by Anne Bennett
‘Gloria, you can’t go on like this.’
‘I can, Philip, and I must,’ Gloria said. ‘Eventually the war will end and you will return to the States, and I will try and breathe life into a dead marriage.’
‘Less than a week ago I told you that I loved you,’ Philip said.
‘Yes,’ said Gloria. ‘But that will change nothing, nor will the fact that I love you too.’
‘But—’
‘Philip, I am married to Joe for life, and mother to Ben,’ Gloria said. ‘And however much I love someone else, those facts don’t change. When I think of you leaving, to be honest, I feel sick, and yet it will happen and then this madness, this fantasy, will end too.’
‘It doesn’t have to be like this.’
‘For me it does,’ Gloria said almost angrily. ‘What d’you think I should do? Walk away into the sunset with another man and leave behind the one I have chosen and my poor unhappy child?’
‘Does Joe love you?’
‘Now, I don’t know,’ Gloria said. ‘Oh, he did. Once there was no doubt of it, and I also loved him, couldn’t ever imagine life without him.’
‘It’s a funny do altogether – love,’ Philip said. ‘People have been writing poetry and songs about it for years and yet no one really understands it. Maybe it’s like a flower, and if you don’t tend it and care for it, then it dies.’
‘That’s what it feels like,’ Gloria said, nodding. ‘Like it’s all withered up inside me.’
‘And you will wither up too in the end,’ Philip said. ‘You said that you will try and breathe life into a dead marriage when I eventually leave for the States. How will you bring back to life something that is dead and gone? Living that way will destroy you. It would destroy anyone. Gloria, you only have the one life.’
‘I know. And I have chosen the path it must take. In the Catholic Church there is no room for a second chance.’
‘So you will sublimate your life for a man who no longer loves you and a boy who will one day grow up and leave you anyway?’
‘Yes,’ Gloria said. ‘That is the way it must be. Leave me here now at the head of the lane, Philip. Don’t come any further.’
Philip stopped the car and turned to Gloria. ‘I think you are making a grave mistake, but I will respect your decision, though it’s breaking my heart.’
And mine, Gloria might have said. She couldn’t trust herself to speak, however, and neither could she trust herself to stay alone with Philip any longer. As she slipped from the car and began walking down the lane towards the farmhouse, the tears began to seep from her eyes and she had to stop before she went inside to wipe the evidence away.
The next morning Ben was truly delighted with all that he had been given, especially the fort, which he had never expected, and Gloria was glad to see the shadows fade from behind his eyes. She did all that was expected of her. She walked to Mass with the family and bid everyone a Merry Christmas, and when she took Communion at the rails she felt justified in doing so because she had made it clear to Philip that there was to be no dalliance between them.
Outside the church, with the Mass over, Gloria could see that Helen was buzzing with excitement over something. When Gloria raised her eyebrows in enquiry, however, Helen gave a shake of her head and Gloria knew whatever news she had she didn’t want it shared with others. Gloria would probably have to wait until the day after Boxing Day to find out what it was all about.
Back home it was as if Gloria and Joe had decided to bury their differences for Christmas. After a wonderful dinner, Joe showed Ben how to work the yo-yo, and before it was time for the milking, he gave him his first lesson on the tin whistle.
When Gloria went to bed that night, she felt more peaceful than she had in a long time and wondered if Joe would reach out for her that night. Sex between them had become a memory of pleasure shared, but she would have welcomed some closeness between them that night. However, Joe was ages coming to bed and she was only drowsily half awake when he did slip in beside her. Then he turned on his side and went fast asleep.
Joe wasn’t actually asleep, he was lying listening to Gloria’s even breathing. He had desired her that night more than he had done in ages, but there were unresolved matters between them that couldn’t be swept aside by sex. In fact, he thought it might muddy the waters further.
The day after Boxing Day, Gloria met Helen on the road. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Spill the beans. I am dying with curiosity.’
Helen was only too happy to tell someone. ‘Colin has asked me to marry him.’
‘Marry you?’ Gloria cried. ‘That is just terrific news.’
‘Ssh,’ Helen cautioned, because they were nearing the station. ‘No one must know yet.’
Gloria was puzzled. ‘Why not? Has he already got a wife in America?’
‘No,’ Helen smiled. ‘I’ll tell you when we get in the carriage.’
‘If we get one to ourselves,’ Gloria answered. ‘I will burst if I don’t hear all before we get to Derry.’
‘How d’you think I feel?’ Helen hissed. ‘I have had to keep it to myself all over Christmas.’
There were, however, few passengers travelling at that time of day and as soon as they were settled, Gloria said, ‘Go on then. Why all this cloak and dagger stuff?’
‘It’s because of Mammy. Daddy too, of course, but mainly Mammy.’
‘Nellie would be pleased for you. Any mother would be,’ Gloria said.
‘Aye, she would. Well, one part of her would be, anyway.’
‘Well, then …’
‘Think, Gloria,’ Helen said. ‘My mother gave birth to five children. I have two brothers already in America and a sister in Birmingham. Added to that, when the war is over and Cathy marries her guardsman, she could end up living anywhere. In fact, the only thing she is sure of is that her husband will not be stationed down the road in Buncrana. So how is my mother to feel when I tell her that I am to marry a man that will take me to America when the war is over?’
‘I do see what you mean,’ Gloria said. ‘And it is hard on them when you put it like that. So what are you going to do?’
‘Keep it quiet for now, at least,’ Helen said. ‘What is the good of making them miserable before they have to be? Anyway, I am marrying an American Protestant in a registry office, a marriage that will not be recognised in the eyes of the Church. I can’t see either of my parents being over the moon about that either, can you?’
‘No, but why should you be denied this second crack at happiness?’
‘I know,’ said Helen. ‘I love Colin so much, and I long to marry him. I want children too, Gloria, before it is too late.’
‘God, Helen, you have years yet.’
‘Yes, well, I want them while I am still young enough to enjoy them,’ Helen said. ‘Colin feels the same. We both want children straight away. Of course, the priest won’t see that at all. To him I will be unmarried, my children bastards and my feelings of no account. If Mammy knew of my intentions she might even send him to talk some sense into me to try and prevent me leaving these shores.’ She looked at Gloria, then went on, ‘Really, Gloria, I can do without pressure like that. Like you say, I want a second crack at happiness. I don’t honestly think that is asking too much.’
‘It isn’t,’ Gloria assured her. ‘And I hope the pair of you will be very happy. You deserve to be.’
In January, Helen said to Gloria, ‘Colin is really fed up with this hole-in-the-corner relationship. He wants to take me out properly – you know, go to the pictures or “movies” as he calls them, take me dancing and things like that. He’s tired, he says, of just seeing me in stolen moments when our lunch hours coincide.’
‘You can see his point, Helen.’
‘Yes, I can, but what excuse can I give Mammy for coming back into Derry in the evening?’
‘I know that you don’t want to upset your parents or anything,’ Gloria said, ‘but aren’t you being just a bit melodramatic about all this? I mean, your
parents know Colin; nearly know his life history.’
‘I know, but I can’t tell them yet.’
‘Well, I think it is plain daft,’ Gloria said. ‘You are a grown woman and entitled to a life, and you should tell your parents that.’
‘Oh God, Gloria, I am not as brave as you,’ Helen said.
‘Then tell your mother that you have got friendly with one of the other single girls at the canteen and you have decided to sample the night life of Derry a time or two,’ Gloria suggested.
‘Oh, Gloria, that’s a great idea,’ Helen said. ‘Why ever didn’t I think of that?’
Nellie and Jack expressed great surprise when Helen proposed going back to Derry to go to the pictures. ‘Haven’t we got a good enough cinema here?’ Nellie said.
‘Yes, of course, but the better and newer films are in Derry first. Anyway, this girl Chris that I am going with lives in Derry.’
‘And her father will bring you home, you say?’
‘Yes, he promised.’
‘He must be a good man and a caring father to be doing that,’ Nellie said. ‘You must bring him in so that we can thank him.’
‘It would be too late,’ Helen said desperately, and then, remembering what Gloria had said about being a grown woman, she added, ‘Anyway, do you not think I can and should deal with this myself? You don’t need to thank the man on my behalf. I am no longer a child.’
‘No, no, of course not,’ Nellie said placatingly.
‘We were not implying any such thing,’ Jack said, ‘and we have no objection to your going out into Derry a time or two. Not that we have any right to object, for, as you say, the decisions you make are your own now. I am pleased that you are taking up the threads of life again.’
‘And so am I,’ Nellie said stoutly. ‘You work hard enough, and all work and no play is no good for anyone.’
Helen recounted all this to Gloria as they made their way to work. ‘So it’s all plain sailing for you now, and you will make Colin’s day,’ Gloria said.
Helen agreed, then added, ‘What happened between you and Philip on Christmas Eve? I know you are fond of each other …’
‘Nothing,’ Gloria said. ‘I laid it on the line for him and he has kept well away since.’
‘Yes, he has,’ Helen agreed, ‘and most people on the camp are suffering for it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean he is like a bear with a sore head,’ Helen said. ‘Colin said the young sailors that he teaches mechanics to don’t know what has got into him. He has heard them talking and apparently they were saying that they have never known him like this. Being lads they presume some woman is at the back of it, but they have no idea who it is.’
‘Phillip will have to deal with it as I have to do,’ Gloria said. ‘Does he think he is the only one suffering?’
‘Ah, Gloria, I am so sorry for you,’ Helen said sympathetically.
‘You know what?’ Gloria said, with a rueful grin. ‘I am sorry for myself as well, but as my mother used to say, what can’t be cured must be endured and that is how I have to look at the life I have mapped out for myself.’
‘Why don’t you and this girl Chris ask Gloria along to the pictures a time or two?’ Nellie asked Helen one Saturday in mid-February as she made herself ready for her date with Colin. ‘The girl looks right peaky to me. Likely a night out would do her good.’
Helen was nonplussed for a second or two, and in the end mumbled that she didn’t think Joe would like her to do that.
‘Don’t see why not,’ Jack said to his daughter. ‘Do Joe good too if he came up to Buncrana a time or two and had a few pints and a chat with his neighbours, the same as Tom used to do. He might loosen up a bit then perhaps.’
‘Are things all right between Joe and Gloria, d’you know?’ Nellie said to her daughter.
‘Why do you ask?’
‘Well, Gloria often looks as if she has the weight of the world on her shoulders,’ Nellie said. ‘And Ben is a bag of nerves.’
‘I think they are going through a sticky patch just now,’ Helen replied.
‘This isn’t a recent thing – not with Joe, at any rate,’ Jack said. ‘God, I have never seen such a change in a man. Tom, for all he had to go through with that mother of his, was always pleasant and used to come up to Grant’s Bar on a Sunday night with the rest of us and thoroughly enjoy himself. Joe, on the other hand, goes no place now, and barely bids people the time of day when he strides about the town. Before he left for America, he was the life and soul of every gathering and could sink a fair few pints if ever he got his hands on any money, and Tom was seen as the quiet one. Joe was off to the socials and flirting with all the girls and there were more than a few broken-hearted when he left.’
‘You are recalling a man who was as free as a bird,’ Nellie said. ‘Now he has a wife and child – responsibilities. He is bound to be different.’
‘Not this different,’ Jack said. ‘I would have said that the time he was injured in London hurt more than just his body, and yet when he first came home, despite the pain he was often in, he was like the old Joe and always had a cheery word for everyone.’
‘Gloria said that too,’ Helen said. ‘You know, about slotting into place here as if he had never been away, and it was her that was the distrusted outsider. But now I really must go,’ she said, picking up her bag. ‘I will miss my train if I’m not careful.’
On the way to the station, Helen reflected on her parents’ words. She knew what was the matter with Gloria. She was pining for Philip and yet she was adamant that she mustn’t see him.
And Gloria didn’t see him. He never even came into the canteen any more. She didn’t know where he was eating, but she was glad that he kept away and told herself that it was a good thing.
Then the dreams began, strange, lurid and disturbing dreams that in the cold light of day she was ashamed of, and yet each morning, from the minute she opened her eyes, the longing for Phillip almost overwhelmed her.
Sometimes she was so full of misery it was difficult to rise from her bed. She felt she had nothing to look forward to. Joe watched her and worried about her, for she seemed steeped in such gloom even the light had gone from her eyes.
He knew that he was semi-responsible for Gloria’s unhappiness and yet he could see no way that he could now retrieve the situation, because though she was still there in person, he knew that she had left him a long time before and gone to a place where he was unable to reach her.
This knowledge made him almost as disconsolate as Gloria. Eventually Joe’s unhappiness spilled over into the weekly letters he sent to his brother. Tom kept asking him what was wrong. Joe never replied to these questions, because he hardly knew himself.
On Monday 24 April 1944, as Gloria and Helen travelled to work, Helen suddenly said, ‘I’m getting married on Thursday.’
Gloria just stared at her. ‘This Thursday?’ she said at last. ‘Why so soon?’
‘Colin says there is something big happening on the South Coast of England,’ Helen said. ‘That’s why.’
‘What sort of something?’
‘Well, they are told nothing official, you understand,’ Helen said. ‘But there are plenty of rumours, and the prevalent one is that Allied troops are massing at the coast. That can mean only one thing.’
‘Invasion?’
‘Right,’ Helen said. ‘Anyway, Colin said before the balloon really does go up and all leave is suspended, or they are shipped out to some other place, he wants it made legal between us. He has a forty-eight-hour pass coming up, and has arranged a special licence so we’re all set. We are telling Mammy and Daddy tonight and I don’t relish that one bit. What I want to know is, will you be my witness?’
‘I don’t know how Joe will view that,’ Gloria said. ‘With doom and gloom certainly, but that is how he looks at most things.’
‘Go on,’ Helen pleaded. ‘You are the only real friend I have here. If you don’t do this for me I will
have to have a complete stranger by my side.’
‘What about Cathy?’
Helen shook her head. ‘If Mammy and Daddy feel they can bear it, I want them to come and that means someone must look after the post office. Anyway, with Cathy being so much younger than the rest of us, and me being in England so long, I don’t really know her nearly as well as I know you. What I do know is that she will take her stance from Mammy, and Mammy will disapprove, so she will too. I don’t want someone feeling that way to stand at my side.’
‘Of course you don’t,’ Gloria said, feeling for her friend. ‘Your wedding should be joyful, wherever it is, and you want people there who will wish you well.’
‘So you will do it?’
‘Yes,’ Gloria said. ‘Joe doesn’t even have to know anything about it. It’ll be just as if I was going to work except that under my coat I will have my wedding clothes.’
‘Oh, Gloria, I can’t tell you how much it means to me,’ Helen said in obvious relief. ‘I can tackle Mammy and Daddy with a better heart now.’
The next day, though, Helen had swollen eyes and said it had been worse than her worst nightmare telling her parents because her mother, as Helen had predicted, had been so upset.
‘I was breaking my heart,’ she told Gloria. ‘And Colin didn’t know how to handle the situation at all. He had never seen Mammy like that. She had always been so kind to him and Phillip, and she was looking at him as if he was the devil himself.’
‘What were they like this morning?’
‘Stiff,’ Helen said. ‘Very proper, you know. The point is, nothing will change after Thursday, except that I will be married to Colin. He will have to live on the camp and I will still have to stay at Mammy’s until something is decided about the wives of the servicemen. It is going to be very awkward for me if they refuse to accept the situation.’
