Frank kept his eyes on the road. “It’s my younger sister – she’s got herself into a bit of trouble with a local lad.”
“Oh . . . I’m sorry to hear that,” she said quietly.
Frank shrugged. “She’s not the first and she won’t be the last. The problem is, she’s only seventeen, and the lad’s not up to much.”
“Will they get married?”
“That’s not on the agenda,” he said almost snappily. “I had to drive her up to an aunty’s house in Donegal. She’s going to stay there until after the baby’s born. She’s going to have it adopted, and then she can come home with no one the wiser.”
“I’m sorry,” Tara said again.
“Anyway,” he said, suddenly sounding cheerier, “will we go out tonight? We can go for a meal or we could find out if there’s anything good on at the pictures.”
Tara linked his arm and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m really pleased you’re back.”
He took his left hand from the steering-wheel, and tousled her curly red hair. “Not half as pleased as I am.”
* * *
Later, Tara lay in bed going over the evening in her head. Tonight Frank had behaved like a perfect gentleman – just as he had promised. He had made no physical advances towards her apart from a few tender kisses. But she realised that this could not go on forever.
After the awful night at the new dance hall, Tara knew she didn’t want to go back to that kind of social life again. Although she liked being with Biddy and the lads, she knew that their idea of a good night out was not hers. The fiasco on Sunday night had merely confirmed it. While she was still perturbed by the incident, when she called at Ruby’s the night following the incident, the others – including Biddy – had been joking and making light of it. As far as they were concerned, it was par for the course of being Irish people in England.
The fact that they were willing to accept such bad treatment appalled Tara, and she knew that not all Irish people were the same. Even though Frank owned the Erin Ballroom, it was only a money-making business to him. It was not part of his social life, and he never went into it as a customer. His dealings with the place and the other ballrooms were strictly business. For pleasure, he went to places that were quiet and discreet, and where people judged him on his achievements, and not his nationality or accent.
Through her relationship with Frank Kennedy, and her previous friendship with the Fitzgeralds, Tara now leaned that way too. She was held in high esteem in her office, and with the banks and building societies. It was a natural progression of the way she had lived her life in Ballygrace. She had never been one of the mainstream crowd, and even if she wanted to, she would find it very hard to start now.
Having always been an individual, she found it easy to continue along that familiar path. Besides, she was no longer lonely. Frank had changed all that. With him by her side, she would not have to worry about being abused by drunks on a dance floor, or dreading who she would have to sit beside on the late bus back home. But Tara knew that in order to keep a handsome, successful man like Frank Kennedy at her side, a price would have to be paid.
The price would include forgetting that Gabriel Fitzgerald ever existed – and also forgetting that his dead father had raped and robbed her of her virginity. It would mean learning to show her feelings in a normal, healthy manner – instead of cringing every time Frank laid a hand on her.
To continue onwards and upwards with her new ambitious life, she – like Biddy – must leave the ghosts of Ballygrace behind.
Chapter Thirty-one
“Are you sure you shouldn’t try to phone Tara first?” Tessie Flynn said anxiously, handing her husband a pile of freshly ironed clothes. “She mightn’t take kindly to you landin’ on her without any warnin’.”
“Phone – me arse! What would the likes of me be wantin’ wi’ a phone? Isn’t she me daughter – me own flesh and blood?” Shay stuffed the carefully ironed shirts and underclothes into a battered holdall. “It’ll be time enough for her to know that I’m comin’ when I arrive tomorrow. Sure, you know what Tara’s like. If she was in bad humour, she could find a million excuses to stop me goin’ over – and the very next day she could be moanin’ and givin’ out that I never took the trouble to go an’ see her.” He lifted the brown paper bag containing his working boots and squeezed them into the holdall. “And in any case,” Shay went on, “wasn’t it Frank Kennedy that encouraged me to go over? Wasn’t it him that told me there was a job waitin’ for me any time I wanted? Since when did I ever need Tara’s permission to go anywhere?”
“That was months ago,” Tessie wearily reminded him. “It’s nearly December now, and there mightn’t be the same work going.”
“Well, there’s one thing for sure,” Shay stated. “There’s more work goin’ on over in England, than there is in this feckin’ kip of a place!” He yanked a bit of string through holes he had made in the top of the holdall to replace the broken buckles.
“Can you not wait until after Christmas?” Tessie pleaded. “Jimmy Doyle said he could get you work in the creamery over the Christmas holidays.”
“Feck the creamery,” Shay said, “and feck Jimmy Doyle! I’m not goin’ back into that place to be treated like a young school lad. Now, Tessie,” he warned, “I have no more time for arguments. I’ve to be outside church in ten minutes to catch a lift from the priest. If I miss him, I’ve no other means of gettin’ to Dublin.”
He walked over to the door, where his good black winter coat was hanging on a nail. It was a cast-off of Joe’s, which the trainee priest had grown out of. Shay wore it for Mass on Sundays and special occasions like funerals. He put it on now, as it was easier to wear the heavy coat travelling, than have it all creased by carrying it in a bag.
“But think of the childer over Christmas,” Tessie implored. “They’ll be askin’ where you are . . . and if Santy’s bringin’ them anythin’.”
“There’s a better chance of Santy comin’ to them, if I get a few weeks’ work behind me in England.” Shay’s eyes lit up at the thought. “Sure, it could be the makin’s of us. If I can get a decent job wi’ big money, then we could all be movin’ to England! This time next year, we could all be on the pig’s back.”
Tessie looked back at him with dark-ringed eyes. Shay was always full of big plans that came to nothing. Since being fired from the factory earlier in the year, he had been in and out of various jobs – none of which lasted very long due to his drinking.
He had been harping on about going to England since Tara’s visit, saying all he needed was the fare over and he’d be gone like a shot. Tessie had taken no notice of him – but last night he had fairly taken the wind out of her sails. He had come back from visiting Mick and Kitty in Ballygrace – surprisingly sober – and brandishing the price of a single ticket from Dublin to Holyhead. He made no mention of the extra few pounds Mick had given him, which was concealed in his inside pocket.
“It’ll be the grandest Christmas we’ll all have this year,” he prophesied. “There will be no shortage of anythin’ once I get settled in across the water. Oh, you know me once I get started. I’ll be workin’ every minute there’s daylight – from dawn until dusk.” He rubbed his hands together gleefully. “There’ll be no holdin’ us this Christmas – Santy will be humpy-backed carryin’ turkeys and toys into the Flynns’ house!”
“You’ll definitely come home for Christmas?” Tessie asked anxiously.
Shay made the sign of the cross on his chest. “As God’s me judge.” Then, he gave his wife a kiss, and the children a salute of farewell. He lifted the battered holdall, and made his way out of the house and into the cold winter air.
A feeling of exhilaration raced through Shay’s wiry body as he walked jauntily towards the church. He felt so good, he could have tap-danced his way along the icy street. For years he had dreamt of having this wonderful freedom, far away from all the responsibilities and feelings
of inadequacies that pervaded his life. And now – at long last – his dream was coming true.
Shay had no intentions of returning to Tullamore for Christmas. None whatsoever. Like a dog let off the leash, he would not return to captivity for as long as he could help. And he hadn’t really lied to his wife. He said he would return for Christmas, but he had not specified which one. Christmas of the following year would be soon enough for him.
Oh, he would certainly do his bit by Tessie and the kids. He would send home the guts of his first week’s wages the very minute it was put in his hand. And he would send home the second week’s as well. If the money was as big as he heard tell, they should have the finest Christmas they’d ever had. That should please Tessie and ease his conscience at the same time.
He would only need a few shillings for himself. He wasn’t a selfish man. Enough for a couple of pints after a hard day’s work. Sure, didn’t any man deserve that? He wouldn’t need to concern himself with lodgings or the likes. Hadn’t his eldest daughter bought a fine house for herself, and was taking black strangers in off the street? What objections could she possibly have to putting her own father up?
Shay smiled to himself. For once, he was definitely on the pig’s back.
* * *
Tara was looking forward to the first Christmas in her own house. It would be lovely and peaceful, and she was planning a well-earned rest. She had over a week off work, from Christmas Eve until after New Year. And the best bit about it was the lodgers. All of them were heading to their respective homes for the holidays. Tara would take things easy, with only the few hours’ work in the hotel reception over the weekend. They were busy and she couldn’t let them down. Still, there would be no rushing cooking breakfasts and in the evenings she could suit herself. She was always welcome for an evening meal at Ruby’s, and she and Frank would probably eat out on other nights.
Things were quiet in the office at the moment. Mr Pickford was using the time to sort out a new filing system and although Tara and Jean were kept busy, it was in an easier manner than normal. She had written earlier on to Kitty and Mick, explaining that she had now bought the house and apologising for not making it back for Christmas. She planned to send them something nice for Christmas like a fancy bedspread, or maybe some sheets and pillowcases – something special that Kitty wouldn’t find locally. She would send money to her father and Tessie as usual, and clothes and books for the children. Tara felt books were very important, and doubted whether Shay would encourage the children to read, the way her granda had always encouraged her.
She was planning to write to Joe again before Christmas, too. He would be back in Tullamore as usual in a few weeks. She had written over a month ago to give him her new address, but so far had heard nothing from him. Life as a trainee priest, Tara supposed, was probably very busy. In the next few weeks, she would shop for all her Christmas presents and then get them posted nice and early. Then, she would begin to wind down, and look forward to the rest over the holidays.
* * *
Biddy was more rushed off her feet than ever. The Grosvenor Hotel had started its Christmas functions in mid-November, and the restaurant and bars were heaving with office ‘do’s’ nearly every night of the week. Biddy didn’t mind a bit. Whether she was cleaning the guest rooms upstairs, serving behind the bar, or cleaning up in the kitchen – people appreciated her willing and cheery manner. Her bulging purse at the end of every night was evidence of the appreciation, as she received more tips than any of the other staff.
At Sweeney’s boarding house, Biddy and Ruby had got back to their usual way of running things, after the Sally episode. Biddy still giggled to herself when the thought of Sally rushing to the bathroom every ten minutes came into her head.
She and Ruby were the only females in the house now, and that was exactly how Biddy liked it. Having said that, Tara had never been any competition where the lads were concerned and there were odd times when Biddy missed sharing a room with her.
Although Tara was only a ten-minute walk away, Biddy had little time on her hands for visiting just now. Things had really moved forward with herself and Fred the hotel barman, and they were going out a lot more. In order to see more of Biddy, Fred had dropped some of his weekend wrestling bouts, and had asked the assistant-manager if they could be rostered to have the same nights off together.
Up until recently, Biddy had kept her social life with Fred and her nights out with the lads in Ruby’s very separate. It had been a case of hedging her bets. Whilst Fred was very attentive and good to her, he wasn’t exactly the kind of fellow Biddy had imagined settling down with. Although he had a pleasant nature, no one could have described the muscular, red-faced Fred as handsome.
The lads in Ruby’s were a different matter . . . especially Danny and Sonny. Biddy had always had an eye for them, but no matter how many nights she went to the local dance halls with them in a group none of them ever asked her on a proper date. Biddy couldn’t work out what she was doing wrong, because she knew they often took other girls out to the pictures.
It was a funny situation, because, on a couple of occasions late at night, she had found herself kissing and cuddling on the settee with one of the lads. If the truth be told, she had been in that position with nearly all of them – even Lloyd, the black lad, and one of the older men who’d been nice to her as well.
A few times she had even let Sonny or Danny into her bedroom when Ruby wasn’t around. They reminded her of her old love from Ballygrace – PJ Murphy. And like PJ, they didn’t stop at the kissing and cuddling for long. Their hands were quick to unbutton her blouse, loosen the hooks on her brassiere, then roughly fondle her small breasts. And recently, she had even allowed them to slip their hands up along her legs, and fiddle around with her stockings and suspender belt.
It was funny that after all the years of letting Dinny do whatever he liked to her, that Biddy now found herself unable to go any further than kissing and petting. She always stopped when it started to get really serious. The picture of the little baby she had left with the nuns always came into her mind. Another little orphan baby – just like the abandoned baby she once was. No matter how much she was enjoying the kissing and cuddling, she couldn’t ever let that happen again.
“It’s all right,” Danny had coaxed on one occasion, his hands roaming urgently over her body. “I’ve got one of them rubber things.” He started to unbutton his trousers. “I’ll put it on and we won’t need to worry about anythin’.”
Biddy had pushed him away, muttering it was the wrong time of the month. Reluctantly, he had buttoned himself back up, then, cursing under his breath, had left the room. The next morning when she was going to the bathroom, she had overheard him and Sonny talking as she passed their bedroom door.
“Did you have much luck with little Biddy last night?” Sonny asked.
“Nearly,” Danny bragged, “I’d say it won’t be long now. I’m gettin’ closer every time. I’d say she’d have let me ride her last night, if it hadn’t been for her woman’s trouble.”
Sonny roared with laughter – much to Biddy’s shame. “She’s the only girl I know who has woman’s trouble every week instead of every month! She’s used the same oul’ line wi’ me as well, on several occasions.”
“I’ll bet you a pound, that I ride her before you,” Danny stated.
“You’re coddin’ yersel’, man. Biddy’s only up for a kiss and a bit of an oul’ feel. She’s savin’ the rest for her weddin’ night – like a good Catholic girl.” Sonny gave a mocking laugh. “We may look elsewhere. I think we’d have more chance wi’ Ruby.”
Biddy heard a hand being slapped on the bedside cabinet. “There’s the pound,” Danny challenged. “I bet you I’ll ride her before Christmas is over. An’ I’ll do it for the price of a couple of ‘Babychams’ at the dance hall. Wait and see.”
“You’ll get no peace from her if you start that business,” Sonny warned. “She’ll
be lookin’ for a weddin’ ring off you before you know it.”
“You must be jokin’!” Danny sneered. “She might put up a decent breakfast – but she’s not the type you’d want to look at every mornin’ for the rest of yer life.”
“If that’s yer attitude,” Sonny laughed, “then you’d better keep yer mickey tucked in yer trousers. That one’s desperate for a man to marry her. You can see it leapin’ out of her.”
Biddy had turned and tiptoed back to her own bedroom. Once inside, she had crawled into her double bed, pulled the covers over her head – and quietly bawled her eyes out.
The next morning at work she agreed to start ‘going steady’ with Fred. And that very night – she brought him round to Ruby’s and introduced him to all the lads. Biddy could see they were impressed that she had such a big, strong-looking boyfriend. When they found out Fred was a wrestler, they were even more impressed.
Strangely enough, a few weeks after they found out about Fred, Danny asked Biddy if she’d like to go to the pictures with him. He obviously saw her as more attractive, now she had another lad after her. Even though her initial reaction was one of delight, Biddy quickly remembered the conversation she had overheard about herself.
“Thanks for asking me, Danny,” she said, giving a bright smile, “but I’m not interested in goin’ out with anybody except for Fred.”
The surprised look on Danny’s handsome face said it all. Never, Biddy vowed, would she give any man the chance to use her again.
Chapter Thirty-two
Shay pressed the doorbell, and kicked the snow off his good low shoes again. He knew he’d have been better off wearing his old working boots, but Tessie had warned him that Tara wouldn’t be impressed if he turned up looking like a tramp. He put his holdall on the step, cupped his hands together and blew into them. If he thought it was fierce cold leaving Ballygrace, the cold in Stockport was fiercer still.
Tara Flynn Page 46
