Her da shook his head. ‘I don’t agree, love. If he’s as stubborn as me, you might wait a long time.’
* * *
Aileen was in the kitchen making a drink and her da was reading his newspaper when Fiona came through from the shop and tapped lightly on the open door. ‘I thought you’d like your post, Mr Maguire.’
He turned and looked over his shoulder. ‘Thanks, Fiona. How’s it going out there?’
‘Busy enough. The liquorice allsorts are running low.’
‘Make a note of it and I’ll be out to relieve you shortly.’ He picked up the post as Aileen walked in balancing a tray of tea and biscuits.
‘I’ve just made tea if you’d like a cup?’ She smiled at the other woman.
‘I’d better not.’ The shop bell chimed, and Fiona gestured with her eyes before hurrying out.
Aileen placed the tray down. ‘They're nearly all for you today, love.’ Aileen sat down to open her cards, but the one she wanted most wasn’t among them. ‘How nice of Val to remember my birthday, Da.’
He nodded then got up and fetched a knife from the kitchen to open his post. His eyes scanned the length of the handwritten letter.
‘My word, Aileen, it’s from Tom.’ He sat down again to read it, his face a mixture of emotions.
Aileen sat next to him. ‘What’s he say, Da?’ She tried to read over his shoulder until he passed it to her. The fact that it was written a day before their birthday and on hospital notepaper did not detract from the beautiful handwriting, or the very formal way in which it was written.
Dear Sir,
17th March, 1967
Forgive me if my approach appears formal, Mr Maguire. As we don’t know each other, it wouldn’t feel right for me to address you any other way. I thank you for your letter and for the information it contained and trust it to be genuine. I apologise for my lack of communication until now.
I expect to be released from the sanatorium in the next few days, and, please can I ask you not to come to see me here. I will be in touch with you again shortly, if for no other reason than curiosity. I want to know my background and how I came to end up in a children’s orphanage.
This is all very strange to me, as I was never told anything about you.
Sincerely,
Tom Miller.
‘Oh, Da. Poor Tom.’ She felt sad for her brother’s life and that he had missed so much of theirs. Her da didn’t speak for several minutes, and she could see he was struggling to put his feelings into words.
‘We’ve made progress, Da.’ She passed back the letter. ‘I can’t wait to see him.’ A tear trickled down her cheek and she dashed it away.
He nodded. ‘He’s ill, Aileen.’ He cleared his throat and folded the letter slowly and put it back in the envelope.
‘What do you suppose is wrong with him?’
‘Could be tuberculosis. He must have been bad to spend time in a sanatorium. If he accepts us, I’ll make sure he never wants for anything; you neither, love. I’ll get him the best care I can afford.’
Aileen placed her hand on his shoulder. ‘We both will. You know, Da, although I feel sad for Tom, this is turning out to be a memorable birthday after all.’
Her da shook his head, and a gentle smile lifted his face. ‘Yes, indeed it is, love.’
Chapter Fifty-Six
Days passed with no word from Dermot, and Aileen convinced herself that their relationship was over. Each time the phone rang out, she rushed to answer it in the hope that it was for her. Each time the post dropped through the letterbox, she scanned it for another letter from Tom. Hopes of seeing her brother took the edge off her longing to hear from Dermot.
During the long evenings, she wondered what he was doing; she found it difficult to accept that maybe she had been wrong in assuming his feelings for her were sincere. If he truly loved her, how could he stay away like this? And if he no longer loved her—the thought pained her more than she could bear—she would have no choice but to find a way of getting on with her life without him. Being open and honest had done nothing but make everyone unhappy. How many people actually managed to keep secrets? Her ma had for eighteen years. Now Aileen wasn’t so sure that honesty was the best policy.
She spent her days cleaning the house and working in the shop when her da needed a break. Talking to and meeting new people, as she served them confectionery, helped her to focus on something other than herself. Locals were forever gossiping and bringing in snippets of interesting news that kept her amused.
One afternoon, Aileen was serving in the shop. She unscrewed the lid from a jar of bonbons and tipped some onto the scales, adding a couple extra for good measure before sliding them into a paper bag. ‘Will that be all?’ she asked the man.
‘No. Gimme four ounces of liquorice allsorts as well.’
Aileen lifted the jar from the shelf. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, we appear to be almost out.’ In the excitement of Tom’s letter, her da must have forgotten to re-order when he went for the Easter eggs.
‘Oh, dear, I can’t go back without the allsorts. They’re the wife’s favourite, and she enjoys them while watching the television.’ He chuckled. ‘I tell yea, since I rented the thing, she’s been glued to it. We watched Cathy Come Home the other night and she cried all the way through it.’ He clicked his tongue. ‘Women.’
Aileen turned the jar sideways. ‘There’s about two ounces left, will that do you?’
‘Grand. And gimme four ounces of treacle toffees and the same of jelly beans.’
Smiling, the man paid and left, leaving Aileen smiling. The rest of the afternoon was busy, and she was glad of the distraction. So when the letterbox rattled, and a customer picked up an envelope and handed it to her, she knew straight away who it was from. With a happy sigh, she placed it underneath the counter to open later.
‘Ah, from your feller, is it, love?’ the woman customer cackled. A typical Dubliner from the liberties, who loved to gossip, she called in every Saturday for pear drops and six ounces of cough and throat tablets. Most of the time, Aileen was happy to chat, but today she couldn’t wait for her to leave.
It wasn’t until her da came through an hour later that she finally got the opportunity. In her desperation to read Dermot’s note, she ripped open the envelope.
It simply said:
Aileen, can we talk? Please phone me. I miss you.
Dermot x
She pondered on the scarceness of his words, but he missed her and sent a kiss. Did that mean he still felt something for her? In the evening, after the shop closed, she lifted the phone and dialled his number.
* * *
Aileen walked through the gates of Stephen’s Green and spotted Dermot walking towards her; her heart raced. It was two weeks since she had last seen him. As he reached her, he took her hand and they walked a few steps in silence before sitting on one of the wooden benches.
‘I’ve missed you so much.’
‘Me, too.’ She stifled a sob.
‘I’m sorry I was such an idiot. Can you forgive me? I love you, and my life means nothing without you.’
Aileen wept softly. ‘I love you, too.’ He drew her close, and she placed her head on his shoulder. It felt so good to be here with Dermot again; she couldn’t speak.
‘Aileen, I should never have… I mean, I knew there’d be other admirers, and in my heart, I knew you would never… I don’t know what possessed me. Please say you forgive me for doubting you?’ He drew breath. ‘If you agree to marry me, I promise never to mistrust you again. If you refuse,’ he paused, ‘I shall remain a bachelor for the rest of my life.’
‘Oh, Dermot.’ Aileen straightened up and blew her nose. ‘What changed your mind?’
‘I was wrong to react in the way that I did. I felt consumed by jealousy.’ He sighed. There was no doubt in her mind that his words were sincere. But all she wanted to do now was to forget the whole sorry episode.
‘Aileen, tell me what you’re thinking?’ He looked into her eyes
and took hold of her hand. ‘Am I forgiven?’
‘What do you think, you daft hapeworth?’ It was a phrase she had picked up in Birmingham. He gave her a puzzled look and pulled her to him, then he reached into his pocket and presented her with her engagement ring. As he placed it on her finger, sheer happiness made her cry. They had a lot of making up to do, as well as plans to make for their future, and it was getting dark as they left the park.
‘I’ve no doubt that we love each other, Aileen, but can I ask you just one thing?’
She frowned. ‘You can ask me anything!’
‘Should I feel threatened in any way by this other man?’
She shook her head and swallowed. ‘He’s dead.’
Dermot’s face paled with shock. ‘Jesus Christ, Aileen. How did it happen?’
‘Before you ask, it had nothing to do with me.’ She sighed. ‘Sure, if you take me to the pub, I’ll tell you everything.’
‘I don’t need to know. It won’t make any difference, honest.’
‘I think you do, so we can put it to rest. I don’t want us to have any secrets from each other ever again.’
It was much later, over a pint of Guinness, that Dermot finally heard the whole story. Visibly shocked, it was moments before he spoke. He lowered his head into his hands and Aileen held her breath. When he glanced up, his arm went around her. ‘My God, Aileen, I’ve been a stupid idiot!’
‘So was I, but it’s all right, Dermot. It’s in the past.’
‘I should have been supporting you, and I pushed you away. Darling Aileen, I don’t deserve you.’
‘Yes, you do. Can we close the door on that now and never mention it again?’
When Dermot finally walked Aileen home, it was getting on for midnight. With the man she loved back in her life, she felt happier than she had in months. If she could just have her brother in her life, her happiness would be complete.
* * *
Aileen’s da was delighted to hear of the young couple’s engagement. ‘How long before the big day then?’
‘We thought eighteen months, Da. Just before my twenty-first birthday. Dermot has saved a down payment on a house. They’re building new houses about ten or so miles from here, on the east coast.’
‘They’ll be pricey. You don’t want to stretch yourselves.’ He smiled. ‘But I guess you can’t go wrong in bricks and mortar.’ She leant in and hugged him.
‘Are you planning to go on working after you’re wed?’
‘Yes, we don’t want to start a family straight away.’
He nodded. ‘I take it you won’t be returning to Birmingham?’
Aileen laughed. ‘What do you think?’
‘Good. There’s something I have to do in the morning. Can you look after the shop?’
‘Sure.’ She removed her coat and hung it up on the peg. ‘Is everything okay, Da?’
He got to his feet. ‘Never better, love.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘I’ll head up now.’ He placed the shop keys on the mantle. ‘Just in case I’ve left before you surface.’
Aileen was looking forward to spending time in the shop, yet she couldn’t help wondering why her da hadn’t said where he was going. Surely if he had heard from Tom he’d have said. A knot of uncertainty clenched her stomach.
* * *
It was lunchtime before he returned. He wore a serious expression as he walked through the shop wearing his business suit, overcoat, and trilby hat. ‘Close up, love. I want to talk to you.’
Aileen’s heart somersaulted. What was this all about? She followed him through and was about to switch on the kettle. ‘Don’t bother with that for now, love. Sit down.’
She perched on a chair. ‘What is it, Da? You have me worried. Are you ill?’
He laughed. ‘No, it’s nothing like that. It’s good news. Well, I hope it will be.’
Aileen’s eyes brightened. She placed her hands on the table. ‘You’ve found Tom?’
His face clouded. He removed his hat and placed his coat over the chair and sat down. ‘No. I’ve heard nothing more. And, before I get carried away, are you planning on working at the butcher’s after you marry Dermot?’
She brushed back strands of her hair. ‘What a terrible prospect. Whatever gives you that idea?’
‘Well, it’s a family business. Are you sure Dermot won’t ask you to?’
Aileen laughed. ‘Are you joking, Da? Dermot knows me better than that. Why are you asking?’
He stood up and cleared his throat, his hands clasped behind his back. ‘I’ve taken the lease on a small shop on George’s Street.’
Aileen’s eyes widened, and she sat back in the chair. ‘And I want you to take it over; run it, like.’ He smiled. ‘What do you say?’
Tears brimmed in her eyes. ‘Oh, Da. That’s wonderful. Are you sure?’
He nodded. Aileen jumped up and kissed his cheek, inhaling the familiar smell of his shaving cream. ‘What sort of business do you want it to be?’
‘It can be whatever you want. It’s completely empty. I don’t have access to upstairs, but there’s a small yard out back.’
‘Really!’ Bubbling with excitement, she said, ‘When can I go and see it?’
‘I’ve already done the deal and have the keys here.’ He dropped them into her lap. ‘You have a good head on your shoulders, Aileen. I’ve paid the first year’s lease. What happens after that is up to you.’
She pulled on her coat.
‘Before you dash off, love. It’ll need a lick of paint and a good scrub out before you can put stock in. Of course, I’ll help you get started.’
She lifted her hand and brushed a few tears from her cheeks. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘You don’t need to say anything. I’ll be interested to see what you make of it. Here’s the address.’
* * *
Aileen stood in the empty shop, then she swung round to take in every inch of the place. She ran her hand along the dusty shelves and the glass top counter, and wondered how long the place had been idle. But she didn’t care. It was hers now, thanks to her da. He had more than made up for his behaviour after her ma died. It made her wonder if he regretted letting the haberdashery go, and how he might react if she suggested what was going on in her brain.
Casting her mind back, she vaguely recalled that there had once been a jeweller’s here; she remembered passing it many times. A small room at the back of the shop led out into the yard where weeds and dandelions had begun to sprout up between the concrete paving. There was also a useful wooden shed against the back wall.
Excitement almost made her dizzy, and she couldn’t wait to show it to Dermot. He would help her to get it smartened up and then she could start with a small amount of stock. With all kinds of plans swirling around in her head, she locked the shop and glanced upwards. The name of the jeweller had worn off, and the front of the shop was in need of a coat of paint.
As she walked back home, she thought about Tom and wished he would get back in touch.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
When Aileen showed Dermot the shop, he was impressed. ‘So, you’re going to be a businesswoman? I’m pleased for you. What are you going to trade in?’
‘Well, I’m not sure.’ She looked pensive. ‘I have mixed feeling about it.’ She glanced around the empty shop. ‘You remember how upset I was when da sold the haberdashery.’
He nodded.
‘I wish I knew what Ma would want me to do. I want her to be proud of me.’
‘Sure, she is. Look, don’t think I’m interfering, but bear in mind the reason your da sold up in the first place, Aileen.’
‘That’s nonsense, Dermot. Da just lost interest. I think he secretly wants me to open one again.’
‘Just don’t rush into anything.’ He put his arm around her shoulder. ‘Whatever you decide, I know you’ll make a success of it.’ His words brought the smile back to her face. ‘Let’s go somewhere and celebrate.’
Arm-in-arm they walked towards the ci
ty. ‘You know, they say that good things come in threes. Here’s the second. I’ve been making enquiries about those new houses and arranged for us to look at one of the show homes at the weekend. If you like the show house, we can even look at the plans. A small deposit secures a plot. Then we could watch our house going up brick by brick.’
She paused. ‘Oh, Dermot. Sure that’s grand.’ She kissed his cheek. ‘I love you, Dermot Brogan. I’m so happy I’m frightened something will go wrong.’
‘Nothing is going to go wrong, or stop us feeling happy.’ He placed his arm around her waist, and she laid her head on his shoulder. ‘Now stop worrying, and give your future husband a kiss.’
* * *
After a chat with her father, Aileen found herself facing a bout of indecision. She conceded that small drapery shops were slowly going out of fashion; many department stores provided the needs of the majority. Her head swirled with possibilities and the idea of opening a wool and baby shop interested her. The outlay would certainly be less.
The following week passed in a whirl of excitement as Aileen’s da and Dermot helped her to clean and paint the premises inside and out.
‘So, a wool and baby shop it is.’ Her da stepped down from the ladder, his dungarees spotted with blue and pink paint. ‘It should do well along here. I’ll take you with me to the wholesalers next week, and you can start stocking up.’
‘Thanks, Da. I’ll work hard and repay you every penny. Would you mind if I put my name above the door?’
‘Well, “Aileen’s” sounds grand enough to me. Dermot’s doing a great job painting the outside, and a cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss. Did you remember to bring the kettle?’
* * *
A week after Easter, Aileen’s shop was up and running. She stocked every shade of yarn, knitting and crochet patterns, books on needlework and crafts, and knitting pins of every size to satisfy the fussiest of customers. She also stocked baby layettes, nylons, and small household articles that women liked to buy. It was early days, and she wasn’t going to take anything for granted. Every day she noted what sold and what didn’t do so well. She even stayed open until six to catch the workers on their way home from the city.
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