Secrets of Our Hearts

by Sheelagh Kelly

  The choice of indoor venue was to be fortuitous. As he and Boadicea set off the sky was leaden, and besides wearing her trenchcoat she brought along an umbrella just in case. In the event, they were to reach the art gallery just as the heavens opened, and hurried laughingly to join the crowd of people inside. Browsing the collection, shifting slowly between massive works of genius, and miniature ones, little was said between them other than the odd murmur of respect over a particular painting. This was something of a respite to Niall, for whom the art of intimate conversation was a skill not yet conquered. For him, it was sufficient just to be in her company. Yet he knew how Boadicea enjoyed a chinwag, and was so open in her revelations that he feared she might find him boring if he did not make some kind of effort. Thus, all the way round the gallery he worried about how to entertain her when their tour came to an end.

  He need not have done, for as usual Boadicea was the one to set the ball rolling as they came out to find that the downpour had eased, though there remained a steady drizzle.

  ‘Oh, wouldn’t ye know it!’ She swiftly erected her umbrella, inviting in her lovely Irish lilt, ‘Come on, squeeze yourself next to me. We can both fit under.’

  Crouched beneath its inadequate canopy, they jostled against each other as they splashed their way across Exhibition Square towards another limestone bar in the city walls. Whilst it was lovely being in such proximity to her, and stimulating to feel the warmth and scent reflected from her face, Niall quickly found it impossible to travel in this fashion.

  ‘Nay, you’re holding it too low for me. You keep knocking me cap askew!’ So saying, he emerged to brave the drizzle with a typically wry grin, setting his cap straight, and dipping around her to walk on the outside edge of the pavement, as they came under Bootham Bar. ‘You have it all. A bit of rain won’t bother me.’

  ‘You’re lucky!’ She sounded most emphatic, railing against the moisture. ‘My hair detests this weather – I’ll look such a state for work.’

  ‘You never look a state,’ complimented Niall.

  ‘Sure, you haven’t seen me first thing in the morning,’ replied Boadicea, then she blushed, for his eyes told her he would like to.

  It was much too glib for Niall to say he hoped she would grant him the chance once day. Besides, there were too many others using the narrow pavement who might overhear. However, her comment had raised the spectre of one who had seen her in the mornings, and he underwent a moment’s thought, waiting for the couple behind to overtake, before addressing the subject again.

  ‘I know I’m slow, but it’s only just struck me … your surname, Merrifield … your husband must have been English, was he?’

  But the mention of her errant spouse was not welcomed. ‘No,’ she said crisply, ‘I preferred to go back to my maiden name after he left me.’ Sensing an inquisitive gaze, she snapped an addition. ‘It’s not illegal, you know.’

  ‘No, no, I’m not saying it is!’ Niall wanted to ask what her married name had been, but it was obvious she did not like being reminded of it. She had fallen quiet, and seemed unconcerned now with the state of her hair, for her umbrella had been allowed to slip to one side. Hoping to divert her from this trance, Niall took hold of a spoke and set the umbrella straight, then grinned as she suddenly appeared to remember where she was and emerged from her pensive mood to smile back at him.

  ‘Sorry,’ she issued softly.

  ‘Nay, it’s just me being nosy,’ soothed Niall. ‘I don’t know why I even mentioned it. I don’t want to know about him, I just want to know about you.’

  She cocked her head as they passed the Minster. ‘Don’t ye know everything already?’

  It was true she had been very forthcoming. But, ‘Tell me anything,’ said Niall. ‘About when you were a bairn in Ireland.’

  And quite happily she did as, dwarfed by the cathedral and under constant surveillance from its ancient gargoyles, along the narrow streets they pattered, barely mindful of the rain, intent only on each other. So obsessed was Niall that he wanted to know every trivial detail about her. ‘And did you have dolls?’

  ‘Of course I did,’ Boadicea laughed from beneath her umbrella. ‘I’m a girl, aren’t I?’

  ‘You certainly are.’ Walking in the gutter now, in order to be on a level with her face, his eyes were warmly admiring. ‘And did you play houses like my lasses do in our passageway? Sometimes I can hardly get into me own place, what with all the prams and blankets and clothes horses they’ve set up. Leastwise, Juggy does. Her sister, Honor’s, a bit old for it at thirteen, though she sometimes has a game if she’s nowt better to do – or so she cracks on.’ His laughing expression faded. ‘It’s a bit sad really, seeing them grow up so fast.’

  Boadicea responded kindly to his wistfulness. ‘Still, you’ve a good few years before a man comes along to take the younger one off your hands. Is she six, did ye say?’

  He brightened again. ‘Seven now, she’s had a birthday.’

  ‘Ah!’ Boadicea made a thoughtful sound. ‘And when is her daddy’s birthday, by the way?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t bother with ’em meself,’ mumbled Niall dismissively.

  ‘You’ve gone all gritty Yorkshireman on me again,’ she teased him.

  He laughed and tugged self-consciously at the peak of his rain-dappled cap, though it had no need of adjustment. ‘What I really mean is, other folk don’t bother with my birthdays.’

  ‘’Tis a crime!’ she announced in determined fashion. ‘I shall send you a card – tell me, when is it?’

  But he still refused to tell her, maintaining his smile as he replied, ‘Honestly, I’d rather not bother.’ At her doubtful scrutiny, he admitted with a sigh, ‘It just reminds me of when me mam died.’

  She stopped, causing the person walking behind almost to bump into them before having to go around with a click of impatience. ‘Your mother died on your birthday? Niall, how awful. I knew she and your father were dead, but ye never told me that!’

  ‘I didn’t want to bore you,’ he smiled, leading her on again.

  ‘Nothing you have to say could bore me,’ she told him warmly, trying to get nearer to him, whilst taking care to avoid his eyes with the umbrella spokes. ‘Least of all that – you poor soul. How long ago was it?’

  ‘Oh, a long time – fourteen years.’

  ‘But it still hurts, doesn’t it?’ she recognised sadly. ‘And how long is it, did ye say, since your wife died?’

  Niall felt a jolt. His face must have altered at this unwanted reminder of Ellen, for before he could respond, Boadicea spoke again, and there was a perceptive quality to her remark. ‘Seems there’s things we both don’t want to talk about.’

  He nodded and, acting automatically as they came to a busy open square, began to check the identity of each face in the crowd, alert for any spy who might go running to Nora. But in seconds he was focused on Boadicea again. ‘It’s not so much talking about it that bothers me… it’s that you’ll think less of me if I tell you.’ He sighed. ‘But I should do anyway. Ellen only died last October.’

  After a quick calculation, she understood his reluctance. ‘So, she’d only been gone five or six months that first time you asked me out?’

  He moved his head in affirmation. ‘I knew you’d be shocked. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you, not before you’d had a chance to really get to know me. And now that you have, you must realise I’d only act like that when it was something I felt so strongly about. I’d never have done it on a whim. I was crackers about you, still am.’ There was a self-conscious pause. ‘But you’ve been straight with me about being married, so you had a right to know.’ Looking chastened, Niall lowered his gaze from her face to the ground. The bottom of his grey flannels were sodden and covered in dirty splashes that his shoes had flicked up from the pavement. ‘I’ll understand if you give me the elbow – I’ll hate it, but I’ll understand.’ He just prayed with all his heart that she would not.

  ‘’Tis a bit late for that,’ cam
e her mild scolding. ‘I’m as much smitten as you are.’

  His face came up again, flushed by a look of reprieve as he saw that her expression belied the stern tone. And their eyes remained locked for a moment, conveying how deeply each felt.

  ‘But your wife’s family can’t be pleased about ye courting me.’ Seeing his relief fade, she immediately guessed. ‘Ah, they don’t know.’

  ‘It’s not out of cowardice.’ Niall pre-empted any hostile verdict, as, mindful of bumping into folk, both fixed their gazes on the way ahead. ‘Even though they would probably judge it as heresy – me making a choice of my own. It’s just that I can’t bring meself to hurt them. Ellen’s the third one Nora’s lost.’ He glanced at Boadicea to see her expression change first to shock, then to deep pity and understanding. ‘Anyway,’ he added, ‘there’s nothing to tell yet, is there?’

  Boadicea remained thoughtful. ‘So, all this time you’ve been making excuses to them about your whereabouts?’

  ‘Not really. I told them I was off to the pictures, or the pub, and that was the truth.’

  ‘And where is it that you’re meant to be this afternoon?’

  ‘Painting with a friend.’ A sheepish grin seeped through his guilty expression. ‘Well, it’s only half a lie. I am with a friend, and we have been looking at paintings.’

  She clicked her tongue at his impudence. ‘Did you give this friend’s name? What if they bump into him? I hope he’s been primed with the same story.’

  ‘Oh, I just made him up,’ confessed Niall, then joked, ‘I have to rely on these imaginary friends. Nobody else’ll talk to me.’

  ‘Eejit! Seriously, do you have many friends?’ She was always so busy talking about herself, that she had omitted to ask this before.

  ‘Just the one.’ He caught her look of amazement. ‘You don’t need more than one – as long as he’s a good un.’

  Boadicea maintained her fond smile. ‘And how often do you see him?’

  Niall mused. ‘Oh,’ bout once a year.’

  ‘He lives far away then?’

  Niall frowned. ‘No, Navigation Road – t’other end from The Angel.’

  Boadicea thought this hilarious, her hearty laughter drawing curious looks from passers-by. ‘Oh, Niall, you’re a treasure!’

  He showed no offence. ‘I’ve got folk I see every day, but that doesn’t mean they’d give me the shirt off their back like Reilly would. If I didn’t see him for ten years he’d still be my friend.’

  ‘And when was the last time you saw him?’ smiled Boadicea.

  ‘Ellen’s funeral.’

  She looked guilty. ‘Oh … sorry.’

  ‘That’s all right.’ His tone was warmly forgiving. ‘Didn’t get much of a chance to have a laugh with him, as you might imagine …’

  This brought Boadicea back to the subject of his dead wife’s family. ‘How long can you keep this secret from them, Niall? Better you tell them, than somebody else. I mean, I’m hardly going to be popular if they do find out that way.’

  He hadn’t the heart to tell Boadicea that she would be hated whichever way they found out about her. Even so, she should be warned. ‘All right, I’ll tell them. But you’d better get ready for a rough ride.’

  ‘Just what I need.’ She shook her head, and gave a little growl as they continued across King’s Square, as much exasperated by the people and pigeons who got in her way as by his last statement. Then, she stopped again. ‘Damn! Now you’ve gone and made me forget – I was supposed to get some stockings for Ma from Browns. She’ll only have them from there …’ Looking up at him, she tendered hopefully, ‘Would ye mind if we go back?’

  Niall did not mind at all, and took a detour along Church Street, telling her that he would wait outside the department store. ‘It’ll give me chance to have a fag. I’m gasping.’

  Once arrived at their destination, Boadicea hurried inside, saying she would try not to be long. ‘Here, take my brolly. Sure, you’re half-drenched!’

  ‘I’m not having that!’ Laughing it aside, he watched her go into the store, then pressed his back to the plate-glass window, trying to gain some shelter from the ineffective overhang, and lit his cigarette. After a long, hearty drag, he exhaled in ecstasy, much relieved to have made a clean breast of things, and to have been absolved. Then he stood back to gaze with uninterested eyes at the crowd of passers-by.

  That initial haze of smoke had barely dispersed when he saw through it a familiar figure coming towards him along Davygate – Gloria. There was no doubt that she had seen him, for beneath the umbrella her face underwent a sudden glow, as if bedecked with fairy lights. Niall panicked and fled into the store. Once inside, he looked round swiftly, taking in every counter and hoping to alert Boadicea, but she must be on an upper floor. Should he go up there? What if Gloria saw them together? Taking a drag of his cigarette, he wheeled to snatch a look through the window, trying to spot his admirer. Oh my God, there she was, dismantling her umbrella and making her way to the entrance! Looking about him for a sign of the men’s department, he made a dash for it. At least he would have a legitimate reason for being there if she managed to collar him. However, on his way through the maze of fixtures containing female paraphernalia, he happened to spot another doorway and, making a swift decision, he rushed through this exit into a different street.

  This might have confused Gloria, though it certainly did not deter her, for she simply took the identical exit, waving to him as she came. Cursing her, Niall had no option but to wait and share a few words, greeting her casually as he held open the door for her.

  ‘Now then, Gloria, I didn’t see you there!’ He pulled on his cigarette and threw a quick sideways glance at the far end of the building, to check whether Boadicea had emerged, and was thankful not to see her yet. ‘Not with your mam today?’

  Gloria bared her false teeth, which had been brought out for the occasion. ‘No, she doesn’t like this wet weather! She’s sent me out to get meself a pair of shoes.’ And she opened a paper bag to show him.

  ‘By, they’re grand!’ Trying to remain casual, he threw another furtive look towards the far door.

  ‘Ooh, ta!’ The besotted Gloria looked as if she might swoon with pleasure, then crumpled her bag shut, and cocked a hopeful eye at him. ‘Are you off home? I’ll walk with you!’

  Niall balked. He had just caught sight of Boadicea emerging from the other door, and she was searching for him. ‘Er, sorry, Gloria, I’ll have to rush!’ In a final act of desperation he pointed across the square to a public convenience. ‘Ta-ra now!’ And he galloped for the lavatory, hurrying down the steps to the very bottom, to be greeted by a smell combined of urine and disinfectant. He lingered in the lavatory’s echoing tiled interior, finishing his cigarette and also relieving himself, whilst awaiting Gloria’s departure.

  After a few minutes had passed, he trod cautiously up the steps, allowing only his head to emerge above ground level, where it swivelled for a sighting of his wretched pursuer through the cast-iron railing. To his relief, Gloria was no longer evident amongst the crowd. But upon continuing to the top of the staircase, he saw to his horror that Boadicea had gone too.

  Looking about him in a desperate search for her, he finally saw her at the far end of Church Street, heading back for their original route home, and he hared after her, dodging in and out of the traffic, on and off the pavement.

  ‘Where did you get to?’ her face accused from beneath the umbrella, as he finally caught her up by the medieval Christ Church in King’s Square. ‘I waited ages – thought I’d been abandoned.’

  ‘I was only in the lav.’ Any mention of Gloria might complicate things. ‘It was you who abandoned me!’

  Looking happier again, she apologised for her rash departure and linked his arm, drawing him under her umbrella to walk in this fashion across the square. But once the pavement narrowed again, she was forced to lift her umbrella above the head of passers-by. Hence, with too many shoppers in their way, Niall fell bac
k to walk in single file along the greasy wet flags behind her, returning to her side whenever that was possible. But all the while he kept his eyes alert for Gloria, for it had not failed to register that she would probably mention to Nora that she had seen him. At least he had not been with Boadicea at the time, but he would certainly have to come up with a good explanation as to why he was in town, when he should have been painting. Perhaps it was time to come clean.

  They reached the shortest street in York, Whip-Ma-Whop-Ma-Gate, where a medley of horns from car and bus signalled a jam. Squeezing a passage between the duelling vehicles, Niall led his companion across the awkward, narrow junction, and on past the Old George Hotel that preceded Fossgate. Here, thankfully, they were to leave much of the traffic noise behind them, apart from a cart that came past laden with vegetables, the resounding clip-clop of the horse’s hoofs accompanying them all the way past the bridge.

  Before they knew it, to Niall’s disappointment they had reached the archway leading to her home. Retreating beneath it, Boadicea dismantled her umbrella and gave it a shake. ‘Will ye come in for a cup of tea? I can’t promise I’ll be able to sit with ye for long; I’ve to get ready for work.’

  ‘Ooh, I’m glad you reminded me!’ Niall suddenly recalled that he had left his work clothes here. ‘I’d have nowt to wear on Monday. Er, you haven’t got a bit of paint I could splash on ’em, have you, to make it look authentic?’ And chuckling, they went into the house together.

  But he did not stay long after collecting his bundle, saying warmly, ‘I don’t want to hinder you, so I’d better get off home, much as I don’t want to leave.’

  Seemingly as reluctant to let him go, Boadicea returned with him to the Walmgate end of the alleyway, where she sheltered under the arch, and he stood in the rain, not appearing to mind that his coat was by now quite damp, wanting to savour this last moment.

  ‘If I don’t see you before, shall I come same time next week?’ He stood smiling, to await her answer.