by Iris Gower
Reluctantly, Catherine rose and moved away from her mother. ‘I should have come sooner, Mam, I’ve been selfish.’ Swallowing hard she said, ‘I have been so wrapped up in my own problems that I didn’t stop to think how you were getting on.’
‘What problems?’ Fon asked anxiously. Catherine thought quickly.
‘Oh you know, Boyo, all that.’
‘It will sort itself out for the best,’ Fon said. ‘I must go, I don’t want to keep the sisters waiting.’ She kissed Catherine warmly. ‘And you are not to worry about me, I’m doing just fine.’
Near the main entrance, the nun who had met Catherine at the gate led her out of the convent. The old woman paused for a fraction of a second and then seemed to make her mind up to speak.
‘We are a poor order and while we do not turn away the needy, a donation would be very gratefully received, anything you can spare, you understand? Your mother is not yet strong enough to take on the tasks which the other sisters do so ably and yet she still needs to be fed and clothed.’
‘I can’t give you anything at all,’ Catherine said in a low voice. ‘I am in difficulties, you see, I am struggling to keep the farm going as it is.’ She glanced to where Liam was waiting for her, hoping he could not hear the conversation, he would only take on the responsibility himself and she did not want that. ‘I might be better placed soon,’ she added, ‘if so, of course I’ll send what I can.’
‘There’s nothing more to be said on the matter.’ The nun smiled. ‘Go in peace, child.’
‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize that the order needed money, I didn’t stop to think. I’m so selfish.’
‘My dear child, forget I mentioned it, this is a place of God, a place where there is peace and tranquillity. We will take care of your mother, she is one of us, you need have no worries on that score.’
Catherine bent forward and took the nun’s hand in her own and kissed the wrinkled flesh. ‘Thank you, Sister.’
‘Go on with you now, your kinsman is waiting. Go home, Catherine O’Conner, try to make something good and worthwhile from the life your parents gave you and go to confession as a good Catholic girl should.’
Liam smiled in relief when he saw Catherine coming towards him; as she approached, he took her arm. ‘Let’s get out of here, this place is enough to give me goose bumps, it reminds me too much of all my sins.’
‘Thank you for bringing me,’ Catherine said softly and slipped her arm through his.
Once they were outside the gates, Catherine took deep gulps of air. She closed her eyes, turned her face up to the skies and felt the gentle autumn rain fall against her closed lids. She might have sent up a small prayer for her mother and for herself but then Liam was drawing her towards the horse and cart, anxious to be away.
‘Do you think Mam is happy there, really happy?’
Liam cleared his throat. ‘I only know what my grandmother tells me, that your mammy came here sick with grief. Now she has a bit of peace and quiet and it seems to be doing her good.’
He helped Catherine into the seat of the cart and climbed up beside her. ‘Maeve is a good soul, she visits here every week in spite of her bone ache. Calls it doing her penance, hoping God will forgive her life of sin.’ He laughed. ‘What sins I daren’t begin to imagine; with Maeve anything is possible.’
‘Why are your family so kind?’ Catherine asked. ‘And to someone who is no relation except by marriage?’
‘It’s what any Irish family would do,’ Liam said softly. ‘Uncle Jamie was always a good man, always one of us. Not that we saw a great deal of him, at least, not until the last few years.’
‘But my father wasn’t really your uncle, was he?’ Catherine looked up into Liam’s face.
‘Well, he was a distant cousin to my father, something like that. It makes no odds, he was still kin.’
‘I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough,’ Catherine said.
His hands rested briefly on her knee and he laughed, ‘Don’t tempt me into making an indecent suggestion, colleen.’
She was laughing with him, her head tossed back, her arm clinging to his for support.
‘Sure that’s the first time I’ve seen you laugh in a long time,’ Liam said. ‘A right sourpuss, that’s what you’ve become young lady.’
‘I know and I’m sorry.’ Catherine looked up at him feeling grateful and troubled at the same time. He wanted her as his wife, though heaven only knew why; wouldn’t it be easier to give everything into his hands, allow him to take charge of her life?
She leaned against his shoulder and he looked down at her, his lips brushing her hair. ‘Feel better now you’ve seen your mam for yourself?’ he asked quietly.
She sighed heavily. ‘I suppose so, though it’s not the sort of life I’d want for myself.’
‘No, I don’t think you’d be a very good nun.’ He was laughing again. ‘You are such a sinful wretch, you drink and gamble and chase the fellers. Oh, no, you could not be a nun, never, ever.’
She slapped his hand and chuckling, he clucked at the horse and flicked the reins, urging the animal to go faster over the uneven ground.
‘Sure it’s going to pour down any minute now, I can feel the rain getting heavier.’
Catherine closed her eyes and saw the sodden fields of Honey’s Farm. The corn was ruined, a little more rain could not do any further damage. She opened her eyes suddenly. ‘What about your corn?’ She was anxious for him, picturing the golden stooks drenched and mouldering.
‘That’s all right,’ he said, ‘the men will have brought it all in by now. I took on extra workers to make sure; knew the weather would turn some time today.’
As if to underline his words, the rain began in earnest, beating down with tremendous force, bouncing off the boards of the trap.
Liam changed direction and drew off the road and into a gateway leading along a rutted track. ‘We’ll take shelter in that barn over there until the worst is over.’
The barn smelled of rotting hay and animals but at least here the cruel spikes of rain could not reach them.
Catherine climbed down from the cart, aware that her skirts were clinging wetly to her legs. She shivered and Liam took her in his arms.
‘Cold?’ he asked and she nodded. She could feel the beating of his heart and his strong arms around her. She felt the young hardness of him and suddenly, she knew she wanted to feel alive once more. She had become so miserable, so lacking in humour lately, she wanted to taste life to the full, to remember she was a young woman with her life before her. She wound her arms around Liam’s neck and clung to him, lifting her face to his.
He hesitated for only a moment and then he was crushing his mouth against hers. She knew that he desired her and the knowledge was like a balm on an open wound. She felt comforted, reassured that she was a woman and not just a cast-off mistress facing financial ruin. She became aware that Liam was touching her breasts, his hands sure and skilful.
Gently, she drew him to the softness of the hay on the floor of the barn. They were close to the pony and trap. She smelled the wood, damp and reeking of resin. The horse stirred in the shafts and Catherine heard the creature breathe softly. Everything had taken on a sharpness, her senses were alert, it was as though she was coming awake after a long sleep.
Liam was undressing her with deft hands, she could hardly see his face in the gloom but she could hear his ragged breath and it gave her a sense of triumph, almost of power.
He was beside her then, his hands on the soft skin of her thighs. He began to caress her gently, with skill, and she moaned softly. She felt a million miles removed from Honey’s Farm, from the troubled person who had stepped onto Irish soil yesterday. She felt the sensations of passion rush through her as Liam entered her.
She clung to him, her hands pressing the firm flesh of his buttocks. He gasped; then he was kissing her neck and her breasts. She smelt the rain in his hair and in that moment she felt an overwhelming feeling of joy. He was he
re, making love to her, he cared, he wanted her, he really loved her.
Liam was a good lover, in some part of her mind she acknowledged the fact that she was not the first. Liam Cullen was a man of experience, he combined skilfulness with vigour and strength.
She heard herself cry out as she arched backwards and knew the sweetness of release thundering through her loins and her breasts, sending her brain reeling.
Afterwards, she lay quietly in Liam’s arms. She could not speak, she was ashamed, knowing herself for a woman of weakness, a woman of little virtue. What sort of person was she? A woman who could give herself to a married man, swear love for him and then turn so easily to another lover was beneath contempt.
And then her thoughts dissolved into sensations. Liam was with her again, touching her, caressing her so skilfully that she wanted him more than she had the first time. She writhed beneath him, moving with his rhythms as though she had always known them. She heard her own moans and then the fire began low in her belly, spreading outwards and upwards. She cried out and clung to Liam’s broad shoulders, holding him close to her, tears running into her mouth.
Later, he dressed her as though she was a child. ‘I love you, Catherine, my darling,’ he said, his voice vibrant, ‘I know now I can make you happy.’ He kissed her mouth briefly. ‘Come on, the rain has stopped, we can go home.’
He lifted her into the seat of the trap and guided the horse out on to the road again. The world seemed a misty place, raindrops hung in the hedgerows like diamonds. Catherine closed her eyes and soon, she drifted into a haze that was half exhaustion, half sleep.
She opened her eyes some time later to find that they were home. It had grown dark, the nights were drawing in. The lights blazed from the front windows of Liam’s house and from somewhere within was the cheerful sound of a piano being played.
Liam lifted her to the ground and pressed her close and she allowed him to kiss her lips. She was stirred by him, was the feeling love? She was so confused, she did not know what she felt any more.
He took her hand and led her into the hall and along the passage to the parlour. Outside the door, he paused and smoothed back her damp hair. ‘My beautiful Catherine, my love, you’ve made me so happy,’ he said gently. Then he was leading her into the parlour where the family were sitting. A blazing fire warmed the room, the curtains were drawn against the night.
Maeve was seated at the piano and Brad was before the fire, feet stretched out to the blaze. Patricia was sewing and she did not look up as they entered.
‘Dad, Gran, I have something I wish to say to you, something very important, something I know will make you happy.’ He put his arm around Catherine’s shoulders and drew her against him.
‘Catherine and I are going to be wed, just as soon as we can.’ He smiled down at her proudly and even as the shock waves fired through Catherine’s veins, she was aware that she had made a strange sort of commitment to Liam. He believed she loved him as he loved her and at this moment, in the glow of lovemaking and with the warmth of his family around her, she believed he might be right.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Catherine stood on the hillside overlooking the sea and breathed in the damp air, worried by the strangeness of the events that had taken place over the last few days. Liam’s sudden announcement to the family that he and Catherine were going to be married had completely taken her by surprise and, though she had wanted to protest that it was not true, the words had died on her lips.
Liam had been so happy since the moment they had made love in the shelter of the barn. His arms had been comforting, she had sought solace in the heat of his body and the urgency of his ardour, and yet, she felt she had betrayed Boyo, that she had been unfaithful to him. What a fool she was even thinking of him now, he had taken her with the roughness of a man taking a whore. Was he thinking of her at this moment? She doubted it.
She would be returning home to Honey’s Farm soon and then she would be able to evaluate her feelings, make decisions about her future: either she married Liam and became a respectable married woman, living comfortably on her husband’s money or she struggled on alone at Honey’s Farm.
She warmed whenever she thought of being with Liam, lying in his arms, having him adore her so openly. But was that enough? What about love?
She was weak, a fool, she should have spoken up immediately, not allowed Liam or his family to believe that she was going to be married to him. To make matters worse, his family, with the exception of his sister, had taken her to their hearts.
Brad had been warm and welcoming from the first, Maeve, harder to win round, was a staunchly independent old lady with strong views on life but she had softened as the days went on and had even offered Catherine advice: ‘Love is sometimes a mirage, here today and gone tomorrow. You know what they say, a bird in the hand is worth two in a bush.’
Catherine had not credited Maeve with such perception, that she was a woman of sound common sense was obvious, but Catherine felt that in Liam’s grandmother, she had found a friend.
She looked up at the clouds scudding across the sky. Soon it would be winter, the lands of Honey’s Farm would be lying asleep, waiting only for the spring sunshine to bring forth a new harvest.
She shook her head, without seed there would be nothing to grow, no harvest to gather. The farm would be plunged into desolation, the fields would grow wild with untamed grasses that would be hard to shift. Brambles, prickly, strong and remorseless, would reclaim the lower slopes of the farm.
She could picture it now: Honey’s Farm, little more than a wild hill on which children would play. Would it be such a bad thing? But she could not give up her birthright so easily; for the sake of her father’s memory, if nothing else, she must try to build the farm into a thriving business once more.
She felt strength surge through her. No! She would not give in without a struggle, she would just have to sell the bull. With the money she could make a fresh start, try to pull the lands back into shape, see the fields rich with golden corn once more.
She must go home, stand again on Welsh soil, breathe in the fresh sea breeze, stare at her beloved coastline; there, perhaps, she would find the courage to decide on her future. She might even entice her mother home to Honey’s Farm, one day.
Catherine felt fired with enthusiasm, she would show them all, especially Boyo Hopkins, just what she was made of. She would have to tell Liam of her decision as soon as possible. He had wanted to marry her right away, here in Ireland and, for a while, she wondered if that was what she wanted too. She rubbed her eyes, she did not know what she felt, for Liam or for Boyo. Damn them! Damn the men in her life, they tossed her emotions about as if they were playing God with her life. Well, she would find her own way, without either of them. Then, when she was financially secure, perhaps she could think about love and marriage and relationships with a clearer mind.
If she could put the farm back on its feet, she could consider selling it for a reasonable price, she would be free to make a fresh start in whatever direction she chose.
She rose to her feet and stared out at the coastline of Ireland; the green of the trees had turned to the brown of autumn, the sea washed the shore with clean white-edged waves. Ireland was a beautiful land but it was not her land; she must go home.
‘I don’t know why you are even thinking of taking this girl as your wife.’ Patricia was peeling potatoes, the bowl in her lap, the peelings dropping onto newspaper on the floor. ‘She’s nothing better than a street girl. She could be with child, have you thought of that, Liam?’
Oh, she was not with child, had she been pregnant Catherine would have hastily accepted his offer of an early marriage. In any case, she was not like that, she was the sort who would tell the truth and shame the devil. Catherine knew he would take her as his bride whatever the circumstances. He loved her, that much would be obvious to a blind man.
He was about to speak when his grandmother leaned forward and tapped her stick on the flagge
d floor. ‘Don’t be hasty, Patricia.’ She looked dryly at her granddaughter, ‘Just because your blood has never flowed hot enough for you to lie with a man, don’t blame those women who have been more fortunate.’
‘Gran!’ Patricia was outraged, ‘Anyone would think you admired the girl for her sordid past.’
Maeve smiled a dry little smile. ‘There are those of us who would not wish to see our past brought up before us, we are the women who are fortunate, who have enjoyed the favours of more than one man, who have lived, child, lived.’
‘So you think it fine to be loose then, do you, Grandmother?’ Patricia stopped peeling potatoes and stared across the room, her eyes hot and angry. Maeve shrugged.
‘I think ’tis sad to be a virgin when you are past five and twenty years.’
Patricia rose and banged the bowl against the table with a resounding thump. ‘So, if I go and lie in the barn with one of the field hands I will be considered fortunate, is that it?’
‘At least you would be considered human.’ Maeve sat back in her chair and closed her eyes indicating that the conversation was at an end. Patricia stared at her with two spots of colour in her cheeks, it was clear she was about to launch into an argument and Liam held up his hand.
‘No need for everyone to get so angry,’ he said evenly. ‘I am going to marry Catherine and that’s an end to it.’ He moved to the door and looked back into the kitchen. ‘Pat, try to like her, it would be so much easier if you did, we will be living together after all.’
Patricia turned her face away and, after a moment, Liam shook his head and closed the door behind him. He strode out across the fields, forging uphill to where he knew Catherine would be sitting.
The top of May’s field had become a favourite spot, perhaps one day he would build her a house up there so that she could watch the moods of the tide from the windows. There was enough land and enough money for him to do just as he liked. The farm had passed to Liam from his mother, his father had a stake in it, but only a small one, for it was Liam who had turned the land into the profitable arable and dairy farm it now was.
