‘No. It wasn’t a double. I’m the same bloke. People live like that out there. Everybody mixes up together, it’s a different world. It took me some time to get used to it, but—’
‘But when you did, you lapped it up, didn’t you?’
Corny’s head had dropped slightly to the side, and now the corner of his mouth came up and there spread across his face the grin she remembered. But she could have slapped it off when in the next moment he said, ‘I was beginning to worry, I thought you had stopped likin’ me…coo! I was sweatin’.’
‘You needn’t start any of your glib American chat here. Not on me. You can keep that for—for—’
‘Good-looking girls with blonde hair?’
Her lips came together, her chin went up, and her eyes flashed danger at him. But apparently he was not unduly disturbed, for his grin widened, and he dared to go on and say in a voice that was almost a drawl, ‘They called her Priscilla, but she wasn’t a bit like her name. And she was tall, taller than most girls, five foot eight, and one of the best lookers over there, I should say…But it was no use…’ The smile suddenly slid from his face and he went on, rapidly now, ‘Everybody was nice, more than nice. They had my life planned until I was ninety, and the more cushions they kept padding around me, the more I was seeing you. I told meself that I could live with you until I was ninety; even if we fought every day I could still live with you…But those over there…’ He shook his head slowly. ‘I couldn’t make them out. I couldn’t explain if I tried, I only know why they have two or three wives. But even then I might have stayed, because although I told you I’d be back when the year was up, I’d no intention of comin’. I knew what your mother wanted for you, I knew what Mr Lord wanted for you. I could never, not in a month of Sundays, hope to compete against Tony and what he stood for. And as me granny said, it was better to leave the way open to you, there’d be less recrimination in later years if it was your own choice. Then she wrote me a letter, me granny, not a fortnight since. She said that you hadn’t been near the door but she had heard that there was an affair going on between Tony and’—his voice dropped—‘Mrs Schofield. That Mrs Schofield was divorced and Tony had left old Mr Lord. Well, that decided me. I couldn’t come on the minute, I had to work a bit of notice. But I finished yesterday, or was it the day afore. Anyway, I didn’t arrive in Howdon until ten o’clock last night. Well, there it is, Miss Mary Ann Shaughnessy, so what about it? Your mother isn’t pleased I’ve come back, I know that, but what about you?’
‘Oh, Corny!…Corny!’
As his arms came out and lifted her off her feet she cried again, ‘Oh, Corny!’
They had kissed before, fumbling, shy, self-conscious kissing. This was different. Corny was no longer a gauche lad, and Mary Ann was no longer a little girl. When he released her they stood, their arms holding tight, staring into each other’s eyes for a long while. And then he said thickly, in a voice that sounded oddly like Mike’s, ‘I’ve fetched you a Christmas box.’ And putting his hand into his pocket he brought out a small box and handed it to her.
She knew before she opened it what to expect. But the sight of her first ring swamped her with joy. He said, ‘Do you like it? I got it through the Customs. It was Christmas Eve and they were kind to me.’ She raised her eyes from the ring. ‘It’s wonderful, Corny, wonderful.’ Swiftly she put her arms round his neck again and once more they were lost in each other.
When next she looked at the ring she started to sniff, and said, ‘I’d better make this tea. They’re all waiting.’
‘There’s no hurry. Your da’s a very astute man, Mary Ann.’
‘Me da’s a lovely man.’ She looked up at him. ‘I’m glad you like him, and he likes you.’
‘I feel he does. I wish your ma did though.’ He was once again speaking in the tongue of the old Corny, and as he ran his fingers through her hair she replied in the idiom of the real Mary Ann, ‘Eeh! I must mash the tea, leave over.’ And they both laughed together.
In the kitchen she pointed to the tray of cups saying, ‘Fetch it in.’ And then she went before him into the room.
The conversation stopped as soon as the door opened. All eyes were turned on her, and as Corny put down the tray next to Lizzie, Mary Ann held out the box before her mother and said, ‘Look. Corny’s brought me a Christmas box.’
‘Oh, isn’t that beautiful!’ The exclamations came from both Mrs Schofield and Sarah. Michael said nothing, nor did Mike. And Lizzie just looked at the ring that Mary Ann was holding in front of her. Then she almost ricked her back, so quickly did she twist about when Corny made a casual-sounding remark, as he turned from the table. ‘We’re going to be married next year,’ was what he had said.
‘Well, my God!’ said Mike, on a deep note.
‘Fast work,’ said Michael.
‘Oh, how lovely, Mary Ann,’ said Sarah.
‘Congratulations, my dear.’ This was Mrs Schofield.
Lizzie said nothing, she just gaped. And Mary Ann gaped too, she gaped at the audacity of this big fellow who was again behaving unlike Corny Boyle. And without thinking about the rest of them she cried at him, ‘What do you mean, next year? You haven’t even asked me.’
‘No?’ Corny was looking straight at her, the quizzical lift was at the corner of his mouth again. ‘I’m just tellin’ you now. I’ll ask you the morrow, or later on the day, that is.’
The bellow that Mike let out filled the room, and set them all off laughing, all except Lizzie. Lizzie was still gaping. Married next year, indeed! Married! Mary Ann? She was still…The word child was ripped from her mind. No, she would never be a child again. She would soon be eighteen. In another year she would be nineteen…But married. She turned again, as Corny spoke and directly to her now, looking her straight in the eye as he said, ‘If her mother will have me in the family?’
What could she say? What could she do? There was only one thing she was thankful for at present: this Corny Boyle was different from the Corny Boyle that went to America. Certainly the year abroad had not been wasted. And after all, she supposed, the main thing was that Mary Ann should be happy. She must remember the hell on earth her own mother had caused her when she married Mike. She mustn’t be a pattern of her mother. She’d faced up to the problem of Sarah and that had turned out a hundred per cent to the good. Well, if this worked out properly, perhaps it would have the same result. She prayed to God it would anyway. She smiled now at Corny as she answered him, ‘I can’t see that you’ve left me much say in the matter, Corny. But there’s one thing very evident. You would never have learnt to be such a fast worker had you stayed in England.’
‘I don’t know so much about being a fast worker.’ Corny was slightly red in the face now, but showing a relieved grin. ‘It was that way or going on shilly-shallying for weeks. It’s no use talking to her.’ He thumbed in the direction of Mary Ann. ‘She’d only argue, you know what she’s like.’
In her own mind Lizzie confirmed her previous statement. Yes, indeed, Corny Boyle had learned a lot in America. The person whom it was no use talking to and who would argue, had not been Mary Ann…but herself. She had to admire him for his adroitness. In a way she felt pleased.
Mike was roaring, and as he hugged Mary Ann to him he cried down at her, ‘Well, me lass, you’ve met your match this time.’ And then he turned to Mrs Schofield, who was seated at his side, and drawing her into the family, said, ‘What’s your opinion of all this?’
Mrs Schofield, looking between Corny and Mary Ann, said softly, ‘I think it will be a wonderful match. I hope they have all the happiness they both deserve.’ She looked at Mary Ann and said, ‘Do you remember your thirteenth birthday?’
Mary Ann nodded. Tears were misting her vision and she had no words to fit this occasion. Mrs Schofield now looked towards Corny and said, ‘Do you remember it?’
‘Could I ever forget it? Me and me shrunken suit!’ He extended his long arms to demonstrate how his coat cuffs had at one time receded.
‘Oh, I don’t mean that. Don’t be silly. I meant you and your cornet. You remember how you played, and we all sat on the lawn and sang. Oh, I’ve thought about that day often, and often. And that song: “He stands at the corner”.’
‘Oh, aye.’ Mike’s head went back. ‘He stands at the corner and whistles me out. By! It’s a long time since we sang that one. Come on…come on, all of you. Come on, all together. Come on, Liz.’ He grabbed her hand and held it in a comforting grip. ‘Come on now. One, two, three.
‘He stands at the corner
And whistles me out,
With his hands in his pockets
And his shirt hanging out.
But still I love him—
Can’t deny it—
I’ll be with him
Wherever he goes.’
Mary Ann was singing. She was looking at Corny and his eyes were hard on her. There were only the two of them in the entire world, and they were singing to each other. And when the chorus was finished for a second time the last line echoed loud in the large territory of her heart.
I’ll be with him wherever he goes,
I’ll be with him wherever he goes,
I’ll be with him wherever he goes,
I’ll be with him…WHEREVER HE GOES.
Yes, Corny was the one for her and she would be with him—come hail or shine.
The End
Life and Mary Ann Page 21
