Till the Sun Shines Through (28 page)

And at the end of it, Tom and Bridie had the house to themselves – Ellen and Sam had taken themselves off to Mary's, where they would bide for the next two nights to give the newlyweds some privacy.

Bridie could have kissed them for their sensitivity; she was apprehensive enough of what would happen in the marriage bed, and how she'd react to it, without worrying about embarrassing Ellen and Sam by making a noise. But it turned out that she was worrying over nothing, for Tom did little that first night but hold her tight and stroke her body gently. He wanted more and knew in time Bridie would trust him enough to allow him to go further, but he was no brute and knew he must proceed slowly and eventually, not only would Bridie submit to him, but hopefully enjoy the act herself.

Bridie didn't know what was in Tom's mind: his talk of their exploring one another's bodies the following night was an alien one to her, but she did what he asked because she wanted to please him.

Ellen and Sam returned and took up residence again in their bedroom and Bridie found herself looking forward to the nights and the kissing and the fondling between her and Tom in the large double bed. She was enjoying the closeness of sleeping curled up with a loved one, of waking in the morning to find Tom's head on the pillow beside her.

It was weeks into their marriage before Tom was able to unlock Bridie's sexual urges, for so long held in check, but when they were released they took Bridie by surprise. Now she moaned in ecstasy, but softly as she was ever mindful of Ellen and Sam, and she wriggled and writhed beneath Tom as his hands caressed her gently and then more firmly, fondling her breasts, and stroking her belly, his lips following his fingers, until she cried out, her fist in her mouth to muffle the sound.

When Tom eventually entered her, she was more than ready and the pleasure, the joy and sheer exhilaration of it burst out of her as she let out a triumphant cry. Tom smiled for he knew he'd pleased his beautiful wife and in the room below Ellen smiled too, happy that Bridie was at last able to enjoy being with Tom. But more importantly, Bridie realised in that moment that what had happened between her and Francis bore no resemblance to the wonderful experience it could be between two people who loved each other so much.

By the middle of December, Bridie was almost certain she was pregnant. In contrast to the last time she found herself in this condition, she was absolutely overjoyed.

She could barely contain her excitement, but she'd missed just one period and by less than a fortnight, so it was too early to be sure. Not even a doctor would know yet and so she said nothing, not even to Tom.

It was February before she saw Doctor Casey and he smiled at her across the table as he confirmed her pregnancy. He remembered how she'd nearly died after going for an illegal abortion and he was glad that at least she hadn't been rendered sterile, unlike so many others. He hoped too that this child she was carrying would be a comfort to her; so many women felt guilty after an abortion. She'd never told him who the father of the first baby was and why he couldn't marry her and he'd never asked, feeling it wasn't his business.

But whatever the ins and outs of that last pregnancy were, there was no doubt about her delight over this pregnancy. The doctor was worried about Bridie's build though. From a cursory glance, he could tell that her hips were very slim – too slim to give birth naturally without great risk to herself.

He decided not to tell her that yet. He didn't want to be a prophet of doom and take the light of excitement from the young girl's eyes.

Everyone redoubled their efforts to find a house for Tom and Bridie once it was announced that a baby Cassidy was on the way. ‘It shouldn't be too long,' Ellen said, thinking she was consoling Bridie. ‘Half the people in these places can't afford the rent. They only leave it so long and then the bums come in and put them out. We just have to have our ear cocked to listen out.'

‘Oh, Aunt Ellen, I hate to think of people on the street and me walking over them into their house.'

‘If it's not you, pet, it will be someone else,' Ellen said. ‘And they'll be out whether you take the house or not.'

‘But where do they go?'

‘They move into a couple of rooms, maybe, where the rent is cheaper, more manageable,' Ellen said. ‘The lucky ones have family to take them in, some of the others live on the streets.'

‘It's scandalous.'

‘It's life,' said Ellen. ‘For some poor beggars at any rate.'

Bridie felt sorry for anyone in that boat and yet she longed to have a place of her own. She loved Ellen dearly, but as she'd been forced to leave Woolworths the minute her pregnancy had been confirmed she found time often hung heavy on her hands.

Ellen had her own way of doing things and her own routine so there was little for Bridie to do in the house. Ellen encouraged her to take a wee walk every day, but Bridie was wary of leaving the house in case she should meet up with Peggy. The woman lived only yards from her aunt and if she saw her leaving the house, she would often follow. She seemed furious that Bridie was pregnant. Malice seemed to spark out of her at the news and she was more vitriolic than ever. For all Bridie's contentment in marriage and pregnancy, she'd begun to get jumpy again.

It was late June before Mary came into Ellen's in a rush one day. ‘What is it?' Bridie asked in alarm, rising to her feet ponderously for she was seven and half months pregnant and each movement was slow and laboured.

‘Nothing,' Mary said. ‘Well, at least nothing bad. There's a house up our way, number nineteen, just four doors up from me, a good place, opens onto the street like mine and Ellen's.'

‘Isn't that the Latimers'?' Ellen asked.

‘Aye,' Mary said. ‘Bert Latimer has had no work for four years or more. They owe six weeks' rent and the bums go in next week. They're doing a flit tonight and taking up in some rooms in a house off the Belgrave Road.' She faced Bridie and said, ‘I know how you feel about this, our Bridie, and God knows it's a bugger. I feel for the family, especially as poor Dolly's on her time, but we can't help them and if you don't take the house someone else will.'

‘I know,' Bridie said resignedly. ‘What do I do?'

‘You be up the landlord's offices tomorrow. They're on Bennett's Hill and make sure you're there early before anyone else gets wind of it.'

‘You're sure they'll be gone?'

‘Oh aye,' Mary said. ‘Heard it from Dolly herself. They're moving out in the early hours with all they can carry and stopping the night at his mother's before going to the new place.'

And so, the next morning, Bridie, with Ellen in tow, was outside the landlord's offices. With her she had her marriage lines and two of Tom's wage slips to prove they could afford the place. By the end of the day, the agent had ascertained the house was vacant as Bridie had said and fairly well stripped of anything that could be useful. He grimaced to himself. The chances of getting the money owed to his employers was not high and the more time the house stood empty the more money he lost. By the end of that day, Bridie had the keys to number 19 Grant Street.

Bridie felt much more like a married woman with her own house and she took such pride in it and had great pleasure in furnishing it. They had enough money for lino for the living room and bedroom and Bridie lost no time in making rag rugs to brighten the place up. They'd also bought a second-hand table and a few odd chairs from the Bull Ring, together with two dull brown armchairs that Bridie promised herself she'd make cushions for from remnants at the market.

There was no need to buy anything much for the baby because Mary had kept all the things from Jamie and his brother. Bridie was glad of that because it gave her the money to buy material at the market to make some bright curtains to hang at the windows. Three days after their first wedding anniversary, she had them finished.

Tom said she wasn't to hang them; he'd do them when he came from work, but Bridie made a face at him. ‘Expecting a baby is not an illness, Tom.'

‘Maybe not, but stretching up like that can't be good for you.'

‘'Course, you know all about it.'

‘I know enough.'

But when Tom had gone to work, Bridie finished off the last hem and got to her feet. She wanted to see them up and if she stood on one of the wooden dining chairs, she wouldn't need to stretch much. The chairs were a little rickety, but she was sure they'd bear her weight.

She was on a chair, curtain wire in her hand, when she heard the entry door open and gave a groan as she turned, certain it would be Mary who'd give out to her for trying to hang the curtains herself. But it wasn't Mary. Peggy McKenna watched the blood drain from Bridie's face with satisfaction.

‘What d'you want, Peggy?' Bridie asked. ‘You've had every penny I can spare this week.'

‘That's a pity, I'm two bob short for the rent.'

Immediately Bridie's eyes slid to the mantelpiece where her purse was. Peggy, tracking her, crossed the room and picked it up. ‘Help myself, shall I?' she said, snapping it open.

‘Peggy, please, I only have three shillings to last me the week,' Bridie pleaded. ‘Tom isn't well paid.'

‘My old man's not paid at all,' Peggy sneered. ‘Your old man will have to live on fresh air like we've been doing for years. I'm leaving you a shilling. Do a lot with that if you're careful.'

Bridie was filled with panic. How the Hell was she to survive the week on twelve pennies? ‘Please leave me alone, Peggy.'

‘I will, duck, well alone,' Peggy said. ‘I'll go home now and write a wee letter to your mother, shall I?'

‘No!' Bridie cried. ‘Please don't do that. Dear God, what d'you want of me. I give you every penny I can spare.'

‘Worth it, isn't it, to avoid upsetting your parents?'

‘If that's what it takes.'

‘Yes it is,' Peggy snapped. ‘And no better than you deserve. I should look after that babby you're expecting well if I were you. God might have his revenge and take that one from you.'

‘Get out!' Bridie screamed. ‘You've got your money. Now leave me alone.'

When the door closed behind Peggy, Bridie held on to the window to steady herself. Her heart hammered against her ribs and she had difficulty breathing. She felt a wave of blackness envelop her and, frightened she was going to faint, tried to get off the chair quickly. It wobbled beneath her on the uneven floor and she fell, landing heavily on her side, and groaned as a dull ache began in her back and then moved around in a band across her stomach.

She tried to roll on her side, knowing she needed help, but she was in too much pain to move. She called out, but the people next door were out and no one heard her cries.

Mary found her some two hours later, barely lucid from the throbbing spasms attacking her body. Gwen Andrews, the woman who acted midwife to most of the women in the area, would have nothing to do with Bridie when she was summoned. ‘You're for hospital, I'm thinking,' she said. ‘'Tis a doctor you need.'

Doctor Casey was dismayed at the state he found Bridie in. It was worse than he feared; the child was not due to be born for weeks and yet both mother and baby were showing signs of distress and so he summoned an ambulance. Ellen went with Bridie as Mary had the children to see to and someone also needed to break the news to Tom when he came home from work. He was stunned. It was much too soon and she must have been very bad to be taken to hospital. ‘Where is she?' he asked.

‘The General. It was the closest.'

‘I'll go straight up.'

‘Ellen's there. They'll not let you see her.'

‘Even so …'

‘At least have a bite to eat,' Mary said. ‘I have it ready.'

‘I'm sorry, Mary, I know you mean well, but food would choke me,' Tom said. ‘I must go to Bridie.'

Ellen sat on a hard bench in a dismal corridor. ‘How is she?' Tom asked anxiously.

‘She's in theatre,' Ellen said. ‘No news yet.'

‘Oh God!' Tom groaned. ‘Ellen, if I should lose her …'

‘Hush. Don't say such things,' Ellen said. ‘I've been praying for her. She'll be fine.'

Tom opened his mouth to reply when he spotted the white-coated doctor approaching them. ‘How is she?' he demanded. ‘Bridie Cassidy, how is she?'

‘And you are?'

‘Her husband.'

‘Well, your wife is through the operation and sleeping peacefully,' he said. ‘The baby …'

Tom, who'd so desperately wanted the baby Bridie carried, no longer cared that much about it. Bridie was of more importance. They could have other children. ‘Is it dead?' he asked.

‘No, alive. Small, but alive and putting up a fight. She is in the baby unit. You can't go in, but can see her through the glass if you wish.'

Later, when Tom stood at the window and gazed at the bundled infant in the cot, he was astounded that such a tiny mite could survive and said as much to Ellen.

‘Hush, lad,' she said. ‘Where there's life, there's hope, and the doctor said she's a fighter. You've to be positive and strong for that wee mite and if she shouldn't survive, you must be there for Bridie because she'll need you more than ever.'

Bridie, recovering from her ordeal, wondered if Peggy McKenna had put a curse on their child, or if it was really God extracting his revenge, but none of these fears could she share with anyone and she lay in her hospital bed, desperately praying for a miracle.

The baby was to be christened. Father Shearer came immediately and his concern and consideration helped Bridie a good deal. ‘This is just a precaution,' he assured her. Bridie remembered the other wee baby who'd not had the benefit of any sort of blessing and she felt sadness engulf her. She doubted she'd ever be able to take the child home and that would be judgement on her. From her wheelchair in the hospital chapel she watched the small bundle in Father Shearer's hands as he dribbled water over her tiny head covered with brown down. He christened her Catherine Rose.