by Mary Larkin
May’s face crumpled, and she wailed, ‘I have to go … can’t you see? I ran off and left me mam in the lurch once before when she needed me. I can’t leave her lying there, helpless, and that aul bugger …’ She turned aside and fought for control. At last she wiped her eyes and faced him again. ‘I’m sorry, Billy, but I just can’t stay. I’ll leave Ian with your mam, and you can take him to the fields at night. All right?’
She watched him draw himself to his full height, his face a tight, angry mask, and gasped in dismay when he growled, ‘No, it’s not all right. I forbid you to go. You’re my wife and your place is here with me and Ian.’ Surprise was etched on her face as she gaped at him. Never before had he denied her anything, and that he should start now when she most needed his understanding, hurt her.
‘Ah, Billy, you don’t mean that.’
He nodded. ‘Oh, but I do. I’d be a fool to let you stay over beside Mackie’s. My God, May, they’ve hit everywhere else. If they come back, it’s Mackie’s they’ll be looking for.’
‘Billy … I have to go.’ Her voice was soft, pleading.
His lips tightened and he played his trump card. She might leave him, and the indications lately were that she would like to, but she would never leave Ian.
‘If you go, Ian stays. And I don’t want you coming every other day upsetting him.’
He watched her head rear back; her chin jut out.
‘Don’t blackmail me, Billy,’ she warned, her voice tight with emotion.
He ignored the warning. ‘That’s the situation, May. If you love Ian, you stay and look after him.’
He was ashamed of himself, bargaining with his son, but he had nothing else to bargain with. Lately May had withdrawn into herself. She who had been so loving and warm was building a wall between them and he couldn’t penetrate it. He was at a loss as to what to do, and the uncertainty was killing him. Had she met someone else?
They stared at each other, a hard, bitter look, then with a sad nod of the head, May moved towards the stairs.
‘I’ll pack me bags.’
Billy watched her climb the stairs, hurt and humiliation a tight ball in his chest, Well, he’d no intentions of backing down. Let her go! He wasn’t going to beg. He’d gotten over the loss of one wife, he could do it again.
But you didn’t love Diane, an inner voice taunted him, and in spite of his resolutions he followed her up the stairs.
Standing at the door of the bedroom he watched her remove clothes from drawers and wardrobe and pack them into a suitcase. He avoided looking at the bed where she had given him so much joy. This plain, homely girl who held his heart in the palm of her hand. What had gone wrong? They had been so happy. He had let her have her way in everything. As long as she was content, so was he. Perhaps he had been too easy going. Perhaps he should have shown her who was boss long ago. Now it was too late.
May avoided looking at him. She longed to feel his arms around her, to beg for his understanding, but she was aware that sooner or later this had to happen. They could not go on as they had lately, and she would be the first to admit that it was her fault. She was the one who had changed, and the worst of it was, she couldn’t tell him why. No. She had given him her solemn promise and she could not break it. When she had made the promise, everything in the garden was rosy; love had overcome all obstacles. However, the blitz had changed all that and she couldn’t help how she felt now.
When the case was full, she pressed it shut. Raising her head she met his eyes.
‘May, don’t do this to me, please. I beg you.’
‘I’m sorry, Billy, but I have to go.’
As she waited for him to move aside, he reached out and his arms gripped her close.
‘Well, if you must … you must, but I didn’t really mean what I said. You know, about upsetting Ian. You can come back anytime and see him.’ He drew back and his eyes begged her forgiveness. ‘Every day if you like. And when your mam recovers, or the worst comes to the worst and she … You’ll come home, won’t you?’
She nodded mutely, to show that she understood. The need for him was rising and knowing that it would serve no real purpose should she submit, she exerted pressure on his chest, indicating that she wanted to be free from his arms.
Silently, he released her and moved to one side.
Entering the back bedroom, May stood and gazed down at her son, tears blinding her. Billy was right. Ian should be looked after here. He would take him to the fields at the first sign of danger whereas she would probably want to stay with her mam. But she would have seen that the child was safe. Yes, she would have made sure that Ian was safe. She would have made Kevin take him and Jenny up to the Falls Park at the first sign of danger. No, he had been wrong to blackmail her like that. That hurt.
When she left the room, Billy sank down on the bed. Ears strained, he listened to her descending the stairs. Hoping against hope that she would change her mind and come back. When he heard the outer door close on her, he buried his head in his hands.
Where had he gone wrong? What had changed May?
Rosaleen’s visit to see her mother started in fear and apprehension. Thelma had cut herself off from reality and when Rosaleen entered the room she ignored her and stayed huddled over the fire. Annie nodded in her direction and mouthed the words: ‘I told you so. Maybe now you’ll believe me.’
Then, touching her mother gently on the shoulder, she said softly. ‘Mam … here’s Rosaleen to see you.’
Thelma made no sign that she had heard her and once more Annie bestowed on Rosaleen a knowing look.
Pulling a small stool close to her mother’s chair, Rosaleen sat down. Taking her mother’s hand between her own two, she exerted pressure on the cold, limp fingers until Thelma slowly moved her head and focused her eyes on her.
‘How are you, Mam?’
After a short silence, Annie whispered with a shake of the head. ‘She won’t answer you. She hardly ever speaks.’
‘I’m all right, Rosaleen.’
Thelma’s words caused Annie to gape in amazement and Rosaleen had to smile when her mother added, ‘Make Rosaleen a cup of tea, Annie. I’m sure she’d like one. It’s cold outside.’
Grinning widely, in a happy, relieved, agreeable voice, Annie teased her. ‘And how would you know that, eh, Mam? You haven’t been out of the house for days.’
A confused frown gathered on Thelma’s brow. ‘I thought…’ She turned and bestowed a worried gaze on Annie. ‘Surely I was over in Mrs Murphy’s today?’ she queried.
Annie clasped her hand to her head.
‘Of course you were, Mam. It’s me that’s confused … not you.’ She grimaced at Rosaleen’s broad smile and headed for the scullery. ‘I’ll make the tea.’
And that was the turning point. Although Thelma was quiet and withdrawn, and her days were spent sitting gazing into the fire, she agreed to go to Rosaleen’s house when Annie was working, and Grahame’s Home for the mentally disturbed was mentioned no more. Rosaleen sometimes wondered if her mother had heard the doctor speak about Grahame’s Home and perhaps this had hastened her recovery. Not that she had fully recovered, far from it, but whatever the reason, the wandering up the Shankill Road stopped.
It was some days before Rosaleen realised that all was not well with May. When she arrived alone to stay Rosaleen had thought it reasonable that Billy did not want his son staying over in the shadow of Mackie’s Foundry. And it was only natural that May should be depressed. Wasn’t her mother at death’s door? Still, there was something else. Something was drastically wrong, she could sense it. Why hadn’t Billy brought Ian to see his mother? Why did May change the subject when she inquired after Billy? Rosaleen was at her wit’s end when at last things came to a head.
Kate Brady lasted just over two weeks and it was after her funeral that Rosaleen learned May and Billy were separated.
Billy was at the funeral and returned from the graveyard to Spinner Street to the wake.
It was la
te in the evening when the last mourner departed and Rosaleen, who had stayed back to help with the washing up, made her excuses and prepared to go home.
At once May was on her feet. Bidding her brothers goodnight, she made it obvious that she was accompanying Rosaleen. A tight-lipped Billy, in a voice that would not be denied, declared that he would walk them home.
The short journey through the dark, deserted streets was a nightmare to Rosaleen as she and Billy made inane conversation and a silent May walked some steps ahead of them.
At the door, in a dilemma, Rosaleen said tentatively, ‘Look, I’ll nip round and see how Laura and Amy are. It’ll give you two a chance to talk.’
Amy had offered to look after Laura, and Rosaleen was aware that, like the rest of the Falls Road, she stayed awake even when the sirens didn’t wail their warning, just in case of a raid. Although fewer people trekked up to the Falls Park and countryside every night now, they didn’t retire until about two in the morning, when it was assumed that the danger of a raid was past, so Rosaleen was confident that she would find Amy still awake.
‘No!’ May’s voice rang out sharply in the still night air. ‘Billy won’t be coming in. He’s a busy man. He won’t have time to talk to me.’
‘May!’ His voice was, if possible, sharper. ‘Stop this nonsense. Of course we must talk. We’ve arrangements to make.’
‘We can do that through the solicitors, Billy. Now that Mam’s dead, I can start to put my affairs in order.’
With these words, she brushed past them and entered the house.
Standing on the pavement, Rosaleen gaped at Billy in dismay. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t ask you in.’
‘It’s all right, Rosaleen. It’s all right … don’t upset yourself. Goodnight.’
Sensing the deep unhappiness in him, she gripped his arm as he closed the gate of the small forecourt.
‘Billy, I don’t mean to be nosey … but what on earth’s wrong?’
‘Hah! I wish I knew, Rosaleen. I wish I knew. I’ve wracked me brains and I’ll be damned if I can see what I did wrong. I gave her everything and this is the result.’ He paused a moment, hating himself for asking the next question. ‘Rosaleen … is there anybody else? Another man?’
‘Good Lord, Billy, of course there isn’t. The past few weeks have been devoted to looking after her mother. I thought that’s why you didn’t come. I thought you were giving her a breather while she nursed her mam. All this has come as a shock to me.’
‘You mean she hasn’t talked about us?’
‘Not one word, Billy. Not one wee word.’
‘Oh.’ He looked perplexed, then, ‘Here, I almost forgot.’ He plunged his hand into his inside jacket pocket, and produced a bulky envelope, which he thrust into her hand. ‘I intended to give this to her, but I didn’t get a chance … couldn’t get her alone. And, Rosaleen … if she’s ever in need, you’ll let me know, won’t you?’
‘I can’t make any promises, Billy. May is very proud and independent, you know that. If she doesn’t want you to know how she is, well … she’s my best friend and her wishes come first. I hope I don’t get into trouble for taking this.’ She wagged the envelope in his direction, sorry that she had been so ready to accept it. May would probably be angry with her.
‘I understand, Rosaleen, but make her take that. After all, she is still my wife. Goodnight.’
With these words, he turned on his heel and strode down the street, a picture of misery.
When Rosaleen entered the house, May had already retired to the back bedroom and although Rosaleen tapped on the door, there was no reply. The next morning she was gone from the house before Rosaleen descended the stairs and it was lunch time when she returned.
‘When on earth have you been?’ Rosaleen greeted her reproachfully. I’ve been worried stiff about you.’
‘Afraid I might commit suicide?’
A wry smile crossed Rosaleen’s face. ‘No, never that. You’re too strong a person to give into despair.’
‘You’re right. Mine isn’t the first marriage to flounder, and it won’t be the last.’ She squared her shoulders and proudly declared, ‘I’ve been out getting meself a job. Our Colin told me that Mackie’s were looking for two learners and I start work there on Monday.’
This news didn’t come as a surprise to Rosaleen. May was not one to let the grass grow under her feet.
‘Good for you,’ she praised her, and going to the bureau, retrieved the envelope Billy had given her the night before. Tentatively she proffered it to her friend. ‘Now, May, don’t be angry with me … he made me take it.’
May opened the envelope and peered inside. Rosaleen could see that all the notes were big and white. Fivers! And quite a lot of them.
May’s face twisted in a grimace as she fingered the notes. ‘These’ll help pay for the divorce, so they will. It means he can get rid of me sooner.’
‘May, don’t say that. Billy’s terribly upset. I doubt if he wants to be rid of you.’
‘Well then, explain this to me, Rosaleen. Explain this to me.’ Her voice choked with emotion. ‘Why did he not bring my son down to see me? Eh? I’ve been out of the house three whole weeks and he never once brought the child to see me. He knew I was stuck in the house, looking after me mam, and still he never came. I’ll never forgive him for that. Never!’
Unable to think of a suitable reply to this accusation, Rosaleen groped about in her bewildered brain and at last said haltingly, ‘Perhaps Ian was poorly.’
‘All the more reason why he should’ve been in touch with me,’ May interrupted her angrily. ‘No, it’s all over between me and Billy.’ A harsh laugh left her lips. ‘The neighbours in Spinner Street will be glad. They’ll be able to say: “We told her so! She should have listened to us.”’
She turned away for a moment. ‘He didn’t even mention Ian to me yesterday … not one word. He was there for hours and hours and he never mentioned Ian once. Never told me how the child is.’
‘Ah, May now … be fair! You didn’t give him a chance. You avoided him all day. Remember, I was there. I saw the way you kept him at arm’s length. And he was probably waiting for you to inquire about Ian. How come you didn’t ask about him, eh? Your only child, and you haven’t seen him for three weeks, and you didn’t ask about him.’ The look she bestowed on May was scornful. ‘It seems to me you were both at fault.’
May reacted angrily to her criticism. ‘Don’t you preach to me! You don’t know the circumstances.’
Ignoring her anger, Rosaleen moved closer and beseeched her, ‘No, May, I don’t know the circumstances, but it seems to me that you should give Billy a chance to put things right.’
Tentatively, she placed a hand on her arm. ‘May … what went wrong? You and Billy were so close. I used to envy you, you were that close. What on earth happened?’
Even in her misery, May gaped at Rosaleen in astonishment. ‘You envied me? You, who had everything, envied me?’ A hand covered her chest. ‘Me … living in sin on the Shankill Road. Ah! Don’t mock me, Rosaleen. You always thought that this would happen. Come on now, admit it. Right from the start you thought that Billy and I would break up.’ She thrust a red, angry face close to Rosaleen’s. ‘Didn’t you?’
Aware that, at the start, she had expected the marriage to flounder, Rosaleen answered honestly.
‘You’re right, May. At first I had deep misgivings about your marriage but, against all the odds, you and Billy made a go of it. You were so happy, so close. It was your closeness that I envied. With different backgrounds, and different beliefs, you were still so happy. It was a joy to watch the two of you together. But it was your closeness that I envied most. Not many couples are as much in harmony. You’re a fool if you don’t fight for your happiness.’
Seeing May’s eyes go round with wonder, and guessing that she was wondering just why she and Joe weren’t close, Rosaleen hurried on. ‘You really should talk it over with Billy. I’m sure things can be sorted out.’
May’s mouth opened to speak but shut without uttering a sound. How could she tell Rosaleen about her change of heart. Why, she would laugh at her. Tell Rosaleen that she, who had never been gospel greedy, was afraid of losing her soul?
‘If you don’t mind, Rosaleen, I don’t want to talk about it.’ And to change the subject, she confided. ‘I’m moving back home to Spinner Street, so I am.’
‘Will your da allow you back?’
‘No way! But he’s not staying there. It seems some fool of a woman has been looking after him while he’s been out of the house.’
‘Really? You know, May, I felt sorry for him yesterday. He seemed so lost … so unhappy.’
‘Huh! So he fooled you too? My da’s crafty. There’ll always be some idiot there to care for him. He must have some kind of charm, but I never saw it displayed in our house. No bloody fear. All I ever saw was scorn and dislike.’ A puzzled frown knitted her brows. ‘Do you know something, Rosaleen? I sometimes thought my da hated me. Even when the boys were young, he never hit them as hard as he hit me. Is it any wonder I hate him?’ She paused and thought for a few moments. ‘He used to shout at me: “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have married yer ma.” It was a long time before I understood what he meant. Imagine blaming me on that, Rosaleen. Imagine me mam going through life, getting that thrown at her every time he was drunk.’
‘Ah, May … you’ve had an awful hard life. You’ve been through the mill, so you have.’
The tears clung to May’s lashes and the smile she gave was more a grimace, but there was no doubting her sincerity when she proudly declared: ‘I’ve had over two wonderful years with Billy Mercer. Some people don’t even get that, so I consider myself lucky.’
And as she turned away towards the bathroom, Rosaleen knew the tears were falling. But what could she do if her friend wouldn’t confide in her?
With so many mills and engineering places shut down, there was a rush of young men to join the army, and it came as no surprise when, two weeks later, Billy arrived at Rosaleen’s house to announce that he had joined up. He had Ian with him and as May hungrily reached for her son, Rosaleen lifted her coat and slipped quietly from the house, sending a prayer heavenward that things between Billy and May would be sorted out.
