There is a Season

by There is a Season (retail) (epu

  Cathy had been to see Mrs Fitzgerald and suggested that the wedding breakfast should be held at her house. She had agreed.

  ‘It would help my mother to get over losing her house if she could organize it,’ Cathy said tactfully.

  Mrs Fitzgerald pressed her hand and smiled. ‘I can see why Sarah has such a lovely nature,’ she said.

  John had two weeks’ leave, Mick had finished at Grading School and had a week’s leave before moving to Heaton Park in Manchester, Joe and Eileen both obtained leave and Stephen a week’s holiday, so all the family except Terry were home for the wedding in September.

  Sarah and Eileen and Kate were bridesmaids, and all looked very pretty in long pale pink dresses with wreaths of flowers in their hair. Kate had acquired the material for the dresses, a bolt of taffeta which, she told her mother glibly, came from a fire damage sale.

  Anne looked beautiful in a dress of white organdie, with a headdress of orange blossom and a bouquet of white roses and carnations. Maureen had borrowed a wheelchair for her mother, and Mrs Fitzgerald was able to watch Anne and John being married. Maureen quietly wheeled her away before the Nuptial Mass which followed, and drove her home.

  Later Maureen drove her mother to the Redmond house. She spent a short time there, greeting the guests and hearing John’s speech in which he thanked her for the gift of her daughter. Anne and John came to her and kissed her.

  In her weak voice she said, ‘I’m so glad to have John as a son. I know you’ll be very happy. God bless you.’

  The effort exhausted her. Her husband tenderly wrapped her in a blanket and carried her out to the car.

  ‘Go back, Patrick,’ she said when she was settled in the car. Sarah had come out with them, and Mrs Fitzgerald held out her hand to her. ‘Sarah will come with us, won’t you, love?’

  Sarah readily agreed, and when they arrived at the Fitzgeralds’ she helped Maureen to put her mother back to bed. Maureen went for medicine for her as the sick woman lay back with her eyes closed. ‘Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace,’ she murmured, then took Sarah’s hand.

  ‘I won’t be here for your wedding, love,’ she said faintly. ‘Whichever one you marry.’

  Sarah’s hand tightened on hers with surprise and Mrs Fitzgerald opened her eyes.

  Her lips were almost bloodless but she smiled weakly at Sarah who bent closer to hear her as she whispered, ‘I saw the way you looked at each other. Don’t hurt Terry, love.’

  ‘We won’t, I promise,’ Sarah said as quietly. ‘When Terry comes home, we’ll try to sort it out.’

  ‘That’s good children,’ the sick woman whispered. She lay for a moment in silence, still holding Sarah’s hand, then she opened her eyes again. ‘Don’t make a mistake, love, and ruin your life. Marriage is forever, don’t forget.’

  Maureen had come back and stood quietly beside them as Sarah bent her head, too choked with tears to speak.

  ‘Don’t cry, pet,’ said Mrs Fitzgerald. ‘Terry’ll be all right, but Joe – look after him.’ Sarah nodded. Tears were now running down her face, and Mrs Fitzgerald raised her other hand and touched her cheek, then her hand fell back weakly. ‘Don’t cry, love. Be happy. You and Maureen can help each other.’

  She looked up at Maureen who bent and kissed her. ‘Don’t talk any more, Mum,’ she said. ‘You must rest now.’

  Sarah gently pressed Mrs Fitzgerald’s hand, then withdrew her own and moved away from the bed, while Maureen gave her mother medicine. Within minutes she had fallen asleep and Maureen took Sarah’s arm and drew her out of the room.

  ‘Go up to the bathroom and wash your face, Sar,’ she said. ‘Destroy the evidence.’ She smiled. ‘I’ll make us a cup of tea.’

  When Sarah joined Maureen in the kitchen, she felt self-conscious but the other girl said quite naturally, ‘I guessed about you and Joe too, but only because we’re so close. No one else knows.’

  ‘My dad does,’ Sarah said. ‘He guessed too, and we talked about it, but he hasn’t even told Mum. I feel a bit awful about that.’

  ‘Don’t,’ Maureen said. ‘It would only worry your mother, so you’re both keeping quiet for her sake really.’

  ‘Our Mick didn’t exactly guess,’ Sarah said, ‘but he said he was surprised about Terry. He thought Joe and I were a better match.’

  Maureen nodded. ‘You think you’re being so careful,’ she said, almost to herself, then looked at Sarah’s puzzled face. ‘I know what you’re going through,’ she said. ‘Did you wonder why Mum said we could help each other?’

  ‘No, not really.’

  Maureen said quietly, ‘I’ve been in love with a married man for nine years and two months. Does that shock you?’

  ‘Oh, Maureen, no. You weren’t shocked about me and Joe, were you? I know how it happens now.’

  ‘We did knitted baby clothes in the shop and he came in to order some. He seemed so lost. When they were ready I took them to his house, and that’s how it started. His wife caught poliomyelitis – you know, infantile paralysis – after the baby was born, and she blamed him.’

  ‘But why? That’s unreasonable,’ Sarah exclaimed.

  Maureen shrugged. ‘She’s not a reasonable woman,’ she said. ‘Never was. My poor Chris has a terrible life. I think she hates him, but she wants him there to make him suffer.’

  ‘Does she know about you?’ Sarah asked. Maureen shook her head.

  ‘It would be another stick to beat him with,’ she said bitterly. ‘Anyway, there’s nothing to know.’

  There was a sound at the door and Maureen went into the hall. ‘Joe,’ Sarah heard her say, then they went into Mrs Fitzgerald’s bedroom. A few minutes later Maureen came to the kitchen and called Sarah out.

  Joe was standing by his mother’s bed. Sarah tried not to look at him, but was unable to resist a glance and their eyes met. ‘Is everything all right?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, going with a swing,’ he said. ‘I came to see—’

  ‘We know why you came, don’t we, Mum?’ said Maureen, and Joe looked up in alarm. Both Maureen and her mother were smiling. Maureen lifted Mrs Fitzgerald higher on the pillows. ‘Now you can go back together,’ Maureen said, and Mrs Fitzgerald held her thin hands out to them.

  ‘God bless you,’ she said.

  They walked slowly back to the wedding reception while Sarah told Joe what his mother had said. ‘Nobody who knows has condemned us, Joe,’ she said. ‘But to have your Mum’s blessing – it makes me feel better, and yet stronger to resist temptation.’

  Joe nodded. ‘Mum and Maureen,’ he said, ‘they’re both alike. Gentle, but as strong as iron about principles. If they agree—’

  ‘Your mum said Maureen and I could help each other,’ Sarah said, ‘and Maureen told me about Chris, just a little. We were talking when you came.’

  ‘Did she? Poor Maureen, and poor Chris. That’s what I mean about her being strong. He has a hell of a life but he’s married, and you know – “In sickness and in health”, whatever sort of a sham the marriage is and always has been. I think her faith helps her.’

  They had reached Egremont Street. Joe turned and looked deeply into her eyes. It was dusk but people were passing. He said quietly, ‘I can’t kiss you.’ He squeezed her hand tightly. ‘I love you, Sar. We’d better not go in together. I’ll smoke a cigarette here.’

  She went into the house, trying to hide her happiness, but in the general festivity it went unremarked. Her parents and Anne and John asked about Mrs Fitzgerald, and Sarah said that she was in bed and comfortable and very happy about the wedding. Joe followed her a few minutes later and mingled with the guests.

  Sarah felt guilty because everyone was concerned about Terry being away and that she was alone. She lost count of the number of people who said consolingly to her, ‘Never mind. Your turn next when Terry comes home.’

  Mick was near her on one occasion and she said in exasperation, ‘I wish they wouldn’t! I’m not jealous of Anne, and I’m in no hurry for marri
age anyway. I feel a hypocrite.’

  ‘You and me both,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I’ve got people coming to shake my hand and tell me I saved Britain. They think I’m a fighter pilot.’

  ‘It’s the uniform,’ Sarah laughed. ‘And that speech by Churchill.’

  ‘I know,’ said Mick. ‘At first I told them I’d only had twelve hours’ flying instruction and made one solo, but now I just smile and say nuffin.’

  Anne’s going away clothes had been brought to the house and Sarah and Eileen helped her to change, then the bride and bridegroom left. They went first to see Anne’s mother, then to a hotel in Chester overnight, then on to a honeymoon in North Wales.

  Anne hugged Sarah before she left. ‘I always wanted you for a sister,’ she said. ‘And soon we’ll be doubly related, won’t we?’

  Joe was standing near. Sarah blushed deeply. Joe moved closer. ‘Well said, Anne.’ He kissed her and shook hands with John, and under cover of the outbreak of kissing and farewells was able to kiss Sarah too. ‘Our turn soon,’ he murmured, and she felt as though she was lit up with happiness for everyone to see.

  Chapter Forty

  Anne and John returned from their honeymoon to spend the last few days of his leave with the others in Liverpool, but at a family gathering John almost immediately became involved in an argument with Tony and other Fitzgerald relations.

  Germany was being bombed by the Royal Air Force, and John said that it was indefensible to bomb cities where civilians, including women and children, could be killed.

  ‘How can you say that?’ Tony exclaimed. ‘When you look around Liverpool? The Maguire family, six of them, wiped out, and Mrs M’Gee’s daughter and three small children killed.’

  ‘And Grandma’s house bombed,’ said Kate.

  ‘Two wrongs don’t make a right,’ John said stubbornly.

  His father said mildly, ‘You won’t find many people to agree with you, John. I remember a chap in our First Aid team standing beside a bombed house at the height of a raid and shaking his fist at the bombers overhead. He shouted, “You wait, mate. You’ll get yours. We’ll flatten Berlin.” We’d got to a woman and child and managed to save the woman but the child died while we were there. I suppose the thought of vengeance made it easier to bear.’

  ‘Most people would agree with that chap,’ Tony said.

  Kate added, ‘Our John’s always out of step with everyone else.’

  ‘So was his grandfather,’ Sally said calmly, ‘and he was usually proved right in the end.’

  ‘There’s nothing we can do to prevent it, anyway,’ Anne said. ‘And there’ll be a lot of things that we can’t decide the rights and wrongs of until the war’s over.’ She smiled at John, and he smiled back at her and said no more.

  ‘Anne is just the girl for John,’ Sally said later to Cathy. ‘As your dad would have said, she’ll give him the ballast he needs.’ And Cathy agreed.

  It had been a small family gathering as Eileen and Stephen, Mick and Joe, had already left. Before he went, Mick told his mother and father that he would soon be going to South Africa or Canada for flying training, but for security reasons they would not be told where or when until his departure.

  For Sarah and Joe there was a bittersweet feeling about his leave. They contrived to spend many hours together, with some help from Maureen and from Cathy’s father, yet all the time there was the worry that they would be seen together, and the guilty feeling that they were betraying Terry.

  At every meeting, too, it became harder to keep their feelings under control. Shortly before Joe left they went to see the film Dangerous Moonlight, to which the accompanying music was hauntingly sad. Suddenly Sarah’s tears began to flow and she leaned her head against Joe’s arm, trying to stifle her sobs and stem her tears, but it was impossible.

  They had been sitting with clasped hands but carefully apart in case they were recognized as eyes grew accustomed to the dark, but as Sarah’s weeping continued Joe forgot caution and held her in his arms. ‘Don’t cry, darling,’ he whispered, ‘don’t, Sar,’ trying to mop her tears. But although she sat up again, tears still poured down her face.

  They were near the end of a row and he whispered, ‘Do you want to go out?’ She nodded and they went into the foyer, where Sarah went into the Ladies. When she came out she had managed to compose herself and had splashed cold water on her face, but tears threatened again as she took Joe’s arm and they went into the dark street.

  They stepped into a shop doorway and Joe held her tightly trying to comfort her, but his kisses became more and more passionate. Sarah responded eagerly but as his body pressed against hers and his hands found her breast, she drew in her breath and pulled away.

  ‘No, Joe,’ she said urgently. ‘Terry—’

  Joe took his hand from her breast and put his arms more loosely about her but she could still feel his heart beating as he groaned, ‘Damn Terry, damn him! Why did he have to be such a bloody comedian?’

  ‘It was my fault too,’ Sarah wept. ‘I must have been mad.’ But Joe had recovered himself.

  ‘No, love,’ he said gently. ‘It wasn’t anyone’s fault. How could we know this would happen? We all thought we might be killed or wounded, no one thought of being taken prisoner and being away till the end of the war.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Joe, carrying on like this,’ she said in a choked voice. ‘It was just – the music – and the years we’ll have to wait, and suddenly it was all too much to bear.’

  ‘I know, love, I know,’ he said, kissing her gently and stroking her face. ‘But, Sar, I can’t be sorry we love each other, in spite of all that.’

  ‘Neither can I,’ she said softly. They walked about for a while before returning to Egremont Street, and kissing goodnight.

  Sarah had said that she was going to the pictures with a friend, letting her mother believe that it was a girl she worked with. When she returned home her mother and grandmother were sitting knitting beside the fire.

  ‘Good picture was it?’ Sally said, looking quizzically at Sarah’s face blotched with tears.

  ‘Yes, very good.’

  ‘A lovely picture – I cried all night,’ her mother laughed, and Sarah managed a faint smile in return.

  A few days later Joe went back to his unit. He was very sad to leave his mother, fearing that he would never see her again. He was right.

  Mrs Fitzgerald died peacefully less than a month later. The family knew that her end was near as she had been given massive doses of morphia which the doctor had withheld until this time, and had lain in a drugged sleep for days, but she was greatly loved, and they all grieved deeply at the loss of her.

  Mr Fitzgerald was devastated. Maureen undertook the task of sending the sad news to Terry. She received a letter from him, grief-stricken at his mother’s death and concerned for his father, but to Sarah he wrote that he found it hard to believe that his mother was really dead.

  “My life before coming here seems so unreal now,” he wrote. “It’s as though it was someone else living through the events I remember. I suppose it will only seem real when I come home.”

  ‘Not a very tactful letter,’ Cathy said to her mother when Sarah had gone out after showing them it.

  ‘She doesn’t seem to mind anyone else reading her letters,’ Sally said.

  Cathy shrugged. ‘I suppose she feels that plenty of other people have seen them before she gets them, with censorship and all that, and he never writes anything very loving, maybe for the same reason.’

  Joe and Eileen were given a short compassionate leave for the funeral, and Sarah was glad to have the opportunity, however brief, to comfort Joe.

  She also tried to comfort Anne, but she was less close to her now although they were still good friends. Anne worked with girls who, like herself, had husbands away in the Forces, and inevitably she had more in common with them. She was reluctant, too, to parade her happiness in her marriage before Sarah, because of her situation with Terry away and marriage imp
ossible before the end of the war, and Sarah was always afraid she might betray her love for Joe to Anne, so gradually she became closer to Maureen.

  With Maureen she could speak freely about Joe for as long as she wished, and could hear details about his childhood and other things which she longed to know about him. Maureen could talk to Sarah about the man she loved, and they spent many hours sitting together in the quiet house or out walking, becoming very close friends.

  ‘You’re the only one I can talk to about Chris, now that Joe’s away and Mum’s gone,’ said Maureen. ‘Poor Mum. I miss her in so many ways, yet I shouldn’t wish her back when she was suffering so much.’

  Mrs Fitzgerald was already a sick woman when Sarah first met her, looking older than her years with grey hair and a face lined with suffering. Sarah was amazed when Maureen showed her a photograph of her mother as a young woman, with large dark brown eyes and jet black hair, and a clear pale complexion.

  ‘But, Maureen, she’s so like you and Joe,’ Sarah exclaimed. ‘Almost Spanish in appearance.’

  ‘Yes, the rest of the family are like Dad, with dark hair and brown eyes, yet quite different from us,’ Maureen said with a smile. ‘Mum came from the West of Ireland, you know, and they reckon sailors from the Spanish Armada were washed up on that coast and some of them married Irish girls. That’s where the Spanish look comes from.’

  ‘Isn’t that strange?’ Sarah said. ‘Mick said he could picture Joe dressed like a toreador.’

  ‘Joe is like my brother Patrick who died. I think that’s why Mum was so fond of Joe, although she never showed favouritism.’

  ‘You were always very close to your mother too, weren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, partly because I was the only one who remembered Patrick,’ Maureen said. ‘I was three and he was six when he died, and Tony was seven months old. People thought Tony would console Mum, but he was a big boisterous baby and Patrick had been such a quiet little boy.’