Secrets of Our Hearts

by Sheelagh Kelly

  ‘There is no adultery!’ maintained Niall.

  ‘But don’t you see,’ Father Finnegan tried to impress upon him, ‘it’s what’s in your heart that’s just as bad, encouraging the woman to get a divorce—’

  ‘I just want to be with her. Why is that so terrible?’ pleaded Niall, his face tormented.

  ‘You don’t really need to ask, Niall.’ Father Finnegan shook his head. ‘Marriage is out of the question – and if you’re contemplating taking this relationship further, then—’

  ‘I’ll find myself excommunicated,’ snapped Niall.

  ‘No, no!’ Father Finnegan held up his hands in denial, knocking the ash from his cigarette to the rug. ‘The door of the Church is always open to those who desire reconciliation, and so long as you avoid adultery then you’ll be open to receive the sacraments – so will she. But you don’t appear to have considered there’s the woman’s spiritual welfare at stake here as well. It’s hardly the mark of true love to condemn her to the flames because of your selfish goings-on – though I’m minded to say she’s not entirely blameless, and I shall be having a chat with her too, if ever I can catch her for five minutes.’ The priest looked long and hard at Niall, satisfied that he had done his best. Noticing that the cigarette was almost burned to his fingers, he took a last drag and threw the butt into the fireplace. ‘Now, I’ve said what I came to say.’ He looked at Nora, and around at the others, then back at the subject of his lecture. ‘There’s all these good people here to save you from straying off the righteous path, I hope you’ll not let them down. For the good of all, you’d be advised to stop your gallivanting, Niall.’

  Niall adopted a deliberate air of calm then, looked the priest in the eye and included the others in his defiant response. ‘Well, thank you all for your concern, but I’ll gallivant where I want – and if you don’t mind, Father,’ he snatched his jacket from the back of a chair and shrugged it on, ‘I’m about to gallivant there right now!’

  He tried to walk out his anger on the way to the pub, having no wish to take it out on poor Boadicea, who seemed in for a religious lecture too. He had marched all the way there and right up to the bar before remembering what night it was.

  Hovering uncertainly at the bar, still jittery with indignation, he was reluctant to make a purchase if she was not here to keep him company. Instead he apologised to Mr Langan, as the latter came to serve him. ‘I feel that daft! I forgot it was Bo’s night off.’

  The landlord nodded, appearing subdued and slightly edgy today. ‘Can I get you something?’

  Immediately, Niall backed away from the bar. ‘Maybe later – I’ve just summat to do first.’

  And he went straight to the Preciouses’ boarding house.

  Several minutes later, he was standing in its shabby hallway, Boadicea having answered his knock, for she had been expecting him. The dog came with her to the door, but upon sniffing Niall, it ceased its yapping. However, Boadicea was to receive an even louder assault on her ears when she revealed to her visitor, before he was only halfway to the sitting room, ‘I’ve got the sack.’

  Already seething from his encounter with the priest, Niall stopped in his tracks, then exploded. ‘What?’

  She gave a helpless nod. ‘Father Finnegan had a word with him –’

  ‘Oh, he’s good at having words! I’ve just had some dished out to me!’

  ‘Calm down, Niall. You’ll get the dog barking again!’

  ‘So what was said?’ demanded Niall.

  She took a breath. ‘’Twas when I went in for my lunchtime shift. Apparently, pressure was brought to bear on Mr Langan, the gist of it being that if he didn’t get rid of his barmaid, it might be taken to mean that he was condoning this immoral relationship, and the rest of Father Finnegan’s congregation might have to be instructed not to frequent that particular hostelry.’

  ‘The blackmailing sod!’

  ‘You’ve heard what that lily-livered wretch has done then?’ Ma had come into the hall to join them. ‘Sacked the lass just for following her heart!’ Informed all about Boadicea’s shady past now, she saw no wrong in this liaison, only deep romance.

  Boadicea had a more philosophical slant. ‘Ah well, no one could blame the man for wanting to protect his livelihood,’ she sighed.

  ‘I bloody can!’ A furious Niall was immediately turning tail and making for the alley.

  ‘Give him a thick ear for me!’ bawled Mrs Precious.

  ‘Ma, don’t encourage him. Niall, it’ll do no good losing your rag!’

  The dog yapping behind her, its claws scrambling for a hold on the lino, Boadicea tried to prevent the hothead from storming off, but his only response was: ‘I’ll be back!’ And his stride was so urgent as it carried him towards Walmgate Bar that it was almost a run.

  The saloon bar was still as quiet as when he had left it. That was a shame. Niall would have preferred there to have been witnesses to the shamefaced expression he was about to extract from the agent of Boadicea’s distress.

  He banged his fist down on the counter, rattling a collection of ashtrays and causing Mr Langan to take immediate notice. ‘You didn’t tell me you’d bloody sacked her, did you? What sort of treatment is that to show a loyal worker?’

  Whilst the landlord did have the grace to look shamed, he remained firm in his decision, as he told Niall, ‘I didn’t want to do it, but I had no choice. Father Finnegan warned me he’d announce it at Mass that all his—’

  ‘I know!’ incised Niall. ‘He’d tell all his parishioners to stay away from here unless you got rid of her – you bloody coward!’

  ‘It wasn’t just that!’ The dour face provided solid argument. ‘He said he’d sprag me to the police for staying open after hours – I’d’ve lost my licence! I know she’s a lovely lass, but I’ve a business to run, I can’t let sentiment ruin it …’

  ‘So you threw her to the wolves! Who do you think’s going to employ her now?’

  ‘Oh, don’t talk daft!’ scoffed Langan. ‘She’s a good worker, she’ll get bar work anywhere – and she doesn’t have to stay round here.’

  Niall’s mood blackened further. ‘Let herself be driven out by bigots? She might – I won’t!’ And with that, he picked up the nearest thing to hand, a glass ashtray, and aimed it at the mirror behind the row of optics.

  ‘Don’t you bloody d—’ But the landlord’s warning fell on deaf ears, and he was forced to duck as the missile flew past him, smashing into bottles of gin, whisky and rum, glass and liquor exploding everywhere, before the perpetrator turned on his heel and stormed out.

  ‘You bloody hooligan! I’ll have the coppers on you – get back here!’

  But Niall ignored the command, and, almost swinging the door off its hinges, its handle gouging a chunk of plaster from the wall as he threw it aside, he strode back to Boadicea’s.

  ‘Aw, you’re a good man for trying anyhow!’ On his breathless return with the news that he had failed to get her job back, Boadicea tried to soothe with the aid of grateful caresses.

  ‘Aye, well, don’t heap too much praise on me, I’ve probably spoiled any chance you might have had of talking him round.’ Niall confessed to having broken a mirror.

  ‘He’s lucky that’s all you broke!’ bawled Ma, who had been hovering to hear the outcome. ‘I’d have put him on crutches.’

  Bo seemed more concerned about the broken mirror. ‘I should hate to think you’ll be getting a visit from the police.’

  Niall heaved a sigh. ‘Well, I suppose I’ll have to pay the fine and lump it.’

  ‘Aw!’ Between them, Bo and Ma drew him into the living room, where, after relating the incident for the benefit of Georgie, and Messrs Allardyce and Yarker, Niall settled down to a more agreeable evening.

  Plied with chips, bread and butter and tea by Ma, fond words and the occasional petting from Bo, by the time an hour had gone by his anger had abated. Still, fearing that he would kill Nora if he said one word to her that night, he stayed a good while
longer, relaxing amongst friends, and being further salved by Georgie’s love songs.

  Upon going home he did not enter the living room but crept straight up to bed, not because of Nora but mindful of disturbing his boys. But the moment he laid his head alongside Brian’s, the earlier events were to return with a vengeance. It was hard enough to get to sleep at the best of times, what with little boys’ legs twitching and occasionally lashing out over some dream. That night was worse than ever, his mind regurgitating both upsetting episodes with the priest and the landlord over and over again until it was almost dawn.

  When he rose the next day his eyes felt as if they contained a ton of grit. His mind, however, was crystal clear.

  ‘Right, that’s it, Nora.’ He was casually ominous as he finished his breakfast and began to get ready for work. ‘Thank you very much for the porridge, and for all you’ve done in the past, but when I come home tonight, I don’t want to find you here.’

  ‘You’ve tried that before,’ she smirked.

  ‘Well, I’m trying it again, and this time I’m deadly serious.’ His dangerous look confirmed this.

  ‘There’ll be no one in when the children come home from school!’

  He buttoned his jacket, seemingly unaffected. ‘Honor’s old enough to manage them while I get in.’

  ‘She doesn’t get home till after four! What about Brian?’

  It had slipped his mind that his eldest was at grammar school. But fortunately Brian had been going to Baby Class since the beginning of autumn term. ‘Dom can see to him. They’ll only be on their own for half an hour till Honor gets in.’

  ‘And will she feed them and all – and put them to bed if you’re late?’ Nora stood firm. ‘I warned you before, I’m not abandoning our Ellen’s children!’

  ‘You can still see them,’ he told her, darkly cheerful as he stuffed the sandwiches she had made him into his haversack, and slung it on his shoulder. ‘They can come to visit you every weekend.’

  ‘And where am I supposed to go?’ she demanded.

  ‘There’s half a dozen places you can live – your Harriet’s, for one. She’s got that big new house standing half empty at Tang Hall. You can go live with her – after all, you’re her mother. Tell you what – I’ll let her know you’re coming!’

  And with this he went off to do just that, no matter that he would be late for work in taking a detour of over a mile, so as to bang on Harriet’s door and warn her in rude terms. ‘Your mother’s coming to live with you – she’ll need a hand to shift her stuff!’ And, as an afterthought he cast an addition at the speechless, bleary-eyed Harriet over his shoulder, before slamming the garden gate. ‘And if it’s not done today, you’ll find her on your doorstep tomorrow morning!’

  Fully anticipating that Nora would do the same to him as she had to his brother, Sean, expecting also that when he opened the door that night it would be to a room denuded of furniture, Niall was taken aback to find everything in its place – including Nora.

  ‘Some of us are as good as our word.’ She issued this edict from her Edwardian throne. ‘I told you I’ll go when I’m good and ready, and not before.’

  Niall’s heart sank. Short of man-handling her from the building, what was he to do? As long as her grandchildren were there, so would she be. In that moment of despair, he saw that there was only one solution. He himself must move out. But, damn it, why should he? He had been born in this house, his father had struggled to buy it. All right, Harriet and Dolly’s wages had gone a long way to helping him keep up with the mortgage, and Ellen had maintained – but that was no reason for him to abandon it to their old tyrant of a mother.

  But devious as she was, his mother-in-law did not have a monopoly on wily behaviour, and in that second of inspiration, Niall’s despair turned to glee. What he was about to do might seem a lot of upheaval, but not half as much trouble as the real thing, and it would certainly be worth it. He would make out that he was leaving, pack as many things as he could, and take the children to stay with Reilly for a day or two – there would be no need to ask; his friend would gladly put them up. Once Nora had got the message, and had seen that there was no point to her being there if her grandchildren were gone, then she would leave, and he could move back in!

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Watching his expression turn from annoyance into something akin to amusement, Nora eyed him curiously.

  Niall forced himself to appear sombre. ‘You should be pleased,’ he told her. ‘You’ve won – if you won’t move out then we’ll have to.’

  She looked startled. ‘What? When?’

  ‘No time like the present,’ snapped Niall, and he went to drag two suitcases from the under- stairs cupboard, and took one of these up to his room.

  Unnerved at having her bluff called, Nora went to the foot of the stairs and cocked her ear, trying to gauge what he was up to. Then, upon hearing him coming down, she scuttled back to her chair.

  But Niall simply deposited the heavy suitcase in the passage, then proceeded to fill the other one with bric-a-brac – photographs of his children and parents, mementoes of Ireland, all the personal things that Nora would know meant so much more than furniture.

  ‘You can’t take them!’ she objected.

  ‘Stop me,’ he challenged, still collecting things.

  Finally, he packed his camera into the case, then snapped it shut and upended it to stand alongside the other. ‘Right! I’ll just get the kids in to say good night – and you’d better not say anything destructive to them …’ He levelled a last warning glare at her, before going to summon his children from the street.

  ‘Where’s Dom?’ he asked Honor, when all but one came running.

  ‘He’s on the allotments …’ She knew from his face that something was badly amiss.

  ‘Well, go fetch him,’ commanded her father. ‘Oh, here he is!’ And he called to the boy at the end of the street, ‘Dom, get yourself here!’

  His face apprehensive, socks round ankles, and knees scrubbed by dirt, Dominic pelted to join the others.

  Niall took a deep breath. ‘We’re off to live with Uncle Reilly,’ he told them, before they came over the threshold. ‘Your granny’s staying here, so run and give her a kiss before we go.’

  Knowing from his tone not to ask questions, they went indoors, and, under their father’s stern supervision, dutifully lined up to exchange kisses with Nora.

  As stunned as she was at being outwitted, the despot’s jaw was unyielding as ever, as she grasped each child by the shoulders and pressed her lips to his or her cheek in so vigorous a manner that it was more like an assault than a kiss. ‘Look after yourselves,’ she told them, with a grim look over Brian’s shoulder at Niall. ‘And don’t let anybody stop you coming to see your granny.’

  ‘That won’t happen.’ Niall was quick to reassure them. ‘You can see each other whenever you like. Right, come on, we’ve got to go!’ And, with a suitcase in each hand, he steered them from the house.

  ‘Aren’t we never coming back?’ Batty posed a worried question to his father, once they were in the street. ‘What about all me cigarette cards?’

  Having previously witnessed his mother-in-law’s scorched earth approach, Niall could not promise that the little boy’s collection would still be there when the family was able to move back in, and so hedged around his question. ‘We’ll only be away for a few days.’ His brow became furrowed as he tried to think of a way to tell them. ‘It’s hard to explain … your granny’s going to live with Aunty Harriet … she just needs time to pack her things.’

  Only Dominic was brave enough to broach the true reason for this exodus. ‘It’s because of her, isn’t it? Boadicea.’

  His father simply nodded. ‘Sometimes, you have to choose between people, Dom …’

  ‘I’ve got a funeral to do on Friday,’ the altar boy reminded his father.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ sighed an irritated Niall. ‘I’ll make sure you’re not out of pocket.’

  ‘I
just don’t want to let Father Finnegan down,’ lied Dom.

  His father gave him a look that said, I know you better, but, ‘You won’t have to,’ he told the boy.

  Nothing much else was said for a while, as the family made its way through the network of terraced streets towards Reilly’s, the children become very quiet and worried.

  But as they reached Walmgate, Juggy could contain herself no longer, and burst into tears.

  ‘Eh, eh!’ Niall dropped the suitcases and squatted to comfort her. ‘I promise, you’ll be going home again in a few days – and I’m not taking you away from your gran. You’ll still see lots of her and your aunties, if that’s what’s worrying you!’ He pulled out a grubby handkerchief, the others waiting solemnly as he dabbed at her eyes. But Juggy shook her head, to indicate it was neither of these things that concerned her.

  ‘Then what? Aw!’ He pulled the little girl into his chest and cuddled her. ‘Tell your dad. You know he can fix it.’

  ‘You can’t fix this!’ sobbed Juggy, her skinny body heaving.

  Only after much more coaxing did she finally blurt out her awful dilemma. ‘I don’t want you to burn in the fires of hell, Dad!’

  Niall could have sobbed himself then – but he tried to brush it off with a quip, for his other children were on the brink of tears too. ‘Neither do I particularly,’ he chuckled, as he held her close, ‘And I don’t intend to. You’re worrying your head about nothing, darlin’ – all of you.’ He glanced up to embrace them in a reassuring smile. ‘Our Lord knows what’s in a man’s heart. He wouldn’t let a thing like that happen. Who’s been filling your head with such rubbish?’

  ‘Sister Mary Magdalene!’ Juggy’s face was mottled and anxious, her voice still juddering with emotion. ‘She said, she always thought you were a very nice man, but you could be as nice as you like but it wouldn’t save you from eternal torment for being naughty with that woman.’ She gave a huge sniff, and shuddered. ‘Did she mean Bo?’

  Niall gritted his teeth at the thought of his little girl being so manipulated by the one who was meant to educate her. And, though years of Catholic indoctrination caused him to dread the flames of hell for such trespass as he proposed, he refused to inflict this on ones who were innocent. ‘Bo’s done nothing wrong,’ he told Juggy and the rest of his children firmly. ‘And neither have I.’ This was not the time or place to explain about a man’s love for a woman – they were in the middle of the street, for pity’s sake – but he did go as far as to say, ‘I’ll be straight with you. You were right about me wanting to marry her, Dom, and that’s what all this is about—’