by Anne Bennett
‘I will, my darling,’ Greg said between the little kisses he was planting on her lips and eyes. ‘Now, I have something to come home to, someone I love so much it hurts, I will take extra care.’
Greg’s kisses sent Maria’s senses reeling. His hands gently caressing her body felt so right. She made no protest, but kissed him passionately—so passionately that once again Greg had to pull back and his voice was husky as he said, ‘Go on now in, before I forget myself.’
‘I wouldn’t mind.’
‘You don’t know what you’re saying,’ Greg said with a smile. ‘But don’t worry, I’d never show such disrespect for the girl I want to be my wife.’
‘Oh, Greg!’
Greg gave Maria one last, lingering kiss and then backed away from her with difficulty. He had to leave the next morning before dawn and Maria didn’t try to delay him. She watched him walk away from her. When he reached The Square he stopped to wave, and she returned the wave before turning away and going inside.
CHAPTER FOUR
The next week, Sam was declared fit to come home. Barney organised the whole thing. He also brought Sam’s bed downstairs, and accompanied Maria to the hospital to bring her father home in the ambulance.
Maria had high hopes that once her father was back, Sarah might take a grip on herself. However, when Sarah saw her crippled husband carried into the house and laid in the bed, the guilt that she’d put him there, that it was her prayers and supplications that had brought Sam to this state, threatened to overwhelm her. She began to rock herself backwards and forwards in the chair and the noise of her keening filled the house as tears steamed from her eyes.
Dora, who had been minding Sarah while Maria was at the hospital, wrapped Sarah in her arms. Sam’s eyes went from his wife to Maria. Maria had said nothing about the mental state of her mother and had just explained her absence at the hospital by saying she wasn’t well, though other visitors had hinted how Sarah was. It was one thing hearing about it, however, and quite another seeing it. He asked himself how he expected Maria to cope with the two of them—he a helpless cripple and Sarah the way she was. It was too much for anyone, least of all a young girl.
‘Holy Mother of God, Maria, I’m so sorry to bring this trouble upon you,’ he said sorrowfully.
‘It’s not of your making, Daddy,’ Maria said. ‘Don’t fret yourself.’
‘Child, dear, it would have been better if I had died in the dock that night.’
‘Now, Daddy, we’ll have none of that talk, and you too, Mammy,’ she went on, turning to her mother, still crying and clasped in Dora’s arms. ‘Come on now, That’s enough. Tears never did a bit of good anyway.’
Sarah did try. The gulping sobs changed to hiccups and then dried up altogether.
Into the silence, Barney said, ‘You only have to ask if you need help. If there is anything, if I can do it for you, then I will.’
‘Thank you, Barney,’ Maria said. She was grateful, because a person never knew when she might have need of a big, strapping man.
In time, Maria got into the swing of caring for her parents. She’d wash and change her father and help Sarah to dress before dropping her off at Bella’s. Then she’d make for the bus, while Dora would go next door to see to Sam. On Maria’s return, she would collect her mother and take her home, then get a meal ready for them. With the meal eaten and the washing-up done, she would wash and change her father and get both him and Sarah ready for bed.
She managed, just, but it was exhausting. The job was the saving of her sanity. She was incredibly grateful to Bella for taking on the care of her mother, not sure if she could do it day in, day out. She only knew she was glad to go into the factory and see the other girls, have a laugh and joke and forget her problems for a while.
She was particularly close to Joanne, with whom she worked side by side. Maria had never had a friend before, for she had lost all those she had made at school when she had been working so single-mindedly for the scholarship. Joanne was four years older than Maria, Derry born and bred, perky, full of fun and just what Maria needed. Joanne thought Maria looked vulnerable, which brought out a protective streak in her.
Besides Joanna, there plenty more willing to be friends with Maria. She had never told them at work about how her life was, but there were others from Moville who had. In fact, Sam’s accident had been the talk of the place. News of an accident of such magnitude cannot be kept from people, though because it had happened in a military establishment, in a country at war, it had never made the papers.
‘Let me get this right,’ said one woman, exchanging news in the street with a neighbour, a few days after Sam’s accident, ‘the man’s a cripple, the woman is off her head and there is only the one daughter to see to them all?’
‘That’s about the strength of it, all right,’ said the other woman. ‘And she is only sixteen and not big, you know—slight, like. She looks even younger than she is. And then before all this, she had a glittering future handed to her and then it was snatched away.’ And she went on to explain about the scholarship.
‘Ah, God help her,’ said the first woman.
This was echoed by many others. By the time Maria started her job in the factory, most of her new colleagues knew all about her and were determined to make the girl welcome. Maria had felt their friendship wash over her from the first day, when she had boarded the bus with neighbours and friends she’d known all her life. They patted her on the back, smiled and wished her well. Then, in the factory, many greeted her as if they had known her for years.
When Joanne asked her out with a group of them one night, though, Maria shook her head. ‘I couldn’t, honestly.’
‘I know how you are placed—’ Joanne said—‘well, most of it anyway—but do you never have time off?’ ‘No, not really.’
‘What about lover boy, who met you that time?’ Joanne persisted. ‘You weren’t making for the bus that night, I bet’
‘That was different,’ Maria said. ‘Greg had been home on leave and that was his last night. Dora, who runs the store and post office with her daughter, Bella, went in and sat with my parents for me. Bella already looks after Mammy in the day and Dora sees to my father so I really can’t ask them to do more as a regular thing. It isn’t easy, you see, because my mother can be awkward and difficult—like a child, you know—and my father is almost completely helpless.’
‘You poor cow.’
The sympathy in Joanne’s voice was nearly Maria’s undoing. She felt tears stinging the back of her throat. She blinked rapidly and willed them not to fall, and her voice was husky as she said, ‘Oh, it’s not so bad. I am getting used to it. And we have marvellous neighbours. A young man that used to work for Daddy in the boatyard comes in almost every night, I suppose on his way to the pub, to see my father. Daddy looks forward to it so much. I think he misses the company of men, you know, and of course the day is a long one for him. But Barney chats to him and they have a few drinks and a game of cards before Barney is on his way again.’
‘It is good to have people like that around you,’ Joanne said. ‘God knows, you need it,’
Maria could only agree and admit to herself that she had been astounded by Barney’s thoughtfulness.
‘Well, I won’t press you to go out with us,’ Joanne said, ‘or keep asking, because there is nothing so annoying, but I want you to know that you would be welcome any time to come out with the crowd, if the opportunity should ever present itself. Or if things start to get on top of you and you need a night out, all you have to do is shout and I will drop everything to give you a good time, a bloody good time because you deserve it.’
Behind the ensuing laughter there was hint of tears because Maria had been so moved by the understanding in Joanne’s voice. She knew she was lucky to work with such lovely people.
In mid-November, Maria’s grandfather gave up his fight for life and slipped away at home and in his own bed as he’d wanted to.
‘I can’t possibly go
,’ Maria said, as she read the telegram.
‘Of course you must go,’ Bella said.
‘How can I?’ Maria demanded. ‘I can’t leave Mammy and Daddy overnight, and that’s what it would mean. I can’t and won’t have you and your mother do more. You do enough already. Uncle Sean will understand and I’ll send a telegram now and a Mass card later that I will put a letter inside.’
Bella said nothing. She was realising that Sarah was one body’s work. It took her and Maggie all their time to watch her and run the shop and post office; she’d not like to take the responsibility of having her overnight.
Sean did understand what Maria was going through and as soon as he’d settled everything, he went up to visit them.
Maria was delighted to see him, glad he’d travelled on Friday to stay the weekend for she couldn’t really afford to lose pay and maybe her job by taking time off. Sean was appalled by the whole set-up. Heartbroken though he was to see his only surviving sister so ill, and his brother-in-law crippled for life, his sympathies lay with Maria.
Sean caught Sam’s eyes on Maria often that weekend as she busied about and Sean knew he felt bad about the things she had to do for him.
‘What can I do to help?’ he asked Maria.
‘Talk to Daddy,’ Maria said quietly. ‘I’m sure he must get lonesome and frustrated, though he never complains. Barney comes most evenings and they have a jar, play cards sometimes, but for all that it’s a long day for him, though Dora does her best.’
‘You’ll have to keep me abreast of things,’ Sam said to Sean, ‘for I have no news. One day for me is very like the one that went before and the ones yet to come. Barney tells me how things are now and again. Like he says, the Americans will be in the war soon.’
Sean nodded. ‘Don’t see how they’re able to stay out of it now,’ he said. ‘They’re ready anyway. Been that way for months.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Well, they have bases built already,’ Sean said. ‘There’s one the other side of Lough Erne. I can see it plainly from the farm. And, what’s more, they’re dressed in the same uniform as the British, but they’re American all right. You only have to hear them talk.’
‘Would you believe it?’
‘One of my neighbours, who works in Derry, said there’s another one there too. Probably peppered all over, if the truth was told.’
‘Aye,’ Sam said. ‘Oh, here’s Barney, look.’ As the man came in the door he added quietly, ‘He’s been golden, so he has. Hardly misses an evening.’
Barney approached the bed, glad to see Sam so animated by Sean’s visit. Sean had already hauled Sam into a sitting position, supported by the pillows, and when Barney produced the bottle of poteen from his pocket Maria didn’t say a word, but got the glasses from the cupboard.
The first time Barney had suggested letting Sam have a drink, she’d been against it. ‘He’s always been a moderate drinker,’ she said. ‘He could take it or leave it.’ Not that he had the chance of much poteen, though she knew he liked a sip if he did.
‘Maybe he could take it or leave it when he had a pair of legs that worked,’ Barney said, ‘or a job of work to occupy him and support his family. For God’s sake, Maria, what has he now that you can deny him a bit of pleasure?’
There was nothing, absolutely nothing, that Maria could say to that and she didn’t try. Nor did she ask where Barney got the bottles from. Sometimes it was better not to know those things. Anyway, with her father entertained, she could get her mother into bed, which wasn’t always easy. Sometimes it took all Maria’s powers of coaxing to get her to undress, put on her nightdress and get between the sheets. ‘Come on, Mammy,’ she’d say to her mother, who’d be standing resolute, arms folded over her chest and her mouth in a mutinous line. ‘Come on, to please me.’
Sometimes, when she was tired and had a mountain of things waiting for her to attend to in the kitchen, she wasn’t so patient. ‘For God’s sake, Mammy, will you stop this and get your clothes off.’
She always felt mean when she’d shouted at her mother. If her mother looked at her with eyes filled with reproach it was bad enough, but sometimes her bottom lip would tremble and she’d begin to cry. Maria would be consumed with shame and it would take longer than ever to settle Sarah for the night.
‘Will you be off to England now that Granddaddy is dead?’ Maria asked her uncle that first night as they sat before the fire with Barney long gone and Sam fast asleep.
Sean was a wee while answering. The situation in the house worried him. Maria seemed to be working herself to death. How could he swan off to England as if it was no concern of his?
‘Not yet awhile,’ he said eventually. ‘Not while you are doing everything here. Now Daddy is gone, I’ll come up more at the weekends and share the load. While I’m here, you don’t have to worry about Sam, I’ll see to him.’
‘You don’t have to,’ Maria said. ‘Really you don’t.’
‘I do,’ Sean said firmly.
‘I’d hate to think of you putting your plans on hold again.’
‘It won’t be for ever,’ Sean said firmly. ‘Tell me about the young man Sam mentioned. Thinks a lot of him, he does.’
The faint blush that flooded Maria’s face amused Sean, but there was no doubt in his mind that this was the one for her when she said, ‘Greg—that’s his name. He’s wonderful, tremendous, so he is, but he is in the army.’
‘And…?’ Sean prompted.
‘He wants to get engaged the next leave he gets.’
‘And you?’
‘Oh, yes, I want it too,’ Maria said. ‘I know I’m young, though I hardly feel it, but I know in my heart that Greg is the one for me. Marriage will be difficult, I know, even after the war, with Mammy and Daddy still to see to, but he assures me it can be done. His family all seemed to like me, the one time I went to tea. In every letter Greg tells me to visit them, but,’ Maria spread her hands helplessly, ‘I haven’t been able to.’
‘You can now. I’ll be here,’ Sean said. ‘And that is one thing I insist on.’
‘I can’t leave you with everything.’
‘Maria, Sarah is my own dear wee sister,’ Sean said. ‘I will always think of her that way and though I am heartbroken to see her how she is, I still love her. She too is one of life’s casualties. Sam is also a fine man, one I am proud to know and one I knew would take care of my sister. To the best of his ability he has, and helped rear you to the fine young woman you are. It would be no hardship to me to care for them for an hour or two while you visit your intended in-laws.’
‘Ah, Uncle Sean, you’re so good,’ Maria said, her voice breaking.
Sean leant over and patted her knee. ‘It’s what uncles are for, dear child,’ he said.
Maria did go to see the Hopkins family the next Sunday afternoon, full of trepidation going alone, although after Mass that morning she had asked Greg’s mother if she might call up that afternoon. Once in the house she was soon put at her ease. The whole family welcomed her as warmly as they had done the last time. It was good to talk about Greg openly, with people who loved him and worried about him as much as she did.
‘I doubt he’ll be home for Christmas,’ his mother, Ellie, said.
‘No,’ Maria said. ‘He said the same to me in the last letter.’
‘Some special training he’s into,’ his father explained. ‘Not that he was able to say much about it.’ He saw Maria’s eyes widen. ‘Reading between the lines, that’s what I think. We have a sort of code going between us two and you can surmise a lot by that.’
‘At least while he’s at training for whatever it is, he’s safe,’ his mother said with satisfaction. ‘That’s one blessing, anyway.’
‘Oh, aye,’ Maria agreed fervently. ‘For my money, he could stay for the duration.’
But he wouldn’t, of course. What could he be training for? Wasn’t he already trained? Dear God, what horrors were in store for him?
‘Now stop it, M
aria,’ Sean said firmly when she said this to him on her return. ‘You have enough to worry about without thinking up further things. It might be nothing, just some notion his father has in his head.’
But Maria knew it wasn’t. Didn’t he mention the code they had? But, she couldn’t burden Sean further. He had to catch the bus to Derry soon after, anyway.
‘Now listen,’ he said to Maria as he prepared to leave. ‘I shan’t be over next week, but I will be able to the weekend after. Is that all right with you?’
‘Anytime I can see you will be fine,’ Maria said in thankfulness.
The following Friday Maria had to be sharp with her mother to get her to leave Bella and the shop. She even had to take her hand to prevent her running back to it once they were in the street.
‘For God’s sake, Mammy, will you stop it,’ she said. ‘I’m too tired, cold and hungry for this carry-on. I need to get into the warm, have a sit by the fire and a cup of tea to keep me going till the tea’s cooked and you are not helping, not one bit.’
Some of what Maria had said seemed to penetrate Sarah’s brain and she stopped pulling at her hand and walked calmly enough by her side, but Sam saw his daughter’s face bleached white with tiredness as she bade Dora goodnight, and he felt consumed by shame.
He was always glad of Barney’s company and even more glad of the poteen he brought. He knew that he was drinking far too much of it at times, but he needed it to blur the edges of his God-awful life.
That Sunday, Maria like millions of others, learnt of the bombing of the American Fleet by the Japanese at a place called Pearl Harbor.
Sam recalled the conversation he’d had with Sean just the previous week. ‘The American’s will be in now, whether they like it or not,’ he said to Maria.
‘Many say it’s about time.’
‘Aye, but I’d rather fight a Jerry or a bloody Eyetie than a Nip any day,’ Sam said. ‘Not bloody human, those Nips.’
Maria couldn’t agree more. She wondered if American involvement would affect those in Britain and how, and seriously hoped not. She knew Greg had been based in St George’s Barracks, Sutton Coldfield, but did much of his training in Sutton Park and another place called Cannock Chase, because he’d told her this much. She hoped he was still there, still safe.
