The Wasted Years

by Mary Larkin

  ‘What?’ Rosaleen blinked and came back to reality. She had been smiling at how amazed May would be if she knew the truth of Liam’s birth. Now she blustered, ‘I’m not smiling.’

  ‘It looked very much like a smile to me. Did I say something funny?’

  ‘No … no. Tell me, what do you think of George?’

  May gave her a reproving, ‘You’re not fooling me’ look, but condescended to change the subject.

  ‘Oh, he’s lovely. You can see your da in him, all right. There’s no mistaking that he’s your da’s son.’

  Her eyes grew round with wonder. Imagine … your da of all people! I nearly died when you wrote and told me. How on earth did he keep it a secret?’

  ‘I don’t know! I have often wondered that meself. In spite of visiting George every week, he managed to cover his tracks. Perhaps if George’s mother had lived, he’d have been caught on.’

  ‘He wouldn’t have been able to keep it a secret in Spinner Street, I can tell you that. Old Ma Rafferty knows everybody’s business.’

  ‘There’s one in every street, so there is. In Colinward Street it was Mrs Mullen, God rest her soul. But me da still managed to keep his secret.’

  ‘All the same … it must have been awful for your mam. I don’t know what I’d do if Billy suddenly confessed that another woman was expecting his child.’ May lapsed into silence for a few moments. ‘I think I’d murder him,’ she confessed. ‘Yes, it must have been awful for your mam, living with the knowledge that your da had a son.’

  ‘That’s life. We all get our crosses to bear.’

  ‘Oh, listen to you! Like you’ve had crosses to bear?’ She grimaced in dismay. ‘Sorry … I know you were widowed young. But other than that, you were born lucky. And I’m sure Joe left you comfortable, eh?’

  Rosaleen laughed outright. May didn’t believe in beating about the bush.

  ‘Yes, he left me comfortable,’ she said, deliberately not telling May what she wanted to know. ‘Now, how about you?’

  ‘You’ll never believe it… but Billy has consented to make an honest woman of me. Before this child is born,’ she patted her bump, ‘he’s going to marry me in the Catholic Church.’

  ‘Ah, May, I’m glad to hear that.’

  ‘He’s not turning, mind, but he has agreed the kids can be brought up Catholics. Ye see, it’s different out there! Nobody cares what religion you are, so he doesn’t have to worry about the effect it will have on his relatives, ’cause they’ll be none the wiser. It’s only here that Catholics and Protestants distrust each other, Rosaleen.’

  Noticing the fatigue around May’s eyes, the tired droop to her mouth, Rosaleen rose to her feet and relieved her of her empty glass. ‘Do you want another one … or do you want to go to bed?’

  ‘I think I’ll retire, Rosaleen. I can hardly keep my eyes open.’

  ‘It’s great to have you home, May. Two whole weeks! Think of the fun we’ll have.’ Her voice trailed off. ‘You know what I mean,’ she finished lamely, thinking of the funeral.

  ‘I know what you mean. It’s sad … but once the funeral’s over, we’ll be free to enjoy ourselves. Seeing that Andrew enjoys himself will help Billy cope with his grief. He’ll want Andrew to see all over the north. He was only seven when his parents emigrated. You’ll not mind Andrew tagging along, sure you won’t?’

  ‘No … just as long as you don’t try any matchmaking. Promise?’

  ‘I can promise that with a clear conscience,’ May assured her. ‘Andrew doesn’t need any help.’ She grinned impishly. ‘In spite of his ugly mug, he’s a charmer. So, you have been warned. Come on. Let’s go to bed, or I’ll never make it to the funeral tomorrow.’

  Once the funeral was over, Billy, with Andrew in tow, spent another two days attending to his mother’s insurance policies and settling all accounts attached to the funeral. Then his mother went to stay with her sister, shooing Billy off to show Andrew around Northern Ireland.

  Meanwhile May and Rosaleen shopped in town, May, having obtained some precious coupons from Billy’s relatives, determined to buy some Irish linen gifts to bring back to Canada.

  Then Billy, burying his pain deep within, determined that Andrew would enjoy the first break he’d had in years, and set about arranging a good time for him.

  Although he and Rosaleen were thrown together a lot, Andrew never again expressed any romantic interest in her. In spite of all May’s warnings, he never put a foot wrong; never said a word out of place. This pleased Rosaleen; it meant that she was able to relax and enjoy herself, and they became friends.

  Billy hired a car and the four of them toured all over the north, showing Andrew around the Glens of Antrim, the stark splendour of the Giant’s Causeway, the beauty of Cushendun and Cushendal, and wonderful Ballycastle where the Auld Lammas Fair was in progress.

  Then, in Belfast itself, they took the tram out to the Zoo at Bellevue and then climbed the Cave Hill and stood on Napoleon’s Nose, admiring the scenery for miles around, Rosaleen pointing out a winding road far to the left and explaining that it was the Serpentine Road and that Annie now lived there. The Botanic Gardens and Ulster Museum also received a visit, and the pride of Belfast, the Castle itself, was toured and exclaimed over by an admiring Andrew.

  Then in the evenings they visited the Opera House and St Mary’s Hall, and the Empire Theatre, where Andrew was delighted at the variety concerts. The two weeks went past in a flash and to Rosaleen’s amusement, on the night before they were about to fly back to Canada, May and Billy had some very important business to attend to, leaving Andrew and she alone. Rosaleen realised that Billy would want to spend the day with his mother, but not his last night in Belfast. And May had apparently decided to spend the night with Billy at her mother-in-law’s house. Rosaleen could see that she and Andrew were being set up.

  She was a bit embarrassed, it was so blatant! Surely May could see that she and Andrew were not attracted to each other? At least not in that way. She found him a wonderful companion, felt contented in his company, but there was no physical attraction. During the past fortnight he had been kind and courteous, treating her like a lady, and it was true she would miss him. Life would be dull when he returned to Canada.

  After first checking with her that it would be all right, he booked a table for a meal in one of the posh hotels in town and arranged to pick her up at seven o’clock.

  She spent the afternoon preparing for their date, grateful to Amy for looking after the kids yet again; she’d had them so often since May’s arrival, leaving Rosaleen free to enjoy herself. First a long, leisurely bath, perfumed with bath oils brought over by May. Then she shampooed her hair and rolled it in curlers. While it was drying, she manicured her nails and varnished them her favourite pale pink.

  As she stood in front of the mirror smoothing her best petticoat down over her slim hips, she had to admit that May was right – she was too thin, except for her bust which was firm and full and swelled seductively over the lace at the top of the petticoat. She could do with some new underwear! But now that she could afford the best, there was not enough clothing coupons to buy them. Although the war was over, its effects were still being felt, and she had used all her coupons on a new coat for herself and clothes for the children.

  Not that it would make any difference. Andrew had no chance of seeing her underwear … no chance at all!

  She wore the suit and blouse that she had worn for her first date with Sean. Pre-war but that didn’t matter. Everybody was wearing dated clothes, and this was the first time she had worn the suit since that evening and she knew it became her.

  Once ready, she viewed herself from all angles, pleased that her hair just failed to meet her shoulders and swung like a bell around her face, casting shadows on her cheeks and making her eyes dark and mysterious-looking. The jacket of the suit, being boxed, was all right but the skirt didn’t hug her hips as snugly as before; nevertheless, it swung seductively around her calves and called attention
to her slim ankles, so what more could she ask for?

  Satisfied at what she saw, she gave a wry smile. Anyone would think that she was going out with a lover. But still … she wanted to do Andrew proud, wanted him to remember her looking her best.

  When he arrived, he stood inside the doorway and his glance slowly swept over her from head to toe, full of delighted admiration. She lapped it all up; it was a long time since she had seen such admiration in a man’s eyes.

  ‘You look beautiful,’ he said sincerely, and she nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment. Lifting up her handbag, an exact match for her smart court shoes, she indicated that she was ready to go, aware that he had kept the taxi waiting to take them to town.

  Once at the hotel, Andrew came into his own. Not used to dining in such opulence, Rosaleen asked him to choose for her, and this he did competently, conferring with her to be sure that she liked what he chose. In fact, Rosaleen noticed a touch of arrogance in his manner and guessed that he was used to being in charge, and often dined out. It was with surprise that she found herself wondering if he had a special woman friend. May was right; he was charming, and any woman would be proud to be seen with him.

  When they were settled, waiting for the prawn cocktails he had ordered for starters, the wine waiter having poured the wine of Andrew’s choice, he leant towards her.

  ‘You know, I’m going to miss you,’ he said softly.

  ‘I’ll miss you too,’ she whispered back.

  At this admission, he smiled and his hand reached across the table towards hers. His eyes were warm and caring and reminded her of her father’s.

  Without thought she said, ‘You remind me of my da.’

  It had been meant as a compliment but the minute the words left her lips she regretted them. She could see that he was hurt and offended. The smile slid from his face and his hand was slowly withdrawn.

  However, he quickly recovered his composure and her muttered ‘I’m sorry,’ was waved aside as he raised his glass to toast her.

  ‘I wish you all the best in the future, Rosaleen. May you meet somone you can be happy with.’

  ‘Andrew … I’m really sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be! We can’t help how we feel. Look, let’s just enjoy ourselves. I’ll probably never see you again after tomorrow and I want to remember you smiling and happy.’

  But her words had put a damper on their spirits and the delicious meal was eaten in comparative silence.

  Andrew had arranged for the taxi to return for them at half-past nine and as they awaited its arrival, they sat in the foyer and sipped brandy. Once more Rosaleen tried to breach the gap that was yawning wider between them with every minute that passed.

  He was sitting, head bowed, swirling the brandy round and round in the glass. Impulsively, she reached across and touched his knee.

  At once he was full of apologies. ‘I’m sorry. How ignorant of me.’

  ‘Andrew,’ she interrupted him. ‘Please let me explain … please!’

  His hand covered and squeezed hers. ‘There’s no need. I was foolish to think you liked me.’

  ‘I do! I do!’

  ‘As a father figure?’ He smiled slightly. ‘That’s not quite what I had in mind.’

  ‘I was paying you a compliment. My father was a wonderful man … just like you. Kind and understanding … comfortable to be with.’

  His grip on her hand tightened and he leant towards her. ‘Rosaleen, are you telling me that you care for me?’

  This brought her up short. She liked him, but obviously he wanted more. Just how did she feel towards him? She hadn’t really given it any thought; had just enjoyed his company. Not wanting to lie, she groped about in her mind for words that would not give offence.

  As the silence lengthened he relaxed his hold on her hand and with a sigh, drew back. Unable to think of anything to say, she was glad when he nodded towards a man hovering in the doorway.

  ‘I think our taxi has arrived. I’ll just check that it’s ours.’

  As she waited for him to return, she berated herself. She could have assured him that she was fond of him! What difference would it have made? Tomorrow he would be gone. She could have put on an act. But would it have been an act? She was all mixed up, hadn’t thought of him in that way. Hadn’t expected him to become serious.

  The journey home was strained and when they arrived at Iris Drive, she turned to him.

  ‘Don’t send the taxi away. You must have packing and things to see to. Thank you for a lovely meal. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  He threw her an angry glance and followed her from the cab. When he had paid the driver his fare, he faced Rosaleen. ‘I think the least you can do is offer me a cup of coffee or a drink.’

  At his tone of voice, her head reared in the air.

  ‘Of course!’

  Inside the house, she headed for the kitchen, leaving him to hang up his own coat, should he care to remove it. She was angry, very angry.

  So she had compared him to her father! So he had taken offence! Well, she had done all the placating she intended to do. The sooner he drank his coffee and left, the better she would like it. On second thoughts … it would be easier to pour him a drink. What had she to offer him? There was some Old Bush, left since God knows when. Would it be all right? Yes, of course! Whiskey matured with age, didn’t it? But did it keep once the bottle was opened? She had no idea. Ah, t’hell! she’d risk it. It was all she had … besides a little gin for herself.

  He had removed his coat and loosened his tie and was sitting sprawled out on one of the armchairs, making the chair appear too small for his bulk. Avoiding his eyes, she handed him the glass of whiskey and then sat down on the settee.

  ‘Rosaleen, we got off on the wrong foot tonight. Will you accept my apology? I was childish to take offence.’

  For the first time since they had entered the house, she looked him in the eye. They were full of pleading and her anger, already on the wane, disappeared altogether.

  ‘We were both at fault, but I was honestly paying you a compliment.’

  ‘I realise that now … and thank you. I didn’t mean to throw it back in your face.’

  ‘It’s all right.’

  Now that she was relaxed and the warmth of the fire warmed her limbs, the gin, following so swiftly on top of the wine and brandy and more than she usually consumed, took hold of her, sending her floating on a happy cloud. The room was slowly revolving around her and she closed her eyes to stop it, but that only made it go faster. She stared hard at the fire which helped.

  In her dreamlike state, it came as a surprise to her when, prising the glass from her reluctant fingers and placing it to one side, he said, ‘Come on … it’s bed for you.’

  Gripping her hands, he pulled her to her feet. ‘Come lock the door after me. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  He reached for his coat, but without his support she swayed and he drew her gently into his arms to steady her. Her eyes, almost on a level with his, were inviting and her lips swayed tantalizingly near.

  Aware that she was not in command of her actions, he started to put her from him, but then she licked her lips as if anticipating his touch and he was lost.

  For the second time in her life Rosaleen found herself on the rug in front of the fire, naked in a man’s arms. His kisses were long and soul searching, his touch thrilling. She wanted him. How she wanted him! But even through the blur of pleasure that was lifting her towards fulfilment, warning bells rang. Was she prepared to carry another child? No! Oh, no! She couldn’t take the risk.

  Feverishly, she pushed at his chest; he drew back and looked deep into her eyes. ‘What’s wrong? Do you …?’

  ‘I don’t want another baby … I can’t have another child. You see, Joe isn’t here to blame it on. Everybody will know I’m a whore.’

  He gave her a slight shake. ‘Rosaleen, listen to me … I promise you that there’ll be no baby. Do you hear me? There’ll be no baby.’

  Her
eyes sought and found reassurance in his and she nodded, and as his mouth lowered once more towards hers, her arms closed around his waist and gripped him tight.

  Sounds downstairs awoke Rosaleen the next morning and she opened her eyes fearfully. Was it a prowler? Or Amy? Her eyes sought the bedside clock. Six! Too early for Amy … it must be a prowler.

  Then, when she heard him mount the stairs, whistling happily, memory came rushing back.

  Had he stayed the night? Had she really made love with him? It wasn’t a dream then?

  When he entered the room she was sitting up in bed, the bedclothes pulled up under her armpits, her eyes wide and wary.

  ‘Good morning. I’ve brought you some tea and toast.’

  He settled the tray across her legs and stood looking down at her, a wide grin on his face.

  ‘My, but you’d be a sight to awaken beside every morning.’ His grin became rueful. ‘Pity I can’t say the same about myself.’

  Still she didn’t speak. She wished she could remember all that had happened the night before; she couldn’t even remember coming to bed.

  ‘Eat your breakfast and then we’ll talk.’

  Obediently she lifted the cup of tea, but waved towards the tray to indicate that she did not want the toast.

  He lifted it. ‘Would you mind if I smoked? I don’t usually smoke in the bedroom but I want to talk to you and at the moment I need a cigarette.’

  She nodded her consent and he left the room.

  When he returned he sat on the edge of the bed, drawing smoke into his lungs, deep in thought.

  He was naked to the waist and as she sipped her tea she examined him covertly. Thick black hair covered his arms and chest. At last he lifted his eyes and met hers.

  ‘How much do you remember about last night?’

  ‘Not much,’ she admitted, her eyes fearful.

  ‘Rosaleen … I want you to believe something. I didn’t take advantage of you. You were all for it.’

  She gulped in her throat. So they had made love. Had she conceived?

  As if reading her mind, he continued, ‘But I can assure you, there will be no baby.’

  The relief that flooded through her sent all the tension from her body and she relaxed, slumping back on the pillows with a sigh.