A Letter From America

by Geraldine O'Neill

  “Would you be better with your cardigan on? That big hallway is bound to be cold now.”

  “I’m fine,” Angela repeated. “If you wouldn’t mind putting some of your cakes on the cake-stand, that would be great.”

  “Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do?”

  “Nothing, thanks. It’s all done.”

  As she closed the door behind her, she heard her mother sighing and then saying in a low voice, “I don’t know why she never lets me help – why she’s always got to be so independent.”

  Angel could feel tears stinging her eyes as she limped back down to the kitchen. What else could she have done other than become independent? All the years of being left amongst strangers in a hospital in Dublin, miles away from her parents and her sisters. What was she supposed to have done? Curl up in the bed with the covers over her head and wait until it was time to go home again?

  And going home was not the answer she always hoped it would be. Year after year of travelling back to Tullamore at Christmas and Easter and the summer, hoping that during one of the visits she would feel closer to her mother – as close to her as Fiona and Bridget obviously felt. Waiting for her mother to say something nice and understanding, that would change the way things were between them. Make up for all that had been lacking. But it never happened.

  Her mother still didn’t know what to say. Her mother didn’t even know that there was something she should have said.

  Chapter 4

  Fiona knew there was something wrong when her parents returned from Dublin just after seven o’clock that night. Her mother was pale and quiet as she took her hat and coat off and hung them in the hallway. Her father didn’t seem right either. His face had a tight, reddish look about it, and Fiona thought that he seemed sort of agitated, which was unlike him. She also noticed that they didn’t seem to look at each other when they spoke. She almost asked them if there was anything wrong and then thought better of it. They had obviously had a row and, from the way they were acting, they thought it had nothing to do with her.

  They went into the parlour to sit in armchairs opposite each other by the fire which again was unusual, as they usually sat in the kitchen where the television and radio was. Although Mary Ellen kept a fire on in it every day to keep it from going damp, the parlour was mainly used for visitors or for quiet things like reading or writing letters. The fact that they were sitting in the parlour informed Fiona that they wanted to talk in private.

  She followed them in, trying to act as though all was normal. “Do you want anything to eat?” she asked. As she looked from one to the other, she noticed that they both looked tired and somehow older than they had over the few weeks of Christmas. She wondered if the change in them might be anything to do with her going to New York – if they both had suddenly realised that they would now be living on their own, with all their children gone. A little knot came into her chest. They had never given any indication that they were very upset about her going. They had of course said they would miss her, but they had been encouraging in their own ways. If their sombre mood was anything to do with her departure, it was too late.

  “There’s some of the cooked ham there and some cold potatoes I could fry,” she said. “I was going to make something for myself so it’s no trouble.”

  Her mother shook her head. “No thanks – just see to yourself.”

  Her father didn’t even look up at her. “I couldn’t eat a bite,” he said.

  Fiona couldn’t remember the last time he had said that. He was almost always in good humour, and his appetite rarely wavered unless he was sick.

  “Well, I’ll make you a cup of tea then,” she said. “You’re bound to be tired after the driving up and down to Dublin. An early night might do both of you good.”

  Her father looked up at Fiona. “I’m going to walk down to the bar.”

  Nance Tracey’s eyes widened. “But you were to have the night off –”

  “I’m grand,” Seán said. “I’ve been sitting around for hours, so it’ll do me good to be on my feet for a bit.”

  “Please yourself.” Her tone was curt.

  “I’ll go and make the tea,” Fiona said, quietly closing the door.

  When she came back along the hallway with the tray she could hear their voices raised and tense, although she couldn’t hear what they were talking or arguing about. She put the tray with her mother’s china cup and saucer and her father’s mug down on the hall table and stood waiting for things to quieten before going in.

  Then, she suddenly heard her father’s raised voice quite clearly saying, “I’ve told you what to do about Catherine and Joseph, but you won’t listen! You have the chance now to right things, and I think you should for everyone’s sake.”

  “You know well it’s not that simple.” Her mother’s voice was strained and angry. “Catherine suited herself all those years ago and didn’t take my feelings into account. It was her decision to cut us out, and we don’t know how things could turn out if we get involved –”

  “It’s going to be taken out of our hands if we don’t do something,” Seán Tracey said. “And it’s not Catherine’s fault and it’s not Joseph’s fault.”

  “It’s my fault,” her mother said. “That’s what you’re saying. You’re saying it’s all my fault.”

  “I’ve never said that,” her father replied. “Never once have I blamed you for anything. It’s just the way things have turned out, and we need to make the best of it.” He paused. “If it is anyone’s fault, it’s that amadán of a husband of Catherine’s – Kenneth Fox – the stupid bastard. He’s the one who stirred things up before he went off back to England.”

  Fiona’s throat tightened. She now knew the argument wasn’t anything to do with her, but the small sense of relief was overshadowed by the animosity between her parents. She had rarely heard her father curse in anger, and it was an even rarer occurrence in her mother’s presence. He only used bad language when he was watching a match or when he was reporting a funny story where the cursing was part of it.

  “There’s nothing can be done about Kenneth Fox now. It’s Catherine’s attitude that I’m more concerned about –”

  “Well, just let it rest for tonight, Nance.” Seán’s voice was low and weary now. “That’s all I’m asking. The whole thing is giving me a pain in my chest.”

  “Well, it’s giving us both pains,” Fiona heard her mother counter. “I’ve had a pain in my head the whole evening.”

  Their voices became too low for Fiona to hear anything more, which she was thankful for. This was not something that she wanted to overhear. It was very different from the snatches of conversations that would drift along the hallway or spiral upstairs to her bedroom at this time of night. Usually, it was relaxed chat and occasional laughter about their day in the shop and bar. Mundane talk about familiar, trivial issues that made her somehow feel safe.

  She had no idea what had brought about the change in atmosphere tonight. But, it was clear that there was a serious disagreement between her mother and father, and that her Aunt Catherine and Uncle Kenneth had something to do with it.

  She did not want to know what it was about – she just wanted it all to go away. For her parents to sort it out quietly between themselves without involving her. She had enough of her own problems to think about, what with going away. She still felt awkward being asked by friends and customers how Paul Moore felt about her leaving. She wanted to be gone now and living and working in an exciting and anonymous place where nobody knew her.

  She carried the tray back to the kitchen, and emptied the tea down the white stone sink. She boiled the kettle again and made fresh tea. From the cupboard she took a packet of her father’s favourite Kimberley biscuits, and then put the lot on the tray. Warily, she then went back up the hallway to the parlour again.

  She listened as she went along, and then, feeling confident that the major conflict had died down, she knocked on the door and went in.

  N
either looked directly at her as she handed them the tea, but they both thanked her and she could tell that things were easier. She felt that a truce had been reached. Exactly how and in what way she did not know, but as long as things had returned to normal before she left for America, she would be relieved.

  Chapter 5

  Angela sat flicking through one of the magazines her mother had brought for her, but she found it hard to concentrate. She had tried knitting too – a cream short-sleeved jumper with a lace panel down the middle – but she could not keep her mind on it and had made several mistakes. She kept wondering how her parents’ visit to her aunt had gone.

  Just after eight o’clock she decided she would go out to the phone box and give her aunt a quick ring. A heavy frost had settled, so she put on a warm sweater over her blouse and then her coat, hat and gloves. She then went to the little dish on her dressing-table where she saved coins for the phone box, lifted a handful and put them in her pocket. She took her walking stick with her as well, as it served two purposes at night. It helped steady her walk on the slippery footpath, but it was also handy to have with her should she find herself accosted by a drunk or someone who could try to steal any money she might be carrying.

  The girls in the house were constantly warned by Sister Gerard Majella – the nun who kept an eye on the house – that these things did on occasion occur in Dublin, and to be vigilant when out at night. Angela had never encountered any serious situations herself, although she had often received unwanted attention from men when she was out with the other girls. She knew her looks attracted them, but when they realised she had a problem with her leg, most would look elsewhere.

  But, there were certain types to whom her disability was not a problem, and who felt that she was more likely to be grateful for their attentions. They were also the type who would pester her, but she had grown used to it over the years, both in Dublin and back in Tullamore, and knew she was perfectly capable of handling them with a withering look or a smart remark.

  As she walked along the street to the top of the road, she thought it was a lovely bright night even though the air was icy cold. When she reached the phone box she was glad of the shelter, although she hated the musty smell of old cigarettes and the suspicious damp patches on the floor. She took her glove off and dialled her aunt’s number. The phone rang a good few times, and she was just about to hang up when the phone was answered.

  “Hello, Aunt Catherine. I just thought I’d give a quick ring to see how you and Joseph were getting on.”

  “Oh, hello, Angela...I wasn’t expecting to hear from you tonight.”

  She thought her aunt’s voice sounded different, kind of hoarse. “Are you okay?” she asked. “Have you a bit of a cold?”

  There was a silence. “I’m sorry, Angela,” her aunt said, “but I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bad time...”

  “Will I leave it and ring back tomorrow from the office?”

  “No, no...look, to tell you the truth, I’m a bit upset...”

  Angela could hear quite clearly now that her aunt was actually crying. “Are you okay? Has something happened?”

  “I don’t want to involve you, it’s not fair...”

  “Was it the visit? Has my mother said something to upset you?”

  “Oh, it’s my own stupid fault for thinking they might help Joseph out. I don’t know why I bothered asking, I should have known.”

  “What is it?” Angela said. “You might feel better talking to somebody about it, and I promise I won’t say a word to my mother or anyone else at home. If it would help, I could walk up and catch the bus out to Lucan. I could be there with you in half an hour.”

  “Not at all. It’s too late and too dark for you to be travelling about on buses. And I wouldn’t dream of bringing you out here on a freezing cold night like this.” She halted. “Look, I’ll tell you, because I know you’ll only worry, but make sure you don’t breathe a word to anyone...”

  “I’m listening,” Angela said, “and I’ve plenty of coins on me, so don’t worry if the pips start to go.”

  “Do you remember me saying that Joseph left the showband he was playing with and had moved to one of these rock bands?”

  “Yes,” Angela said, “he told me about it himself.” Joseph had told her they were getting very popular and had even been the opening act for a recent Rory Gallagher concert.

  “Well, however popular they are, they’re not doing him any good,” her aunt said, “and he’s landed himself in trouble at work. He’s been out too late at night practising and drinking, and he already had a couple of warnings in the shop for coming in late and missing odd days.”

  Joseph worked in the men’s clothing department of a big store in Grafton Street.

  “I didn’t know that,” Angela said. “But I suppose these musical things go on late at night, especially in Dublin.”

  “Well, he’s had one too many late nights and they’ve sacked him.”

  “Oh, God. I didn’t realise it was that serious. What’s he going to do?”

  “That’s the trouble, he doesn’t know what he wants to do. The other thing is that the band has just broken up this weekend.” Her aunt’s voice dropped now. “Seemingly, the main lad in the band – the singer – has got into trouble with the Guards and he’s skipped off to England.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Oh, Angela, it’s worrying me sick...it was drugs.”

  Angela’s mouth opened in shock and she was glad her aunt could not see her reaction. Drugs were the last thing any family wanted to be involved with.

  “It seems,” her aunt said, “that some other lads were bringing these drugs over from London and selling them at the concerts. Don’t ask me what kind they were or anything, but it must be serious if the Guards were involved and he’s skipped off.”

  “It certainly sounds serious,” Angela said.

  “Joseph has promised me that he would never take drugs, that he’s happy enough with a few pints, but how do I know that he won’t be dragged into it? You read about it in the papers, and hear it on the news.” She started to cry again. “I’m not up to dealing with this on my own, Angela. I’m worried sick about him.”

  “Don’t get yourself into a state about it,” Angela said. “Joseph isn’t stupid. It’s the music he likes, he always has. And up until now, he’s been a great worker. They were talking about sending him on a management course. It’s obviously the mixture of late nights and early mornings that’s causing him a problem. Now that the band is broken up he might look for something else.”

  The pips suddenly sounded on the phone.

  “Hold on,” Angela said, “I won’t be a minute...” She quickly dipped into her pocket for another coin to push into the slot. “Are you still there?”

  “I am,” her aunt said. “I was just saying that I think Dublin is not the place for him at the minute. I think that, as long as he’s here, he’s going to be mixing with that same crowd and God knows where it might lead. I know he’s not a bad fellow in any way, everyone says what a cheery fellow he is, and he’s got a big heart when it comes to helping anyone else.”

  “We all know that,” Angela said.

  Her aunt sighed. “But, you know, since his father left, he’s gone into himself...it really hit him. You would think at nearly twenty-seven years old it wouldn’t bother him, but it does. He took it very bad.” She halted. “That’s what makes me worry about him drinking too much, or being around people that are taking drugs. It had been on my mind all day today, worrying about him finding work. So, when your mother and father were here this evening, I asked your father if he might take him on down in the pub in Tullamore for a few months. Just to get him away from here. I thought he might learn the pub trade and it would give him experience for another job. ”

  “What did Daddy say?”

  “Oh, he was all for it,” Aunt Catherine said. “He said he was very fond of Joseph and that he thought he had the right personality and eve
rything to make a good barman.”

  “He has. Joseph would liven up the place, and I bet there would be a few more female faces in the snug if he was working in it.” Tracey’s bar had a small secluded side-room – known as a ‘snug’ – which had its own access to the bar. It was particularly popular with patrons who preferred not to be seen in the public bar, especially ladies who felt their presence would be frowned upon.

  “Well, it’s not going to happen, Angela, because the minute she heard it, your mother stood up and said they had to go. I could tell by her face she wasn’t a bit happy, so I asked her what she thought about Joseph working in the pub and she said they would need to think about it. She was putting her coat and gloves on at this point, so I said I would be grateful if they would think about it, as Joseph is her only nephew.”

  “And did Daddy say any more?” Angela asked.

  “Not really, but I could see by your father’s face he didn’t agree with her, and I heard them arguing as they went out to the car.”

  “Well, don’t take it personally. My mother can be very awkward.” Angela said. “And there has always been a cold streak in her. I’m not saying she hasn’t got a good side to her as well, because she has – but there are times when she just isn’t the nicest. There’s nobody knows that more than me.”

  “Oh, Angela, I don’t want to cause any kind of friction between you and your mother. I’m sure she thinks the world of you...” She halted. “I know you’ve had your own difficulties with her but, believe you me, there’s no point in looking back. It doesn’t do you any good.”

  “Most of the time I don’t look back,” Angela said, “but there are times when it’s very hard not to.”

  “Your mother and I have had our ups and downs too as sisters – but it’s all a long time ago and I think you have to put arguments behind you. Forgive and forget. Your mother needs to think of that when I’m asking for help for Joseph for the very first time.”