The Wasted Years

by Mary Larkin

  Comprehension dawned and she gazed at him open-mouthed.

  ‘You mean … you think Mam was up the Shankill looking for George?’

  ‘Maybe not knowingly, but yes, I think guilt drove her up on to the Shankill Road.’

  She continued to gape at him and he smiled faintly at her expression.

  ‘Tell you what … why not bring him up to meet her? Just introduce him as a friend and see what happens.’

  ‘He might not come. She rejected him, remember.’

  ‘What kind of a person is he?’

  She thought of George – big, easygoing, kind – and smiled.

  ‘He’s a wonderful person. Me da all over again.’

  Sean returned her smile. ‘Well, if he’s like your father, he won’t hold spite. When will you see him again?’

  ‘He’s calling tomorrow night.’ Now was her chance to let him know. ‘You see, he’s been trying to cheer me up. I’ve discovered that I’m pregnant.’

  He tensed and she saw his fists clench as he gazed at her in amazement. She held her breath. Would he twig or would she be able to convince him that Joe was the father?

  Stunned, he sat silent, then his head bowed and he examined her closely from under drawn brows. ‘You mean Joe …?’

  ‘Of course! Who else? But the neighbours will never believe that he’s the father. You can see the pickle I’m in. They’ll swear George is the father, unless me mam claims him as her stepson, which I can’t really see happening, but I can bear it if I have to. I don’t want me mam hurt any more. She’s suffered enough already.’

  She watched him, her heart in her mouth. Would he believe her? She knew it was only Annie’s strong belief that he was sterile that made him so naive. Would he twig on?

  Sean gulped deep in his throat as pain seared through him. To think that a wreck of a man like Joe was able to give Rosaleen another child and all these years a big fellow like him had been unable to make Annie conceive. Feverishly, he pushed all self-pity from his mind. Time enough for that later, now he must think of Rosaleen.

  ‘Well then, she’ll have to be told,’ he said determinedly. ‘Does this George fellow look like your father?’

  ‘Yes … well … he’s not the spit of him or anything like that, but once you know who he is, you can see the resemblance.’

  ‘Try and get him to come up with you tomorrow night. Just introduce him as a friend, and we’ll play it by ear. Your mother knew your father better than anyone else, so she should recognise him.’

  ‘Will you be there?’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ he promised. He continued to linger, and rising to her feet, she said, ‘You’d better go now. Annie will wonder where you are … and the neighbours will wonder what we’re doing.’

  On his feet, he faced her. His eyes examined her face, the eyes heavy from weeping, a bruise already discolouring her jaw, and shame smote him.

  ‘Rosaleen, I’m sorry. Can you ever forgive me?’

  He made to draw her into his arms but with a deft movement she eluded him.

  ‘Sean, I’m tired. I want to go to bed.’

  The old teasing look came into his eyes. ‘Now is that an invitation … or is that an invitation?’ he whispered softly, and love flowed between them. He was relieved to see a slight smile drift across her face and she waved her hand at him.

  ‘Away you go. Go on.’

  ‘Good night.’

  Still he lingered, and with a slight push she sent him in the direction of the door.

  ‘Good night, Sean.’

  As she climbed the stairs to bed, she was weary in mind and body. Was she doomed to spend the rest of her life alone? Even if she was lucky enough to meet another man who attracted her, who would want to take on a woman and two children?

  The rain was cool on his cheeks as he walked home and he was glad it hid the tears. Imagine a skeleton of a man like Joe being able to give Rosaleen another child, while a big fellow like him could not make his wife conceive. He felt so helpless. So inadequate. Other couples were childless, but the women didn’t go on like Annie. Wait until she heard this latest bit of news … her tongue was as sharp as a razor when she scorned him, but wait until she heard about this! He supposed she was right. He should listen to her and go see a doctor. Annie had done all she could, and the doctors could find no fault with her. So the defect must lie within him. If only she had been patient just a little longer. He had been talking himself into going to have the tests done, but she had to jump the gun. He would never forgive her for setting everything up and then expecting him to perform. What did she take him for … some animal?

  He wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand. Why was it considered unmanly for a man to cry? He felt better for it. He would have to decide what to do with his life. Perhaps this George fellow would be a blessing in disguise. If Thelma was to recover enough to live on her own, Annie might at last agree to buy a house somewhere far away from Rosaleen. Not that Annie would know that he was running away from Rosaleen, but if they could just get away on their own, perhaps then he would go and see the doctor. And if hardy came to hardy, he would even consider adoption … but first things first. For all their sakes, Thelma must recognise and accept George. He could not live his life hoping for crumbs from Rosaleen’s table. No! He owed it to Annie to try and make her happy.

  As Rosaleen walked by George’s side up the Springfield Road the next evening, she was in a dither.

  Watching her covertly, George smiled. Reaching for her hand, he pulled it through his arm and pressed it close to his side. ‘Relax, everything will be all right.’

  Easing her arm free, she gave him a grateful smile. He didn’t know what was at stake. It would never dawn on him that the neighbours would think him the father of her child, and it would never do to arrive arm in arm with a strange man at her mother’s. Annie would have a fit. Besides, the neighbours had enough to gossip about without that.

  The hall door was open, and tapping on the kitchen door she entered the room. From the scullery, Annie looked at her in surprise and her jaw dropped with amazement when she saw Rosaleen motion George into the kitchen.

  Where was Sean? He had promised to be here. Even as she thought of him, he was on the stairs, his voice welcoming as he greeted George.

  Annie gaped at him. He had been as much against Rosaleen’s fancyman as the rest of them, yet here he was fawning all over him. And how come he knew him?

  ‘George, this is my wife Annie, and her mother Thelma.’

  Good manners forced Annie to greet George civilly but she would have something to say to Rosaleen when she got her alone. Imagine bringing her fancyman into their home and parading him in front of their mother. Who would have thought that their Rosaleen would become such a shameless hussy? Thelma was in her usual position at the side of the fire and paid little attention to them, but at the sound of her name she glanced in their direction.

  After a brief nod of acknowledgement at George, she returned her gaze to the fire. Rosaleen looked beseechingly at Sean. What were they going to do? Her mother didn’t recognise the visitor.

  ‘Sit down, George. Here, sit here by the fire.’

  Sean deliberately motioned him to the chair facing Thelma’s. Tommy Magee’s chair. ‘The throne’ it had been called when Tommy was alive, and well dare anyone sit in it when Tommy was in the house.

  ‘How’s about a cup of tea, eh, Annie?’

  It was with bad grace that she entered the scullery. Sitting beside Rosaleen on the settee, Sean gave her arm a reassuring squeeze and spoke across to George.

  ‘You live on the Shankill Road, don’t you?’ he asked, and was relieved to see that Thelma was watching George covertly. Would she see the resemblance? He could see Tommy so plain in this young man, but he knew the truth. Would Thelma guess who he was?

  ‘Have you always lived on the Shankill, George?’

  ‘All my life.’

  ‘And your parents … did they always live on the Shankill Road?’<
br />
  ‘My mother was born and reared on the Shankill. She died when I was born, but my father was a Falls Road man. He died during the blitz.’

  Thelma tensed, and Sean pressed on. ‘You’re something the age of my wife, aren’t you?’

  Before replying, George examined the woman his father had loved. She must be about forty-nine but she looked sixty. Snow white hair was pulled back severely from a skeleton face, and the green eyes had a wild look about them. They were examining his face, and he saw a flicker of disbelief pass over the pale face.

  It was obvious that she was far from well. Why, he had seen men look like this when shell-shocked. There was nothing that he would like better than to help this woman, but supposing they were wrong and it went the other way? Could they afford to take the chance? Shouldn’t a doctor be present? However, Sean was nodding encouragingly at him so he replied, ‘I think there’s about six months between your wife and me.’

  Annie heard his words as she entered the kitchen carrying a tray, and gasped aloud. How did this man know what age she was? Had Rosaleen told him?

  Sean took the tray from her and placed it on the table, then lifting a cup of tea, he approached Thelma.

  ‘Here, Thelma … here’s a nice cup of tea for you.’

  He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as she gazed beseechingly at him. Would she believe what her mind was telling her, or would she choose to close her mind and retreat even further from the world? It was in God’s hands. They could do no more.

  Rosaleen sat on the edge of the settee, clasping her cup of tea, and prayed. It would make so much difference to her if her mother accepted George, but she was afraid to hope.

  Conversation flagged, and an uneasy silence reigned.

  George felt Thelma’s eyes on him and he moved slightly, bringing his face round so that the light from the window fell on it. However, he kept his gaze averted. The brightness of the woman’s eyes worried him. He sensed that she was treading a narrow line between sanity and madness. Rosaleen had explained how the opening of their father’s grave to receive Joe’s body had knocked her back into despair. His father had stressed that he was sure that she loved him. Would she want to come face to face with the result of his sin?

  At last the silence was broken by a great shuddering sob and at once George was on his feet, hovering anxiously over this poor, tormented woman.

  To his relief, he saw that the madness had left her eyes and she was weeping quietly.

  ‘Tommy sent you … didn’t he? He’s forgiven me … hasn’t he?’

  On his knees by her side, he gathered her hands in his.

  ‘Yes, he sent me. He’s forgiven you.’

  As Thelma tentatively reached out a hand to touch George’s face, Rosaleen released her long-held breath. And when a bewildered Annie would have broken the hush, Sean, with a finger to his lips, ushered her and Rosaleen out of the house, having the presence of mind to pick up their coats on the way out.

  Once outside, Annie rounded on them. ‘What’s going on? Who’s that man? I thought he was your …’ Her voice trailed off and Sean and Rosaleen shared a happy smile. Annie could be told the truth.

  It was Sean who spoke first. ‘Rosaleen has something to tell you, Annie.’

  Her eyes swung from him to Rosaleen.

  ‘You’re in for a bit of a shock. George is me da’s son.’

  ‘Me da’s? You mean …?’

  Rosaleen laughed at her shocked expression. ‘Yes, that’s right! Me da had an illegitimate child.’

  ‘I don’t believe you!’ Annie cried indignantly. ‘Me da loved me mam too much to have a fancy-woman.’

  ‘You’re right… he didn’t have a fancy-woman. But he did have a one-night stand and George is the result.’

  Still Annie looked scandalised. ‘I don’t believe you! Me da was too good-living to do anything like that.’

  ‘I’m not saying me da wasn’t a good man. He was wonderful. The very best. But even the best can fall, so they can.’

  Rosaleen was unprepared for the picture of her actions with Sean that chose at that moment to rise in her mind, and turned away, confused. For the first time she was actually aware of the enormity of what she was doing to her sister. When she was with Sean it all seemed so natural, but no matter how right it felt, it was adultery. What if Annie ever found out? She had turned her anger on Sean. ‘And you knew all about this, and you never said a word to me?’

  ‘No! No, I didn’t know until last night,’ he defended himself, only to find that he’d jumped out of the frying pan into the fire.

  ‘You were at our Rosaleen’s house last night?’ Annie’s eyes darted from one to the other of them suspiciously. ‘I thought you were at the pub with Jim Gourley.’

  ‘I was at the pub … but I was a bit drunk, and you know how you hate to see me drunk, so I called into Rosaleen’s for a cup of coffee to sober me up,’ he blustered.

  ‘Oh, indeed?’ Annie’s voice dripped with scorn. ‘So you don’t mind if our Rosaleen sees you making a spectacle of yourself?’

  Sean’s voice was bitter when he answered her, ‘Rosaleen’s kind! She’s not like you! You take after your mother.’

  They had reached the corner of the street and Sean turned and strode up the Springfield Road, a hurt, vulnerable set to his head and shoulders. Rosaleen longed to go after him and assuage the pain, but she had not the right.

  ‘Go after him, Annie!’ she urged. ‘He’s hurt!’

  Tight-lipped, her sister stubbornly shook her head. ‘No! It wouldn’t do any good. We’re always at each other’s throats. It’s got to the stage where we can’t look at each other without snarling.’

  Seeing the misery on her face, Rosaleen slipped her arm through Annie’s and led her gently down the Springfield Road.

  ‘I know what we need … a drink. Come on, I’ve a bottle of sherry. Let’s go drink it.’

  ‘You don’t …’ Startled out of her misery, Annie drew back and gazed in open-mouthed amazement at her. ‘Surely you don’t … do you?’ she gasped. Rosaleen smiled grimly when she realised what Annie was thinking.

  ‘Tut! Of course I’m not a secret drinker. I haven’t reached that point … yet. It’s a bottle left over from the wake.’

  Still uneasy, Annie said, ‘What about me mam?’

  ‘We can safely leave her in George’s capable hands. You’ll like George once you get to know him, he’s me da all over again.’

  ‘I can’t take it in. Me da doing that …’

  Rosaleen laughed softly. ‘I know how you feel. I couldn’t believe it either. No wonder me mam nearly went out of her mind when he died.’

  ‘Me poor mam,’ Annie said softly. ‘To have lived with that knowledge all her life. How could me da have been so cruel?’

  ‘He didn’t set out to hurt me mam,’ Rosaleen defended him.

  ‘He must have known what he was doing!’ Annie interrupted her. ‘He was far from stupid. He must have guessed that there could be consequences, and that me mam would be heartbroken.’

  ‘It was only a one-night stand, Annie. He explained in a letter to me. He was drunk.’

  ‘Still … I can’t believe that me da would do a thing like that.’

  They had arrived at Rosaleen’s house, and opening the door she ushered her sister inside.

  ‘Let’s have a drink and forget all about it,’ she said as she filled two glasses and joined Annie on the settee. ‘Here! Cheers!’

  After a couple of glasses of sherry. Annie was mellowed enough for Rosaleen to risk questioning her.

  ‘Annie … do you not think that you’re making too big an issue out of not having children? I mean, lots of couples don’t have children, but they don’t get on like you do.’

  To her astonishment, Annie rounded on her angrily. ‘Would you not be mad if your husband refused to go see about himself? That’s all I ask of him. And then … if we can’t have a family … fair enough. But the big fellow won’t even go to the doctor, and th
en he’s mad when I make all the arrangements …’ Her voice trailed off and Rosaleen was surprised to see a blush stain her cheeks.

  ‘All what arrangements?’

  Annie shrugged, and sighed. ‘Oh, I suppose I can tell you. I made arrangements to go see a specialist … all Sean had to do was perform before I went. That’s all he had to do, and I’d have done the rest. But no … he hit the roof! Stormed from the house.’

  A puzzled frown furrowed Rosaleen’s brows. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘It’s simple! He performs … I go straight to the hospital … and they can take a sperm count without even seeing him. But he went mad, said I should have discussed it with him first. Said he was no performing animal. Well, as far as I’m concerned he’ll never perform again.’

  ‘You mean, you set all this up and never told him?’ Rosaleen cried, aghast. ‘No wonder he was mad. You’ll be driving him into another woman’s arms, so you will.’

  ‘Huh … you don’t know what it’s like being married to him. He’s away so often and I thought I was doing him a good turn, setting it all up. I honestly never meant to offend him, but now it’s as if a brick wall is between us.’ There was an edge of tears in her voice. ‘I’ve tried,’ she admitted, ‘but he doesn’t want to be friends again.’

  ‘Annie, will you take a bit of advice from me?’

  Her reply was sulky. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Put on your sexiest nightie and make it up with him before he goes back to sea. Swallow your pride or you’ll lose him. He’s a very handsome man, and very passionate.’ Horror made her pause at this blunder. ‘At least, I imagine he would be passionate. Many a girl would be glad to accommodate him.’

  She breathed a sigh of relief when Annie answered her. Obviously, she had not noticed the slip of the tongue. Funny how you trusted your own. Would not dream that they would betray you.

  ‘I suppose you’re right. Not that I’m worried about other girls. As you say, he is very handsome and girls are inclined to throw themselves at him, but never once have I seen him show a flicker of interest in return. And, strange though it may seem, I trust him.’ She lapsed into silence. Then: ‘I think maybe he cared deeply for someone before he met me, but she must have died or maybe she was already married. He never confided in me. I respect his privacy. Anything that happened before we married is water under the bridge as far as I’m concerned. I had my moments too.’