on her brothers' homecoming. It was impossible on several counts. Her mother did not have a minute to show her anything. The table was always cluttered with baking or cooking, or with cutlery and ornaments to be cleaned. There was not enough space even to cut out a pocket handkerchief. But first and foremost, though she had chosen a pattern from the catalogue in the post office, and it had been sent for to Dublin, as yet there was no sign of it.

Though Breda longed to see her brothers, she had one big worry about their return, which as yet she had mentioned to no-one. What would happen
now
to her job? Before he went into the Army, hadn't Patrick worked very well for Mr O'Reilly, and wouldn't the latter want him back in place of herself? It would be unfair, she knew, for a man who had returned from fighting in the war to find his sister in the job which should by rights be his. Mammy had not said a word about it, but surely it must have occurred to her?

In fact, it had flitted in and out of Molly's mind like a butterfly, but never settling. All that counted was that the boys were coming home. Nothing else mattered.

On Friday evening she stood in the middle of the room and surveyed her domain. Everything sparkled and shone. The cupboards were filled with food, which would never have been possible had not her friends and neighbours in Kilbally contributed from their rations to the homecoming. Twists of tea, cups of sugar, wedges of cheese, rashers and eggs from the farm, pots of jam. There had been a procession to her door. Luke O'Reilly had sent Breda home with a basket of assorted groceries. For a little while they would want for nothing.

‘Will tomorrow never come?' she said to James.

‘It will be there when you wake up in the morning,' James said. ‘Nothing will stop Saturday following Friday. And in the meantime, since you have nothing whatever left to do, put on your shawl and we'll take a dander down to the strand.'

‘Very well,' Molly agreed.

She had not been out of the house for three days. She had a sudden panicking thought that perhaps her sons would arrive this evening instead of tomorrow, and she not be there to greet them, but she stifled it, and followed James out of the door. It was a perfect evening, cooling down refreshingly after a hot day, the sky over the sea just beginning to turn pink. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the clean air.

Not many married couples in Kilbally took walks. The children came quickly and there was always a baby who could not be left. After that the habit was lost. But it never had been with James and Molly. Nor had she ever shed the habit of linking her hand through his arm, for all the world as if they were still a courting couple.

James, as she had known he would, made for the sea. It drew him like a magnet, especially that area around the harbour, from which, as they neared it now, the boats were getting ready to put out for the night's fishing.

He waved, and called out to some of the men. ‘Good luck go with ye! Good catch!'

‘You wish you were going with them, don't you?' Molly said.

He nodded. Over the years he had grown fond of this small harbour even though, except that the same sea, part of that wild ocean, flowed or pounded, lapped or beat, according to its mood, against the shores, it was so different from the wide Galway Bay where he had spent his youth.

‘Once,' he admitted, ‘I wanted to have my own boat, to be in charge.' Now he was lucky to get a night's work from time to time on someone else's boat.

‘Sometimes the sea frightens me,' Molly confessed, ‘though not at this moment.' It was lapping gently against the harbour wall as though it was nothing more than a large lake.

‘Why should it not?' James said. ‘It is all-powerful, bigger than all of us. Man can do nothing against the sea when it so decides.'

They stood there watching as the whole sky turned every shade of pink and red, salmon and mauve, each band of colour reflected in the still water. Then, when the sun dipped over the horizon, they turned for home.

‘They will have a fine, calm night,' James said.

As darkness fell he walked with his arm around Molly, holding her close. When they reached home, Breda had already gone to bed.

‘And you and I will do the same,' James said. ‘From tomorrow you will have eyes for no-one but your sons, but for now you are mine!'

‘I am always yours,' Molly said quietly. ‘You know that.'

‘Then we will prove it,' he said, leading her into the bedroom.

For one second, when she wakened next morning, Molly forgot that this was not just a day like any other day, and then she remembered, and leapt out of bed.

James stirred in his sleep. She grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him. ‘Wake up! Wake up!'

He opened his eyes slowly. ‘What is it? What is the matter?'

‘Nothing is the matter,' she said impatiently. ‘Except that this is the day the twins arrive!'

He turned, and looked at the clock on the bedside table.

‘But it's only six-thirty! They'll not be here for hours!'

‘How do you know that?' Molly demanded. ‘They have not given us the time, only the day. They could have crossed on the evening boat and be here any time! And me with everything to do. Fresh bread to bake. Vegetables to prepare. I must waken Breda at once!'

Breda also protested.

‘I can have at least another half-hour! I don't have to be at the shop until eight o'clock.'

‘I want you to fetch the milk from the creamery,' Molly said. ‘We shall need a quart extra today, and we will treat ourselves with some cream to go with the fruit pie. You must get up at once, Breda. It would not do for us not to be ready when they arrive!'

She adjusted the curtain which had been reinstated to make a separate part of the bedroom for the twins. She would have liked to have bought a new curtain – this one was so shabby – but the money would not run to it.

Though a dozen times she stood in the open doorway, looking down the street, willing her sons to turn the corner at the bottom which led from the station, it was teatime before they arrived, and she did not see them until they opened the door and walked in on her, as large as life.

It was a case of who could hug her, whom she could hug, first and fiercest, so that they stood in a tight circle, arms around each other, not able at first to find words to express their delight at being together again.

‘Stand back!' Molly said in the end. ‘Let me take a good look at you both!'

They were her sons all right, she thought. Their smiles were as broad as ever, their voices as warm. Yet they were not the same. There was a different look in their eyes. Also though they had always been slim, now, in spite of their bulky uniforms, they were as thin as laths. Their faces, too, were hollow-cheeked, and under the sun-tan their skin was pale and yellowy.

‘You need feeding up,' Molly said. ‘And I shall see that you get it!' It would give her great pleasure.

‘There is no need to worry about us, Mammy,' Patrick said. ‘We are as fit as fleas!'

‘Though we have had our moments,' Colum added.

He would not go into them, nor would Patrick. They had had countless hours of talking together over the last few years. People who hadn't been there thought that war was all action, all excitement. Well, some of it was, there were horrors of which they would never tell, but much of it had been long, boring hours of inaction, in which they had decided that, once home, the past would be past. All that would matter would be the future they had planned together, and about which they must talk to Mammy and Dada as soon as possible.

‘Where is Dada?' Patrick asked.

‘He has work on the farm for the moment,' Molly said. ‘But he will get home as soon as he can. And Breda, as you know, is working for Luke O'Reilly. It will be after eight o'clock before she is home.'

‘We'll go down and see her,' Colum said.

‘Not until you have eaten,' Molly told him. ‘I am making potato scones. I doubt you tasted those in the British army!

‘There are a lot of people you will be wanting to see,' she went on as she turned the scones on the griddle. She hoped, though, that she would have them to herself for a little while.

‘For instance,' she said to Colum, ‘you will want to see Mr Murphy about your job.' She turned to Patrick. ‘It is not so simple for you, because of Breda, but I'm sure it will work out. It is important for men to have jobs.'

‘We will not worry about any of that just yet,' Patrick said easily. ‘It will be a week or two before we are officially demobbed.'

‘Of course! And there is no hurry for either of you to start work. You have earned a good rest.'

As soon as they had eaten, and drunk several cups of strong tea, it was clear that they wanted to get out of the house. Molly was disappointed, but it was a natural restlessness, she told herself. They were not used to sitting around. And wouldn't it be good for them to see old friends? Wouldn't it help them to settle down all the quicker?

It was a long time before the twins returned. In fact, Breda was home before them.

‘Where can they be?' Molly wondered out loud.

‘They didn't stay long with me,' Breda said. ‘We were busy in the shop. They said they were going off to see Dada. I expect they're with him.'

‘In that case they will be in the Harp,' Molly said. ‘I hope they don't stay all evening.'

But if James had his way, and the twins had money, then that was more than likely. She was disappointed; not only because she had a meal which would be ready to lay on the table any minute now, but because she had seen so little of them since they arrived. But never mind, though. The war was over. Once they were out of the Army she would see them all the time.

In fact, they were home within the hour, all three of them, bright-eyed, slightly flushed, and full of loud talk. They must have put in some swift drinking since collecting James at the farm, Molly thought.

‘I wondered where you were.'

‘Now Mammy,' Patrick said. ‘Would you not have known that we had gone for a pint or two of Guinness? There was not much of that in Burma, I can tell you!'

‘And would I be begrudging you?' she asked. Would she begrudge them anything? ‘Now sit to the table and I will serve the supper before it is completely dried up.'

She had no complaints about the way they ate, relishing every mouthful, scraping their plates clean.

‘This is
real
food, Mammy!' Colum said.

‘Will you have more?' she asked.

‘No more!' they said in unison.

‘We learned to live on small helpings,' Patrick added.

‘Then Breda, you can help me to clear,' Molly said.

‘Did you see Mr Murphy while you were out and about?' she asked Colum. ‘He did not take on anyone in your place when you went, trade being bad because of petrol rationing, but now that things are looking up again I daresay he will be glad to have you back. When you are ready, that is.'