Mary Kate

by Nadine Dorries

  Father Jerry sprang forwards, took the ball with the side of his foot and kicked it back to Finn as Teresa made her way up the path to Rosie. In a flash, Mr Feenan had fetched his chair from the classroom and placed it by the door for Teresa to sit on in the sunshine.

  ‘Would you look at that. A fine gentleman, you are,’ Teresa said as she sank onto the seat. ‘We were just popping in to wish you a good summer, Mr Feenan, before you head off back to Galway. You are staying with your mammy, are you not?’

  ‘He’s supposed to be.’ Rosie replied for him. ‘Aren’t you, Mr Feenan? The problem seems to be that he can’t drag himself away from the new football pitch.’

  Mr Feenan thrust his hands into his trouser pockets and leant against the doorframe as he waited for Father Jerry to join them. He was grinning and blushing at the same time, and was riddled with guilt. How could he tell Rosie it wasn’t the football that was making him reluctant to leave Tarabeg but her own stepdaughter, Mary Kate, who was holding him to his promise. ‘That’s the plan, to head to Galway, but I think some of the boys have other ideas for me.’

  ‘Aye, he’s football mad and the boys are loving it. He can do no wrong, and do you know, he was telling me he is using the football and the new pitch as a shameless bribe. If the homework isn’t done, they don’t get to play on the pitch for a week,’ said Rosie as she playfully nudged Declan in the ribs.

  Mr Feenan looked down to his shoes, shamefaced but grinning. Captain Carter, who owned most of the land around Tarabeg, the river and the fishing rights, had donated a patch of land big enough for a football pitch at the end of the village. It had transformed the lives of the boys and the fortunes of the school, which now had something other than a small cinder path at the front for the children to play on. It was difficult to work out who had been the more delighted with the gift, Mr Feenan or the children. ‘I thought I would wait for another week before I go home to Galway. I promised Mrs Malone I would give the school a lick of paint and I may as well do it now, before I head off. ’Tis true, I have said to the boys that if they want me to organise a few games, I will be on the land every evening, but only if they want to play, mind, and they can get down from the farms.’

  ‘That’s very generous of you to give your time like that to painting the school, Mr Feenan,’ said Father Jerry. ‘If I hadn’t seen you running around the pitch like a madman, I would be thinking it was a totally selfless gesture.’

  They all grinned at the sight of Declan blushing, even Teresa.

  ‘Right, Paddy has a drink waiting for you. He thought you were going today too and so he sent me to fetch you. Come on, he’ll have a Guinness poured ready,’ said Father Jerry.

  Declan needed no encouragement as he lifted his cap from a nail in the porch.

  Teresa tutted. ‘Drinking in the day, Father? Surely not.’

  ‘Now, now, Teresa, ’tis no ordinary day. The school has closed for the summer. Paddy and I and a few of the others thought we had to be saying our goodbyes to Mr Feenan here. We’ll take the Devlin boys and Finnbar back with us.’

  Rosie and Teresa watched as Mr Feenan and Father Jerry gathered Keeva’s five sons together and Finn with them. Finn waved to his mother.

  ‘Tell Peggy I’ll be home in half an hour,’ shouted Rosie, who then turned to Teresa. ‘Will the day ever come when you tell the father you have known all along that they all sneak into Paddy’s bar for a Guinness in the afternoons?’

  Teresa folded her arms in indignation. ‘Will I? Never! There’s only one person in charge of that presbytery and if he knows I know what he is up to, I’m lost, I can tell you.’ She glanced back through the door into Rosie’s schoolroom. ‘I thought Mary Kate would be in here with you. I dropped by to ask her how she’d feel about starting a Sunday-school class after Mass, given that she is the most learned young woman in the village after her great education.’

  Teresa noted the lack of a smile on Rosie’s face as she replied, her hands buried in her jacket pockets. ‘Well, if you can find her, you can ask her,’ she said, her eyes following the backs of the retreating boys.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  Rosie kept her gaze firmly on Mr Feenan, Father Jerry and the six boys as they turned the corner and continued towards the Malone shop and Paddy Devlin’s. The boys ran on ahead of the adults, doubtless making for the bridge and the chance to mess around in the Taramore river or just watch the water come crashing down from the hills on its way to the coast. As they disappeared from view, Rosie glanced sideways at Teresa.

  ‘I don’t know, Teresa, she’s hardly slept in her own bed since she came home. Finds every excuse she can to stay up at the farm with Nola, Seamus and Daedio. The minute Michael headed off to Dublin to buy stock, she found a reason not to go with him, said she’d promised to read to Daedio and was off up the hill. I don’t mind, but poor Finnbar, he is feeling it. Thought he was coming home to his sister every night this week, only to be disappointed. One thing I do know, though, is that she won’t be staying around here. She’s too restless, and that’s going to break the hearts of her father and her brother. I wouldn’t be surprised if she sneaks off in the middle of the night on a boat to America or something equally dramatic. She’s very like her mother.’

  Teresa removed her hatpin and then the hat itself. ‘I’d say she was more like her father. Wasn’t he the one who went to fight in the war for the sheer adventure of it? No, Mary Kate may look like her mother, with her red hair and her big eyes, but she has Michael’s daredevil nature. Isn’t the sun glorious? ’Tis too hot for a hat.’ She picked up the hat and began to fan her face. ‘Well, it will break Daedio’s heart more than Michael’s if she flits off somewhere,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘’Tis only the poor who emigrate – those with money stay put, and Daedio insists he has money, thanks to his brother, who must have been the hardest-working man in all of New York. They want for nothing up on that hill. Bridget McAndrew was telling me that Mary Kate’s homecoming has given Daedio a new lease of life.’

  Rosie laughed. ‘Well, there’s some good news then, although I’m not sure how Nola will feel about it. I swear to God, he will make it to a hundred and more, that man. Do you fancy coming down to the shop with me for a cup of tea? Peggy will be dying for the company.’ She stepped back into the classroom and then came out again with her basket. ‘I can send a message with the boys for Keeva and Josie to come over and join us, give them an escape from the men. Josie won’t be busy in the butcher’s now.’

  ‘I will, if you will be so kind as to take my other arm. Don’t tell Father I’m struggling on one stick or he’ll pension me off to my sister’s – I’d rather be in my grave.’

  ‘Don’t be talking like that,’ said Rosie. ‘You and Daedio, you’ll be outdoing each other. You know what they say: people live forever in Tarabeg.’

  ‘Well, they used to.’ Teresa squeezed Rosie’s arm. If Sarah Malone had lived forever, Rosie would still be a lonely spinster; that was a fact, and half of the village knew it. Rosie had eyes for no one but Michael, and when Sarah died, she hadn’t let her second chance to capture him pass her by.

  No one was more surprised than Rosie to find Mary Kate in the Malones’ kitchen when they walked through the back door.

  ‘Ah, she’s here at last,’ said Teresa. ‘Would you look at you! Did they stand you in the vegetable patch all day at that school? You’ve grown at least a foot since Easter. How did you learn anything at all?’

  Mary Kate laughed. ‘I’m seventeen now, Aunty Teresa. Rosie, where’s Finn?’

  ‘I would think he’s down at the bridge with Keeva’s boys. Are you home now, Mary Kate?’ Rosie’s voice dropped on the last words; she half dreaded the answer. Michael would be back that night from his buying trip to Dublin and Rosie knew he’d be delighted to find his daughter asleep in her own bed.

  Mary Kate hesitated, but only long enough for Teresa, with the wisdom of advanced age, to notice. ‘I am. I’m home now,’ she said. Even Te
resa didn’t notice the fingers crossed behind her back. ‘I’m away down to the bridge to see the boys. Nice to see you, Aunty Teresa.’ Mary Kate planted a kiss on Teresa’s cheek and ran out of the door.

  ‘Mary Kate!’ Finn saw her coming before she reached the bridge. Leaving the Devlin boys, he ran towards her and threw his arms around her waist. ‘Are you down from the farm, are you staying home?’ He looked up at her, his eyes bright and trusting, and Mary Kate’s heart folded.

  ‘I am for now,’ she said. That wasn’t a lie.

  Finn grinned from ear to ear. Thanks to the Devlin boys across the road, he was never lonely, and one or the other of them slept over at the Malones’ most weekends, but Mary Kate was like a princess to him. He adored the ground she walked on, the only sadness in his life being that she wasn’t as close to Rosie as he was himself. ‘Come to the bridge – we’re throwing sticks to see which survives to the river.’

  Mary Kate had played the same game many times herself at his age. The force of the water rushing down from the mountains destroyed most sticks before they made it across the pebbled bottom of the shallow stretch of river. ‘I’m coming,’ she said, glancing nervously back towards the bar as she stood on the bridge, wondering was Declan good for his promise. She had to speak to him once more before she wrote to Roshine. She was leaving Tarabeg and heading to Bee in Liverpool on Sunday and her source of transport to the train in Galway was Declan Feenan. If it wasn’t, she was well and truly stuck as there was no one else in Tarabeg close enough to her in age that she could trust.

  Declan had seen her through the bar window and ten minutes later he approached the bridge. ‘Hello, grand to see you,’ he said as he raised his cap. He knew that what he had promised to do was madness, that he could lose his job and livelihood if he was caught.

  Mary Kate wasted no words. ‘Are you good for your word, Declan Feenan? Will you still give me a seat in your car to Galway?’ she asked, her eyes full of fear.

  He had meant to persuade her to change her mind, to find another means of transport, to reconsider altogether her plans to leave. She was totally unlike any other girl he had ever met, either from Galway or in the village. Her education gave her an air of confidence and womanliness, and if he was honest with himself, he was scared to say no.

  ‘Of course I am, but what if I get caught, if Rosie finds out? One word from Rosie to Father Jerry and I’m fired.’

  Mary Kate’s face creased into a frown and she placed her hand on his forearm. ‘I have explained this. No one will know – they will never make the connection in a million years, and if neither of us ever says a word to anyone, how can anyone ever find out? If a secret is kept, a secret is safe. ’Tis only when someone is told that it gets out, because a secret will spread faster in this village than the news that Murphy’s pig has escaped again.’

  He wondered at her maturity. ‘How did you ever work that one out,’ he said as he let his breath out in a whistle. ‘’Tis true, but I have to know I can trust you not to tell anyone, Mary Kate. ’Tis my job and my pay. I don’t have another.’

  Mary Kate grinned. ‘Well, I think I should be asking can I trust you not to try and kiss me when we are alone in the car?’

  Declan’s heart began beating against his chest wall with the force of a hammer and his face flushed red hot with embarrassment. ‘Of course you can trust me. I’m ten years older than you, I’m a schoolteacher, I hold a position of trust – what a thing to say.’

  ‘Well then,’ said Mary Kate, ‘if I can trust you, you can trust me.’ She threw her head back and began to laugh, her hair tumbling over her shoulders.

  Declan thought he had never in all his life seen a whiter, prettier throat and he fought back his immediate physical response. He imagined threading his arm around her waist and pulling her into him, kissing that white neck, that freckled nose, those lips. He imagined slipping her dress down from her shoulders, watching her breasts escape the confines of the fabric, and the sense, the feel of her… Swallowing hard, he banished the image from his mind. Mary Kate could trust him not to kiss her on the road to Galway, but only just.

  6

  The Malones spent Saturday evening together at home. Michael had lit a fire to ward off the river mist and they were drinking porter in front of it. Mary Kate was talking to Finn and her father while Rosie sat sewing in Sarah’s rocking chair. A painful memory of her mother sitting there winding woollen skeins to sell in the shop flew into Mary Kate’s mind.

  ‘You could do worse than train to be a teacher like Rosie,’ Michael said.

  ‘Here in Tarabeg, Da?’

  ‘Aye, and why not? Rosie would like nothing better, would you, Rosie?’

  Rosie smiled and said nothing. She didn’t need a crystal ball to see that this was the last thing Mary Kate wanted to do.

  ‘I’ve spent years cooped up in a school, Da, enough to last me for the rest of my life. And besides, I want to see a bit of the world before I settle down. Could there be anything worse than leaving school and going straight back into a classroom?’ Mary Kate scrunched her hands into her long hair and shook her head in frustration. ‘Oh God, what could possibly be worse than that?’

  Rosie blushed; it was exactly what she had done. She was relieved that neither of them seemed to have registered that, but then Michael removed his pipe from his mouth and looked up at her. Rosie gave a very slight shake of her head – ‘don’t bring me into it’ was the clear message – and it seemed Michael had taken that on board. ‘Well, that’s a fine thing to say,’ he responded. ‘What about Mr Feenan?’ Rosie almost flinched. ‘He’s not that old,’ Michael continued, ‘still in his twenties, and he’s well respected around here.’

  By now Mary Kate was playing cards with Finn on the mat in front of the fire. Finn was lying on his belly and Mary Kate was sitting cross-legged in front of the rocking chair. She threw her head back and almost let out a wail. ‘Da, I want to go somewhere and do something else with my life. You gave me an education. It’s a big world out there and I’ve only ever been to Galway and Tarabeg.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know how you’re going to be doing that. You won’t be going anywhere alone. The world is a dangerous place. Jeez, I wouldn’t let you set foot in Dublin alone, and that’s in our own country. Only the poor sail to America, and do you know what they do when they get there? They spend their time writing letters home and crying into their Guinness, that’s what. And in their dying breath, every one of them whispers to the priest the name of their village and the name of their mammy, and that’s the God’s honest truth. Cry for home, they do.’

  Mary Kate leapt up off the floor, threw her arms around her da’s neck and pleaded with him as she laid her head on his shoulder. ‘Da, you did it. You went off to fight in a war on your own and left Mammy to wait for you.’ Her eyes burnt with indignation as they held his.

  ‘That was different, Mary Kate. There was a war to be fought and I’m a man – a young man then. ’Tis different altogether now.’

  Mary Kate knew there was no point arguing, or mentioning Bee. He wouldn’t discuss Bee and Captain Bob in front of Finn and she had heard his objections many times, whenever she brought up the subject of going to Liverpool to visit her aunt. Michael’s answer was always an emphatic, ‘No, you cannot.’ He gave her no explanation, but she had overheard enough conversations to know why. Captain Bob and Bee weren’t married, and whenever their names were mentioned, it was done so in whispers and was followed by the click of the rosaries.

  *

  Declan Feenan had washed out his paintbrush and was resting on the steps of the school when Mary Kate ran up to the gate.

  ‘Are you done?’ she asked. ‘I can’t stop, I’m going up to the farm, but you won’t let me down tonight, will you?’

  Declan removed his cap and wiped his brow. ‘Are you sure?’ He was still hoping she’d rethink her plans.

  ‘I am completely one hundred per cent positive,’ she replied, and every syllable carried the weight
of her conviction. ‘I’ll see you there, as arranged. Leave your car boot unlocked, I’ll try and get some things in earlier.’ And before he could reply, she was gone.

  She spent the rest of Sunday afternoon up at the farm, sitting on the end of Daedio’s bed reading to him. His eyesight had become so bad, he could no longer distinguish the words himself, and she felt a pain in her heart, knowing how much he enjoyed their time together.

  She slammed the covers shut. ‘Daedio, why won’t Daddy let me stay with Aunty Bee in Liverpool?’ He was the only person who would give her an honest answer and he did not let her down.

  ‘They aren’t married, not in the eyes of God, anyway. They’re not man and wife, and that is a terrible sin altogether now. Your father won’t let you stay with them for that reason, although he was no saint himself.’

  Nola was standing at the kitchen table making scones and listening. ‘Aye, but Michael didn’t bring Sarah into this house until they were married, and nor would he have, regardless of the circumstances at the time, which were not easy.’

  She wiped flour from her forehead with the back of her hands and shot Daedio a warning look. No one had ever spoken to Mary Kate about the manner of her grandmother’s death or her murderer of a grandfather, and no one was about to, not if she had anything to do with it. Mary Kate knew nothing of the spell the tinker had cast over her mother when Mary Kate was a babe in her arms. To her, Shona Maughan was just a witch of a tinker who was now too old to travel and lived in her caravan miles away, banished from Tarabeg by Father Jerry. She’d been told nothing, and as far as Nola was concerned, she never would be. There was a reason Michael was so fiercely protective of Mary Kate: who knew where the spell would end? Her mother and maternal grandmother had both gone in tragic circumstances. ‘Least said, soonest mended’ – that’s what Nola had told them all. ‘Say nothing. Let the spell be buried. Sarah would never have wanted her to know.’

  Mary Kate stared down at the crocheted rug that covered Daedio’s legs. She tugged at a loose thread between the stitched-together squares of green and purple and frowned. ‘If I stay here in Tarabeg, I may never see Bee again.’ She lifted her head and looked Daedio in the eye. She wanted him to understand, him of all people, when he heard the news, why it was she had gone.