She felt so dizzy and overwhelmed by it all that it reminded her of the time she had drunk a glass of sherry much too quickly one Christmas.
When she had turned a bend in the road and was out of view of Con and any of the neighbouring cottages, she sank down on the stump of a tree-trunk and put her head in her hands.
She now knew how people felt when they contemplated killing themselves.
If it wasn’t for the fact that it was a mortal sin, it appeared an almost attractive alternative to facing the days, weeks and months that lay ahead.
Chapter 3
When she reached the cottage, Sarah stood at the gate for a few minutes trying to compose herself. Compose herself when her life had just fallen apart. Compose herself when all she felt like doing was screaming and roaring. And the very last person she wanted to explain herself to was Martina but there was no escaping it.
Her sister-in-law was sitting in an armchair by the fire, knitting a baby jacket.
When Martina heard Sarah open the door, she dropped the needles and wool to the side of her chair. She wasn’t taking any chances in case Sarah had brought a friend home who might spot the tiny garment and guess her secret.
“What’s brought you back?” Martina snapped. “I thought you were gone out for the evening.”
“I changed my mind.” She planned on getting her news over and done with as soon as she stepped in the cottage, but she suddenly found herself heading for her bedroom.
“And where’s himself?” Martina said, reaching down for her knitting again.
Unable to say the words that would eventually have to come, Sarah rushed into the bedroom and, after closing the door behind her, she threw herself down on the bed. Her breathing came in short, sharp pants as she ran the whole scene between her and Con over in her mind again like a film.
How had she not seen this catastrophe coming? Had there been clues there that she had missed? Had there been a change in either Con or Patricia that she had missed? Surely they had been engulfed in guilt and worry about what they had done? Up until this evening she had been totally unaware of anything wrong with either of them.
She pressed a fist tightly over each eye, to stop the tears that she anticipated would come – but she felt only a hollow darkness.
She lay there for a while, her mind a whirl of black thoughts, and when she had tortured herself enough, she decided to gather herself together and go into the kitchen to face the first of her judges.
As she turned to move into a sitting position, her gaze fell on the white, lace creation she had worked so hard on over the last few months. The sight of it made her stomach heave and she brought her hand to cover her mouth. She stared at it with wide eyes until she could bear the sight of it no longer, and then she flew from the bed to rip it from its hanger. Her hands tore at the tiny roses, scattering them across the stone floor like confetti, and then she wrenched at the shoulder seam until a tattered sleeve had joined them. Her strength grew with each tug at the dress, and within minutes the stone floor was littered with remnants of lace and satin.
In the midst of her misery she paused to look at the white wisps and wondered how something that had taken all those months to painstakingly cut and stitch and measure, could be destroyed in minutes. Something from the Sunday gospel about building a temple and tearing it down in three days came to her mind.
Where was God now? she thought bitterly. Where was the Sacrament of Matrimony that had gripped her in its thrall for the last year? Where was the power from all the candles she had lit to help her refuse Con Tierney’s advances and help hold her tongue with Martina? How persuasive had all her prayers been that Patricia Quinn could cancel them out with a few minutes of lust?
She knew now that God was not on her side.
She had done everything the right way – done it according to the Holy Book. And what had she received in return? Nothing, only shame and humiliation.
She was just finishing off the bigger pieces with her pinking shears when a knock came on the door.
“Are you all right in there?” her brother’s voice called from the other side.
Sarah froze.
The door handle twisted.
“Can I come in?” he asked, opening the door.
Sarah moved to block his view, but it was too late. James stood open-mouthed, looking at the sea of white on the floor, bed and furniture.
“Jaysus!” Martina said, looking over her husband’s shoulder with wide eyes. “What have you done to the dress? It’s in flitters!”
Their shocked gazes came to rest on Sarah now, and she knew there was no point in prevaricating. “It’s off,” she told them in a dull voice. “The wedding is all off.”
“Have ye had a row?” Martina’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Ye both left here happy enough. It must have flared up very quick.” She looked at the shreds of white lace and satin. “Mother of God, Sarah – you were a bit quick off the mark in destroying the dress over a silly row. There’s no way you’ll be able to sort that out before the wedding.” She shrugged. “You’ll have to buy a new one.”
“It’s off,” Sarah repeated. “There isn’t going to be any wedding. I wouldn’t marry him now if he was the last man on earth.”
Martina looked at the floor again. “You definitely lost the head with him. It must have been a serious row.”
There was no point in dragging the whole thing out. They would have to know sooner or later.
Sarah took a deep breath.
“Patricia Quinn is expecting Con’s baby.”
The colour drained from James’s face, and, for once, Martina Love was dumbstruck. Sarah had wished for this on many occasions, but fate decreed that on this occasion she hardly registered it, far less was able to enjoy it.
James recovered himself first. “Jesus Christ, Sarah . . .”
“My God!” Martina said in a low whisper. “My God . . . I don’t believe it. I knew I was right about that one! I never liked that Patricia Quinn from the first time I clapped eyes on her.” She paused. “But even so, I never thought she was capable of anything like that. Imagine her getting up to no good with an engaged man! She’s nothing but a trollop and a whore!”
“Now, now – there’s no good in name-calling,” James told her. “And don’t forget, there’s two of them in it. It takes two to tango. Con Tierney has a lot to answer for.”
Sarah sat silently on the edge of the bed, her shoulders hunched over.
“Come up into the kitchen and tell us all about it,” Martina said, in a voice that was surprisingly kind.
“I don’t really feel up to talking,” Sarah said.
Martina came into the bedroom now, and went over and took Sarah’s arm. “Come in now, and get it all off your chest.”
When the two women were seated at the kitchen table, James went over to the cupboard next to the sink. “A drop of brandy might do us all no harm,” he said, reaching for three mugs.
He poured a measure into each one, then three large spoonfuls of sugar, and then he lifted the recently boiled kettle and filled them up with hot water and brought them over to the table.
“I knew well there was something wrong the minute you came in,” Martina told her, handing her a mug across the table. “I could see it on your face, and then I could hear all the ripping and pulling of the material. I thought you were going mad – I was so worried that I went out to the field to bring James in.”
Sarah lifted her mug and took a sip of the hot, sweet drink. The first taste made her screw her face up, but as the warming golden liquid went down her throat, she found a comfort in it. She took another drink then said, “I can’t marry him now. He’s going to have to marry Patricia Quinn.”
“The deceitful bitch,” Martina started again. “I never liked her – nor anyone belonging to her.” She sucked her breath in through her teeth. “Who told you and how long has their dirty business been going on?”
Sarah took another mouthful of the comforting drink and then started off.
Half an hour later when Sarah had said all there was to be said, James went off back into the field to finish off fixing the fence.
Sarah was relieved that no mention had been made of her having to stay on in the house with them now that her wedding plans were smashed. And, in all truthfulness, she had to admit that Martina had been much more supportive than she could have expected, given that she had always liked Con.
“I didn’t like to say it in front of James,” Martina said, thumbing towards the field outside where James was working, “but I’ve heard from various sources that she’d lie down with anyone. Sure, I know it myself – I’ve even caught her giving James the eye when she thought I wasn’t looking.” She rolled her eyes incredulously. “As if he would look at a scrawny, stuck-up thing like her.”
Sarah nodded in agreement, knowing perfectly well that Martina was flattering herself. Patricia Quinn certainly wouldn’t have been casting licentious glances at her old-fashioned, hen-pecked brother. Martina was safe enough. Unlike herself, who now had to live with the fact that her own future husband obviously hadn’t any qualms going with the scrawny, stuck-up Patricia.
She thought of the red mark she’d left on his cheek and felt the tiniest flame of satisfaction.
“What are you going to do about all the wedding arrangements?” Martina asked. “You’ll have to cancel everything . . .” She paused. “Is there no way you’d take him back and try to sort things out between ye?”
“Never,” Sarah shot back. “Never in a million years. How could you sort out a situation like that? The best thing he can do now is marry Patricia Quinn and have done with it. As far as I’m concerned he’s dead and gone.”
Martina took a sip of her brandy then said, “Aren’t you going to find it very awkward bumping into them around the town?”
Sarah looked blankly at her. “Of course I am, but what can I do? It’s not my fault and I’m sure people will know that.”
“Do you believe they were only together the one time, or do you think they were at it all the time?”
Sarah felt her throat tighten. She hadn’t thought of that. “I don’t know . . .” she answered, “and I don’t care. Once is more than enough for me. There’s no turning back now.” She drained the last of the brandy from her mug and pushed her chair back. “If you don’t mind I’m going to go into my bedroom now and tidy all that mess up.”
“I was just thinking,” Martina said, “you’d be better off starting with the priest. He’ll have to know the wedding is off, and it would look bad if he hears it from someone in the town.”
“Tomorrow,” Sarah sighed. “I’ll think about it all tomorrow.”
Chapter 4
Father Kelly reached across the dining-room table in the Parochial House to pat Sarah’s hand with his own broad-fingered one. “You’ll be grand,” he told her. “In a year or two’s time you’ll be thinking that it was all for the best. There are plenty of nice men who would be delighted to have a lovely girl like you.”
The kind, elderly priest had dealt with numerous girls in Sarah’s position over the years. Time, with the support of family and friends, was the only cure.
Tears engulfed Sarah’s eyes. She couldn’t imagine ever feeling anything other than shame, and the thought of feeling like this for the next year or two horrified her. “He’s made a holy show of me, Father,” she said, her voice frail and weary. “They’ve both made me look like the biggest fool in Tullamore.”
She had hardly slept in the last forty-eight hours, and it showed in her pale face and the dark circles under her eyes. She hadn’t been in to work in the hotel either. She came out in a cold sweat every time she pictured herself standing in front of the hotel manager explaining how her wedding was all off. She had avoided telling anyone so far, as James had been good enough to drive into town to let the hotel know she was sick and would be out for the next few days.
“Now, don’t be saying things like that,” Father Kelly told her. “Sure, it’s only a nine-day wonder. They’ll find someone else to talk about soon enough. If you heard the things that I’ve been told over the last number of years, your head would be reeling. Everyone has their own troubles.”
But they’re not public, Sarah thought. She couldn’t say it to his face. It wasn’t in her to contradict a priest.
Father Kelly studied her for a few moments. “How are things back at the house with James and Martina? I suppose Martina’s not the easiest to live with at the best of times?”
Surprised, Sarah lifted her head to look at him. She had never talked personally to him before, and she certainly wouldn’t have said anything to him about her sister-in-law. “She’s been very good, considering they’re now stuck with me.”
“Ah, she’s a decent enough woman,” the priest said tactfully. “And your brother is the finest, but I suppose they’d like to have the place to themselves. “Have you thought what you’re going to do now?”
Sarah wasn’t sure if the priest was referring to her immediate problems over the wedding or her longer term plans – which she’d given no thought to. “I’m cancelling everything,” she told him. “I’ve come to tell you first and then I’m going to go into town to let the hotel and the flower shop know.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier on you to tell them over the phone?” He nodded out towards the hall. “Why don’t you use the phone here?”
Sarah looked at him. “I wouldn’t be sure of the number or anything . . . or what to say.” Although she occasionally answered the phone in the hotel reception if there was no one else around, she had rarely had the occasion to actually dial a number herself.
Father Kelly stood up. “Sure that’s no problem, I’ll do it for you,” he said. “It’s just a matter of looking up the number in the book.”
As he went out into the hallway to get the directory Sarah felt a great sense of relief. A phone call would save her the embarrassment of explaining the situation face to face.
A few moments later he came back into the dining-room carrying the phone directory. “That’s all sorted with the hotel. Jimmy Butler is an understanding man so I didn’t have to say too much.” He raised his eyebrows. “He said you might call in when you feel up to it and he’ll do what he can regarding the deposit on the meal.”
Sarah’s eyes filled up with tears. When would she ever feel up to facing people? She nodded her head. “Thank you, Father. I’m very grateful.”
He put the directory down on the dining-table and then he opened it and started to search through it. “There’s the florist’s phone number now,” he said, stabbing a finger at a point on the page. “Now, be a good girl and go out into the hallway and give them a ring.”
Her throat tightened. The woman in the flower shop had been very chatty and friendly, asking her about her dress and giving advice on which flowers would look best.
Father Kelly moved towards the door. “I’ll call the number out to you, and you dial it,” he told her. “You just have to tell them that due to unforeseen circumstances the wedding has been cancelled, and you wanted to be sure to give them plenty of notice.” He saw the hesitation on her face so he went over to the phone table in the hall and picked up the receiver, then held it out to her. “Good girl!” he said, winking at her when she eventually took the phone off him.
Fifteen minutes later as Sarah cycled back up to the cottage, she felt a slight sense of relief. She had now started the process of dismantling all her wedding plans but she still had a number of things to sort out. Her next task was to visit her other bridesmaid Sheila and tell her the humiliating news. She supposed she should be comforted by the fact that anyone who knew her and Con well would be as shocked as she was. Con’s family would be disgusted by the carry-on between him and Patricia Quinn and his mother wouldn’t waste any time telling him. She would be straight down to the priest asking him to come up and talk to Con and hear his confession of the terrible thing he had done. His sister, Orla, who was two years older than Sarah – and got
on great with her – would be devastated.
Whilst Sarah knew everyone would be on her side, it did nothing to assuage the feelings of rejection and failure which overwhelmed her.
She got off the bike at the cottage and took a deep breath before going inside to face Martina’s interrogation about the latest developments. At least she could tell her that she had cancelled most of the bookings to do with the wedding and say how understanding and helpful Father Kelly had been.
Then they would both do their best to tip-toe around the subject of Sarah’s future living arrangements.
* * *
Sheila was of the same opinion as Martina. “The skinny, sharp-nosed fecking trollop!” she said, banging the kitchen table when she heard the news.
Sarah had to tell her to keep her voice down as she couldn’t face going over the whole story with Mrs Walsh.
“Tell me you’re kidding me? Surely Con Tierney wouldn’t look twice at that rake of a thing when he has a far lovelier girl?”
“It obviously wasn’t just a lovely girl he was looking for,” Sarah said, her face white and tense, “it was a girl who would give him what he wanted.”
“You poor oul’ divil,” Sheila said, coming to put her arms around her friend. “Are you all right?”
Sarah shrugged. “It’s like being in the middle of your worst nightmare, but you wake up and you’re still living it. I just keep hoping that it will all go away.”
“I can’t believe it,” Sheila said, remembering to lower her voice again. “Patricia fecking Quinn – who thinks she’s better than everybody else – getting up to no good with her best friend’s boyfriend a fortnight before the wedding! It would have been bad enough if it she had been expecting to her own boyfriend – she’d still be the talk of the town. But it takes some class of a girl to do what she’s done with a lad she hasn’t been courting.” She shook her head. “How would you go baring your body to a lad you’ve never even kissed?” She had little or no experience of men and from what she had heard of the sex act, it was something she was in no rush to try. “I’ll tell you, Sarah, she’s no better than a common whore and now the whole town will know it.”
Sarah Love Page 4
