The Bright One (19 page)

Colum didn't answer. That didn't matter, but Patrick and James, who had been in the middle of a noisy conversation together, instantly stopped talking. There was a sudden silence in the room, broken only by the clatter of dishes as Molly and Breda cleared the table. Molly, looking at Colum, saw him meet her eye for a moment, then turn away with an embarrassed, uncomfortable look on his face.

She stood still, a pile of plates in her hand. Something was going on and she didn't know what. She looked at James.

‘Sit down, Molly,' he said. ‘Leave the plates and sit down. You too, Breda.'

Neither of them thought of disobeying him. He looked unusually serious.

‘The boys have something to say to you,' James said. He turned to the twins. ‘Which of you will say it?'

Patrick spoke up. ‘I will!' Hadn't he always been the one to take the lead? ‘Mammy, we will not be taking jobs in Kilbally. We had hoped not to mention this just yet, but now we think we had better. We shall not be staying here.'

‘Not stay in Kilbally? But I thought . . . '

‘There is nothing for us in Kilbally, Mammy,' Colum said.

‘Then Ennis . . . ?'

‘No.' Patrick's voice was firm.

She was suddenly shot through with anger.

‘Don't tell me that two more of my children are off to Dublin!' she cried. ‘At this rate we might as well all go to Dublin!'

‘Be quiet, Molly love,' James said. ‘Let them say what they have to say.'

‘It will not be Dublin,' Patrick said. ‘We are going to America. Oh, Mammy, we know what this will mean to you. We've thought about it carefully, for a long time . . . '

He ran out of words at the look on his mother's face.

‘You have no idea what it will mean to me,' Molly said. Her voice was dead calm, and that was because she felt dead inside, all the life sucked out.

‘You have no idea,' she repeated. ‘Nor will you have until you have children of your own. And even then you won't, because you are not women. You won't bear them, nurse them, bring them up. No, you have no idea.'

There was a stabbing pain in her heart. She felt she would stop breathing, and be glad to.

‘Tell Mammy what you are going to do in America,' James said.

Molly clapped her hands over her ears.

‘No! I don't want to hear it! I don't want to know!'

‘You must listen! You have to know!' Gently, but quite firmly, he took her hands, pulled them away from her ears, and held them in his own.

‘We shall go first of all to Auntie Cassie and Uncle Fergal in New York,' Patrick said. ‘They will sponsor us, if we need sponsors. We shall stay with them, and find jobs, until we can set up on our own. We have quite a lot of money between us, all the pay we couldn't spend,
and
our gratuities. We shan't be going penniless.'

‘And how do you know that Uncle Fergal and Auntie Cassie will have you?' Molly asked.

‘We've written to them. They wrote back and agreed. We asked them not to mention it to you and Dada. We wanted to tell you ourselves.'

‘Even though I am the last to know!'

‘Because you and Dada are the most important,' Patrick said. ‘Please, Mammy, try to understand! It will be a new life for us. We've met Americans. We liked them. There'll be opportunities there. If not in New York, then in other places.'

‘And I might never see you again,' Molly said in a flat voice.

‘Nonsense!' James's voice was stern now. ‘Of course we will! One day we shall visit!'

‘When we are set up we shall send you the fare,' Colum said.

‘Will I be able to visit?'

Breda had sat silent, torn between excitement for her brothers and pity for her mother.

‘Of course!' Patrick said.

‘Unless, of course, you decide to take off on your own!' Molly said in a sharp voice.

‘Why should I do that, Mammy?' Breda asked. ‘It's different for me. I'm happy here in Kilbally.'

‘And don't be forgetting that I am here,' James said. ‘You do have a husband.'

Molly bit her lip, trying to keep back the tears.

‘I know,' she said. ‘I know.'

It was soon around the whole of Kilbally that the O'Connor twins, only just home from the war, were off to America to seek their fortune. Molly herself could not recall telling anyone, but like most news in Kilbally it was borne on the wind.

She had hoped for sympathy from her mother but in fact she got little. ‘'Tis commonplace enough,' Mrs Byrne said. ‘You know that. 'Tis the history of Ireland. And in this case they are not going into the unknown. Fergal and Cassie will be there. 'Twill be home from home.'

‘But did you not feel terrible when Fergal and Cassie left?' Breda asked.

There was a pause before Mrs Byrne answered, and when she did it was in a flat, calm voice. ‘'Twas a long time ago. You don't forget, but even the worst scars heal over. They no longer hurt to the touch.'

Nor did Father Curran offer her any comfort, though she should have known better, she told herself later, than to have sought it from him. And it did not help to recognize that he was right.

‘We are not given our children,' he said. ‘They are lent to us so that we may nurture them and bring them up in the truth. When the time comes we must let them go. Meditate, my child, on the mother of our Lord, who gave up her son even to the Cross. Patrick and Colum are only going across the water to America.'

Even James gave her no encouragement to be sorry for herself, though he was tender and loving in other ways. As for Breda, all she saw in it – though of course she would miss her brothers, but hadn't she been doing so for years now? – was the chance that one day she would visit America.

‘Of course I would not
stay
, Mammy,' she said. ‘'Twould only be a visit. Perhaps a month. Or perhaps six weeks. I would like to see Auntie Cassie and Uncle Fergal, and my cousins. I have never seen any of them.'

And would I not like to see my sister, Molly thought. She had almost forgotten what Cassie looked like, though in any case she would be different now.

The twins returned to England to be demobbed, and when they came back to Kilbally their arrangements to leave Ireland began in earnest.

‘We'll be wanting to go to Dublin to see Kieran and Kathleen before we leave,' Patrick said.

‘And Moira and the baby,' Colum added. ‘Don't forget, we are uncles now!'

They thought they would visit Dublin in a week's time and stay for two or three days, if Moira and Barry would put them up.

‘Oh I wish, I do so wish I could go with you!' Breda cried. ‘Don't forget,
I
am a godmother as well as an aunt.'

‘And will you also remember that Moira's baby is almost due,' Molly warned. ‘She might not want visitors, even though she will wish to see Patrick and Colum before they leave.'

‘But isn't that the best reason for me to go?' Breda said. ‘I can give Moira a hand in the house. I can look after Peter.'

She was bubbling with excitement at the prospect. Why, she might even be there when the baby was born! Then suddenly her face fell.

‘But 'tis not possible. I can't go, not even if the twins were to pay my train ticket . . . '

‘ . . . Which you can be sure we would,' Patrick interrupted.

She shook her head.

‘I can't go because I can't leave Mr O'Reilly. He could not manage without me, and that's a fact! All the same, I have not had a single day's holiday since I went to work for him. But 'tis no good. He would not allow it.'

Molly looked at Breda's disappointed face. I know how she feels, she thought. I would like to go myself. She longed to see Kieran and Kathleen, but it would not be possible for her, either. There was her job with Mrs Adare, though now it was only two mornings a week, but the money was important. And there was her mother, increasingly dependent. Every night now Molly saw her ready for bed and settled her down. But Breda was young. She didn't get many treats, and she worked so hard.

‘What if I was to ask Luke if he could spare you?' she said tentatively.

Breda's face lit with excitement. ‘Oh Mammy! He might, he just might, if
you
asked him!'

‘Then I will do it, so I will!' Molly said.

‘How would I ever get by?' Luke O'Reilly said when Molly asked him the following day. ‘There is the shop, always busy. There is the dinner to be cooked, the orders to make up. If Breda were not here, then I might have to get someone else. Of course there is no shortage of people wanting jobs . . . '

‘Then what about me?' Molly said impulsively. ‘What about me taking Breda's place?'

How would I do it, she thought? For one thing, I would have to ask Mrs Adare to change my times. Then there was James. He would be far from pleased.

But Luke clearly
was
pleased.

‘Well, if you would take Breda's place, I dare say that could be managed.'

‘Thank you, Luke. I will do my best,' Molly promised.

As she had expected, James was not pleased. ‘Why do you do these things for this man?' he grumbled.

‘I am not doing it for Luke O'Reilly,' Molly said patiently. ‘I am doing it for Breda. Surely you don't begrudge her?'

He had no answer to that.

‘I must, I absolutely must, finish my new skirt and blouse,' Breda said.

The pattern had arrived and, with Molly's help, she had cut out both garments and tacked the skirt, but there was still a long way to go.

‘You will help me now, won't you, Mammy?' she asked.

‘Well . . . ' Molly began reluctantly, ‘I will help you with the finishing off, but no more. I wanted you to do this yourself and you were doing so well. I thought you showed quite a flair for it. But in the circumstances . . . '

‘Oh, Mammy, thank you!'

‘There is more! I will help you to finish this outfit on condition that when you get back from Dublin, you will make my new white blouse.'

‘
Make
it?' Breda sounded doubtful.

‘From start to finish. Sure, I know you can. I want to see you do it. I reckon you have a talent there and who knows when it might come in handy?'

‘Very well,' Breda said. She had no choice, and to tell the truth she had quite enjoyed the sewing she had done so far. How had it come about, she wondered, that she had reached the age of sixteen without having made a single garment for herself?

‘You look very nice, very nice indeed!' Molly said to Breda on the morning they were setting out for Dublin. ‘When you chose the pattern I thought hadn't you been ambitious for a first time, but you have brought it off!'

‘I was set on it,' Breda admitted. ‘It was exactly what I wanted.'

The skirt had six gores. It fitted closely over the hips, then flared out towards the hem. She had seen Ginger Rogers wearing almost the same thing as she danced with Fred Astaire.

Breda executed a few dance steps across the floor, ending in a complete spin, which gave the skirt a lovely movement but, owing to the lack of room, caused her to knock into a chair and almost lose her balance.

‘For goodness sake, be careful!' Molly said. But she was laughing.

‘It
is
the nicest outfit I've ever had,' Breda said. ‘All the same, I never forget the dress you made me when we first went to Dublin!'

That had been five years ago. She had worn it not only until, even with the hem let down, it was too short for her, but until it fell apart at the seams.

‘Now put your hat on,' Molly said.

Breda had taken an old straw hat, swathed a band of the material of her new blouse around the crown and pleated the same material on the underside of the brim. It was really quite fetching.

‘You will not be ashamed of that hat even in Dublin,' Molly said.

She inspected Patrick and Colum with a proud mother's eye. ‘You will do,' she said.

They were so tall and straight, so handsome, she could have hugged them on the spot. She had, however, made a sacred promise to herself that she would show no undue emotion towards them or about them for the rest of the time they were in Ireland. Time enough for that when they had gone. Too much time for everything there would be then.

Breda was deeply impressed by Moira's house. It was two-storeyed, in the middle of a row, stone-built. Never had Breda lived in a house where you went upstairs to bed. It was also well furnished, with a handsome oak table and matching chairs in the dining room, a three-piece suite in the front room and, wonder of wonders, a separate kitchen
and
a bathroom.

‘Barry must be quite rich,' she said to her sister. She was being shown the best bedroom, which boasted a dressing-table, a chest of drawers, and a wardrobe with a full-length mirror in the door.

‘He is doing quite well,' Moira said complacently. ‘But we are not exactly
rich
. You are judging me by
your
standards. This is Dublin, not Kilbally!'

Breda let the insult to Kilbally pass, though she did not like it. But had she not determined, from the moment she had seated herself in the train, that she would not pick a quarrel with Moira? Indeed, had she not made the success of this holiday and the welfare of all her family her intention at the Mass last Sunday.

‘Everything is quite lovely,' she said graciously.

‘Unfortunately,' Moira said. ‘We do not have a spare bedroom for you, what with the twins, and Peter also, so you will have to sleep on the sofa downstairs.'