by Sandy Taylor
Dymphna put on a pretend angry face. ‘It’s Erin,’ she said.
‘Sorry,’ I said, but I knew that Dymphna Duffy would always be Dymphna Duffy to me.
We finished our tea and sandwiches and hugged each other on the street as we said goodbye. I had a lump in my throat. This was someone from home. I waved to her until she was out of sight. Dymphna Duffy, eh? Who would have thought it?
Thirty-Two
When I got home from work the next day, there was a letter on the hall table addressed to me. The writing was unfamiliar, but somehow, I knew that it was from Eddie.
‘Would you mind if I read this on my own?’ I said to Josie.
‘Of course not,’ she said. ‘I’ll go and annoy the girls.’
I’d been in Dublin for months and I’d begun to think that I was never going to hear from him. It had been near on a year since we’d seen each other. I sat on the bed and tore open the envelope, and my hands were shaking as I began to read.
Dear Nora,
I’ve started this letter so many times but I just couldn’t find the right words, so I will write what is in my heart. Before you came into my life, I was lonely. I didn’t realise just how lonely until we met. The garden had become my special place, it was where I was happy. I didn’t think that I needed anything or anyone else but I was wrong, because sharing the garden with you made everything better and my special place became our special place. In the words of John Donne, ‘No man is an island’.
I couldn’t understand why you had gone away, I thought I had done something to upset you. I went to the garden every day hoping you would come but you didn’t and the garden didn’t make up for your loss. When I read your letter it all made sense. To discover that you weren’t just my good friend but my sister filled me with joy and in a strange way it has made your leaving easier to bear. I’m sorry that my Aunt Caroline hurt you so much and I can understand why you must think her cruel and unkind, but she is the one person who has been a constant in my life – she couldn’t have loved or cared for me more if I had been her own son. I’m not excusing her behaviour, but I just want you to know that she is also kind, at least to me.
We have a connection, you and I, that belongs to us alone and nothing is ever going to change that.
Come next spring, Nora, when the garden is at its best, we will be waiting for you. Until then, keep well and be happy. I shall be thinking of you every day.
Your loving brother,
Eddie. x
There was something else in the envelope – the rose that Eddie had given me. It was flat like a painting and the beautiful, pale-orange petals were as beautiful as the day he had picked it. I would take it back home and place it within the pages of The Secret Garden.
As time had gone by with no word from him, I feared that my news had been too much of a shock. I’d even begun to think that he didn’t like the idea of having a sister who lived in Paradise Alley. I felt ashamed – I should have known better. I knew the heart of Edward Bretton and it was a good heart. I folded the letter and put it under my pillow. I knew that I would read it many more times but for now I was going to let it lie gently on my mind. Eddie was pleased to know that he was my brother and he didn’t mind that I lived in Paradise Alley. I truly felt that I now had three brothers and I felt blessed.
I walked across to the window and looked down onto the busy street below. I watched people going in and out of the shops, carrying bags, holding their children’s hands. Some were strolling along as if they had all the time in the world, while others were hurrying, heads down, as if they were late for some important meeting. All of them strangers, whose lives I would never know anything about, whose stories I would never hear. We all have our path to walk and It seemed that mine would always lead me back to the secret garden.
* * *
On our next day off, Josie and I went Christmas shopping. I’d already put books aside for Stevie, Malachi and Grandad Doyle. They came from the second-hand section but they were good and clean and anyway, the story was the same, even if someone else had read them first. Malachi was still only four years old, so I got him a book filled with pictures of elephants and tigers and giraffes. I bought Gulliver’s Travels for Stevie and Miss Berry recommended Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome for Grandad Doyle.
Josie and I were walking down Henry Street on our way to Woolworths, which was the cheapest store in town. It sold everything from pots and pans to fancy goods.
‘I’m going to get Mammy an apron,’ said Josie. ‘The one she has is an afront before God.’
As we entered the store, we were enveloped by the smell of pine coming from a beautiful Christmas tree standing just inside the door. There was a bunch of little kids gazing up in wonder at the brightly coloured baubles hanging from the branches.
‘We should get a tree for the room,’ said Josie.
‘And what would be the point of that?’ I said. ‘We’re all going home for Christmas, it’ll be dead by the time we get back.’
‘I suppose so,’ said Josie. ‘It would be nice though.’
‘Maybe your mammy will have got one.’
‘With all the bloody junk in the place, there’s no room to swing a cat, let alone a tree. That’s why I have no brothers or sisters – there was only space for one child. It’s a wonder they didn’t stick me in a glass box along with the stuffed birds.’
Josie always made me laugh.
The counters were piled high with all sorts of lovely things. I needed to get something for Mammy and Granny Collins but I didn’t know what to get them.
‘I want an apron,’ said Josie to the girl behind the counter. ‘For my mother,’ she added. The girl looked hot and sweaty and harassed.
‘Is she a big woman?’ said the girl.
‘And what’s it to you if she is?’ said Josie, glaring at her.
‘It’s nothing to me whatsoever,’ snapped the girl. ‘But if you want it to fit the woman, then I need to know if she’s large or small.’
‘Oh, right,’ said Josie. ‘I’m terrible sorry, I thought you were judging my mother by her appearance.’
‘And how in God’s name could I be doing that? I’ve never set eyes on your mother.’
‘Of course not,’ said Josie. ‘Well, I suppose she is a bit on the big side. I’m not saying she’s fat, just a bit large around the middle.’
‘Rubenesque,’ I said.
Josie grinned at me. ‘Definitely Rubenesque.’
‘That’ll be large then,’ said the girl. ‘Colour?’
‘What colours do you have?’
The girl took some aprons out of a drawer and laid them on the counter. There was a woman waving a tea towel at her. ‘How much are you wanting for this?’ she said.
‘Can’t you see that I am serving a customer?’ said the girl. ‘You’ll have to wait your turn, I only have one pair of hands.’
‘I’m in a desperate hurry,’ said the woman. ‘I’ve left a bit of fish on the stove.’
‘And is that my fault?’ snapped the girl.
‘Oh, I’m not blaming you,’ said the woman, going red in the face. ‘It’s just that my husband will eat the face off me if his dinner is burned.’
The girl snatched the tea towel off her and shoved it in a bag, ‘That will be two pence,’ she said.
‘I’ll remember you in my prayers on Sunday,’ said the woman, hurrying away.
Me and Josie started giggling, thinking of the poor woman running through the streets, trying to save the bit of fish.
‘And what are you two being so skitty about?’ said the girl.
‘Nothing,’ said Josie, wiping her eyes.
‘Does your mother have a favourite colour?’ I said, trying to compose myself.
‘She has lovely blue eyes,’ said Josie.
‘Then I’m sure she’ll be delighted with the blue one.’
‘I’ll take the blue one, please,’ said Josie.
We wandered round the store looking for something
for Mammy.
‘These are nice,’ said Josie, picking up some pretty tea cosies.
‘Oh, they are,’ I said.
Having decided on the yellow cosy for Mammy and a green one for Granny Collins, we left the store and went to a tobacco shop, where I bought some baccy for Daddy and Grandad Collins. Josie bought the same for her daddy. I was pleased with my purchases and couldn’t wait for Christmas when I would be back home in Paradise Alley with my family.
‘I want to get something for Joe,’ I said.
‘Now that’s a tricky one,’ said Josie. ‘As you haven’t been walking out for long, it can’t be too personal, or he’ll think you’re looking for a commitment.’
‘Really?’
‘Oh yes, you’re diving into choppy waters here.’
‘What should I get him then?’
‘Something that says I like you but I’m not looking for a ring. Unless of course you are looking for a ring.’
‘I had no idea it was going to be so difficult.’
‘How about a nice tie?’
‘Too ordinary.’
‘Some hankies?’
‘Too boring.’
‘You’re probably right.’
‘Let’s go to Finnigan’s?’ I said.
‘On our day off?’
‘Then we’ll go for a cup of tea and a bun.’
‘You’re on,’ said Josie, linking arms, as we made our way to the bookshop.
‘What are you two doing here?’ asked Ellis as we entered the shop.
‘It’s Nora,’ said Josie. ‘She’s looking for a Christmas present for Joe Lynch, the blue-eyed boy.’
‘A book?’ said Ellis.
I nodded. ‘A book of poems.’
‘You’re in luck, Nora,’ she said. ‘We had the loveliest second-hand book in only an hour ago. There’s not a mark on it. It’s not even on the shelf yet, I’ll get it.’
While Ellis went to fetch the book, Molly came across. ‘Have you no life outside of this place?’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t be seen dead in here on me day off.’
‘Neither would I,’ said Josie. ‘But Nora here wants a book of poetry for lover boy.’
Ellis came back holding the book. ‘The Poems of Oscar Wilde,’ she said, handing it to me.
The book felt smooth and solid in my hands. I opened the pages, took a deep breath and inhaled the book’s own special smell.
‘Jesus, Nora,’ said Molly, ‘what are you doing?’
‘I’m smelling the poems,’ I said, smiling.
‘Well, I’ve heard everything now,’ said Josie.
‘I understand,’ said Ellis, softly.
‘You would,’ said Molly, smiling fondly at her.
‘Wrap it up,’ I said. ‘I’ll take it.’
‘Right you are, madam,’ said Ellis, grinning.
I felt that I had made a good choice and hoped that a book of poems by Oscar Wilde didn’t mean that I was pinning Joe down to any commitment that might scare him off. I left the shop, grateful for Josie’s advice.
Thirty-Three
Christmas Eve at Finnigan’s was frantic but there was something special in the air as people crowded into the shop looking for that perfect book to give as a gift. They asked my advice and I was glad to give it. Even if I hadn’t read the book, I could tell them that I’d heard the author was a grand writer and very popular. Or I could tell them that the book that they were thinking of buying wasn’t suitable for the young person they had in mind.
Me and the girls had decided not to buy gifts for each other, as we were all spent out. We had got very close over the months since I’d been in Dublin and even though we would only be apart for a few days, there were tears in our eyes as we went our separate ways to spend Christmas with our families.
The evening before, me and Joe had said our goodbyes outside the digs. Mrs Murphy didn’t allow boys in the house and even if she had, the girls would be in and I’d wanted to be on my own with Joe, so we stood shivering at the bottom of the steps. We’d exchanged presents and it was obvious by the shape of the parcels that we had both chosen to give each other a book.
‘I’d like to open it on Christmas Day,’ I’d said.
Joe smiled. ‘I hope you like it.’
‘You gave it to me, Joe, so I know that I will.’
He’d put his arms around me and I leaned into him. ‘I wish you weren’t going away. I’m going to miss you, my sweet Nora.’
‘And I’ll miss you too, Joe,’ I’d said. ‘But I’ll be back and I’ll be thinking of you.’
His coat had felt rough against my cheek and I felt safe and warm in his arms. There was a strength to Joe, a solidness, that I knew I could always depend on. He carried with him the smell of freshly baked bread and the sharpness of yeast – it was his own particular smell; it was a Joe smell.
He’d held me away from him and we’d stood in silence as we looked into each other’s eyes. I’d moved closer, until there was no space between us. As our cold breath mingled and drifted like a white mist into the dark night, it felt as if we were the only two people in the world. Joe smiled and gently touched my face and then we were kissing. His lips were cold and soft and I’d melted into him. I could feel his heart beating against mine as every corner of my body was filled with a yearning that I had never felt before. Is this what everyone whispered about? Is this what Mammy felt when she had kissed Peter Bretton?
I wasn’t cold anymore; I’d felt warm in Joe’s strong arms. Something had changed in both of us and as the first flurry of snow fell around our shoulders, Joe and I had fallen in love.
I met Dymphna outside the station café and we boarded the train for home. She was a good companion, funny and smart, and I wished again that I had got to know her better when we were at school. We could have been friends. I couldn’t wait to tell Kitty all about her. It was nice and warm in the train so we took off our coats and settled back in the seats. As the train got closer to home, I expected to feel that familiar dread in my stomach that had been there for so long, but all I felt was excitement and the need to see everyone. Father Kelly met us off the train and drove us home to Ballybun. We dropped Dymphna at the bottom of Baggot Row.
‘Have a great Christmas, Nora,’ she said.
‘You too, Dymph— I mean, Erin.’
‘If you can’t get your head round it,’ she said, grinning, ‘I have little hope for those indoors.’
I wanted to walk up Paradise Alley, so I asked Father Kelly to drop me at the stone archway.
‘But it’s pitch-black, girl, you’ll break your neck,’ he said.
‘Father, I could walk up Paradise Alley with my eyes closed, I know every cobble and stone.’
Father Kelly laughed. ‘I’m sure you do. Have a great Christmas, Nora, and remember me to your family.’
I watched him drive away and started to walk up the Alley. It wasn’t pitch-black at all, for there were candles burning in the cottage windows, casting a glow of light onto the lane and guiding my footsteps up to the Grey House.
Mammy was the first out of the house, followed by Daddy. I dropped my case and flung myself at them. We were laughing and crying and hugging. I was home and I felt again the rush of love that I’d been wrapped in all my life.
As I entered the house, I dipped my finger in the holy water font that hung on the wall, just inside the door. ‘God bless all here,’ I said.
‘Amen to that,’ said Grandad Doyle, getting up from his chair by the fire. ‘We are indeed blessed this night, for you have returned to us.’ He put his arms around me and I laid my head on his shoulder. ‘You’ve been missed, girl,’ he said.
Everything was the same, of course it was, why would I think that it wouldn’t be? The turf fire burned brightly in the hearth, the holly berries shone red beneath the lighted candles that stood on the mantlepiece and a sweet-smelling tree stood in the corner. It brought back all those special memories of Christmases past. As I looked around the room, I wondered why I had ever left. Th
is was my home, this was where I belonged. Dublin seemed like a million miles away; Josie, Molly, and Ellis seemed part of some dream, not real people at all, and Joe? Did he feel like a dream too?
‘That’s a fine coat you have on,’ said Mammy, breaking into my thoughts. ‘I would never have put you in green, but I have to say the colour suits you, Nora.’
‘It was only a few pennies, Mammy, I got it from a church sale.’
‘I’d say it came from gentry. Wouldn’t you think so, Colm?’
‘You look like a Hollywood star, Nora,’ he said, smiling.
‘Pop in and see Stevie, Nora,’ said Mammy. ‘He said he was going to stay awake. He’s been mithering me all day about what time you would be home.’
‘How is he, Mammy?’
Mammy smiled but I saw the sadness behind her eyes. ‘We still have him, Nora, we still have him.’ She handed me a lighted candle. ‘Take this with you,’ she said.
I nodded and climbed the stairs before gently pushing open the bedroom door where the boys slept, careful not to wake Malachi. At first, I thought that Stevie was asleep but as I got closer to the bed, I could see that his eyes were open and he was smiling at me. I put the candle down on the dresser and knelt down beside him.
‘Hello, Stevie,’ I whispered.
‘I waited for you,’ he said.
I sat down on Stevie’s bed and put my arms around him. ‘Well, I’m home now.’
I looked across to where Malachi was sleeping. He was making little squeaky noises like a kitten and he’d kicked off all the covers, they were in a tangled heap on the floor. I leaned over and kissed him. His little body was cold to the touch, so I picked up the blankets and tucked them around him.
‘I’ve missed you, Nora,’ whispered Stevie. ‘Do you have to go back?’
‘Don’t be worrying about that. Go to sleep now, love,’ I said, ‘for tomorrow is Christmas Day and I’ve brought you a fine present all the way from Dublin.’
Stevie rubbed his eyes and yawned. ‘Goodnight, Nora,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
