‘You’ve carved one leg shorter than the other on that,’ he said, nodding at the stool Pete had nearly finished.
Pete was used to this sort of commentary, but that didn’t make it any easier. ‘I have not,’ was all he said in return.
‘Yes, you have. Wait until you put it on the floor. Sarah will slide straight off and onto her arse if she sits on that.’
Pete took a deep breath, put down his tools and walked away, as he often did, to the big house and Nola.
Nola lifted her head, and within seconds a knowing smile had crossed her face. ‘Oh, ’tis nice to see someone else realises what he can be like,’ she said. Recognising Pete’s frustration, she reached for the kettle. ‘Stay here a bit. Take the old maggot a drink out, but wait a while. He would drive anyone to distraction – anyone except Sarah, that is. He thinks the sun shines out of Sarah, so he does.’
Pete pulled out a stool and rested at the table. ‘He does that. ’Tis “Sarah this” and “Sarah that”. You would think she was his own daughter.’
Nola poured the hot water into the pots. ‘Ah, well, he was a father of sons… He told me once that if Sarah ever has a baby girl, he’ll live for another twenty years. He must be the only one praying that she will!’
Their eyes met, neither spoke, and then both erupted into laughter as Pete said, ‘Let’s hope she has boys then.’
Wiping her eyes with her hankie, Nola handed Pete the mugs. ‘God, we’re wicked, we are. I’ll have to go to confession now for that, God help me.’
‘You didn’t say a word,’ said Pete as he made for the door.
‘No, but I agreed with you and that’s sin enough.’
‘Ah, sure, he’s not that bad, and we didn’t mean it. Nothing is as awful as it seems, Nola, after one of your brews.’
*
Pete strode out of the house and back to the old cottage, his humour restored. ‘Daedio, I’m bringing ye a brew. You’re a great man for the tea. Get your gums around this and stop yer carping at me.’
Once all the carving of the stools and the table was finished, Michael and his father oiled them. Daedio had produced money from the cedar box and given it to Michael and Sarah to buy stock and the remainder of their furnishings, including some pretty floral fabric Sarah had found in Galway, and presses for the kitchen and the bedroom. Pots and dishes were collected from Newport, and Michael and Sarah had a whole week in Dublin, making contacts for trade and purchasing goods for their new home. An iron bedstead was chosen and ordered.
Mrs Doyle was in second heaven when the goods began to arrive at the post office awaiting collection. Of course, everything had to be shown off before it was removed.
‘God in heaven, would you look at that. Feel it, would you,’ she said as she almost demanded Sarah show her the latest bolt of curtain fabric to arrive. ‘I have never in my life seen anything like it,’ she exclaimed. ‘Stay there, don’t move, I’m away to tell Ellen Carey to lock up the shop so she can come and see for herself. Keeva, make Sarah more tea.’
Keeva liked Sarah, and her parcels were the light of Keeva’s day. ‘Oh God, Sarah, you can’t go until Rosie finishes up at the school and takes a look herself,’ she said.
No sooner were the words out of her mouth than Teresa walked in, with Rosie O’Hara right behind her. Rosie had been on an errand for Mr O’Dowd while he minded both classes and had been hurrying back to the school when Teresa had as good as kidnapped her. ‘The post office has all manner of things arriving, I didn’t want you to miss out,’ Teresa said as she hurried on ahead. ‘They know how to make furniture with style in Dublin – there is nothing quite like it. You will know what I am talking about any minute now.’
Once through the door, she grabbed Rosie by the sleeve of her coat and pulled her towards the women standing around the parcel, its brown-paper wrapping almost torn open. Rosie’s reluctance was more than noticeable. ‘Would you look at that, the palest lemon, and those sprigs of pink flowers, where are they from? What are they called?’ Teresa demanded.
‘Miss O’Hara is the teacher, she can tell us,’ said Philomena O’Donnell. ‘And she can tell me why Mr O’Dowd keeps Theady in detention so often when he’s there every morning, up with the lark, collecting the kindling for the school fire.’ Philomena pushed in front of the other women to address Rosie directly. ‘He’s making my Theady right miserable. I cannot get a peep out of him and the only way I can get him up to the school is to tell him that you need the fire lighting. I say to him, “Miss O’Hara will freeze half to death and die of the cold if you don’t get along there, Theady.”’
Rosie felt horribly self-conscious as the woman scrutinised her. She had never spoken to an audience of adults as she was now about to. Children were her audience; with children, her face didn’t burn red and her hands didn’t shake. She had only called in at the post office because Teresa had dragged her there. She had become comfortable in the company of Sarah and Keeva, but this was like the Spanish Inquisition. She wanted to melt into the walls as all eyes turned to her.
‘I… I don’t know, Mrs O’Donnell. I teach the girls’ class,’ she replied. She began to perspire and her skin prickled; she wanted to flee.
Philomena O’Donnell was not to be put off. ‘Well, you find out, Miss O’Hara. Everyone around here has good things to say about you and I’m not saying it is anything to do with you, for sure, but my Theady, he’s all I have left now that the others have gone, and by the way, that’s a lovely bit of fabric you have there, Mrs Malone.’
Mrs Malone! Sarah’s stomach still flipped when someone called her that. She met Rosie’s eyes, felt sorry for her having been put on the spot.
Rosie felt weak with relief that the women’s attention had been directed away from her at last. ‘I have to go,’ she said quietly to Teresa as she headed for the door.
‘Don’t let that woman put you off,’ Teresa hissed. ‘Sarah’s opening the bed linen now – take a look first. Mrs Doyle said they have ordered the finest.’
Bed linen. The words froze in Rosie’s brain. Teresa had no idea that every night, in Rosie’s thoughts, Michael lay on Rosie’s bed linen. That she felt the heat from his warm flesh as she closed her eyes and filled her nostrils with the smell of him. That as she breathed, she heard his breathing next to her.
At Teresa’s prompting, she now slowly turned her head and saw the scalloped, embroidered edge of a linen sheet that someone was holding and pressing against their face.
Sarah wanted to snatch the sheet away from the woman holding it. Having been raised on the coast and not in the village itself, she wasn’t used to the ways of the village women. She sometimes mildly resented their interference and their probing into every aspect of her life with Michael. Rosie, though, wasn’t like that. Sarah felt sorry for her and the way she’d been interrogated by Philomena. She wanted to make her feel better. ‘Come up to the farm and we can see it properly, Rosie,’ she said as Rosie brushed past her to reach the door. ‘And when we move in, you can be the first to visit the new house.’
Rosie flushed with pleasure.
‘Can I come too?’ asked Keeva, who was collecting up used teacups and placing them onto a wooden tray.
Sarah laughed at something someone was saying to her and Rosie thought how her laughter sounded as sweet as she looked. She gave her a nervous smile. ‘I will. I would like to.’ She turned to the assembled women. ‘I have to get back to the school. Goodbye.’
As the door closed behind her with an insistent jingle of the bell, the women stood around staring after her.
‘Well, I hope she gets our Theady sorted,’ said Philomena as the door reopened and the bell rang out again.
Two more women rushed in. ‘Which shop did you get this bolster in? I could have made you one of those for half the price,’ one of them said.
Sarah turned to answer and Keeva’s heart sank. Sarah hadn’t responded to her question. She had barely spoken to her, seeming to prefer Rosie. She sighed as she placed the
last cup on the tray. She knew the reason; she wasn’t good enough. She was just a shop girl who would never have the opportunity to flee to Liverpool or anywhere else. Her wages just about covered the food and helped her mother, who was now riddled with arthritis and incapable of working. Keeva’s life was in Tarabeg. Even in such a small village, there was a social ladder, and Keeva sat on the bottom rung. No wonder Sarah didn’t think to invite her to her new home. As far as it went in Tarabeg, Keeva was part of the furniture.
*
As Sarah and Michael arrived back at the farm in the horse and cart, Nola came to the door.
‘You were all day collecting a few things from Mrs Doyle’s. She’ll have you moving in with her next.’
Sarah could tell that Nola was slightly aggrieved. Michael could tell that Sarah was a big hit and Nola was jealous. She liked the hours she spent with Sarah and resented sharing her with Mrs Doyle and half of the village. Not to mention that almost every woman in Tarabeg had seen Sarah’s curtain fabric before she had.
‘The things we are buying for the house are causing such a commotion, Mammy,’ Michael explained. ‘Mrs Doyle wouldn’t let Sarah go until everyone had seen what she had bought.’
‘The cheek of the woman,’ said Nola as she wiped her hands on her apron and went back inside. ‘She has no right to be telling everyone. I’ll be going with ye next time and I’ll be telling her to mind her business.’
Michael smiled down at Sarah and kissed her head. ‘Go and show Mammy the material and make a fuss. She’s upset that everyone else has given you their opinion before she even had the chance.’
‘And tell me, Michael, how do you know that?’ asked Sarah, smiling up at him.
He noted the confident and cheeky twinkle in her eye. She was like the ferns that lined the boreen, he thought. Tightly furled when she arrived, just like the ferns during the winter, and then the sun came, bringing warmth and a welcome relief from the storms. Under the care of the Malones, Sarah had slowly opened up, and now she smiled freely, of her own will and not just when she thought she should. He lifted his cap and for a brief moment let the autumn breeze cool his brow. ‘Because I feel the same, sometimes,’ he said. ‘I get jealous too.’
Sarah pushed him playfully in the side. ‘You! I’m your wife. You can talk to me and see me as much as you like.’
‘Ah, I know that. But when I see how much of your attention Daedio gets, how much you talk to him and laugh with him, I feel a bit jealous too.’ His confession had made him feel foolish and he put his arms around her shoulders and pulled her into him. ‘Even Daddy notices how well you and Daedio get along. I think he might feel a bit jealous too. Sarah Malone, you have come from the coast into Tarabeg and you’ve stolen everyone’s hearts with your long, golden-red hair and your big, generous smile. And the fact is, no one knows how. How did someone who grew up with an animal like your father turn out to be just like you?’
Michael could have bitten his tongue off as soon as he spoke. He felt Sarah’s shoulders stiffen under his hand and he almost groaned out loud at his own stupidity.
‘Because of Mammy. Mammy was nothing like Daddy. He was the dark and she was the light. He was bad and she was good. He was bad, Michael, and Mammy, she was an angel.’
‘Come here,’ he said and he threw both arms around her and hugged her to him so tight, she almost squealed with the pain of it.
‘Are those two all right?’ asked Daedio from inside the house. He was leaning forward on his bed and peering out of the door.
Nola knew full well it was Sarah’s return he was waiting for, and he was growing impatient. ‘They are well and good. Leave them be,’ she said with a note of reprimand in her voice. ‘Don’t be going askin’ when they come indoors. They are entitled to their privacy.’
‘Don’t even say such a thing, woman. Aren’t I asking you so I don’t have to ask them? Why would I be prying into their personal business. Hush your suspicious mouth now.’
Just at that moment, Michael and Sarah stepped into the cottage.
‘Ah, here ye are,’ said Daedio. ‘What was all that talking about outside? We don’t keep secrets in this house.’
A wet cloth came hurtling through the air and would have landed square on his ear if he hadn’t shifted to the side.
‘See that, Michael? She could have killed me with that. Your mother, she is worse than mad Mary from the mission, she is. She needs locking away in the asylum.’
Michael laughed, picked up the wet cloth from the bed and handed it back to his scowling mother.
‘Come here, Sarah,’ said Daedio. ‘I have something to show ye. Michael, pass me the box.’
‘What, again? What’s in there this time, Daedio? Did you find this box under a rainbow?’ He passed down the cedar box to Daedio and flopped into the rocking chair.
Sarah sat in what had become her usual place, on the end of Daedio’s bed. ‘I’ve a ton of stuff to be showing you, Daedio,’ she said. ‘We have everything for the house now and soon everything for the shop will begin to arrive.’
Daedio wasn’t listening; he was too busy digging around in the box. ‘Aha, got it. Here it is.’ He held out a small folded linen cloth to Sarah. ‘’Tis yours, and it matches your beauty.’ He looked pleased with himself as Sarah unfolded the cloth and pulled out a green emerald heart on a gold chain.
‘I can’t…’ she stammered.
‘Oh yes you can,’ said Daedio. ‘There’s no one else around here young and pretty enough to give it to.’ He shot a meaningful look at Nola, but he couldn’t keep the grin from his face.
‘Yes,’ Nola replied, ‘but there is someone old and ugly enough to give it to you, Sarah. It will look lovely on you. Here, let me fasten it.’ She moved around the table.
‘Ah, is it Christmas in here?’ said Seamus as he too came in and, stamping his feet dry on the rush mat, saw what was happening.
‘It will bring you luck,’ said Daedio, ignoring Seamus.
Sarah turned to Michael, who smiled at the sight of the gleaming emerald nestled into the milky white skin in the dip of her throat. ‘You look like the prettiest girl in all of Ireland,’ he replied, and they both knew he meant it.
‘And here’s the rest of it.’ Daedio handed Sarah a leather pouch full of money.
Tears welled up in Sarah’s eyes at the fact that he’d placed the pouch in her hands and not Michael’s. She looked back anxiously, but Michael just smiled.
‘Spend it with care,’ said Daedio. ‘I’m guessing ’twill be quickly used. Once it’s gone, ’twill take hard work to put it back, but this is what it was for. Go on, make yourself the home you want, spend some on clothes to put a smile on your face and make sure you put some of it into the business so that you get it back over time. And don’t any of ye tell her where it came from.’
He grinned as Sarah looked down at the money in her hand: notes rolled up tightly in a bundle resembling a large cigar.
‘But I’ve never had money, I don’t know how…’
‘That’s why you’ll be good at it,’ said Daedio. ‘You’ll be careful. You need things for the house, and Michael, as soon as the building is finished, you will have to go on your travels for more things to sell or you’ll be sat in an empty shop.’
As Nola and Michael fussed over Sarah and the necklace, Seamus poured himself and Daedio a drink. Then he sat on the end of the wooden bed in the spot that Sarah had just vacated. He began to talk about the wild redcurrants he had collected and how Nola was putting them into a pie to have with cream that night, and the juice she was keeping in jars to have later.
But Daedio wasn’t listening. He was staring at the wall by the fire and wondering, should he tell his son now? His eyes were fixed on the slight gap in the stonework. He hadn’t managed to push it back fully when he’d taken the roll of notes out to place in the cedar box. Nola had been quicker than usual collecting the milk and he’d had to hurry as he stumbled on his sticks back to the bed. He’d given Sarah only one of
the rolls and that had made her and Michael the richest couple in the village. There were at least another five hundred bigger rolls. Seamus and Nola thought that the money from the robbery had all been spent on the land, but the truth was, that was only a small part of it. Daedio’s father had kept the rest untouched, thinking Joe might be coming back for it sometime. In all, Annie had told him, the money in the wall came to more than they could count. He didn’t even know how much, but the cost of the land had been two hundred, so it had to be a lot of money, he assumed.
‘Daedio, are you listening to me? ’Tis your favourite pie tonight.’
Daedio sipped on his porter. Was now the moment? Should he ask Seamus to push the stone back in a little further?
‘Well, what’s going on here? Are we celebrating something?’ Pete was at the door. He removed his cap, as he always did – the only man in the house who bothered – and hung it on the gun nail in the wall.
‘Michael, I think we should tell them now.’ Sarah was standing with Nola, and Nola, who knew that apart from Michael she was the only one to know Sarah’s secret, winked. The women in the village might have seen the curtain fabric, but this news was in the family.
Sarah looked at Nola. ‘You tell them,’ she said, and as she looked back to Michael, the love that shone from his eyes could have knocked her over in a flash.
Nola was pink with pride. ‘I’ll tell ye quick, before I embarrass meself,’ she said. ‘Sarah is having a babby.’
In all the excitement, the pouring of the best porter, the tears and the making of plans, Daedio forgot about the stone in the wall. ‘Oh Holy Mary, I’ve known for weeks,’ he said. And, swinging his legs around from the side of the bed, he stood up unaided, without even having to grab the side of the chair, for the first time in years.
*
Rosie flew back into the schoolyard just as Mr O’Dowd stepped out onto the path, ringing the brass hand bell. The noise of the children running and playing died away as one by one they hurried into line and stood dead still before him. He failed to see or acknowledge Rosie as she closed the gate behind her, but her attention was grabbed when she heard him say, ‘Go on inside, Theady. Make my tea and then sit by my desk.’
Shadows in Heaven Page 19
