Mother’s Only Child

by Anne Bennett

  ‘That is sad,’ Maria said. ‘Has she got a daddy?’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ Sally said, and her voice was wistful as she went on, ‘She loves her dad. She is always talking about him.’

  ‘Do you wish you still had your daddy?’

  Sally gave a shudder. ‘No fear. Not the one we had, anyway. I was scared of him, and he mustn’t have thought much of me or our Theresa because the only time he spoke to us was to shout. If I had another daddy, I’d want one like Uncle Sean.’

  ‘My daddy was very like him,’ Maria said with a smile at the memory. ‘When I was a little girl, growing up, I thought the sun shone out of him. The day was always brighter for me when he came through the door. I am just so sorry that you haven’t got such a memory.’

  “S all right,’ Sally said. ‘Least I have got a mom, not like Shirley.’

  ‘Yes, and I am glad that you are being kind to her. But don’t give up on Deirdre altogether.’

  ‘You don’t know what she is like, Mom.’ Sally complained. ‘She is a dead loss.’

  ‘We must be a little patient,’ Maria said.

  However, she hadn’t seen any improvement in Deirdre at all since she had remembered what had happened that terrible night. In fact, if anything, she was getting worse as each week passed. Little wonder Sally was frustrated by her behaviour. Maybe she should have a word with Patsy. She seemed to get through to Deirdre better than anyone else.

  Patsy had been worried about her sister for some time, and when Maria voiced her concerns, she decided to take action. The following Saturday was a bright but brisk day in early April and Patsy took her sister to Erdington village and into Gardner’s Milk Bar, where she had a cup of tea and Deirdre a milkshake.

  ‘What is it, Deirdre?’ Patsy asked as they sat down. ‘Don’t say “nothing”, for it’s obvious that something is worrying the life out of you. And now I have a good look at you, you have bags under your eyes. Aren’t you sleeping?’

  Deirdre shook her head, her voice little above a whisper. ‘I’m scared to, in case I have a nightmare.’

  ‘Do you get them often?’

  Deirdre nodded. ‘Nearly every time I close my eyes.’

  ‘What do you see? What Barney did to you?’

  Deirdre shuddered. ‘That first,’ she said. ‘And then what I did to him and then me in hell. ‘Cos that will be where I’m going, won’t it? ‘Cos I did the worst sin of all. I killed someone.’

  ‘Yes, to stop him killing you,’ Patsy said. ‘That was self-defence. That’s different.’

  Deirdre shook her head. ‘Our teachers are always going on about the thought being as bad as the deed, and I wanted to kill Barney. I hit him over and over, and all the time I wanted him dead.’

  Patsy saw this fear that Deirdre had was a deeprooted and her words of reassurance were not getting through. She had no authority to say everything would be all right. ‘Drink up your milkshake,’ she said, ‘and we’ll go along to the abbey and have a word with one of the priests.’

  ‘I can’t!’ Deirdre cried, aghast.

  ‘Yes, you can,’ Patsy said firmly. ‘Not in the confessional, just the church, and I will be right beside you.’ And then, as Deirdre still hesitated, she said, ‘Come on, this is one way to settle this once and for all. Don’t you want that?’

  With a brief nod, Deirdre drained her drink and got to her feet.

  Once at the abbey, Patsy asked if they could have a private word with Father Clancy. He took them into the sacristy. He had been aware, of course, that Sean had been released without charge, but knew no more than that. When Patsy told her tale and that of her young sister, he was shocked to the core. With Patsy beside her, Deirdre felt confident enough to put in little snippets herself.

  Father Clancy saw the suffering on Deirdre’s face. He took one of her small hands in his and looked deeply into her eyes ‘You, Deirdre, you are not the sinner here and you must reproach yourself no more. As I see it, no other course of action was open to you and the Good Lord will understand that.’

  Deirdre felt as if a heavy weight had dropped from between her shoulders. She smiled as she got to her feet. ‘Thank you, Father.’

  ‘Our Deirdre is almost back to the way she was and she has even returned to her dancing, thank God,’ Martha was able to report to Maria a few days later.

  Maria knew that Deirdre was all for never going near the hall again and she had spoken to her about it. ‘If you let Barney stop you doing something you enjoy, and that you are good at, then he will have won,’ she’d said. ‘And you should never let a bullying pervert win.’

  Deirdre could see how right that was and she had returned to the class, but she wasn’t as confident as she had been. Maria saw this and felt for the child.

  ‘Well, I want my two to start as well,’ she’d said. ‘And certainly at the beginning I will take and fetch them each Saturday. I can easily use the time up taking a dander around the village and doing a bit of shopping.’

  ‘Yes, and I might come with you a time or two,’ Martha said, and so it was established.

  Patsy and Andrew’s wedding day turned out fine and warm, and the sun shone from a cornflower-blue sky with just the odd fluffy cloud wafting across now and then. Martha held baby Martin as Maria arranged Patsy’s dress in the porch after she emerged from the car.

  She was breathtakingly lovely, Maria thought. She kissed her lightly on the cheek and told her so.

  ‘The dress helps,’ Patsy said. ‘And this minute I would love to give you a big hug in thanks.’

  ‘What, and crush all my hard work?’ Maria said in mock indignation.

  ‘I wouldn’t dare,’ Patsy said, with a smile. ‘That’s why I must use words, but thank you, Maria, from the bottom of my heart. It is the most beautiful dress I could ever have had.’

  Maria’s face flamed with embarrassment and there was a sudden lump in her throat that made her voice husky as she said, ‘Be happy, Patsy. That is all the thanks I need.’

  She was glad to see the second car pull up, for she had become dangerously near to tears, and she busied herself arranging the girls’ dresses of lilac satin, and pulling Jack’s dicky bow straight at the neck of his silk shirt, smoothing his plum-coloured velvet pageboy suit, and attempting to slick down his hair as she gave them all last-minute instructions.

  And then the strains of the Wedding March could be heard. Maria retrieved the baby from Martha and slipped into place in the pew as Patsy pulled the veil over her face and, with her arm in Sean’s, began the slow walk down the aisle.

  The girls were beautiful, and it was odd to see Jack looking so angelic, his face without his usual impish grin as he concentrated very hard on not treading on the bride’s train. But the star of the day was Patsy. True happiness shone out of her with such radiance that it almost hurt to look. As Patsy neared Andrew, standing resolute beside his best friend, he turned and saw his bride approaching. Maria felt an actual pang in her heart at the expression on his face. No man but one had looked at her in such a way and that man she had lost. Maybe such love only comes once in a lifetime.

  Martha had made the three-tiered cake, so glad the rationing had ended and that eggs and dried fruit were a little more plentiful.

  ‘Do you remember my cake?’ she said wistfully as she gazed at her creation at the reception.

  Maria hoisted the baby up in her arms and nodded. From a distance, it had looked similar to Patsy’s and close up you saw that the bottom two tiers were of cardboard, because there hadn’t been the ingredients available for any more than the smallest tier.

  ‘So many things were a headache then,’ Martha said. ‘This cake was a delight to make.’

  ‘And I’m sure will taste delicious,’ Maria said. ‘You are a terrific cook.’

  Martha laughed. ‘Is this the complimentary club, for if it is I will have to say, you are a first-rate designer and dressmaker. Patsy’s dress is a masterpiece. I think it is a bloody shame you were never able to take up that course
in Dublin all those years ago.’

  Maria made a face. ‘Water under the bridge,’ she said. ‘I always think regret is a wasted emotion, and really there was no other option open to me at the time. The worst mistake I ever made was in marrying Barney, and that was brought home quite forcibly today.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘All this is important,’ she said, her one free hand sweeping around the room. ‘It’s grand to wear a beautiful dress and all, but there is nothing tops the love that sparked between those two young people today, a love that will sustain them over the years and help them cope with all that life throws at people. I never felt at one like that with Barney.’

  Martha knew that full well, but before she could say anything, Maria seemed to give herself a mental shake. ‘But this is a wedding, not a wake. Doom and gloom are strictly forbidden. I will see if his lordship here will take a nap in the pram in the foyer and then I can circulate with the best of them.’

  There were a great many people invited to the wedding—Andrew’s family, of course, and flatmates, special friends and some people from the church. But there were people not invited who might have got invitations at one time. They were those so quick to believe that Sean was guilty of Barney’s death that they snubbed the family quite openly, often crossing the road to avoid them.

  When Sean was released without charge, these folk were some of the first to say they always knew he was innocent of any crime, for wasn’t he a fine, well-respected man. Martha despised them, and though she was polite if they spoke to her, it was an icy politeness. She made it plain she would never seek or welcome their friendship and Maria didn’t blame her one bit.

  All in all, though, the reception was quite enjoyable. Eventually Martin, though he protested at first, as a matter of form, did agree to give in and, with a huge sigh, curled on his side in the pram, his thumb in his mouth. Maria’s sigh was equally heartfelt and she went back into the hall as her small son’s eyes fluttered shut.

  She was introduced to Andrew’s parents and his two younger brothers, whom she found to be very pleasant, and she warmed to them greatly as they told her how delightful her children were—her beautiful daughters and such a dear little boy. Jack, she saw, was stealing the show. He looked adorable and, because he was naturally extrovert, he was playing to an audience he instinctively sensed would find him amusing.

  ‘That lad will go far,’ Sean said suddenly, appearing by her side. ‘He has the ability to read reaction at his tender age.’

  ‘You don’t think I should stop him, tell him to behave?’

  ‘You might as well tell the sun to stop shining,’ Sean said with a grin. ‘And why would you do that anyway? No one is offended. Relax. Enjoy yourself and let the children be.’

  After that, the day was just wonderful and Maria enjoyed herself as she couldn’t remember doing in a long time. Many complimented her on the dresses when they had found out she had made them, particularly Patsy’s, which was described as a work of art.

  There was a lull in the late afternoon while the debris from the meal was cleared away and the room rearranged for the dancing that evening. Deirdre had asked about this one day as she watched her mother and Patsy write out the invitations.

  ‘Why are some people coming to the day and night, and others only coming for the night?’

  ‘The day time is for close friends and family, mainly,’ Patsy said. ‘The evening is for other friends, work colleagues, people like that.’

  ‘So could I invite friends if I liked?’

  Patsy laughed. ‘How many friends? I’m not having the whole class.’

  Deirdre looked indignant. ‘As if I would invite them all,’ she said scornfully. ‘Half of them are boys anyway, and horrid.’

  ‘Well, who then?’

  ‘Just Shirley and her sister, Anna.’

  ‘Shirley? Isn’t she that new friend of yours?’

  ‘Yeah, mine and Sally’s. They’re nice and, anyway, I feel sorry for them. Go on, Patsy, say I can ask them?’

  ‘All right.’ Patsy said. ‘I dare say it will do no harm to invite them over for the evening.’

  Maria wasn’t staying for the evening do. She was going home with Jack and Martin. Sean and Martha were taking Sally and Theresa home with their own, and topping and tailing them for the night with Deirdre. Maria waited only until she had seen Patsy and Andrew drive off in the car that Andrew’s friends had decorated well for him, with all variety of things tied to the back, before getting herself and the children ready to leave.

  Tony was to take her home, though she protested that there was no need, and she was in the hall as Shirley and Anna came in. She caught a glimpse of the man she presumed to be the girls’ father standing outside.

  ‘Good evening,’ she said automatically, but didn’t look at him, as she was in the act of lifting Jack up onto the pram. She remembered that the man had no wife waiting for at home so, as she settled Jack, she went on, ‘You can go in too, you know. No one will mind.’

  The man didn’t answer for a moment or two. Then: ‘Maria,’ he said tentatively. ‘Maria, is that really you?’

  Maria felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach. She turned slowly and knew she was staring at a man she never thought she would ever see again. He looked older. Lines of strain were on his face, though his beautiful eyes were just the same, and these were fastened on her.

  She said, almost questioningly, as if she couldn’t quite believe it, ‘Greg? Greg Hopkins?’

  ‘God Almighty, Maria,’ Greg said. ‘This is marvellous, wonderful. Can we talk or do you hate me still?’

  ‘I never hated you,’ Maria said. ‘Believe me. I was full of hurt and disappointment, but never hate.’

  ‘Then, can we talk?’

  Maria was flustered and didn’t really know how to react, but one thing she was sure of was that she didn’t want this man just to walk out of her life again. But she had the children to attend to. ‘I…I must get the children home,’ she said.

  ‘Where’s home?’

  ‘We live on the Pype Hayes estate.’

  ‘That’s quite a hike from here.’

  ‘No, it’s all right,’ Maria said. ‘It’s a fine warm evening and I’m not going alone. Tony is coming with me. He’s Uncle Sean’s stepson. You mind my Uncle Sean?’ At Greg’s nod she went on, ‘He married a widow and she had three children. They live in Arthur Road.’

  Maria was aware she was gabbling and told herself to stop. Greg was smiling the smile she knew so well, which sparkled in his eyes too, just as if he was aware of her discomfort.

  ‘See,’ he said, putting his hand over hers on the pram handle, ‘there is so much I need to catch up on. Can I walk down with you? I’d like you to fill me in on what has happened to you since that terrible day when I caused you so much anguish that my parents effectively cut me off from the family.’

  ‘Do you still not speak?’ Maria said, surprised ‘One of your sisters told me you had become estranged from your parents after we split up, but I never imagined it would go on this long.’

  Greg gave a rueful smile. ‘That is one of the things I’ll tell you about if you’ll let me.’

  Tony came out of the hall then, flustered and with the stain of scarlet lips on his cheek. ‘Sorry, Maria,’ he said. ‘A girl grabbed me for a dance and wouldn’t take no for an answer.’

  ‘Did you want to say no?’

  Tony gave a grin. ‘Not really.’

  ‘Then go on back to her,’ Maria said, and as Tony lifted his hand in protest she said, ‘Tell Sean I have met an old friend, someone I used to know in Moville, and he will walk home with me.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘I’m positive,’ Maria said, and added with a smile, ‘Go on. Get in there before she starts dancing with someone else.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Greg said.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Maria said, manoeuvring the pram outside. ‘Like I said to Tony, we are old friends.’ But she thoug
ht to herself, few old friends would set my heart thumping in this uncomfortable way.

  ‘More than mere friends surely, Maria?’ Greg said, glancing at her as they walked away from the hall.

  ‘Aye, maybe, but for a short time only.’ Maria said. ‘And it was many years ago,’ and she quickened her pace.

  Greg couldn’t think of a reply to that and in the silence between them he glanced at her again. She didn’t seem to have aged a day. Her hair was still as vibrant, her eyes seemed greener than ever and they were shining. She seemed full of vitality and happiness, but he saw that she wore a ring, so he knew he couldn’t take any relationship further than friendship. Maria had been right to check him.

  The silence between them might have got uncomfortable, for neither of them felt they could break it, if it hadn’t been for Jack. Although he was tired and was glad to be sitting up on the pram, he had been playing to the gallery for most of the day and wasn’t used to being ignored. He smiled at Greg and said, ‘My name’s Jack. What’s yours?’

  Greg looked at the child, in his crumpled and stained pageboy’s outfit, his dicky bow somewhere under his ear, his knees grubby and his unruly hair no longer even semi tamed, and he said with a smile, ‘My name is Greg, and you look as if you have had a good time.’

  ‘I have,’ Jack said, and added proudly, ‘I ate mountains of cake and stuff. No one seemed to mind.’

  ‘I shall mind, young man, if you are sick tonight,’ Maria said sharply.

  Jack ignored that and addressed himself to Greg again. ‘Have you got any little boys?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid I haven’t,’ Greg said. He glanced in the pram, but Martin was fast asleep, and so he asked, ‘Is your baby a boy or a girl?’

  ‘A boy,’ Jack said. ‘He’s called Martin and he ain’t no good for playing with yet. He’s too little and he cries a lot. Mommy says he’ll get better. I got two sisters too.’ Here he stopped and made a face, before conceding, ‘They’re OK, but they keep trying to push me round and tell me what to do and that.’

  Greg laughed out loud. ‘I bet they are on a losing wicket with you.’