Secrets of Our Hearts

by Sheelagh Kelly

  ‘They’ll grant it.’ Nora sounded confident. ‘If you have any bother, refer your boss to me. I’ll tell him we’ve got family trouble.’

  I’ll bet you would, thought Niall bitterly, and for a moment longer he resisted his mother-in-law’s bullying plans. ‘It’ll cost a fair old whack.’ Even as a railway employee, receiving several free passes and a heavy discount on the remainder of the tickets, he pointed out that there was still the ferry to Ireland and the train from Dublin. ‘And we can’t expect Beesy to keep us for nowt.’

  But Nora remained unfazed. ‘I’ve still got all that cash from when I sold the furniture.’

  Sean’s furniture. Remembering his own part in the looting, Niall experienced a fresh surge of shame. Thus, he was compelled to cave in. ‘All right, then … I suppose I could do with getting away.’

  ‘Good.’ Nora looked immensely satisfied, and felt able to relax with the cup of tea that Harriet now handed to her. ‘Oh, take that look off your face, Hat! Your blasted dresses’ll get finished, even if I have to sew till midnight when I get back.’ With her daughter pacified, she turned back to Niall. ‘Right, it’s settled then. You give your word you won’t see this woman any more?’

  ‘Yes …’ There was slight hesitation, as he lifted his devastated eyes from the carpet to spill an awkward admittance. ‘Only, I’ve arranged to meet her next week. It wouldn’t be right to leave her hanging on, so I’ll have to see her to let her know.’ His expression brooked no argument over this.

  Nora gave a haughty sniff, and raised her cup to her lips. ‘If you must.’

  But with her son-in-law determined upon the decent way out of this, she had to be content.

  The error of his ways so graphically pointed out to him, Niall decided thereupon he must not prolong the agony for an entire week before imparting the bad news to Boadicea. He would go to the pub that same night. This intention was relayed discreetly to Nora, as his children piled in for their tea.

  ‘But I’m only going to put an end to things,’ he swore to her. ‘Then it’s definitely over.’

  Immediately sceptical, Nora decided to take out insurance, and eyed him shrewdly as she revealed to her grandchildren that their father would be treating them to a holiday in Ireland. Witnessing such excitement that followed this announcement, he could hardly renege now, could he?

  Niall remained determined to go out. However, before doing so he was to pay much more consideration to his children than of late, and ensured that each was given his wholehearted attention before they finally went off to bed.

  Only then did Niall permit himself to think of Boadicea, and to set off and see her, in parting telling his mother-in-law not to worry, for, ‘It’s definitely over.’

  At the time of saying, he fully meant it, for Boadicea’s sake as well as his children’s. But when he entered The Angel, and saw her face light up at his impromptu arrival, he was so deeply affected by that smile that he could not bring himself to inflict such finality. How could he claim to love her, yet give her up so easily? Yet, he must, for his children were suffering …

  Tongs of guilt wrenched at his gut, twisting it this way and that, as he made his approach through the crowd of drinkers.

  ‘Can’t stay away?’ Her breezy greeting pierced the hubbub, now that he had managed to carve a path to the bar. ‘This is a pleasant surprise – what can I get ye, me dear?’ She seized a glass.

  ‘No, I’m not stopping,’ he smiled apologetically, gazing upon her as if this might be his last sighting, and his soul wept. ‘I just came to let you know… I’m ever so sorry, but I’ve just found out Nora’s organised a family holiday to Ireland, and I won’t be able to see you next week. In fact, not for a few weeks.’

  ‘Ah well …’ Boadicea’s smile faded, and she examined his eyes for a moment, her own misting with disappointment. But this soon reverted to her usual verve. ‘Ireland, eh? Sure, aren’t you the lucky one. I wish I was going with ye.’

  Oh, so do I, agonised Niall, his heart keening its distress as he was jostled by others who were trying to buy a drink.

  It was obvious she was too busy to linger. ‘Well, have a nice time, darlin’. I’ll miss ye. Come and see me the minute ye get back!’ Issuing a last affectionate apology with her eyes, Boadicea was forced to tear herself away then to serve somebody else.

  Elbowed from all sides, tormented to his core, Niall remained suspended for a moment, unwilling to depart. Whilst others supped of their ale, he drank only of her, imbibing deeply, for he might never see her again. He should have spoken. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Instead, he tore his eyes away, and went to confession.

  His heart lamenting all that night, Niall wondered how he would ever bear this pain; ached for any contact with her, however chaste, could have cried out in gladness when he did see her again the very next day, in church. If Nora had her way, it was the only place they were ever likely to see each other from now on.

  Of course, Boadicea was not to know that. Catching his eye as she emerged from her pew at the end of Mass – a pew that was almost level with the one he and his family were in – she threw a covert glance of affection across the aisle. Guilt smote him like a stab in the back. Please God, that the pain of it did not show as he returned her visual caress.

  Forever watchful of her son-in-law’s actions, now that his treacherous meanderings had been exposed, Nora followed his line of vision. And the moment her eyes came to engage with Boadicea’s, she knew this was the one.

  Her mood became dark as she finally emerged from church, linked her arm somewhat possessively through that of her son-in-law, and proceeded to follow others along the street, noting the way he cast one last look at Boadicea, who travelled in the opposite direction. And her voice had a meaningful edge to it as she declared, ‘Now there’s somebody with a past!’

  ‘How the hell can you tell that?’ A shocked Niall tore his eyes away to scoff at the woman gripping his arm.

  ‘So, it is her,’ said Nora, eyeing him shrewdly.

  He didn’t bother trying to argue, but simply dealt her a brusque nod.

  ‘Just as well you’re out of it then,’ said his mother-in-law as they continued arm in arm. ‘I should say you’ve had a lucky escape.’

  Niall clicked his tongue with exasperation, glad that his children could not overhear, for they were some way ahead with their Aunt Harriet, all eager for breakfast. ‘She’s as respectable as you or me!’

  ‘Then why didn’t she didn’t go up for Holy Communion?’ queried Nora.

  Her demand caused him to meditate, though it was soon to be answered by Nora herself: ‘’Cause there’s some sin that prevents it! She’s got something to hide.’

  ‘What absolute rubbish!’ snapped Niall. ‘I know more about her than I do about meself! I’ve never known anyone so open with information.’

  His elder showed more perspicacity. ‘She only tells you what she wants you to know. It prevents the need for awkward questions.’

  Robbed of all happiness, her son-in-law was close to losing his temper. ‘I’ll ask for her credentials next time then, shall I?’

  ‘Next time?’ Nora’s glare reminded him that this was meant to be over.

  Thoroughly exasperated, both by her and his own inability to solve this awful predicament, Niall gave a dramatic sigh. ‘Oh, don’t worry! I’ve done as you ordered.’

  And this served to quieten her, as they proceeded home.

  But he hadn’t though, had he?

  10

  Faced with the choice of performing their journey most of the way by land or sea, as usual Nora made the decision for everyone, opting for the shorter and less traumatic sea route from Holyhead to Dun Laoghaire. ‘If I have to put up with Juggy throwing up over me like last time, I’d prefer it to be three hours rather than nine.’

  But whatever the method, it turned out to be an arduous journey for the adults, encumbered as they were with food and drink and apparel for five children, and constantly having to sheph
erd their charges together. Preferring to take a morning ferry, they departed from York railway station as late in the day as possible, so as to travel through the night. And what a night it turned out to be, having to rouse the youngsters from their sleep in order to change trains, and procuring tearful, quarrelsome behaviour, then trying to settle them again. Able to grab only the shortest, most uncomfortable of naps after midnight, and wearing the imprint of moquette upon his cheek as he stumbled bleary-eyed from the train, Niall felt he had not slept at all, when they finally arrived in the early hours of the next morning at Holyhead.

  Even before they had embarked upon the Irish Sea, he felt exhausted and irritable. Had it not been for Nora, who kept them in line during breakfast at a café, he would gladly have strangled his offspring who, having slumbered quite well, were now buoyant once more about their holiday, and pestering to know when they would get there.

  At last the time came to board, and, thankfully, the mist lifted to reveal a fine warm day, projecting a relatively calm crossing. Kept pacified with barley sugar and other titbits from their grandmother, and intermittently entertained for much of the three hours by a kindly priest who asked them all about themselves and cracked ancient jokes, the children were to provide less trouble than they had on the train. Granted breathing space from having to occupy them himself, Niall was finally able to roam along the deck, for a while looking out to sea, and appreciating the feel of the salt-laden breeze against his face, then wandering below to explore. Aside from the nuns and elderly ladies who sat in serene contemplation, there was an air of excitement amongst the passengers, flocks of young Irish men and women, forced from their homeland by the need to find work in England, now shiny-eyed with happiness at their return. Some were fuelled by more than excitement, even at this early hour staggering red- faced and merry from the bar. Wandering past there, Niall was assailed by the clinking of glasses and loud bursts of laughter, bringing instant reminder of the one he was supposed to forget. Hence, when back on deck, and a cry went up to signal the row of mountains rising out of the sea, his was the only pair of eyes that failed to focus on them, turning wistfully instead to the land he had left behind.

  Trying very hard to fight his personal gloom and physical weariness, Niall sought to match his children’s excitement, as the boat negotiated the rocky coastline, and eventually arrived at the rather old-fashioned-looking port, to be cradled into the arms of its twin piers, where the passengers disembarked. When the customs officer asked, ‘Anything to declare?’ instead of replying that he was heartily sick of this already, he answered with a simple, ‘No.’ Then, laden with baggage, trying to keep the excited children in order, he and Nora made their way into the railway station that was similarly quaint, here catching a train to the city where they would meet the connection for the final leg of their journey.

  With everyone safely on board, only then were the adults allowed brief respite, each slumping back with a grumpy sigh of relief, as the train set in motion. His head tilted wearily to one side, his dark hair plastered skewwhiff from its uncomfortable resting place of the night before, Niall stared from the window. Up ahead, he could see the engine, and hear it chug as it followed the curving track around the wide expanse of Dublin Bay, and through an open window came the acrid smell of its smoke, and flecks of soot that settled on everyone’s clothing. But, feeling claustrophobic enough in his mother-in-law’s domineering presence, Niall resisted the urge to close the vent, for it also admitted the evocative tang of brine. The sea felt almost close enough to touch, separated only from the railway by a low stone wall. The tide had just begun to ebb, licking at rocks garlanded with seaweed, and clumps of black mussels. With the sky a bright blue, and the sun twinkling the water, only the heaviest of hearts would not have lifted at the sight of it, and soon Niall found himself infected by his children’s air of anticipation, at least until he arrived in the city.

  Then, for a time, it was back to the bad- tempered scolding, as he and Nora struggled to shepherd their grubby young charges through the crowds, first to find dinner, and afterwards to the correct departure point. The children were still merry and chattering throughout, attempting to read aloud the street names that were reproduced in Gaelic, until they were bundled onto another train, bound for the West.

  It was time for tea when they arrived in Ballyhaunis, though it felt like a lifetime had passed since leaving home. With no one at the tiny railway station to meet their crumpled detrainment, and too drained by this summer heat to undertake the last few miles on foot, especially as it was uphill, Niall was forced to hire a wagonette, to convey his family and their luggage to their final destination. Alas, upon those hard wooden seats, this was to prove the most uncomfortable leg of their journey, not only for their buttocks, but on their jaded senses too; the driver, taking them for tourists, was as talkative a chap as ever drew breath.

  For a time, Niall remained polite enough to attend the man’s loquacity. But once away from town, and grown impatient with the blarney, he folded his arms and sat back in silence, allowing others to respond if they wished. In truth, the driver seemed content with the sound of his own voice, and the other occupants of the wagonette fell mute as it turned off the road and went creaking and jingling along a narrow, unpaved lane that was hardly wide enough for one vehicle, their weary eyes familiarising themselves with the undulating countryside.

  At leisurely pace, the horses’ hoofs making dull thuds upon the hardened earth, their vehicle trundled between rolling green fields that were divided by grey dry-stone walls furred with moss, with brambles and blackthorn catching at the wheels. Here and there a small whitewashed cottage with a thatched roof, around the bumpety bend a little shrine of rocks and a statue of the Virgin, a barefooted boy perched on a donkey, which was also laden with panniers of turf. Then the verdant fields gave way to wild stretches of bog and gorse and heather, the horses labouring as the road inclined. It was always the same when coming here, thought Niall, jolted back and forth by the uneven ground. There was something ancient about the place. For all the traditional songs and customs at home, for all his undiluted Irish blood, he never felt truly Irish until he returned here – and yet at the same time an impostor.

  Still, whatever he was, his hosts made him feel very welcome. The cottage enjoying an elevated position, and its residents maintaining a lookout over its half-door, Beesy hurried forth the instant the wagonette appeared between the trees that shaded her front garden, her husband not far behind. He in rough homespun waistcoat and corduroy trousers, his boots muddy from the field, she with plaid shawl about her shoulders, a white apron covering her long black skirt, and her grey hair scraped into a bun; both were short of stature, and as slender as reeds, and both inflicted with arthritis, but with a lively youthfulness about them as they beamed fond greetings, and hopped from foot to foot in their eagerness to be at their visitors.

  ‘Sure, and why didn’t ye tell me you were relatives of Mrs Cronin!’ complained the gabber who had conveyed them, watching kisses being planted as each one was almost dragged from his vehicle. ‘I’d nivver have wasted me breath.’ But he was philosophical in accepting a lower price than he would have charged had they been strangers, and helped unload their luggage, before finally driving back to town.

  ‘Oh, God love him, look how he’s growed!’ Beesy reached out to cup Dominic’s face in both bony misshapen hands, her eyes a vibrant blue, her sentences swift and her tone marvelling. ‘Why, he’s tall as a house! And barely four years gone by since last we saw yese.’ Then she went along the line, making similar comment on each smiling child, making the shy and quiet Honor blush by announcing that she had grown ‘into a proper little lady! Like a filum star, she is’; introducing herself to the two little boys, whom she had not previously met – ‘Bartholomew and Brian, there’s grand names for you!’ – before bending to the last in line, squashing Juggy’s cheeks between two rough palms. ‘And surely this cannot be that little child who was no higher than a donkey�
��s knee? I’d never have known ye! Do you remember your Aunt Beesy, now?’

  Juggy squirmed and grinned at having such attention. She could not truthfully say she did have any recollection of the old woman, but there was one thing she did retain from her previous visit. ‘You’ve still got your fairy tree.’ A small finger pointed to the hill at the rear of the house to where a lone specimen stood, its thorny branches fashioned by time and weather into a shape not unlike Beesy herself.

  ‘Sure, and we have!’ Beesy’s tone indicated a certain dread, not entirely jocular. ‘’Tis in fearsome trouble we’d be with the leprechauns if we chopped that down.’

  Then, after all the smiling exchanges with the children, she turned back to Niall, whom she beheld with exaggerated sympathy. ‘And here’s your poor father looking so sad and forlorn … How are you bearing up to your loss, Nye?’

  He had been wondering whether his mother-in- law had divulged in her letter the true reason for bringing him here; from the benign way his hosts were looking upon him, he guessed not. He was about to reply, when Nora cut in.

  ‘Oh, he’s bearing up remarkably well,’ she informed Beesy.

  Her sister-in-law failed to sense the irony. ‘Good, good. A terrible business for all concerned.’ She pressed a hand to Nora’s, conveying stoicism. Then, slightly arthritic of movement, she turned back to the children, a tear in her eye as she indicated Honor. ‘And here’s your eldest grandchild, the very image of her mother, God be good to her. ’Tis proud poor Ellen would be of them all.’

  But then her voice became cheerier. ‘And our own young ones are that excited at seeing you again –’ tis here they’ll be first thing tomorrow! Now, away inside with you all.’

  About to turn, she stopped to cast an eye at the grizzled figure in his homespun waistcoat and corduroy trousers, who waited patiently by for instruction. ‘Austin, what’re ye doing, hanging there useless as a broken tail on a hound? Get along and fetch their cases!’ This stern admonishment seemed at odds with such a gentle spirit, and those who saw through it smiled.