The Magdalen (5 page)

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Authors: Marita Conlon-McKenna

BOOK: The Magdalen
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“They were cold and wet, Esther! I was right worried about them. They needed their coats back. Ger shouldn't have cut them.”
Patches of sheep's wool clung to Nonie's shoes; she must have fetched the fleeces from the outhouse where they had been stored.
“What the hell's going on?” demanded Ger, who had raced across the fields, breaking out laughing the minute he saw the sheep. “God almighty, Nonie, you gave me the fright of my life when I saw those fleeces gone. I thought someone had stolen them.” Esther and Ger fell around the field laughing, almost hysterical, as the bewildered sheep sniffed and bumped into each other, confused by the smell of another's fleece. The noise roused the rest of the family, who joined them, her mother tramping across the field worried.
“‘Tis all right, Mammy! Nonie's here. She was only trying to help the sheep keep warm!”
“Will you look at the creatures! Honest to God, Nonie Doyle, you're the kindest girl any mother could have.”
Paddy and Liam chased among the sheep, pulling off bits of the wool and flinging it at each other, while Nonie vainly tried to keep the fleece in position. Tom knelt down beside her, trying with infinite patience to explain yet
again about the sheep not needing their wool. “They won't be cold,” he promised.
“But they were shivering,” she insisted stubbornly.
“I promise it'll all be grown back by the time winter comes, and they'll have huge new woolly coats. Mammy needs the wool, else we'll be the cold ones. Humans don't grow coats, Nonie.”
This seemed to finally satisfy her, and she helped her brothers to lift the pieces of fleece and shaggy wool from the sheep and carry it back down to the outhouse, racing and running in her nightdress among the boys.
“She's so funny, Mammy. She's such a cute wee thing.” Esther smiled, linking her arm in her mother's. Her mother looked tired, worn out like a lot of the women in the area. Her hair had already started to lose its colour and was streaked with fine lines of silver, her skin taut and reddened by the constant winds and rain.
“Aye, she is that, right enough, funny, silly, whatever folk like to call it, Esther. She's a small girl with big blue eyes and nobody's going to get cross with her when she does daft things but ‘twon't always be like that, Esther, folk won't be half as kind when she's a lump of a girl of seventeen or twenty. It'll be hard for her then.” Esther stopped walking, noticing the tears welling in her mother's eyes. “Think on then! How will the neighbours treat her when she's a grown woman with the mind of a simple child?”
There was no denying her mother's worry, she obviously fretted about Nonie constantly. Nonie looked back up the field towards them and suddenly raced back, flinging herself into Majella's arms.
“I love you, Mammy,” she shouted. The words came so easily to her little sister.
Majella held her tightly as Esther looked on. “And I love you too, pet.”
Esther had to turn away to hide her own emotions.
S
aturday night was the one night that Esther longed for all the week. Sometimes her girlfriends would call and they would chat until late. All their lives seemed to be moving forward while hers remained stagnant and the same. They all plotted and planned to escape the parish, hoping that romance and money were only around the corner once you got away from the boundaries of Connemara. Margaret O'Sullivan was the first married, and Anna was doing a strong line with one of Donal's friends. The only excitement there was, as far as she was concerned, the local dances.
“Are you going dancing?” Nonie was sitting on the bed watching as Esther brushed her hair and dabbed some
eau de Cologne behind her ears and on her wrists. “Give us a bit!” demanded her little sister.
“Come on, Nonie, out of my way! The boys will be cross if I hold them up.”
“Want ta dance too!” pleaded Nonie.
Esther took a final glance at herself; she had caked a bit of mascara on to her long brown eyelashes and used a bit of her mother's eye-pencil to line her eyes. She wished she had a lipstick of her own, her mother's was too red and she'd had to blot it off and run some Vaseline on to her lips to make them seem glossy. Her long wavy brown hair tumbled to her shoulders, framing her heart-shaped face and wide hazel-coloured eyes.
Majella stood at the door watching her. “Esther, dote, you look lovely!”
“Thanks, Mam.” Esther grinned. Her mother rarely paid compliments, believing that they swelled people's heads and made them too big for their boots.
“When did you grow up so quick! I only wish your poor father was here to see what a beautiful daughter we have. I'd have been lost without you these past few years, you know that!”
“I know, Mam.” Esther smiled, throwing her arms round her mother, giving her a hug.
“You'll ruin your make-up and hair!” joked Majella, stroking her shoulders. “Away off with you now, the boys are outside like hens on hot griddles waiting for you.”
“Do I look all right, are you sure?” Esther smiled, twirling around in the pale pink skirt that her mother had made for her. There was her white blouse with the pearl
buttons and a soft pink cardigan that her mother had knitted as a birthday surprise for her.
Donal and Tom were out in the kitchen, combing their hair and polishing the mud and dust off their shoes.
“Hurry on, Esther!” shouted Gerard. “I'm going in a minute.”
Esther suddenly felt guilty about leaving Majella and Nonie, the two of them stuck at home while she went off and had a good time.
“Hurry along, pet, or you'll all be late!”
They all crowded together at the door, their mother fussing and Nonie hopping in and out between them. “I want ta go too! Want ta dance!” Nonie began to scream and grab at Esther's skirt.
“Don't be so bold!” scolded Majella, trying to prise the chubby fingers off the pink material before Nonie destroyed it.
“Listen, pet, we'll dance ourselves tomorrow, I promise!” pleaded Esther, trying to escape. She hated it when Nonie got upset or threw one of her tantrums.
Tom and Donal solved the problem by lifting the child and moving her out of the way, while at the same time propelling Esther out of the door. Determined, Esther climbed up into the truck, pushing in alongside Gerard. “It's just she hates me leaving her!” She sighed, as from inside came loud sobs and screams as their mother tried to cope with the six-year-old's upset.
“She'll be all right, Esther, she'll calm down in a few minutes when we're gone,” assured Donal, “so don't you be worrying yourself. We're out to enjoy ourselves tonight.”
Esther knew her brothers were right. Excited, she crowded into the front seat between them as Tom jumped into the back, hoping above hope that the smell of fish from the truck wouldn't cling to her hair and clothes and spoil the effect. She needed a break from the house, and tonight the whole district was going to the dance. They'd all been planning and looking forward to this for weeks. There hadn't been a dance for ages, what with Lent and the Easter ceremonies, so now everyone was dying to make up for lost time.
 
 
A huge white marquee had been erected in a field near the crossroads. Gerard stopped the ramshackle truck outside McEvoy's. The bar was so crowded that the customers had spilled out of the doorway and were standing outside in the warm evening air.
“Run in and set up two pints for us, Donal, while I park this yoke. Get the youngsters two glasses of lemonade. We all have a thirst on us with the night that's in it!”
Donal jumped down and disappeared inside the bar. They all followed him in, pushing and shoving through the swell of young and old men all waiting to be served, Esther joining the other girls in the small snug, where she chatted to Carmel and Helen Quinn, two sisters she knew from school. Fidelma was all dolled up winking at her. “I love the pink!”
They all agreed they had never seen such a number in McEvoy's. The publican moved among the tables and the long wooden counter, clearing glasses and cracking jokes,
his cheeks ruddy with the heat and the extra custom that a dance night always brought.
“Will you look at the fellahs!” jeered Carmel, tossing her thick curling black hair behind her shoulder. “They're like Arabs who've just come across the desert! Honest to God!”
“The poor divils, sure most of them have been on the dry for weeks. Father Devaney'd have killed them if he caught them drinking during Lent.” Her sister Helen laughed. Esther had another drink of lemonade with them before joining her brothers in the truck.
The marquee was like a huge cream-white palace glowing in the evening light. A row of lights illuminated the entrance and the queue waiting to purchase tickets. Wooden slats covered the ground, with only the odd blade of grass peeping through. Up at one end sat Louis King and his Dance-Hall Band. They wore cream evening jackets and played away as if they were centre-stage in a glitzy hotel nightclub, rather than McGrane's old sheep paddock. Magic was in the air. Walking in with her brothers, Esther realized how handsome they had become, as she could see the girls looking at them. Donal sloped off straight away, holding hands with a petite fair-haired female whom she had never seen before.
Tom dragged her up to dance. Her younger brother had got so much taller and so handsome, she could see some of the girls putting their eye on him. They danced easily together, both keeping time to the music as they got their bearings and had a look around. Spotting the Quinns arriving, Esther went over to join them, watching out of the
corner of her eye as Tom tried to get up the courage to ask a tall girl with sparkling eyes, who was about his own age, to dance. Carmel and Helen introduced her to some of their crowd. The girls all admired each other's clothes while all the time watching the huge numbers arriving and filling the edges of the tent. Three old bachelors came up and asked them to dance. Tears ran down Esther's face as she watched Carmel trying to put a distance between herself and her partner.
Her own fellah was about the same age as her mother at least! “I live up tha Carraroe way,” he mumbled, “‘tis a small piece o' land.” Esther nodded politely, trying to appear interested while at the same time noticing that he was missing a tooth. “The mother died a year back so's I'm on me own now.” Esther tried to be nice and listen but found he mumbled so much that she could scarcely hear him. The poor eejit! she thought, thanking him when the band finally took a break. For the next hour Esther was whirled around the room by a succession of partners. Then the band went outside for a smoke and a drink, while inside the crowd laughed and joked and introductions were made. Gerard had appeared over with a pal of his.
“Meet my sister Esther, Eddie!”
She smiled politely; she had heard her brother talk about Eddie Boylan before. The music started again and Eddie asked her up.
“Take care of my sister, Boyler!” joked Gerard, pulling Carmel up to dance.
The marquee became hotter as Mr. King decided to up the tempo and played a melody of Mexican songs, Eddie and herself laughing and joining in with all the rest of the
couples on the dance floor, trying to keep up with the Latin rhythm. Eddie's brown hair clung sweatily to his forehead as he danced, and Esther was wishing that she had tied her long hair up, then just as suddenly Mr. King decided to slow it down and swung into his own version of “South of the Border.” With relief Eddie pulled her close to him, and tired they leant against each other, swaying to the music as they both got their breath back. In the distance she could see that Carmel had her arms around Gerard's neck, and he was holding her close. Eddie pressed her even closer to him. He had her almost pinioned against his large chest, moving her around the floor. The palm of his hand was hot and sweaty as he guided her to the music.
“Isn't this grand!” he mumbled. “You couldn't beat the likes of a night like this.” Esther nodded in agreement. He was pulling her even tighter, trying to smooch to the music like some of the other couples. Resistance was useless, as Eddie had begun to breathe softly against her ear, touching it with the tip of his tongue and running his lips along her neck. She gasped as he drew her body tight against his own. “Isn't this lovely, pet!” he breathed as she became aware of the growing pressure of his broad hand on the lower part of her back, moulding her thighs and body to his as he pressed himself against her. Even through the thick tweed of his trousers she could feel it, feel him pushing himself against her, placing his body in line with hers as they danced. The worst of it was that her body was responding too. “You're a lovely girl, Esther, you know that!” His voice had become husky and now he tried to kiss her.
“Stop, Eddie! Please stop! I don't want to.”
Ignoring her, he began to kiss her neck and throat, pushing her hair out of the way. It felt like she was melting inside. Jesus, the whole place would be looking at them, but when she opened her eyes she discovered that the other couples on the dance floor were too busy attending to their own romantic needs to pay any attention to herself and Eddie.
“Will we go and sit down?” offered Eddie. The whole circumference of the hall was covered with fellahs sitting on chairs and girls sitting on their laps. “Or we could go outside, it's a nice night after all!”
Esther shook her head fiercely. “No! No!”
They danced on through another two numbers before Mr. King's band came to the end of the set. It was time for a break. “I'll get us two drinks and we can go and sit outside under the stars.”
Esther refused him politely and excused herself. She could sense his disappointment. He had a good heart, did Eddie, but she had no intention of getting herself too involved with him. She didn't fancy him one little bit. She watched as his huge frame ambled out of sight.
He was right, though, the marquee had become roasting hot. Helen Quinn was wrapped around some tall galoot of a fellah, and Tom was moony-eyed with the girl he'd met earlier. Esther gave him a wink as she passed him by.
It was far too hot to stay inside and she decided to wander out for a bit of fresh air. Perhaps Ger or Donal was outside. She pushed out through the huge canvas opening; the ground outside had become muddy from spilt drinks. Donal and his blonde girlfriend were deep in conversation and she was too shy to interrupt them. Looking all around
her, she became aware of all the courting couples in the shadows. Sitting against the wall, down by the trees, over near the rundown sheep pens. In the near-darkness she heard a familiar laugh and turned towards it; Carmel Quinn was leaning against the bonnet of Ger's truck. Even at a distance, the white gleam of her bare legs could be seen: Ger seemed to have lifted up her dress. The two of them were near eating each other alive, deep kissing and petting. Carmel's hand was touching her brother in a place where no decent girl would put her hand. Mortified, Esther fled inside, hoping that neither of them had spotted her.
Two of the boys who used to go to school with her asked her up for a dance. Mr. King had just announced the last few numbers of the night when she spotted Eddie reappearing with an eager look in his eyes. Acting quickly, she turned in the opposite direction.
“Would you like this dance?”
She was about to shout, “No,” when she realized that Eddie was whirling a buxom redhead around the floor in front of her. She took the stranger's hand and followed him on to the wooden floor. She had an impression of coal-black hair, and a broad handsome face. He seemed content to dance and she relaxed and enjoyed the music too. They danced through the fast set.
“I'm Con, Con O'Hagan,” he said by way of introduction, and that was about as much as she could ascertain as he twirled her round the marquee, feeling light-headed and dizzy as he gazed at her.
“And I'm Esther, Esther Doyle.”
He wasn't bothering to ask her name but she was determined to tell him. His accent was very different from
that of the locality and she was curious as to where he was from. Just looking at him made her heart race and she felt deeply attracted to him. He was different from the rest of the local fellahs at the dance. A last slow set started, and she stopped, wondering if he was going to keep dancing with her or make an excuse and disappear. Wordless, he pulled her into his arms, holding her close. Embarrassed, she blushed as she felt his chin rest on her forehead as he drew her in nearer to him. Her cheek and lips resting against his neck, she longed to kiss him or have him kiss her, though she knew well it was only a slut or a good-time girl would kiss a fellah before a first date. They moved slowly and easily to the rhythm of the music, both totally aware of each other, he running his hand down her back. Suddenly, as if by the switch of a button, the marquee began to fill up as all the couples from outside crowded back in for the last dance of the evening, jostling and pushing and forcing them apart; a frantic medley of songs was played to loud cheers, Con staring at her in amusement as she tried to remind herself where she was, then groans as Mr. King swung into the national anthem, which the crowd joined in and sang. Her three brothers were around her as bright light flooded the dance floor. Fellahs and girls clung together, red-faced and warm. Con squeezed her hand, and to tell the truth Esther didn't want to let him go. She hoped that he'd ask her out on a date or say something about seeing her again, but for some reason he didn't.

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