by Nesta Tuomey
Claire blushed and looked away.
‘You mightn’t like me quite so well,’ she began, casting a sideways look at him, ‘Not if you knew everything.’
‘Everything! Now that sounds really sinister.’ Terry laughed. ‘Like you had chopped up your mother and hidden her under the bed. Come to think of it I haven’t seen her lately,’ he added thoughtfully.
Claire was forced to smile. ‘Well, maybe nothing quite so drastic,’ she conceded, pinching his hand to get his attention. ‘But years ago when you were all away on holidays...’
‘Go on... really... years ago,’ he intoned melodramatically.
‘No but listen...’ she interrupted him. ‘I... I was in your...’
Claire’s breath quickened.
‘Okay... you were in my... what?’
‘I used play in your garden when you were away on holidays and pretend it was mine.’
‘So - why should that make me like you any less?’
‘I was trespassing. I shouldn’t have been there.’
He laughed.
‘What a funny girl you are. Do you really think any of us would have minded if you had? Must have been years ago. I can’t remember a time when you didn’t come away with us.’
‘I didn’t come the first year.’
‘What a good memory you have.’ He pulled her close to his side. ‘And this was the dread secret. You pretended you were little Claire McArdle playing in her family garden. Disgraceful!’
Her courage had deserted her at the last moment
‘Claire McArdle,’ Terry repeated gently. ‘I like the sound of it. Do you think we’ll get married, Claire? I hope I’ve got the good sense not to let you get away from me.’
Claire was silent. Marriage? The thought filled her with joy and terror. But how could she ever marry him with this obstacle between them? And what if she lost him because of it? It was too painful to contemplate so she tried to make a joke of it.
‘Hey! You’ve just had a lucky escape from Grainne. You surely don’t want to become involved with me.’
Terry frowned. ‘Don’t mention yourself in the same breath as her,’ he said. ‘Anyway, I am involved with you.’
Claire flushed and looked away. She was very quiet as they finished their walk and went into a pub.
A couple of fellows coming out jostled past them. Terry recognised Stephen Rigney whom he hadn’t seen him since they had graduated the previous year. Terry noticed Stephen look at Claire and was outraged when he heard him mutter to his companion words to the effect that Claire might look like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth but she and her mother were a couple of tarts
‘That chap was just begging for a belt in the gob,’ he growled, putting his arm protectively Claire but she was so deeply enmeshed in her own unhappy thoughts that she did not notice the incident.
As she followed Terry into the pub she was wondering why she hadn’t been able to tell him about the past. If he really cared for her he wouldn’t think any the worse of her. She sat beside Terry, feeling slightly depressed. If only she’d had the courage to speak out, she thought, only half-hearing what he was saying, vaguely aware that he was talking about helicopters and the Air Corps again.
Jane travelled by ambulance to Nerja, arriving late in the evening. When she awoke next morning in the new hospital she had momentary amnesia until she saw Antonio’s carnations on her sidetable. Then it all came back to her.
Hospital Belen was privately owned, small and exclusive, with about eighty patients, most of them recovering from surgery, as well as two or three semi-invalided old ladies with broken brittle bones, who permanently resided in the nursing home wing. Jane would come to know them all in the weeks of her convalescence.
Sarah Lewis, the nurse on duty, brought Jane’s breakfast tray and lingered to chat as Jane drank her juice and nibbled toast. Jane felt an instant rapport with the friendly Yorkshire woman and began telling her all about the accident and about her children too. She was missing them all and felt hungry for conversation.
Jane found herself looking forward more and more to the times when the English nurse came on duty. The other nurses were all Spanish, and although pleasant enough, were too young to have much in common with her. Sarah was in her late fifties.
One morning she came in early with a letter for Jane. ‘Maybe it’s from your son,’ she said. ‘Didn’t you tell me he’ll be coming to see you soon?’
Jane nodded wistfully. ‘I’m almost afraid to hope in case it doesn’t happen. This is an invitation to his Wings.’ Jane sighed. ‘I was really looking forward to being there.’
‘Aye, that’s a shame,’ Sarah agreed. ‘Oh now I can tell he’s the apple of his mother’s eye.’ She laughed comfortably. ‘And a good looking young scamp too, I’ll be bound.’
Jane smiled and nodded, thinking of Terry’s darkly handsome looks. ‘You should see him in uniform. He’s very dashing altogether. I intended taking photographs at the ceremony, but I’m afraid he’ll never think of it himself. Pity,’ Jane shrugged. ‘It would have been nice.’
‘Can’t he dress up again and have his picture taken?’ Sarah suggested.
‘Of course,’ Jane agreed. ‘Anyway Sheena loves being photographed and might even remember.’
‘Well, there you are,’ Sarah said. ‘You can be sure she won’t forget. Twins are very close. And the younger girl. Who does she take after?’
‘Ruthie isn’t really like either one of them,’ Jane told her. ‘She’s more like another of my children ... Hugh died when he was eleven.’ She fell silent, knowing she was talking too much but she was really missing her children and talking about them helped to ease her loneliness.
Sarah asked no more questions and tactfully withdrew. But she was back five minutes later with some yellow blooms she had gathered from the garden and a cup of Earl Grey tea to cheer Jane.
‘There now! There’s nothing to compare with a drop of our own.’
She was really a dote, Jane thought. She’d be lost without her.
A few more days and Jane was allowed out to sit in the garden behind the hospital. She took a book with her and wandered down the path, enjoying the feel of the sun on her skin after so long indoors, and the sight of the brightly massed flowerbeds. How lovely to be up and about again. It felt good to be on the mend at last.
Jane was sitting with her face uplifted to the sun, when a little way off came the sound of voices. She glanced towards the hospital building and saw, with a sense of shock, Fernando coming towards her pushing his mother before him in her wheelchair.
‘Dr McArdle!’ Elena’s sweet low-pitched voice was barely audible against the tree-top chatter of birds in the drowsy afternoon sunshine. ‘I was sorry to hear of your accident. I hope you are making a good recovery.’
Jane forced herself to smile. ‘Yes, thank you. I’m much better now.’ If Elena had come of her own accord, was it merely a good Samaritan act or was there a deeper reason?
‘It is good to see you out in the air,’ Fernando said warmly. ‘Now you will get well very quickly.’
‘Nothing like sun and air to effect an instant cure,’ Jane lightly agreed.
Fernando smiled. Jane thought how like his mother he was, with his fair colouring and gentle manner. Elena said nothing, but whenever she met Jane’s eyes she smiled wanly. They seemed interested in what Jane was saying but didn’t say anything themselves, so she kept talking. She spoke about the accident and her children. How she didn’t really worry too much because she trusted them. How responsible Claire was and what a loyal friend. This for Fernando’s benefit. She felt he was listening for the sound of Claire’s name and his expression did indeed lighten at the sound of it.
‘She... Claire... will be visiting you soon?’ he asked.
Jane shook her head. ‘I expect it will be the end of June before Claire and my girls come to Spain.’ Jane glanced at Elena and said, ‘I hope that I’ll be gone home long before then.’
‘I am qu
ite certain of it,’ Elena said quietly. ‘Broken ribs are painful but heal quickly I am told.’
‘Very true.’ Jane was aware of the complication of her punctured lung but she did not wish to speak of her health to Elena, who looked even frailer than when Jane had last seen her. ane wondered again what her illness might be. The Spanish woman had difficulty raising her right arm and her left hand lay useless in her lap. Hardly from a stroke. She would not be so wasted. More like a muscular dystrophy or motorneurone disease, Jane decided pityingly, and was aware of Fernando standing up.
‘We must go,’ he said. ‘My mother tires easily these days.’
‘Of course.’ Jane stood up too and extended her hand to Elena. ‘Thank you for coming, Señora. It was most kind of you.’ She looked curiously into the other woman’s eyes and only compassion in their dark depths.
‘De nada, Señora,’ Elena said gently. ‘If there is anything you need or anything we can do for you....’
‘Thank you,’ Jane said again. Elena glanced up at her son and at once he turned the wheelchair back on to the path.
‘I will come to see you again very soon,’ Fernando promised Jane.
Jane watched them until they were out of sight then sank down trembling on the bench. Antonio’s wife had visited her out of common humanity, no other reason. Jane had divined in Elena’s compassionate glance one woman’s support of another in a strange land. She was touched and, at the same time, ashamed when she thought of her overwhelming desire for Antonio.
On the day of his Wings Terry called for the girls early and they drove down to Baldonnel in plenty of time for the ceremony. They were all looking forward to it, especially Claire, who felt as though she would burst with pride and excitement.
Sheena had described the style at the last parade as stunning - all floppy hats and designer suits - and Claire realised with dismay that there was no way could she appear in such company in jeans and sweater. For once Annette had risen to the occasion when Claire steeled herself to ask for new clothes. On returning home from shopping with Annette, Claire tried on the new outfit and raptly twirled the silky pleated skirt between her fingers as she stood before the mirror.
Her mother stood watching her. ‘Happy now?’ she asked.
‘Oh yes. Thanks, Mummy.’ Claire was moved to hug her.
‘Oh you really must be happy,’ Annette said with sarcastic inflection, then softened it with, ‘My little girl is well and truly grown up. You look very nice, darling.’ Just before Claire went back across the street she saw tears in her mother’s eyes and was surprised.
Claire dressed herself and turned around to help Ruthie. The trouble was, the little girl had grown so much over the year that everything she owned was way above her knees. Claire was almost in despair until Sheena rummaged in her closet and brought out a pretty rose-coloured gingham skirt, edged with broderie anglaise and an embroidered peasant blouse with a scooped neck, both long outgrown but kept out of fondness. When te girls ripped off the broderie anglaise, the length of the skirt was just right. The delicate pink suited Ruthie’s fair complexion and the mid-calf skirt made her look more like a teenager than a child turned ten. Ruthie jumped up and down with delight at her changed appearance.
The excitement remained with them as they piled into the car and drove down the country. Claire did not quite know what to expect from the day. Sheena and Ruthie had tried to describe it to her, but the reality far surpassed Claire’s expectations. It was colourful and moving and a lot more besides.
Claire felt a constriction in her throat as Terry marched past, arms swinging, cap dead straight over his eyes. He’s mine, she thought with a jealous shiver as she heard girls nearby speaking admiringly about him. He’s so terribly attractive, was her next despairing thought. How could he possibly love her? The old conviction that she wasn’t worthy to be loved, and which had dogged her for years, returned now to dent her happiness.
Sheena’s saying, ‘All the girls are swooning over Terry. Better watch out they don’t try and swipe him, Claire,’ it did nothing to boost her confidence. Sheena herself was in a state of high excitement over some cadet marching alongside her twin.
Captain Monahan strolled over to join them and was introduced to the girls. He was ruddy complexioned man with a big beaky nose. Dinny shook Claire’s hand and smiled into her eyes.
‘You look like a nice normal young woman,’ he said in a wondering voice. ‘Now how in the name of Albert Reynolds did you ever become involved with this fellah here?’
‘Looks can be deceptive,’ Claire smiled back at him, liking him at once.
‘Hey, Dinny,’ Terry said with a wink at them all. ‘How many kegs of Guinness have you lined up for us then?’
Dinny scratched his nose and drawled. ‘Guinness is for men, Cadet McArdle. Didn’t you know?’
Terry grinned. ‘Only know it’s bloody good for you, Skipper.’
Dinny laughed and turned courteously to Claire. ‘A pleasure meeting you, Miss Shannon. Don’t let this lot corrupt you now.’
‘I’ll try,’ Claire promised, and he walked away to join another group.
‘Pity Mum isn’t here,’ Terry said suddenly. ‘And Con.’ His expression grew broody and sad. Claire reached for his hand and felt the tension in his clenched knuckles. Suddenly he pulled her fiercely against him and nuzzled her ear. ‘But you’re here,’ he whispered. ‘That’s the important thing.’
In Hospital Belen, whenever her eyes rested on the gilt-edged card from the Air Corps, Jane rejoiced in the thought that in just another two days Terry would be arriving in Spain. So gradually over the months had he graduated from a beloved, if irresponsible, teenager to a manly son, whose company she enjoyed and whose judgement she valued and trusted, that she had hardly been aware of the transition. It had taken her accident and the long weeks of separation from her family to bring home to her just how much she had come to depend upon him.
As she lay there, her thoughts drifted back to the conversation they had been having at the time of the accident and her own appalled reaction on realising how deeply infatuated he was with Claire. Since his early teens she had seen him too many times in this ambivalent state over some girl or other to call it love. Since Grainne there just wasn’t time for it to have developed into anything more serious with Claire.
Jane had a mother’s natural reluctance for her only son to become romantically involved too early in his career. Nineteen was ridiculously young. She also hated the thought of Claire perhaps falling for Terry and then being cast off when he grew tired of her, for Jane believed this to be inevitable. Not for a moment did she think her restless, spirited son could remain constant to one woman for long. Terry always got their devotion too easily to value it.
Jane believed that Terry needed time to wear off some of the raw impetuosity of youth before he would be mature enough to take on the responsibility of answering for another’s happiness. She was not aware of any contradiction in relegating him once more to adolescence when only moments earlier she had elevated him to manhood in her thoughts. Very likely the whole thing was just a teenage crush, she assured herself, and would die as quickly as it had flared.
Nothing she could do about the situation until she returned home, she told herself. Then she would have a chat with Claire and see if she was as deeply committed to Terry as he appeared to be to her.
Jane was so deeply taken up with her thoughts that she did not register the gentle tap on the door until it was repeated.
‘Come in,’ she called, resenting the intrusion.
The door cautiously inched open and Antonio looked round it with an expectant smile. Jane’s displeasure gave way at once to intense delight at the sight of him. ‘Y...you,’ she stammered in her surprise. ‘I thought it was the nurse coming to take my temperature.’
Antonio drew a chair close to the bed. ‘I am very sorry to disappoint you, Dr McArdle,’ he said with a droll shake of his head. ‘The best I can do is inspect your tongue.’ He pret
ended to look at it very seriously and Jane giggled. She was amazed at herself. She hadn’t giggled in years. Antonio seemed unsurprised at the girlish sound, His answering chuckle made her feel wickedly light-hearted and young again.
‘I see that our patient is a good deal better,’ Antonio pronounced. ‘Though I think in a somewhat melancholy mood when I arrived.’ His eyes strayed to the invitation card. ‘Ah, el piloto!’ He looked at Jane with sudden realisation. ‘Today he is being decorated and you are naturally downhearted to be so far away.’
‘Just a little,’ Jane said.
‘He is coming soon?’
‘Monday.’
‘Ah, that will bring back the smiles to your heart. See, you are smiling already.’ Antonio beamed himself.
Jane couldn’t tell him that she was smiling at his English and felt another urge to giggle. She repressed it and said, ‘I suppose I was feeling a little sad but then I have only one son and I miss him quite a bit since he joined the Air Corps.’
‘Understandably,’ Antonio agreed. ‘Now I have three sons but no daughter. When I see your little girl I wish it had been otherwise.’
Jane nodded in sympathy. Suddenly she wanted to tell him about Hugh and how he had been such a lovely boy, sensitive and affectionate.
‘I did have another son...but he died tragically when he was eleven years old.’ Seeing Antonio’s sympathetic glance she added with a gulp, ‘By his own hand. ‘Querida,’ he murmured sincerely. ‘I am so very sorry.’ His hands reached for hers and held them comfortingly in his strong grasp. ‘To lose a beloved child is the most tragic of all afflictions... and in the way you describe even more so. We have had our share of sorrow Elena and I. Many years ago we lost a little one when he was only a few months old.’
Jane looked at him dumbly, the mention of his wife bringing back to her the impropriety of being alone with him and the danger of heightened emotions. Still, she could not move or take her hands away.
‘Elena is a brave and uncomplaining woman,’ Antonio went on softly. ‘I love and respect her and wish to make her days happier, but I wish-’ he broke off and stooped his head to kiss Jane’s hands passionately.
