by Anne Bennett
‘She isn’t,’ Niamh protested. ‘She’s over thirty.’
Celia laughed. ‘Believe me, Niamh, thirty isn’t old. When you’re thirty yourself, you’ll know this.’
But thirty seemed an impossible age to a twelve-year-old and Niamh still looked doubtful as Celia went on, ‘Your mammy needs to begin to live a little, have a bit of fun in her life, and you do like Scott, don’t you?’
‘Yeah, he’s all right.’
‘He’s a mean footballer,’ Tom said. ‘And he’s going to teach me to play baseball.’
Niamh gave him a withering look. ‘We’re talking about important things.’
‘So am I,’ Tom said. ‘Tell you what, though, I can’t wait to go to America. It sounds terrific.’
Niamh had to agree with her brother about that, for Scott had gone out of his way to paint an exciting picture of the future awaiting them on the other side of the ocean. ‘Yeah,’ she said, hugging her knees with delight, ‘I can’t wait either.’
Later, after the children had gone to bed, Celia sat down in the room and tried to lift the depression she’d felt settle all around her and be happy for Lizzie. Hadn’t she suffered enough, and shouldn’t she have another stab at happiness? What sort of friend was she? All right, she knew Lizzie leaving and taking Georgia with her would leave a large, gaping hole in her own life, but she also knew she’d never tell her that, or admit how lonely she would feel.
Scott and Lizzie held hands all the way home, and when they got to the entry Scott turned Lizzie round. The look in his eyes turned Lizzie’s insides to water and she leant against him with a moan of desire. The kiss was as tender as it was mind-blowing and Lizzie wanted more. Scott unbuttoned her coat and slid his hands over her body, but outside her clothes, and though Lizzie wanted him to go further she didn’t press him. There was time enough. They would know each other’s bodies intimately in the end, but they could wait and then their fulfilment would be all the more wondrous.
Violet was thrilled for Lizzie, though she knew she’d miss her sorely. ‘It’s not that I begrudge her, like,’ she said to Celia, ‘and it’s not that I don’t think she don’t deserve some good luck, the poor sod, but Christ I’m going to miss her.’
Celia nodded. ‘I feel exactly the same,’ she said.
‘What you going to do?’
Celia shrugged. ‘I haven’t really thought.’
‘You can always bide here, you know,’ Violet said. ‘I got an attic room that will be going spare in a few months when our Carol marries, and she won’t mind sharing with you for a bit.’
‘Thanks, Violet,’ Celia said. ‘Lizzie asked me if I wanted to go to America with them, but you know I’ve never had a yen to see the place.’
‘Nor me neither,’ Violet said. ‘Nasty horrible place, full of gangsters if the films are to be believed. Give me good old England any time, and that offer to stay here stands till I hear otherwise.’
Scott thought Lizzie deserved a proper courtship, and after that first time they went once to a variety show and a couple of times to the cinema and a fair few times out for dinner. Sometimes, just being near Scott made Lizzie’s whole body tingle for his touch. She ached for the feel of his hands on her and longed for him to kiss her properly, and she knew no man had ever truly touched her heart before.
And yet sometimes she was beset with doubts for all she was leaving behind: not the place, but the people. How could she just abandon Celia after all they had gone through? And what about Violet and all the others down the yard who’d always been on her side, and Tressa and her family in Ireland that she might never see again.
And then she’d see Scott, and he’d smile at her or catch her around the waist, or kiss her, and her doubts would vanish, for she knew if she didn’t have this man her life would have no meaning.
Scott insisted they do the job properly. Father Connolly disapproved strongly of mixed marriages and so Lizzie asked the kindly Father Peters, the curate, to see them. He too disapproved, for the church dictated he had to, but he conceded that there were more mixed marriages now than before the war. ‘You weren’t thinking of taking instruction to be a Catholic,’ he asked Scott.
‘No, Father. I couldn’t do that,’ Scott said.
‘You’ll need to take instruction anyway if you want to marry Elizabeth. You need to understand what being married to a Catholic means.’
‘I understand that, Father,’ Scott said. ‘And I’ll put no obstacle in Lizzie’s path. We have a Catholic Church and school not far from the store back home. I would never hamper either Lizzie or the children following their religion.’
Despite himself, Father Peters was impressed with the man, and so were Tressa and Doreen when they went up for tea one Sunday. As the cousins played in the garden, the women listened to Scott and Lizzie and their plans for the future. Later, with the men off to the pub, Doreen and Tressa both said what a thoroughly nice and kind man Scott was. ‘You don’t mind about the colour and all?’ Tressa asked.
‘Not now,’ Lizzie said. ‘But I have to admit I did at first. No, I don’t even see the colour, I see the man behind it.’
‘Wonder what your mammy will say?’
‘What can she say? I am over twenty-one.’
‘Hmm. As if that ever made any difference in Ireland.’
Lizzie grinned at her, knowing her cousin was right. ‘Anyway,’ she said, eyeing her up. ‘What’s happened to you?’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Well, Mike’s been home how long now and you’re not pregnant yet?’
‘Nor won’t be,’ Tressa said with feeling.
‘What d’you mean?’ Lizzie said. ‘Doesn’t Mike fancy it any more?’
‘As if it’s any of your business,’ Tressa replied, giving Lizzie a push. ‘If you must know, he’s using something.’
‘Tressa!’
‘I know,’ Tressa said. ‘But he said I haven’t got to know anything about it, and then the sin is his, not mine.’
‘Why, all of a sudden?’
‘Why d’you think?’ Tressa cried. ‘We have got six already. Surely that’s enough souls for the Catholic Church.’
‘And he was all set to have a football team,’ Lizzie said. ‘Now you barely have enough to play five-a-side.’
‘Aye, and that’s the way it will stay,’ Tressa commented grimly.
Scott insisted they go over to Ireland and meet Lizzie’s parents. ‘We don’t need to ask permission, but it would be nice to get their blessing.’
Lizzie thought that that was like asking for the moon. ‘Look at it from their point of view, Violet,’ she said. ‘The man I’m marrying is black and the brother to the man who attacked me and brought shame on the family, and, added to that, Scott’s a Protestant.’
‘That’s a negative viewpoint to have, Lizzie,’ Violet said. ‘Think of Scott’s good points.’
‘I know his good points,’ Lizzie said. ‘I don’t have to be convinced.’
‘Neither do they. They’re not marrying him.’
‘I know that, but it’s bound to be awkward.’
‘Look, Lizzie, what odds?’ Violet had said. ‘You’ll be there for a few days, and after you marry you probably won’t see them again for one hell of a long time. You’ve coped with worse. Haven’t the pair of you fine broad shoulders?’
Violet, as usual, spoke good sense. Lizzie didn’t expect her parents to fall on her neck and say Scott was the very man they’d have chosen for their daughter, and welcome him as warmly as some favoured son. It would be unreasonable to expect anything like that.
Niamh and Tom were happy enough to be going back to Ireland when they knew they’d be returning from it, and Georgia was dreadfully excited at the prospect of going on trains and boats. It was Celia who was proving difficult.
‘What are you afraid of?’
‘Do you have to ask?’
‘Come on, Celia, don’t let those perverted nuns ruin your life.’
‘I don’t c
onsider it ruined, just because I don’t want to go to Ireland. Anyway,’ she added, ‘you’ll hardly want me there.’
‘Course we do. I’ve told my parents all about you. They’ll be expecting you.’
Lizzie said nothing about the impassioned plea from her brother to bring Celia with her, and in the end, with the children and Scott adding their voices to Lizzie’s, Celia agreed grudgingly to accompany them.
Lizzie’s estimation of how her parents would feel were accurate, for Catherine thought it strange that her daughter was marrying a man with skin as dark as coal. ‘I expect he’s marrying our Lizzie out of a kind of duty, with his brother doing the dirty and all,’ she said.
‘Aye. That’ll be it all right,’ Seamus agreed gloomily. ‘And all she can expect in the circumstances.’
‘And of course he’s no Catholic.’
‘Well he wouldn’t be, would he?’ Seamus said. ‘I suppose we’re lucky he’s not into some voodoo mumbojumbo.’
Johnnie was irritated by his parents’ small-town mentality, but he said nothing. It wouldn’t do to be at one another’s throats and the atmosphere uneasy when the man came. God, it would be bad enough anyway.
Seamus and Catherine tried to welcome Scott, but their greeting was artificial and forced and Lizzie was glad Johnnie was there; and glad too of the children, who saw nothing amiss and fell upon their Uncle Johnnie eagerly and covered up the awkwardness.
Lizzie could see that while Seamus and Catherine welcomed Niamh and Tom they were more than reticent with Georgia. They didn’t know the child, of course, but this was their opportunity to get to know her. ‘This is Niamh’s and Tom’s granny and granddad,’ she told Georgia. ‘You can call them the same.’
Georgia, more sensitive to atmosphere than her halfbrother and sister, regarded the couple solemnly, her finger in her mouth, a sure sign of nervousness. Catherine gazed at the pretty child, with the mass of black curls and big brown eyes in the dusky face, dressed in a red woollen skirt and a cream jumper, and she smiled. This was no monster. This was just a child, like any other. ‘Come away,’ she said, putting out her arms, ‘and give your granny a wee hug.’
Georgia, still unsure, didn’t move. She looked up at Lizzie, who gave the child a little push forward and Catherine took her in her arms.
Niamh and Tom were bouncing with impatience to take Georgia and show her around the farm. As Catherine released the child, the children struggled into their coats, helped by Johnnie, for the day was a cold one, and Lizzie introduced Celia to her parents.
All Seamus and Catherine knew was that Celia was a staunch friend of Lizzie’s and Catherine acknowledged that after their treatment of their daughter it was a good job she had someone at her back, some measure of support. So they had no trouble making Celia feel welcome and Celia thought the situation might be different entirely if Lizzie’s parents knew where the two had met up.
At the table, most of the talk was again carried by the children and Johnnie, although Scott gave a good account of himself and spoke of his mother, sister and brother and the business they owned.
Lizzie loved Scott’s voice, the way he used his hands as he spoke, and Catherine, catching sight of Lizzie’s eyes as she looked at Scott, knew that she was looking at a woman in love. In fact, seeing them together, it was obviously not a marriage of duty at all, and she was glad of it, though she thought it hard that her daughter would shortly be living so far away.
Celia thought it hard too, but knew her future was now in her own hands and she had to decide which way to jump. Her sexual feelings, which she thought she had securely under lock and key, had begun to surface when she met Johnnie again. She’d definitely not felt this way about him before, and had only seen him as a friend, but now…
It had begun in the station when their hands touched as Johnnie was stowing the cases into the cart, and it was a little like an electric shock passing up her arm and through her body. Johnnie had been aware of it too. Since then, as the days passed there had been other odd things: the way he smiled, laughed, even the way he held a glass or cup could send tremors through her.
She avoided being alone with him because she didn’t want to talk about her feelings till she got them sorted out. She didn’t want him to declare his either, because before they could take their relationship further, could have any future together, Catherine and Seamus had to know where she came from, what her background was.
She discussed it with no one, for she couldn’t risk being talked out of it, and she chose a day when Johnnie had taken Scott, Lizzie and the children to Donegal town. She’d been asked too, but pleading a headache had said she would stay at home.
She thought the lie a necessary one and waited until she heard Seamus come in mid-morning for a drink before coming into the room.
‘How’s your head?’ Catherine asked her.
‘Never better,’ Celia said. ‘I never had a headache, and though I don’t like lies and deceit I needed to see the two of you alone and without any listening.’
There was a puzzled look on Catherine’s face. ‘Is there something ails you?’
‘No,’ Celia said. ‘Not in that way, but I think you should know that, though not a word has been said about it, I know your son Johnnie likes me. Maybe more than likes me.’
‘We know of it,’ Catherine said. ‘How do you feel about him?’
‘That’s just it,’ Celia replied. ‘I could return those feelings and more, for I love your son with all my heart and soul, but before I say this to him there is something I must tell you, something about my background. When I have finished, if you feel you don’t want such a person in your family, I will return to Birmingham and no harm done.’
Seamus and Catherine were thoroughly intrigued, but as Celia’s tale unfolded, beginning from being exiled from the family to West Meath, they understood. Johnnie had told them some things about the convent, but it was hard to picture the horror of it without experiencing it, and Seamus and Catherine listened to a tale they could scarcely believe. Celia pulled no punches, and yet didn’t exaggerate or embellish, and they both knew she spoke the truth.
Seamus at first felt the same shock as he had when Lizzie had told him she was pregnant. It had been ingrained in him that it was by far and away the worst thing a girl could do to her family…but to treat the girls so brutally, surely that couldn’t be right. Yet, he had to be honest with himself. If he’d been aware of it all would he have fetched Lizzie from the place and stood against the shame of it? Johnnie was right, out of sight was out of mind.
Catherine wept as she realised that everything Celia spoke about, her own daughter had suffered too, and she reproached herself and more, especially as Lizzie was an innocent victim. But Celia, even now, was little more than a girl. Should she suffer all the days of her life for a mistake made when she’d not left childhood far behind? ‘I can’t speak for Seamus,’ she said, ‘but I would welcome you to this family.’
‘And so would I,’ Seamus said. ‘All in all, I think you have suffered enough.’
When Lizzie came back, Celia sought her out and told her what she’d done and how her parents had taken the revelation.
‘Why did you do it?’ Lizzie asked.
‘I think, given the slightest encouragement, Johnnie will ask me to marry him, and I couldn’t come here under false pretences. I’ll have no secrets, no skeletons in the cupboard.’
‘Do you love Johnnie?’
‘Aye, I do,’ Celia said. ‘I didn’t, I know I didn’t one time, and I don’t know why. Maybe it was too soon, maybe I was too young, but I know now. It’s come upon me suddenly, but it’s no less deep for that. I love him so much I long to be with him. I want to bear his children, children we can take joy in and watch grow up. I love him, Lizzie, more than I thought it was possible to love anyone.’
‘Oh, Celia, I’m so happy for you,’ Lizzie said in delight, and gave her a kiss.
Scott, Lizzie and the children left Celia in Ballintra when they re
turned to Birmingham, as she’d written to Fisher and Ludlow’s giving notice. Lizzie felt it a strange house without her, particularly when Scott went back to America to tell his family and arrange their passage over for the wedding.
Sometimes, Lizzie was gripped by anxieties and concerns, and it was always Violet who calmed these fears and said it was natural to feel apprehensive.
Lizzie woke on the morning of her wedding in a fever of nervous excitement. She knew that soon Celia would arrive to sort out the girls and Tom for her, because she and Johnnie, with Lizzie’s parents, had arrived two days before. Scott had arranged accommodation for them in the same hotel where he and his family were booked in, and the two families had got on famously. ‘Fell on your feet at last,’ Celia said. ‘They’re lovely people.’
‘I know,’ Lizzie said, catching up Celia’s left hand. ‘I’ve met them, and I’m not the only one to fall on my feet, you dark horse. It’s a beautiful ring. When did you get engaged?’
Lizzie had never seen Celia blush before and it made her look more beautiful than ever. ‘About a week after you came back,’ she said. ‘No point in waiting.’
‘And the wedding?’
‘No date set yet,’ Celia said. ‘I’d like it if you could come over.’
‘I won’t promise,’ Lizzie said, ‘but I’ll do my level best. I would like to see someone make an honest woman of you.’
‘That’ll be the day,’ Celia said. The two laughed together, and when that laughter turned to tears as they hugged one another, neither was totally surprised.
The house was quiet. Celia and the children had left and everyone else was waiting at the church. Only Lizzie and Violet remained.
‘So,’ Violet said, coming into the bedroom as Lizzie stood before the mirror, ‘the future is going to be hunkydory for you, I’d say, and about time too.’
‘I know,’ Lizzie agreed dolefully.
‘So why the bloody long face?’
