Secrets of Our Hearts

by Sheelagh Kelly

  ‘Good day to you, Mrs Beasty, Harriet, Mrs Lavelle, Gloria …’ The priest nodded his balding head along the row, finally reaching the occupier. ‘It’s yourself I’ve come to see, Niall, but I’m glad I found you all together.’ For the moment he digressed: ‘And how are you going on at St Aelred’s, Nora? It’s been strange not seeing you at Mass.’ But at this point he turned back to an angry Niall. ‘I was hoping to see you there, Niall. It’s been a week or two …’

  ‘Well, we all know why that is, Father.’ Niall remained dark.

  ‘And that’s what I’ve come to see you about,’ announced Father Finnegan. ‘Can we go indoors?’ He made as if to enter, Nora and Harriet to follow.

  But their way was barred by a stiff-sounding occupant. ‘No disrespect, Father, but I don’t want any of you in here.’

  Father Finnegan’s expression turned impatient. ‘As you will, Niall, but if only you’d told me at the beginning we could have avoided all this unpleasantness! I must say, I’m very surprised neither of you said a word, and I’ll be taking this further with Miss Merrifield—’

  Sensing danger, Niall held up a hand to prevent any indiscretion, for his mother-in-law and Harriet were hovering like vultures, their eyes sparkling with greed, ready to pounce on any rancid bit of gossip. Mrs Lavelle and Gloria were still present too, and to them he announced in brittle manner, ‘Thank you, you’ve made your report. You can go in now!’

  But his admonition had little effect, and he was forced to tell Father Finnegan, ‘Whatever it is, I’ve no wish to hear it!’

  The priest was terse. ‘I’d have thought you’d be glad of any opportunity to put the record straight. It must be devilish hard to be shunned by your neighbours and family, and to no good purpose—’

  Nora could not help an indignant exclamation here. ‘I beg your pardon, Father! But we’ve every right to shun him!’ The three other women reinforced this with nods.

  ‘Well, I’ll grant you, Nora,’ Father Finnegan pressed her arm, ‘you’ve every right to be upset that he’s wanting to marry another woman so soon after poor Ellen. But the situation is altogether different when that woman is not as she was painted. It’s rather ironic that it was at your insistence I made further investigation—’

  ‘Are you still trying to dig up dirt?’ Niall’s face was etched in a deep scowl now, as he turned on his mother-in-law.

  ‘I wouldn’t have to dig if it was on the surface, would I? And there wouldn’t be any to dig if she was all you say she is!’

  ‘Please, Mrs Beasty,’ said the priest, with faint disgust, ‘a person is entitled to their privacy. However, as you were the one to instigate matters, it’s only right that you should be made aware that, through my various contacts, I made a significant discovery. It appears,’ he told the astonished listeners, ‘that she isn’t married after all.’

  Niall’s mother-in-law begged to differ. ‘I’m sure she is, Father. My relative was quite—’

  The priest stopped her by the mere use of his eyebrows. ‘What I mean to say is, there was never any marriage – it was annulled.’

  In all her machinations, Nora could never have hoped for this! For it was obvious from Niall’s face that it was just as much a revelation to him.

  ‘Didn’t I tell you there was more to that one than met the eye?’ Sharing this news with an astonished Mrs Lavelle and daughter, Nora and Harriet were jubilant.

  Presented with Niall’s shock, and others who seemed to delight in it, Father Finnegan became stern. ‘Yes, well, I don’t think you’ve anything to be proud of, Mrs Beasty. It was because of you I was grossly misled into chastising Niall when he spoke the truth. There is nothing at all wrong about his friendship with Miss Merrifield.’

  ‘There is if they’re living over the brush!’ persisted Nora.

  ‘You’ll try anything, won’t you?’ The rate of Niall’s pulse was fit to deliver a stroke; he could almost hear the blood gushing round and round his brain. Why had Boadicea not revealed the news that would allow them to wed – for surely one person in a marriage could not have it annulled without the other being aware of it? But he trained his frustration on Nora in lieu. ‘You can ask your spies here. They’ll tell you that Boadicea has never slept under this roof!’

  Under the strict eye of their priest, Mrs Lavelle and Gloria were reluctantly forced to concede, ‘Well, that’s true, Father.’

  But Nora hadn’t finished. ‘Slept, no – but there’s a lot of other things she could’ve done, the mucky trollop!’

  ‘That’s enough, Mrs Beasty!’ Pre-empting a furious response from Niall who looked dangerously close to losing his temper, Father Finnegan took the sturdy shoulders and firmly turned her around. ‘Harriet, I think you’d better take your mother home before she says anything she might regret! Mrs Lavelle, Gloria, inside with you all now.’

  The latter two complied, but, bitterly complaining, Nora refused to leave the scene. ‘Look at him, Hat! That’s taken him down a peg or two, hasn’t it? It’s obvious he knew nowt about this neither!’

  Too stunned to deny his ignorance, Niall defended the woman he loved. ‘It can’t be the same person.’ But his explanation sounded foolish.

  ‘Not the same person – with a name like that?’ the iron jaw scoffed. ‘There’s no mistake. I told you she was taking you for a mug!’

  Father Finnegan’s youthful face projected sympathy at Niall. ‘Is it true? That this is as much of a shock to you as it was to them?’

  Niall blustered. ‘It wasn’t up to me to tell anybody Boadicea’s business! Even you, Father. I’m sorry if you were misinformed.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry too, Niall, that you and Miss Merrifield had to put up with all that unnecessary mess – but it was of her own making. It’s a great shame that she had to lose her job—’

  ‘She didn’t lose it, she had it taken away!’ an angry Niall reminded him.

  ‘Well, that’s as maybe, but sure, it’ll give her the chance to find work more befitting her sex.’ Father Finnegan projected slight remorse. ‘If only she’d told me before—’

  ‘Yes!’ Another broadside of spite came from Nora. ‘And what was her reason for having him believe she’s still married?’

  To Niall it could mean only one thing: Boadicea had said it because she did not really want to marry him. But devastating and perplexing though this might be, he continued to uphold his defiant façade in Nora’s presence. ‘I think the shame of having her marriage annulled might be a good enough reason.’

  ‘But why was it annulled?’ volleyed his mother-in- law.

  ‘I told you before, he deserted her. Now will you please leave me alone!’

  Hearing the desperation in Niall’s voice, the priest used his body to steer Nora and Harriet away. ‘A decree of nullity is a highly unusual situation,’ he told them. ‘I’ve never had one granted to a parishioner in all my years in the cloth. But if this has been sanctioned by Rome, then who are we to argue? Come away now, ladies, we’ll let the poor man be – but I just want you to know, Niall,’ he turned to deliver a comforting tap on his arm, ‘that I’m here should you need to discuss things, as you probably will after you’ve spoken to the young woman herself. And there’s an end to it!’ he warned Nora and Harriet sternly, as he managed to remove them and himself from Niall’s presence.

  Nevertheless, this was not an end to it for Niall. Totally confounded, his heart racing, he shut the door, then leaned against it for a good many minutes, wondering why on earth Boadicea had not told him. And the more he thought about this, the more he saw that she could not allege ignorance. For if the Church had granted an annulment, that must surely mean she had also obtained a divorce in the civil courts! So, her claim of still been married was a downright lie.

  Desperate to hear the truth, yet afraid of what it might be, he launched himself from the door to wash and to shave, which would lend him more time to ponder on this.

  But still, after he had scraped off his whiskers and had wiped away the rem
aining lather, and the beads of blood that trickled throughout, he could not tear his stricken eyes from that equally stricken reflection. Nor had he been able to think of what to say when he was face to face with the one responsible.

  It turned out that he could not bring himself to say anything, at least not while they were having dinner – of which he ate hardly a morsel – he and Boadicea sitting in silence in the dining room, the rest of the boarders having eaten earlier.

  ‘Was it too dried up for you?’ boomed Mrs Precious, upon witnessing his unfinished meal scraped onto the dog’s plate.

  ‘No, it were lovely, thanks.’ Niall sounded subdued. ‘I just don’t seem to have an appetite …’

  Mrs Precious immediately slapped a hand to his forehead, almost knocking him backwards as she tested his temperature. ‘Well, that’s as cool as our Rusty’s nose, so you’re not sickening for anything! Better sit down, though. You’re a bit pale.’

  ‘It’s too nice to sit inside.’ Boadicea sounded cheerful. ‘We’re off to enjoy the last of the good weather; the fresh air will do him good. Is it the park, Nye?’

  ‘I thought we’d just have a stroll on Low Moor,’ he put forward. In such wide open space there would be few to interrupt them.

  ‘Good, somewhere new – the moor it is!’ Happy with his decision, Boadicea went to change her shoes.

  Then off they went, sauntering along Walmgate in the direction of the limestone barbican. Long before reaching it, though, they cut down a side street and passed beneath Fishergate Bar instead, then through the deserted cattle market. At the crossroads, they were forced to wait for a regiment of soldiers marching from their barracks at Fulford to another at Strensall. Then they continued straight across, finally to embark on a road lined on one side with bay-windowed Victorian villas and neat front gardens, and smaller versions on the other, with shops at regular intervals. With a hundred yards still to go before they reached their destination, Boadicea chattered away about her shift in the Five Lions, its landlord, and the people who frequented it, Niall simply nodding and donating the odd question. But there was little unusual in this, and she was not to guess for a while that something dreadful had occurred.

  The road was very quiet, only one car driving past, followed by a hay cart. The pavement gradually rose beneath their strolling feet. Finally reaching some allotments, Niall led her across the road towards a five-barred gate. It was impossible to see the full expanse of Low Moor from here, its entrance situated between the grounds of a private asylum and a cottage, and more like a farm track at present. Steering his companion through the gate, he shut it again with a clatter.

  ‘Not much of a moor,’ laughed Boadicea, taking his arm and pressing herself close, so that they might continue to walk side by side along this narrow stretch of hardened earth bordered by nettles and docken and the scent of forest greenery. Even beyond the gate, the true size of the moor remained hidden, at this point no more than fifty feet of grass to their right and only six to their left.

  Flanked by a hedge on one side, and a high wall on the other, Niall undertook the slight gradient, pointing to a crest that was some yards ahead, and murmuring an explanation to her. ‘It’ll widen out when we get to there.’

  And so it did, the breeze hitting their faces as they came over the hill, and seventy-seven acres of moorland sloping downwards into the distance, though for now, with the wall continuing alongside, and a small forest of mature trees growing from the other side of it, the way ahead was to retain its oblong shape, a natural corridor. There were trees on this side too, a dense collection of ancient oak, ash, elm, beech and horse chestnut that marked the path all the way into the distance, some with trunks as thick as dinosaur limbs, the sound of the wind rustling their leaves invading Niall’s already confused mind with a noise like rushing water. He had chosen the moor so there would be little danger of interruption, but it was hard to know how to begin, when about to call someone a liar.

  The shape of the moor altered course slightly as they came upon a series of allotment gardens, marked by rickety fencing. For now, the herd of cows that grazed upon the common land were right across the far side out of view, and would pose no problem, other than leaving behind a series of crusty, fly-laden pancakes.

  Releasing her tight hold on his arm for a second, Boadicea tiptoed daintily around yet another mound in her path, stumbling through a patch of rough tussocks, before eventually linking up with him again to laugh. ‘Ye should’ve warned me – I’d have brought my galoshes!’

  Then on they strolled down the damp grassland path, squadrons of crane flies rising before them, the whirr of their wings audible in the quiet of the afternoon, rising and settling time after time, long legs a-dangle. One chose to hang from Boadicea’s fringe, the rest of its ungainly limbs suspended over her nose and obscuring her vision. With a shriek she brushed it away, shivered in disgust, then laughed at herself and at her escort. But he barely cracked a smile.

  ‘Is that the cemetery behind those gardens?’ She gestured at the allotments, beyond which the tip of a large monument could be seen.

  He nodded.

  ‘You’re very quiet today,’ she eventually said.

  ‘I’m always quiet.’ He cursed himself for not seizing this chance. But he was to be granted another.

  ‘Aye, but not usually as quiet as those fellas in there!’ Again Boadicea gestured at the cemetery. Then, when he failed to laugh, she examined his face with a look of slight concern.

  This was his opening. He wasted no further time in asking, ‘Is it true your marriage was annulled?’

  Though his attitude was in no way accusing, she looked as if he had hit her, and stopped dead, not responding for a few moments; when she did, her eyes held the look of defeat, and her tone was dull. ‘So, your spies finally caught me, did they?’

  ‘They’re not my spies!’ Niall came to a dead halt too. ‘I’d never stoop—’ Remembering his part in Sean’s downfall, he reddened and shook his head vigorously as if to clear his thoughts. ‘They’re Nora’s spies – and it wasn’t her, but Father Finnegan who told me. But never mind all that! What I’d like to know is why?’ His face and voice were anguished. ‘Why did you lie to me, Bo?’

  ‘Would you want to admit it?’ At the change in his expression, she gave a terse knowing movement of her head. ‘No, you wouldn’t. You’d want to keep it damn quiet. You’ve no idea what I suffered, Nye.’ She began to walk on down the slope.

  He strode after her, and caught at her arm. ‘But you’ve let me go through all this – not to mention putting yourself through it. You said he’d left you—’

  ‘He did!’ Boadicea stopped again and spread her hands beseechingly.

  ‘—that you didn’t know where he is!’

  ‘I don’t! I haven’t seen him for years.’

  Niall frowned. ‘Years … so how long ago did all this happen? You’ve never really told me and I’ve never asked but, well, I wouldn’t mind knowing what’s bloody going on!’

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry you had to find out like this. I should’ve told you – I wanted to …’ Her repentance seemed genuine, for she stroked his arm pleadingly. ‘But I was scared that telling you would ruin our lovely friendship.’

  ‘Friendship?’ Niall sounded amazed, and insulted. ‘I think it’s a bit more than that! At least it was to me.’

  ‘And me too!’ she cried with conviction. ‘This is the first time I’ve got close to a man in years …’ Her voice trailed away, but seeing that he was waiting for an answer, she gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘All right, ye want hard details: it was over here that I met and married Eddie—’

  ‘Well, obviously! They’re not going to grant you a divorce in Ireland, are they?’

  She closed her eyes against the hurt, before continuing. ‘I was eighteen, he was twelve years older. Eighteen months later, he left me. After that I never saw him again. So I was telling the truth, Niall, when I said I’ve no idea where he is now.’

  ‘
Well, you might have been!’ He did not sound convinced. ‘But when we first met I asked you a straight—’

  ‘You asked me if I’d ever marry again and I answered truthfully – I won’t! No matter that I might desperately want to!’ Her eyes tried to convey the battle that was going on inside, feelings that she could not possibly explain. But her attempt was not good enough for Niall.

  His face had suddenly turned cold, his attitude slightly contemptuous. ‘So, it was just to keep me from pestering you that you said you weren’t free, that you made up all this cock-and-bull about a solicitor?’

  ‘It was easier than turning you down!’ she objected. ‘You just kept pushing and pushing – I never meant to hurt ye, Nye.’

  ‘Well, you have!’ His enraged shout pierced the quietude, startling a blackbird, which flew with a dic-dic-dickery-ickery-ickery-ickery cry of alarm to a far-off tree.

  ‘Oh, don’t! Don’t be angry with me.’ Tears welling, Boadicea grasped both his arms, dragging on them and looking pleadingly into his face, trying to make him embrace her.

  And eventually, after glaring at her for what seemed like hours, he did pull her to him, but there was a residue of anger in the bear hug, and accusation in his voice. ‘All right, I did keep pushing – but you knew how I felt about you!’

  ‘And you knew how I felt about marriage!’ She lifted her face to protest. ‘But you wouldn’t let it go. Would you have preferred it if I’d kept turning down your proposals?’

  He shoved her from him again, holding her at arm’s length, his voice angry and confused. ‘See, that’s what I can’t understand! Why you’d even want to turn me down, knowing how much I want you. I’d never desert you like he did … I love you.’ This was the first time he had declared it, and it had taken anger to draw it forth.