Ma, I've Reached for the Moon an I'm Hittin the Stars

by Martha Long

  Right, I thought, lifting my head and looking out the window. It’s pitch dark. I can see nothing out there now. Surely we must be well down into France by now. I wonder what time it is? I thought, looking around to see if someone had the time. No, forget it, that’s more trouble than it’s worth. I can’t speak the language and I’m not in the mood for stretching myself into getting understood. I better save my strength for when I need it.

  I folded the letter and put it carefully back in my bag, then leaned across to see if my coat was drying out. Lovely, it’s nearly dry. Gawd, the heat is grand on this train. Not like the bloody Irish ones, they would freeze the arse off you. But this is the height of luxury, I thought, looking around at all the velvet-looking soft seats, and how clean and shiny and well taken care of everything looked. Right, I think I will close my eyes and have a bit of rest. That should help to pass the time, I thought, stretching out and leaning my head against the padded backrest.

  Oh, that’s feels better, I thought, as I stretched out my legs and lit up a smoke. I could feel my face red and hot from the lovely feed and the heat in the place. Here at last, I thought, looking around, seeing the owner of the inn talking to some aul codgers. They were sitting over in the corner, eating and downing the local wine. I lifted my empty glass, deciding I will have another one. I need it to get me moving. Now that I am right here, just down the road from Ralph, I have lost me nerve completely. No, this was definitely a very bad idea. I can’t just go turning up on his doorstep in the middle of the night, without word or warning. Bleedin hell! It had seemed so straightforward when I was back home in Ireland. Oh, yeah, great plan that was, Martha. Just hop on a plane. Stagger into Paris. Find my way to the Gare de Lyon. Take a train so far down into France that Spain is only a few minutes across the water, with the Pyrenees mountains on my left. You can’t go any further without leppin into the sea or taking on the mountains. Jaysus, Ralph, you sure know how to hide yourself. But it has to be the most beautiful place I have ever set foot in. From what I can see of it anyway, in the bleedin pitch black.

  Oh, my God, what a job I had getting here! Holy Jesus, the Parisians may speak a bit of English. But you have no chance in the provinces. I found that out when I pressed the address under their noses. ‘Excuse me, monsieur, ou à vu le maison?’ I spluttered, then gave up. ‘Where is this place?’ I croaked, pointing at the address. Well, the confusion. ‘Non!’ they moaned, slowly drawing out the no bit, with the head shaking. But they were good. I ended up with everyone who passed being stopped to get dragged in on the discussion. Many heads make light work. Now here I am, and not just that. I got taken to this place. It’s a lovely little inn and they even have accommodation overhead. Lovely, I’m all set. Now all I need is another drink, then I can think better.

  ‘Madame!’ I croaked, losing all me puff after that hundred-mile walk.

  ‘Oui, madame?’ a grey-haired woman said, moving over slowly, taking me in, looking at me very suspiciously. Because clearly they don’t get many strangers around here, not this time of the year, anyway.

  ‘Eh,’ I said, trying to think how I would ask.

  She stood patiently, polishing her glass, wearing a long black frock with a long apron and very strong-looking sensible laced-up boots.

  ‘Une blanc vin!’ I said, hoping that made sense.

  She took up the glass, then walked off at her ease, shouting and arguing with the two aul fellas. They were all going on about something that sounded very serious. It could even be that someone had been murdered in their bed, judging by the long mournful faces and the shaking of the heads, not to mention the long sighs and sobbing as they stared mournfully down into their glasses, looking very sorrowful altogether.

  After I drank the wine, I could feel myself beginning to shake as I stood up and fastened my fur coat. Then I lifted my chin, straightening myself and taking in a deep breath. Well, here goes. Time to go and see Ralph.

  ‘Merci, madame. Bonne nuit!’ I said, turning to look at her standing by the table with the men.

  ‘Bonne nuit, madame,’ she said. The others just muttered, and nodded their heads at me. Then I stepped out into the cold dark night, feeling the wind hit me as it blew in from the sea. I could hear the roar of it but not see it with the buildings in front. But it’s there, all right.

  I walked on, leaving the lights behind me as I headed out into the countryside. I could see the odd house here and there but they were hidden behind big trees. Then suddenly there was a break in the very high old stone wall with trees hanging over it. Then I saw it! The entrance with big black gates. I stopped dead in my tracks, staring up at them. This is it!

  I looked in, seeing the long drive up to Ralph Fitzgerald’s French home. Will I go in? It’s very late, there might be dogs roaming around the place. I could get eaten alive. Suppose this is his French order? There could be all priests living here. Jaysus, I hadn’t thought of that. Of course he would be living in a big college or the order house. They don’t live in a church parish house. Fuck! I never thought beyond just getting here. Well, go on anyway! Who cares? You can only make a big eejit of yourself. It won’t be the first time, I laughed, feeling myself beginning to get a bit hysterical. In for a penny, in for a pound, Martha. You have nothing to lose but your dignity! Right! I snorted, taking in a long deep breath, holding it, then let my shoulders go and grabbed up me suitcase, fixing my coat.

  I walked in through the gates, making my way up the very long dark drive. The trees whistled and moaned in the dark, and I could feel myself rattling, with me legs turning to jelly the closer I got to making for the house. Then I caught sight of it. A very big old house staring back through the trees. It was very French-looking, like a big old-fashioned fancy loaf of bread with a fancy-looking roof. You couldn’t see all of it from the front. It went on further to the back. I could see lights on here and there in some of the windows. Then it hit me. My nerves went completely as the life drained out of me, taking all my strength, leaving me weak as a kitten. I sat down on the suitcase, looking up at how forbidden it all looked. No, whoever lives here likes their privacy. It’s not the sort of place you can just call in without an appointment. Or certainly not if you don’t even know them.

  Oh, holy divine lamb of Jesus, Martha. You are like a fuckin refugee coming out of nowhere! This is the worst, daftest thing you have ever come up with yet! Ralph can have a terrible temper if he’s crossed. All he has to do is lift the finger, open his mouth and cut the ground from under you if you overstep the mark. Exactly like what you’re doing right now. He might not even want to see me! Maybe he was only being polite when he wrote to me. Oh, my nerves are gone. I can’t bear it. I am just about to make a thundering right aul eejit of myself.

  Fuck this. Quick! Turn around, get moving straight back the way you came, Martha, just in case you are seen from one of the windows. I turned, nearly running back down the drive. You bloody moron, Martha. Suppose he is married? He could even have children! What would his wife say? Oh, I feel sick.

  Right, get going, move faster. Pity there’s no bleedin taxis to be had in this godforsaken place. I’m in the middle of the arsehole of nowhere! OK, make back for that little inn, or pension or whatever it’s called. Stay the night there, then high tail it out of here first thing in the morning. Forget Ralph! Well, for now anyway!

  I put my case up on the bed, taking out my night- and wash-things, feeling I had done the right thing. But my heart was breaking with the let-down. I longed to see him. I couldn’t bear to be so close to him, here in this place just a couple of miles away from his house, yet so far away. I left the things sitting on the chair and sat on the side of the bed, thinking about it. What happened? Well, it sounded fine when I sat in my own kitchen at home. Go there, I told myself. Tell him you never stopped loving him. Say you are thinking of getting married. But it is him you have always wanted. So what did you want from him? For him to leave the order and stop being a priest . . . If he is still one! Be together, start a family.
Be happy!

  Grand, so you got here, Martha, now what happened? The bleedin reality, that’s what happened! Imagine! What was I prepared to do? Turn up banging on his door in the pitch-black night and what? ‘Hello! It’s me. I’ve come to stay!’

  I started to laugh, but I could feel myself shaking with the shock of loss and pain, and knowing it was all only a dream. I think I had convinced myself it would work out. Without me even realising, I had pinned so much hope on this meeting. On the surface I thought I was just steeling myself with determination to face him.

  Jesus! I feel shattered. That journey has been never-ending. Yet, I feel too restless to sleep. But this was a good plan. Getting in here was one of my better ideas. Yeah, this place is good to get some rest and think.

  An idea was forming in my head. I have come too far to give up now. Yeah, so do something, Martha! But first see if you can get a drop of tea out of that aul biddy, the owner of this place, then think!

  I pulled out my tobacco and rolled a cigarette, lighting it up, then put my head down on the pillow, leaving my feet dangling over the side. I wasn’t too sure yet whether I was prepared to call it a night. I think I will go out for a walk. Get rid of the cobwebs smothering my brain. The lovely country fresh air will do me good. Maybe help me to think. I jumped up, putting on my fur coat, grabbed my bag and rattled out the door. Jaysus! I am really tired, but I’m too worked up to relax, never even mind sleep. Wonder if the aul biddy will give me a key? I will that need to get back in.

  3

  I took off on the trot again, heading in the direction of Ralph’s house. Right, it’s not so bad this time, and I have somewhere to stay, I’m not dependent on him. Right! I’ll just take a better look. It might give me some clue as to what’s going on. Maybe I might see sight of a wife, or maybe a child’s swing or toys thrown around. I’ll just take a look anyway. That can’t do any harm.

  On the other hand, why not just ring him? Yeah! But what would I say? Hello, Ralph, how are you? Listen, I’m just down the road in the village, and I thought it might be a good idea to drop in and see how you are! Good idea? I roared laughing, thinking, Jaysus, Martha, you are going from bad to worse. Particularly if Eleanor told him I was in the loony bin having a nervous breakdown! The whole bleedin madness of what I was putting myself through suddenly hit me, and I started roaring laughing. Ah, well, never mind. It won’t kill you, Martha. What have I got to lose? Fuck all! We owe each other nothing. I have weathered too many storms to let this get the better of me. Right, play it by ear, I thought, as I turned in the gate again, heading back up the drive.

  Suddenly a figure appeared from around the side of the house. Fuck! Who is that? I took off, flying to hide behind a tree, not wanting to meet whoever that was, because then I will have burnt my bridges.

  I watched as an elderly woman marched past, about ten feet away from me, carrying a basket under her arm. She looked like she was in a hurry to make her way somewhere. I watched her go, wondering if maybe she was a mother-in-law or something. Who knows? I thought, heading out of the trees and making for the front door. Then I stopped, as something else hit me. He may even be still a priest! Jesus, Martha! Do you ever grow up?

  I thought about that, deciding, Yeah, Martha, you do. But you just do everything different from everybody else, that’s all. Most people would write or phone. No, not me! This is too important. Talking face to face is better. Fuck! Here we go again!

  I walked up the steps and looked for the doorbell, then decided to use the big black knocker. The hollow sound blasting around the dark, cold night air, along with the dead sound thudding inside the house, made it feel like something out of a Boris Karloff film. One of them old early Dracula films, shown in the 1930s.

  I waited, taking in deep breaths, feeling me heart flying, and my body shivering with the nerves. I started to breathe faster and deeper, hoping it would help. But now I could feel myself going dizzy, I’m making myself worse, with everything turning black. Jaysus, now I won’t be able to see him.

  I heard footsteps, then the door swung open. I stood staring up into the face of a very distinguished gentleman looking to be in his very early forties, but I knew different. He is in his late forties, or even early fifties, because I am now in my thirties. His hair was beginning to turn grey, with silver starting to grow at the temples and a sprinkling running through his silky brown hair. It made him look even more incredibly handsome, giving him the distinguished look of a well-bred, imposing aristocrat.

  My breath caught and I heard myself giving a little gasp. Then I stared up at him, remembering to take a blink, trying to clear my vision to take him in. It’s Ralph! My heart stopped.

  He stood with his hand on the door, keeping his back held ramrod straight. I watched as he looked at me with a cold indifferent look in his striking green eyes. I could see how they studied me and there was an aloofness in his closed-down face that said, I know who I am. I belong to the ruling classes.

  I now knew instantly why I had been attracted to Sergei. To his strangely familiar looks, especially his strikingly green eyes. Yes, they had reminded me of Ralph. But it was a painful memory, filling me up with bittersweet memories of him. I saw now that Sergei was only a poor substitute. I thought he was the nearest I could ever get to Ralph.

  I stared up now at Ralph, with no words coming to me. I could feel my heart sinking. It was the coldness of him, like he didn’t suffer fools gladly, and I felt like a fool. He looked like he could easily put you down with just a simple look of contempt. I didn’t want to see that. I wanted to run, say something, anything. Even, ‘I’ve got the wrong house!’ Then just turn around and walk away. He doesn’t seem to have recognised me yet. He just stared at me, waiting, saying something in French. It sounded like, ‘May I help you? Do you want something?’ But I can’t understand French.

  Then I heard myself saying in a whisper, ‘Hello, Ralph! I’ve come a long way to see you.’

  ‘What?’ he said, with his face turning white as his head bent, leaning in to get a closer look at me.

  I could feel the colour draining out of myself. I shook me head, saying, ‘Yes, Ralph! It’s me, Martha. I got your letter. Are you going to invite me in? I’m sorry it’s so late, but I’ve moved into the local pension for the night. Just down the road.’ I pointed, starting to babble.

  ‘Good heavens! My God! Is it really you, Martha? How can this be?’ he roared, going into shock and half-laughing. ‘Are you alone?’ he said, looking around to see if anyone else was here.

  ‘No, just me, Ralph. I brought myself.’

  ‘Oh, my goodness. For heaven’s sake, do come in. Oh! How did you get here?’ he said, slamming the heavy door shut and moving over to stand close to me, still trying to work out what just happened.

  I let me face move in a half-smile and just looked at him, feeling afraid to make even another move.

  ‘Come on, come with me,’ he whispered gently. ‘Let us go inside to the warmth,’ he said, putting his hand lightly on my arm, then taking me down a hall and into a huge sitting room. I walked in slowly, as he moved ahead to stand, holding the door wide open. Then he turned and shut it while I took in the high ceiling and two big sofas facing each other. They sat beside a big, open roaring log fire.

  ‘Are you hungry? Goodness! You must be freezing!’

  ‘No,’ I shook my head, looking at him. I could see he was nervous and his face was still white. Then I noticed his hands shaking. Even though you wouldn’t notice if you didn’t know him. He is very good at keeping his feelings under control. It’s the way he was brought up. Good manners are everything.

  ‘Oh, I am sure you are hungry,’ he said, trying to smile and ease the tension. Then he looked at the door, making to leave the room. ‘I shall just get us something in the kitchen. I have not as yet eaten and I am sure Madame Bouclé, my housekeeper, has prepared something for supper. Do please just let me check,’ he said, sounding very formal as he headed out the door.

  Jaysus!
This is not looking good, I shivered, feeling I’m standing on terrible ceremony. Then he turned back, saying, ‘Oh, I am sorry! Please allow me take your coat,’ he said, rushing back to help me off with the fur coat. ‘You look pale and wan and terribly thin, Martha,’ he murmured, whispering to himself as he took my coat, then letting his eyes run over me with a sad look on his face. Then he rushed off out with the coat, looking like he was glad of the opportunity to get away for a few minutes.

  I sighed with the nerves, wishing I could feel more at ease with myself as I looked around the room then back at the sofa, wondering if I should sit down. I think I may have done the wrong thing, I’m feeling a bit out of my depth. Ralph is just being a gentleman, he’s too well mannered to come out and say I’m not welcome. Decorum is everything with him. There are certain ways to behave and good manners dictate that. One of them is not to show your guest up. Uninvited or not. Fuck! That’s me. This is my worst nightmare. Being somewhere I’m not wanted. Ah, well, I’ll just play it by ear. I’m certainly not going to show my hand unless I know I’m on firm ground. So just pretend you hopped over to see him for a visit.

  ‘Martha! Do come and eat,’ he said, rushing in the door and heading towards me. I stood up as he put his hand lightly on my back, saying, ‘You look exhausted. When did you arrive?’ he said, leading me out the door and down a passage, then into another room that looked like a big old-fashioned kitchen. The table was set with white napkins rolled in silver rings and left beside a big white plate, with knives and forks laid out. A light-brown, brick-coloured casserole dish sat on a wooden board in the middle of the table, with wooden bowls of salad and stuff in glass dishes. The table was heaped with food. I took in the sight of foreign-looking fruit, and a lump of cheese with a cutting knife sat on a board, with a basket of fresh bread cut up in chunks. The smell was gorgeous and I waited to see where he wanted me to sit.