Playing With Fire

by Mary Larkin

  Having caught a glimpse of a pair of fur-lined boots in the window of the shoe shop on her way home from work, she now wanted a closer look. If they had thick soles and weren’t too expensive she intended treating herself. At first she thought they had gone, but sighed with relief when she saw they had merely been moved to a higher place on the display shelves. To her great joy she discovered they had also acquired a ‘Sale’ tag and were a bargain. Tomorrow she would nip out and, if they had her size, she would buy them during her brief lunch break, before they were snapped up.

  Pleased with herself, she crossed the main road and carefully climbed the few steps to High Row, pausing on the way for a closer look at Joseph Pease and reading the four bronze plaques around the plinth at the base of the monument. These illustrated important episodes in the great man’s illustrious career: politics, education and involvement in the railways. On High Row itself, the shops were also trying to outdo each other in their Christmas displays. Suddenly struck by thoughts of home, Susan was overwhelmed by the memory of the decorations that would be lighting up Belfast city centre. The usual giant Christmas tree outside the city hall would be decorated and ablaze with hundreds of colourful lights, and Royal Avenue would be a sight to behold. Every year she and Alison went down town just to see the wonder of the lights being switched on. She supposed Graham had accompanied her sister this year. Discovering tears trickling down her cheeks, she brushed them away with a swipe of her hand. It was senseless moping over the past. If she could arrange it, this would be her home from now on.

  Her mother had been astounded when Susan had told her she would not be home for Christmas. Angrily brushing aside her excuses, Rachel had demanded to know how she could put Edith before her own family, especially at this time of year. Susan was ashamed to use her cousin Jack’s absence from home and her aunt’s unhappiness as an excuse to stay here. God forgive her, she was building a web of lies and deceit that might one day strangle her.

  Determinedly pushing all worries to the back of her mind, she paused at the bottom of Post House Wynd and glanced across to survey her place of employment, the indoor market. Dwarfed at one end by the magnificent town clock, which had also been donated by that generous man, Joseph Pease, the market stretched the length of West Row and was embraced at the other end by the town hall on Horsemarket. All looked splendid in their Christmas finery. Continuing on along High Row, she paused between shops to peer up into Buckton’s Yard, Clark’s Yard and the Mechanic Institute Yard. All these intriguing, quaint little entries contained a conglomeration of small shops, which she had as yet to explore. It would be something to do after Christmas when she had more time to herself. Who knew what treasures of the past she would find there? This must be how children felt as they anticipated Christmas, she thought, and promised herself that one day in the not too distant future she would explore all these intriguing yards.

  She was gazing into Binns’ store window when a voice close at hand startled her.

  ‘What has you out so early? Could you not sleep?’ Donald Murphy teased. ‘Perhaps a guilty conscience?’

  Startled, she spun round and gazed up into his dark, brooding face, lightened slightly by the hint of a smile. A fine dusting of snow covered his thick, dark hair and clung to the edge of long eyelashes. ‘You frightened the life out of me, Donald Murphy! Creeping up on me like that.’

  ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you. It’s the snow muffling my footsteps. Normally you would hear me a mile off. And you haven’t answered my question,’ he insisted. He had been admiring the figure in the bright-red coat and knee-length white patent boots and was surprised to discover it was Susan. Why, she was lovely! How come he hadn’t noticed earlier? Margaret McGivern must have dulled all his senses towards women. How he missed Margaret! He must have neglected her, for her to turn to Jack Devine like that. He wished he could turn back the clock, but it was too late now. However, this girl exuded sensuality. How come he hadn’t noticed before? The white fur snood that Susan wore showed off to perfection her pink-and-white porcelain complexion, which glowed with health. Big, smoky-grey eyes, fringed with long, thick lashes, gazed at him from under exquisitely curved black brows, and her soft, sensuous lips were pink and enticing.

  Aware of his admiring scrutiny, Susan blushed. What was he playing at? she thought angrily. Anyone would think he was seeing her for the first time! A pink tide of colour rose from neck to hairline, making him aware that he was staring. He apologised at once. ‘Sorry for gawking, but I suppose you already know how pretty you are. Mm?’ A light laugh accompanied the words and her embarrassment deepened. Taking pity on her, he let her off the hook by returning to his former question. ‘Well . . . what are you doing out so early on this marvellous Sunday morning?’

  Still acutely embarrassed by his admiration, she retorted, ‘I could ask you the same question. What brings you out so early on a Sunday morning?’

  ‘I’m on my way to Mass in St Augustine’s.’

  ‘Oh, sorry, I never thought of that. Well, I’m ashamed to admit that I’m not as clean-living as you. I’m just window shopping. I don’t get a chance during the week.’ She tilted her head and gazed up at him. ‘I’m working now, in case you don’t know.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, Vera Crabtree - you know, she has the stall next to Aunt Edith’s in the market - has taken me on to help during the Christmas rush. That’s why I’m window shopping. This way I’ll know just where to go when I do get a few free minutes.’

  ‘I know Vera. She’s a very nice woman.’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more. She’s so easy to get on with.’

  When Susan moved off, Donald fell into step beside her and, after a short silence, asked diffidently, ‘Is Jack coming home for Christmas?’

  ‘Not that I know of. Aunt Edith got a letter from him on Wednesday and he told her that Margaret’s pregnant.’ She watched him from under lowered lashes and felt heart-sore when she saw the raw misery etched on his face. It was obvious he still loved the girl. She could certainly appreciate how he felt. To lose the one you love and then hear she was expecting your best friend’s child must be a traumatic feeling. It made everything so final.

  He sighed. ‘I suppose it’s only to be expected. Are they married?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know very much about them. It pains Billy to hear Edith talking about Jack, so I just mind my own business. I don’t want to upset them by asking embarrassing questions.’ She and Donald had met a few times and indulged in casual conversation since her arrival here, but so far she had not ventured to mention Jack and Margaret. Now she said hesitantly, ‘I’m so sorry about what happened, Donald. You and Jack were such good friends. It must have been an awful experience for you.’

  He shrugged. ‘Ah, it was! But it’s all water under the bridge now.’

  ‘Aunt Edith and Uncle Billy are heartbroken, you know. They not only lost a son, but a very good friend. Do you not think you should bury the hatchet?’

  ‘That’s easier said than done. They must have known. Everybody else did.’ His face tightened and his voice thickened. ‘They must all have had a good laugh up their sleeves at my expense.’

  ‘I’m sure no one was laughing at you,’ she said softly.

  ‘Edith could have dropped me a hint, and perhaps things would have turned out differently. But then, it was their Jack who was the culprit. In their eyes he can do no wrong.’

  ‘They honestly didn’t know. It came as a terrible shock to them. Edith told me that Billy said some terrible things to Jack, and now he fears he will never see him again. They’re hoping desperately that he will come home for at least a few days at Christmas. I feel guilty as hell, because I know how much they want him to come but I hope he doesn’t.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  She laughed. ‘Oh, all self-interest, I’m afraid. I’m occupying his room at the moment. I don’t know where I’ll end up if he comes home.’

  ‘You don’t intend going home to I
reland for Christmas, then?’

  ‘No.’>

  Her tone and attitude should have warned him off, but he persisted. ‘I hear you’re married. What about your husband? Will he not expect you home?’

  Her lips tightened. She had not wanted to pretend she was married, but Edith had produced a wedding ring that had belonged to Billy’s mother and suggested that Susan wear it, saying there was no need for people to know her business. Thinking that perhaps, when she started to show, her condition might prove embarrassing to Edith and Billy and not wanting to bite the hand that fed her, Susan had agreed to wear the ring. However, the deceit bothered her.

  ‘No!’ Her voice was curt, her face closed. ‘He won’t be expecting me! And, if you don’t mind, I don’t want to talk about it.’

  Donald longed to question her further; to find out how one so young and beautiful could already be separated from her husband. The man must be a fool. But in view of her attitude he decided to hold his tongue; at least for the time being! They had reached the corner where High Row meets Blackwellgate.

  ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosy back there. Look, I’d better not dally. I don’t want to be late for Mass.’

  Looking around her, the only spire that Susan could see was the one to the right of the three big coolers of the power station that dominated the skyline. This spire she knew belonged to St Cuthbert’s Church, rising as it did beyond the roof of the market. ‘Where is this St Augustine’s Church, then?’

  Donald smiled at her bewilderment and pointed ahead. ‘Just up there on the right.’ Impulsively he added, ‘Come with me and see for yourself. It’s a beautiful old church. Well worth a visit.’

  She laughed aloud. ‘I’m not a Catholic.’

  ‘Oh . . . I thought you were. I saw you at St William’s last Sunday with Edith and Billy.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I’m not Catholic.’

  ‘Come on, coax yourself. You’ll love it.’

  Still she hesitated. ‘Tell you what. I’ll come with you and pray that you will in the near future make your peace with Aunt Edith and Uncle Billy. What’s the chances of that happening?’

  For the first time since her meeting with him outside the phone box, she saw a real smile light up his face, dispelling the dour look and making it rugged and quite handsome. ‘I think the chances are very good.’

  ‘You’re on then.’

  Happily she walked beside him, unable to hide the smug look on her face. Edith and Billy would be very pleased. She was so lost in thought that it came as a surprise when Donald suddenly stopped at a wrought-iron gate. It divided a row of houses and a great big detached house on the corner of Larchfield Street.

  He laughed as she glanced around in obvious surprise. ‘We’re nearly there.’

  He ushered her through the gate and she could see by the trampled snow that others had been here before them. At the end of the narrow entry she saw St Augustine’s Church for the first time. She was mesmerised at how a church so near the main thoroughfare could be completely hidden from view. When they left the short entry, on their right beyond a snow-covered lawn a sprawling building was obviously the parochial house. Donald soon confirmed her suspicions and said that the building now on their left was the junior school, the main entrance to it being in Larchfield Street.

  The church itself was very old. They entered the porch and she watched as he dipped his fingers into the font of holy water and crossed himself. Nodding to stairs to the left of the door, she asked where they went and was informed that they led to a balcony along the back of the church, where the organ was and the choir gathered to sing the hymns. Donald pushed open the heavy inner door and ushered her through.

  She paused inside and gazed around her in wonder. ‘It’s lovely,’ she whispered and without any prompting from him made her way up the church, admiring the beautiful stained-glass windows on either side, as she went. She sat in a pew near the front and took in the intricate detail of the three altars. It must have taken years to perfect.

  They were early, but soon the church filled up and the altar boys, followed by the priest, came through a door to the right of the altar and Mass began.

  Susan found herself kneeling when Donald knelt and, as there was no choir at this early Mass, singing the hymns from the hymn book. As she participated in the solemn service, peace settled on her heart and she felt that things would surely work out for her.

  The service proved all too short and soon they were on their way back through the town. The return journey showed how the beauty of the snow had already been impaired as people went about their business this lovely winter’s morning. At the corner of Skinnergate Susan indicated that she was going in that direction to continue her window shopping.

  Catching sight of the Pali sign up on the left-hand side of Grange Road, he was struck by a thought. Dare he? Would she go on a date with him? She could only say no.

  To Susan’s surprise, with a nod of the head across the road, he asked tentatively, ‘I wonder . . . would you like to come to a dance with me at the Pali next Saturday night?’

  She had heard of the Pali. It was a very popular dance hall. Her heart missed a beat. Go to a dance? How she wished she could. ‘I’m sorry . . .’

  ‘Look,’ he interrupted hastily. ‘I know you’re married, and you know I don’t want to get involved, otherwise I wouldn’t dare ask. We understand each other. Can’t we be mates? Enjoy a night out together?’

  She pondered for a moment. He didn’t know, of course, but it was the thought of her condition that was causing her to hesitate. She came to a decision. She wasn’t showing yet, so why not? God knows when she would ever get the chance to go to a dance again. She could wear a loose top; hide her slight bump. Before she could change her mind she said, ‘I’d love to.’

  Again a smile transformed his face. ‘Great! I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty then. It will give me a chance to bury the hatchet with Edith and Billy.’

  He was gone before she could express her delight.

  The news that Susan would not be home for Christmas enraged Trevor Cummings. He glared at his wife as she read extracts from the letter in her hand. ‘Just who the hell does she think she is? What must that big galoot Billy Devine think of us, that our daughter prefers their company to ours at this important time? You write and tell her that if she doesn’t come home now, she won’t be welcome here ever again.’

  ‘You don’t mean that, Trevor.’

  ‘Oh, but I do, Rachel. I mean every word I say, so you be sure to tell her that.’

  ‘Dad, she might have a very good reason for staying in Darlington. Perhaps she has fallen in love with someone. ’ Alison was trying to keep the peace, but her father rounded on her in anger.

  ‘If that’s the case, she can stay over there! She won’t be welcome here any more, the way she’s carrying on.’

  A worried look passed between mother and daughter. Rachel’s chin rose in the air and she cried defiantly, ‘Then I’m afraid you will have to tell her so yourself for a change. As far as I’m concerned, this is her home and she will always be welcome here.’ With a pronounced flounce she left the room, to hide the tears that threatened.

  ‘Dad! How can you be so hard?’ Alison exclaimed. ‘Susan’s your eldest daughter. It could have been much worse, you know. If she had remained here she might have married a Catholic.’

  Once more Trevor rounded on her in fury. ‘So she was seeing a Taig. Was she?’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’ Alison was dismayed at her slip of the tongue. ‘I know she dated one for a time, but obviously it wasn’t serious or she would never have gone over to England.’

  Still glaring at her, Trevor asked in a soft voice that was more insinuating than a roar, ‘Is there more to this than meets the eye? Eh, Alison? Are you keeping something from me? Did Susan go over to England because she has something to hide?’

  Alison gaped blankly back at him. What was he getting at? Then, like a bolt from the blue, comprehension dawned
and she gasped, ‘How can you think a thing like that? If that were true she would have stayed here and got married.’

  All the fire left Trevor and he slumped in his chair. He knew only too well how some men used young girls and then discarded them. ‘Only if he was willing to marry her,’ he said sadly. ‘Only if he wanted her.’ He reached a hand towards his daughter. ‘Come here, love.’ Hesitantly she approached him. Gripping her hand between his, he whispered, ‘Ah, Alison, at least you are fulfilling my hopes. No one could ask for a better son-in-law than Graham.’

  Alison looked at him in misery. She didn’t want to fulfil his hopes. She wanted a life of her own. Tugging her hand from his, she turned on her heel and hurried from the room. Trevor gazed after her in amazement. What had he done now? Bloody women! He’d never understand them as long as he lived.

  Graham listened in dismay as Alison ranted on about her sister’s decision to remain in Darlington over the festive season. He had not had a chance to make his peace with Susan concerning his licentious behaviour. Each time he had been in the Cummings’ home she had managed to elude him. Only once had he actually come face-to-face with her. A few days after the episode in the car he had arrived back from town with Alison, and Susan had been in the act of leaving the house. He had managed to block the doorway, forcing her to stop. Glad that Alison had continued on into the kitchen with her purchases, he had whispered urgently, ‘Susan, can you ever forgive me?’

  ‘Hush!’ She looked furtively around to make sure they were alone. The shame that clouded his hazel eyes made her cringe. To think she had brought him to this. It was awful that she was the cause of his despair. ‘Forget it! I have,’ she hissed curtly.