Tara Flynn

by Geraldine O'Neill

  “Of course not,” he said, as they drove along Patrick Street and swung up into Tullamore High Street. “It will be a nice treat for you today.” He glanced casually at her. “I’m sure a lovely young lady like you enjoys a treat now and again.”

  There was a pause, and then Tara heard herself saying: “If you don’t want to discuss Madeleine . . . then why have you come to see me?”

  “I want to put a proposition to you,” he said simply. “I want you to come and work for me. I’ll explain it over lunch.”

  They drove the rest of the way in silence.

  “Is this all right for you?” William asked, as he directed her towards a corner table in the dimly lit restaurant. He smiled when Tara said it was lovely. When they reached the table, he said “May I?” and helped her out of her coat. In doing so, his fingers touched the nape of her neck. “You have the most luxurious Titian hair,” he said in a low voice. “Has any man ever told you that before?”

  Tara gasped in shock at both his touch on her bare skin and the compliment he had paid her. Before she could reply that, yes, – his son Gabriel had used the exact same word to describe her hair – a waitress rushed over. She relieved William of Tara’s coat and then waited until he had removed his own.

  “We’ll have a bottle of Beaujolais,” he told the waitress, and then he held out Tara’s chair.

  Tara was relieved that the menu was fairly basic. She ordered steak in a cream sauce with roast potatoes and a selection of vegetables.

  “A good choice,” William commented, then said to the waitress, “I’ll have the same myself.”

  He poured them both a glass of wine, then he clinked his glass against hers. “Here’s to our working future together.”

  Tara glanced up quickly. “I don’t mean to be rude . . . but isn’t it a bit early for that yet? We haven’t even discussed it, and you might not find me suitable.”

  William Fitzgerald laughed out loud, then he leaned across the table, and looked straight into her green eyes. “Oh, I think I’m going to find you suitable, Miss Flynn. Very suitable indeed.”

  *  *  *

  The following Sunday, the whole family attended the early eight o’clock Mass for Noel Flynn’s month’s anniversary. Shay and Tessie came over in their ass and cart with all the children, and joined Mick and Tara in the front two pews. The solemn-faced Joe appeared with Molly and Maggie in a car driven by the priest from Tullamore. Various other cousins and relations joined them at the front of the church, too, as was the custom for anniversary masses.

  In between thinking about her granda and how much she missed him, Tara reflected on the huge changes which had come about in her life since he died. She was due to start working for ‘W Fitzgerald, Auctioneer’ after the Christmas holidays, with more responsibility and with a higher salary than she had received in the distillery. She would work for a month, learning the business from the pregnant secretary who was leaving and who would not be returning after the birth.

  After her own training period, Tara would then teach and supervise Madeleine in the more basic tasks of the office, such as handling the telephone and sorting out leaflets advertising land or property for sale. This was on the presumption that Madeleine would be well enough to start work. At present, she was in a private hospital in Dublin, receiving treatment for her psychiatric condition.

  As Tara had expected, things had also changed at home. But she had not expected things to change to the extent they had. Her uncle Mick had taken to going out in the middle of the week, which was unusual for him. Occasionally, when she had come home after her evening classes, the fire was completely dead and the house empty and freezing. Tara didn’t complain because Mick never interfered in her life – but deep down, she felt sad that another comforting part of her life had now disappeared.

  After the anniversary Mass, her father and his family came back to the house, along with a few of the neighbours. Tara tied her hair back and put on a pinny, then she and Mick set about cooking rashers and sausages, black and white pudding, mushrooms and fried eggs. The previous evening, Mick had baked several loaves of soda bread and a large fruit cake.

  A local woman named Kitty Dunne – a small, neatly-dressed woman with bright eyes – was introduced to Tara as an old friend of the family. She had very generously brought some bacon and sausages with her, and two large apple tarts. She was particularly nice to Tara, and had even offered to give a hand with the frying. When her offer was declined, she sat chatting away to Mrs Kelly and Tessie over a cup of tea.

  After the meal, the guests went home in dribs and drabs, and suddenly, Tara realised that there was only herself, her uncle Mick and Kitty Dunne left.

  Kitty was busy telling Mick all about her own husband’s funeral last year, and how the poor man had been sick for years. “I had to sell the farm for a finish,” she said. “I couldn’t manage it on my own. It wasn’t big enough to pay a man to work in it, but it was too much work without Sean.”

  Mick nodded understandingly. “A farm is a twenty-four hour job, ma’am. Even the few cows we have here now would take up most of the evening. When I come in from the bakery, I’m out in the yard and the garden for the rest of the evening.”

  “Oh, I can see the work you’ve put in,” Kitty said admiringly. “The yard is spotless sure, you could eat your dinner off it, it’s so clean – and all the lovely flowers at the front.” She smiled at Mick, and asked: “Who minds the poultry?”

  “Oh, that’s Tara’s end of things,” Mick said proudly. “She feeds and looks after them all year, and I kill them for her. This weekend is our busiest time, for all the geese and turkeys have to go for Christmas.” Mick’s face became sad. “Me father used to help her with them . . . when she was small and he was fit.”

  Kitty sighed. “Things change. Isn’t it a blessing that we can’t see into the future? Sure, you can only plan a day at a time – isn’t that all you can do?”

  “Indeed,” Mick said. “Indeed, that’s all you can do.”

  Tara offered Kitty another cup of tea.

  “You’re a good girl, and I’m grateful, but I must go home,” Kitty said. “I’ve bed linen to iron, and bread to bake, and hopefully I can catch the fire before it goes out on me altogether.” She gave Tara a warm smile. “That was a lovely breakfast. Mick’s a lucky man to have such a handy girl around the house, although he’s not as useless as some men I’ve met.”

  Mick got to his feet now, and followed her to the door. “Thanks for coming now, ma’am . . . it was good of you.” Tara heard him say, as they walked out. Then, she heard Kitty giving a little laugh: “Will you go away out of that, and don’t be ‘ma’aming’ me, Mick Flynn! It’s Kitty to you, and always has been. Haven’t we known each other since we were in Mrs Donlon’s class in school?”

  Mick must have said something funny in return, because they both burst out laughing. Then, Mick walked alongside Kitty, while she wheeled her bike to the end of the lane. Tara had a funny feeling as she watched them from the window. She hadn’t realised that it was Mick that Kitty knew. She had presumed it was her Granda. She’d never known Mick to chat so easily to anyone before, never mind a woman. It was yet another change in the life she had been so certain of.

  Tara turned away from the window, feeling a sudden chill go through her.

  Chapter

  1937

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Christmas week came and went in a flurry of goose down and snow. It was the quietest Christmas that Tara had known, and she missed her granda so much, she felt a physical pain when she thought of him. Even the news that he had left her three hundred pounds in his will had given her little comfort. She had felt shocked at first that her granda had left that kind of money at all. Mick told her that one of her granda’s bachelor brothers in America had left him most of the money a few years ago, and Noel had carefully added his life savings to the amount.

  “Me father wanted you to have it,” Mick said. “He said he was only sorry
he didn’t have it when you were younger . . . when your mother died, to have made life a bit easier for you then.”

  Tara had stared at Mick for a few seconds, then she rushed into her bedroom and cried for two full hours.

  When she went to pay the cheque into her account, Tara felt guilty that she should have the rewards of her granda’s hard work, and that he hadn’t used at least some of the money to make life easier for himself. He had left a certain amount to Mick and Shay and Joe, but had left Tara the greatest part of the money. According to what Mick told her, her granda reckoned that it would make up for losing her mother at so young an age, and for having such a feckless father as Shay. Only a token amount was left to Joe, because Molly and Maggie had intoned that they planned to leave the future priest and his church all their worldly goods.

  On Christmas Eve, Tara went to Midnight Mass on her own, because Mick preferred the early Mass in the morning. Normally she would have stood at the church wall after Mass chatting to people as they came out, but it was a blustery night. It had started off with a light shower of snow, but had ended up with heavy rain.

  Tara saw Biddy across the church, sitting beside the stony-faced Lizzie Lawless. She had caught Biddy’s eye at the communion rails, but she and Lizzie had disappeared when Mass was over. Tara didn’t feel like going back to the house on her own, but she had no option, because she wouldn’t be welcomed in Lizzie’s. Anything which sounded like enjoyment or frivolity – even at Christmas – would not be welcome at Lizzie’s.

  She thought about calling in on Mrs Kelly, but apart from the Christmas candle in the window, there was no sign of life when she passed her cottage.

  As she opened the cottage door, then fumbled in the dark to light the lamp, it suddenly struck Tara how lonely her life was at times. All the other girls in the village would have walked down to church, linking arms and talking about boys. Afterwards, they would have run home in giggling groups, two and three under the one umbrella, trying to keep out of the rain.

  Apart from rare outings with the girls at work, and the occasional night at the pictures with Biddy, Tara never went out. She had no time, with her night classes and piano lessons, and all the work she had to do at home. She wondered now if all the hard work would be worth it, in the long run. She knew she was aiming for more out of life than the other girls from Ballygrace. They would be content with a job in one of the factories or shops. Passing the time and earning money, until they got married to a lad they would probably meet at one of the local dances. Tara knew of three girls in her class at school who were already married, and one of them even had a baby.

  But on nights like this, Tara wondered what drove her to walk such a different path from the others. Tonight she would have given anything to sit by the fire chatting with another girl. Someone to chat to about ordinary things, like her granda and the Christmases they’d had when she was little. Someone to sit and have a glass of sherry with, and a slice of the Christmas cake that Kitty Dunne had handed in.

  But there was no one to sit and talk to. And there was no point in brooding about it. Resignedly, Tara banked up the fire, lit a fresh candle – and went to bed.

  *  *  *

  Christmas Day wasn’t as bad as Tara expected, because they had asked Mrs Kelly to come over for lunch at one o’clock. Mick had got a large goose cooked in the bakery, and Mrs Kelly did a nice stuffing and roast potatoes to go along with it. She told Tara that she had enjoyed cooking for them, because recently she had lost all interest in it. It wasn’t worth the effort just for herself.

  The two aunties in Tullamore had asked Mick and Tara to join them and Joe on Christmas Day. Mick had declined on behalf of both of them, saying that he’d rather be at home, since it was the first Christmas without his father. As it turned out, Joe was laid up over the holidays with flu, and it was just as well since he could have passed it on to the others.

  Later on in the evening, after Nelly Kelly had gone home, Mick announced that he was going out for an hour. Tara knew that it couldn’t be for a drink, because the pubs were closed on Christmas Day, but she felt she had no right to question him. Once again, Tara was left with her own company. She listened to the radio for a while, and then went off to bed early with a book.

  *  *  *

  Biddy appeared at the cottage the next morning – St. Stephen’s Day – with two tickets for a New Year’s Eve dance in Tullamore. Tara couldn’t refuse because Biddy said her ticket was a Christmas present, in return for the lovely perfume and soap which Tara had bought her. Biddy did not divulge the real motive for going to the dance. She had heard that PJ Murphy would be going, and she desperately needed an excuse to see him.

  “Will Lizzie let you into Tullamore for a dance?” Tara asked doubtfully. “You said she was being very awkward at the minute.”

  “She’s awkward all the time,” Biddy stated. “But I’m going whether she likes it or not. I’m eighteen years of age, and I’m fed up being treated like a child. Anyway, it might be the last chance I’ll get to go to a dance until . . .”

  “Until when?” Tara asked, cutting two slices off the Christmas cake.

  Biddy gulped. She nearly said ‘until after the baby’s born’ because she couldn’t think about anything else at the moment. “Until . . . St Patrick’s night.” She fiddled with her newly washed hair. “You know what Lizzie’s like . . . it could be St Patrick’s night before she’d let me out again.”

  Tara checked the tickets. “It would be terrible if Lizzie stops you at the last minute, and she’s contrary enough to do it.”

  “I’m positive. I’m definitely goin’.” Biddy’s eyes glinted with excitement. “I’ve decided what I’m wearin’ already. It’s a real fancy affair – and I’ve seen a dress in Tullamore that I’m goin’ to buy for it. It’s bright pink, and it has a real low neck.”

  “Not too low, I hope?”

  “Just low enough!” Biddy laughed. Low enough to let PJ Murphy know what he was missing, and to bring him scurrying back to her. “I’m goin’ in to Tullamore to buy it as soon as all the shops are open again.”

  “Is it expensive?” Tara asked.

  Biddy shrugged. “I can’t remember the price, but I know I have enough put by. The priest gave me some extra money in me hand, instead of givin’ it all to Lizzie. An’ I’ve been promised a bonus at the bakery too, because I’ll be puttin’ in extra hours over Christmas. I chat up all the oul’ fellas in the bakery and the delivery men, and they’ve all been promisin’ me a tip for Christmas. God, the older men are easy fooled!” she said with a raucous laugh. “Except yer Uncle Mick of course. He’s a confirmed bachelor, and I’ve too much respect to be trick-actin’ wi’ him.”

  “He’d tell you where to go quick enough – the same Mick,” Tara warned her. “You should be more careful, you know, Biddy. Your messing about could land you in trouble one of these days.”

  “Ah, sure they know I’m only codding them,” Biddy said, like a woman of the world. “They’re all harmless enough. Anyway, I’ve been workin’ hard these past few months, so I deserve a new dress for once.” She felt bad for telling Tara a pack of lies about getting tips and everything, but she couldn’t explain that she’d saved up twenty pounds out of the money that Dinny gave her for being ‘nice’ to him. If she couldn’t have him, at least she could buy a fancy dress and have a night out dancing with other boys, to spite him.

  Tara poured out two mugs of tea. “I’ll have to think about what to wear myself.”

  “Sure you have a wardrobe full of clothes – you’ve plenty of choice. I’m all excited about this dance,” Biddy said dreamily. “It’s the first New Year’s dance I’ve ever been to in Tullamore.”

  As she walked back to Lizzie’s, Biddy thought that it wouldn’t be long until the baby started to show, and how everything would then change. She was already starting to feel a bit sick in the mornings and she was more tired than usual. Deep inside she was delighted at the prospect of having a baby of her own
– someone that would be a real blood relation – but she was terrified about the reaction she would get from other people.

  Tara was a big worry. Biddy didn’t know how she would react at all. Maybe she would never speak to her again. Tara was very holy. Apart from Mass on a Sunday she also went during the week if she could and to Confession every Saturday night.

  It was funny, Biddy mused, how she and Tara never talked much about boys or anything personal like that. She reckoned it was because they liked different sorts of boys.

  The boys Biddy liked were not the sort of boys that Tara would bother with, so there was no point in getting into rows over it. Tara only approved of boys like Gabriel Fitzgerald – but Biddy thought there was no fun or craic with ones like him. The sorts of things that Gabriel would likely talk about would be boring oul’ books and studying, or even worse – religion and politics. Biddy shuddered at the thought.

  God knows what would have happened if Tara knew about her and Dinny. Dinny had buggered off to Tyrellspass, and she hadn’t heard a word from him since. She’d tried numerous times to tell Lizzie what Dinny had been up to for years, but Lizzie had walloped her with the broom for daring to say such a terrible thing about the poor lodger.

  She would probably have murdered Biddy if she knew the truth about Dinny and the others. Biddy wondered if PJ Murphy would be at the dance and, if he was, what she would say. It was a bit awkward because she hadn’t seen him since that last night in Tullamore. They were supposed to have met to go to the pictures in Daingean the following Sunday, but he hadn’t turned up.

  She wondered what the chances were of him being the baby’s father. She didn’t really know how a baby was conceived, but from the little she did, she reckoned that there was no real chance of the baby’s father being Dinny or PJ. Out of the three men that had ‘tampered’ with Biddy, the one she truly wished was the baby’s father – was PJ