by Anne Bennett
Josie swung around and stared at Hannah and decided to be truthful. ‘Yes, I will. I don’t know you or anything about England and I don’t want to know either. I don’t want to leave here.’
Hannah thought that now was not the time to tell Josie she wasn’t keen on looking after her either. ‘We can’t all have what we want, Josie,’ she said. ‘I’ve tried to get to know you the last few days, but you … Look, pet, we must make the best of it for your mother’s sake. Give it a year? If after that you’re still miserable, I promise we’ll look at it again.’
And then what? Josie thought. Maybe she could induce Martin or Siobhan to send for her to go to America, but would she like that any better? ‘At least when your Mammy died, you didn’t have to leave the place altogether,’ she cried.
‘No, no I didn’t, and like I said, I’ll always be in your parents’ debt because of what they did. After a while, people forgot I was really Hannah Delaney. I was known as one of the Mullens.’
‘Did you care?’
‘Not at first. I wanted to belong somewhere. My own sisters and brothers became like strangers till one by one they took the emigrant boats to the States till only my eldest brother, Eamonn, was left to farm the land with my father. He doesn’t really know me though and I don’t know him and for a time it was nice being thought of as one of you lot. It was as I got older that I resented Hannah Delaney being swamped altogether.’
‘Is that why you left?’
‘Partly,’ Hannah admitted. ‘I wanted to start afresh. Stand on my own two feet, just to see if I could. A good friend of mine, Molly McGuire, had left Ireland just the previous year and we promised to write to each other. She got a job easily in a hotel in Leeds. It was called The Hibernian, reputed to be the biggest, best and of course most expensive in the town. The wages weren’t great, she told me, but the tips were legion. She said she could get me a job, straight off.’
Hannah stopped there, remembering her indecision. She didn’t want to upset Frances, and she knew she would if she was to follow her friend. But she knew she’d regret it if she didn’t go while she had the chance. As she dithered, Molly challenged her. Hadn’t she always said she wanted to see something of other places? Hadn’t she always said she didn’t want to live the whole of her life in Ireland and wasn’t there a big, wide world out there to explore?
And she was right. Hannah had said all those things and meant them, too, but the actual leaving was hard, especially when she loved Frances as dearly as she would any mother and Paddy and the others, too. She knew she would miss them all.
In the end, she poured her heart out to Paddy and he patted her hand and told her not to fret, that it was natural to want to spread your wings when you were young. ‘But Frances …’ she had wailed.
‘Frances will come around, never fret, I’ll talk to her,’ Paddy had promised.
‘Was Mammy upset when you left?’ Josie asked, jolting Hannah back to the present.
‘Very. I was sad too. God, it was a wrench to go. People said I was ungrateful to leave when I could have been such a help to Frances at long last. Frances never said that and I doubt she ever thought of it, she wasn’t like that. She said she’d miss me so much, but she wished me Godspeed. It broke me up and we cried together as we hugged, and for a while, my resolve weakened. It was your father who said to go and satisfy myself and to remember I had a home to come back to if it didn’t work out.
‘Not everyone saw it like that of course, but then all my life people have been telling me how grateful I should be to Frances and I was grateful to her. But that level of gratitude gets to be a heavy burden when you’re reminded of it constantly. Not that your parents ever spoke about it, it was others, the relatives who hadn’t wanted me themselves, or neighbours who felt justified to speak as they chose because they’d known me all my life.’
‘And did you like it in this Leeds place?’ Josie asked.
‘I did not and that’s the truth,’ Hannah said, remembering her horror at the grim greyness of the place and how the opulence of the hotel unnerved her and the way she could barely understand the way the other girls spoke. She was achingly lonely and many, many times thought she’d made a mistake because she missed her family so very much. She missed the farm too and often longed for the sight of a green mossy hill, springy turf beneath her feet, and good clean air to fill her lungs with.
‘I didn’t mind the work,’ she said. ‘I was well used to work, but everything was so strange and when Molly got married and moved to London only months after I arrived, it was worse. We wrote for a while, but in the end the letters petered out. A girl called Tilly Galston shared my room then.’
‘Was she nice?’
Hannah smiled as she remembered the good friend she’d been and the way she pulled her out of the morose self-pitying attitude she’d been in danger of developing. ‘I’d have gone home if it hadn’t been for her,’ Hannah said. ‘She wouldn’t let me.’
‘How could she stop you?’
‘Oh, she was very bossy,’ Hannah said. ‘But funny too, you know. She could always see the bright side of things and could always make me laugh. She bullied me into going out and about too and making an effort with the other girls. We were good friends.’
‘Where is she now?’
Hannah shrugged. ‘Still in Leeds, I suppose,’ she said. ‘At least she was there when I left and moved to Birmingham.’
‘Don’t you know?’
‘Well, no I don’t exactly.’
Josie made a face. She felt Hannah was a poor friend to not keep in touch with Tilly, but she wasn’t about to argue the point. Tilly was in the past and it was the future she was worried about. She wondered if Hannah wanted to take her back to live with her. Maybe she was against the idea, too, and it had been forced upon her. Maybe it was gratitude rearing its ugly head again and suddenly she felt a bit sorry for her aunt. ‘All right then,’ she said in an effort towards compromise. ‘Say I do come with you, where do you live in this Birmingham place?’
Hannah knew Josie was putting a brave face on it and replied, ‘An area called Erdington to the north of the city. Many call it Erdington Village, which it was once, but now it’s like a little town. It’s not anything like here. You’ve never seen so many people and cars and buses, lorries and trams on the roads, especially in the city centre. But the guesthouse, where I work, is in Grange Road and that’s not a bit like that. It’s lovely. It’s wide and tree-lined and the houses are set back behind privet hedges. There’s even a small farm in Holly Lane, not that far away, and sometimes we can get hens’ or ducks’ eggs from the farmer, Mr Freer.’
She stole a glance at Josie and went on, ‘I suppose living here you’re thinking, “So what?” Believe me, if you’d been subjected to the rationing restrictions Britain has had to put up with, you’d know how wonderful getting the odd egg is. I’ve had a word with Mrs Emmerson and she doesn’t mind in the least putting you up for a while. She’s very kind and anyway, I’ll be getting married in September.’
Married! That gave Josie a jolt. She thought Hannah would have given up all thoughts of marriage. She was old, almost as old as Miriam, and she’d been married for years and years and had a whole tribe of children now, though no one seemed pleased about that either. Still, that wasn’t her problem. What was, though, was the man Hannah was to marry. ‘Does Mammy know that?’ she asked.
‘Aye, she does,’ Hannah said. ‘We talked about it. He has a largish terraced house of his own. There’d be plenty of room for you in it.’
‘And how does he feel about me?’
Hannah crushed down the worry she had about that and the less than welcoming letter she’d received just that day in answer to hers that she’d written, telling her fiancé what her sister had asked her to do. He’d written that he didn’t want to take on the responsibility of a child and he’d been surprised at her making a decision without consulting him. It was, he’d said, no way to start married life.
Hannah
would win him round, she had to, but now Josie needed reassurance. ‘He’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘Haven’t I told you about the size of the house? Why would he mind you sharing a wee piece of it? He knows it’s the right thing to do and Mr Bradley always does the right thing.’
Josie stared at Hannah. ‘Mr Bradley!’ she said incredulously. ‘Hasn’t he a first name? You don’t call a man you’re marrying “Mr”.’
But it was how Hannah thought of him. Solid, rather dull Mr Bradley – Arthur Bradley – the one Gloria Emmerson told Hannah she must grab before someone else did. He was her stab, perhaps her only stab, towards respectability.
Not of course that Mr Bradley knew anything about Hannah’s past. Oh dear me no, that would never have done. But Gloria knew and she liked Hannah and wanted the best for her.
That’s why she found her a job in her thriving guesthouse and then latched on to Mr Bradley, a commercial traveller, who’d confided in her that he was sick of the road. ‘To rise in the firm though,’ he’d said dolefully, ‘I need a wife. The boss thinks married men are more steady and reliable.’
If Gloria thought Arthur Bradley was just about the steadiest person she’d ever met, she gave no indication of it. ‘But,’ Arthur had gone on, ‘I don’t want to marry and anyway, I’ve nothing to offer a wife. The house went with my father’s job, you see. After he died, Mother had the house during her lifetime, but when she died it went back to the firm. So I don’t even have a permanent place to live.’
That had all changed a little later when out of the blue, Arthur inherited a large terraced house in Harrison Road, Erdington, after the demise of an elderly uncle. Gloria immediately began to think of him as a suitable catch for Hannah. First, though, she had to win Hannah round to her way of thinking, for she’d shown no interest in any men in the time she’d known her.
Hannah wasn’t the least bit interested in Arthur Bradley either. She felt sorry for him at times but didn’t really know why. He seemed a lonely sort of man, out of step with the rest of the world somehow. Gloria said it was because he’d lived all those years with his mother. ‘How many years?’ Hannah asked. ‘He’s not that old.’
‘I’d have said he was going on for forty.’
Hannah was surprised. ‘Do you think he’s that old?’ she asked. ‘Was he in the war?’
‘No,’ Gloria said. ‘He had flat feet or some such he told me. Anyway, it doesn’t bother you him being so much older than you, does it? I mean, he doesn’t look his age.’
He didn’t, Hannah had to admit that. Despite Arthur Bradley’s thinning brown hair and the wire-framed glasses perched on his long, narrow nose, he didn’t look his age. She supposed that was because he was quite skinny, wiry almost, and he looked worse because he was so tall. His whole face was long, too, and had a mournful look about it, particularly his dull brown eyes, and Hannah realised while Mr Bradley didn’t look his age, he certainly acted it.
‘Don’t you want to be a respectable married woman?’ Gloria demanded.
‘Of course,’ Hannah said. ‘If everything had gone to plan, I would be married now, but I don’t want to marry just anyone.’
‘Look,’ Gloria said. ‘I don’t wish to be harsh, but your lad’s body is lying buried in the sands of a Normandy beach. He isn’t ever coming back and you have to accept that. Do you want a life of loneliness?’
‘I don’t love Mr Bradley.’
‘Do you like him?’
‘Aye, I suppose.’
‘Then you’ll rub along well enough, I’d say.’
‘Gloria, there is more to marriage than that.’
‘Yes, there is. One thing is, can he provide for you? Well, Arthur can. He has a good job and a fine house that you would be mistress of.’
‘Those kind of things don’t impress me.’
‘Well, they should. Money is a hard thing to get along without.’
‘How do you know, anyway, that Arthur will be for it?’
‘I don’t,’ Gloria admitted. ‘But the boss is on to him to get himself married and I know he’s gone on you.’
‘Don’t be daft, I’m sure he’s not,’ Hannah snapped.
Gloria wondered why it was that Hannah didn’t realise how truly lovely she was with that glossy mane of auburn hair, creamy-coloured skin and startling green eyes. And then Gloria had played her ace card. ‘Don’t you ever want a child, Hannah?’
Hannah wanted a child more than anything in the world, and Gloria knew that, but she’d accepted the fact that with Mike dead there would be no child. But now to have the chance to marry and to be able to have her own baby, a child, to hold in her arms, to love and to watch grow up … Well, it was more than she’d ever expected from life. Was it possible? Could she take Mr Bradley on for life, and it would be for life, in order to have that child?
Yes, yes she could, her whole being cried. She’d walk over red-hot coals if it would fill the empty void in her life and help heal the ache in her heart. ‘All right,’ she said at last. ‘Sound Mr Bradley out if you must, but you may have a shock. He may not want to marry me at all. He doesn’t strike me as the marrying kind.’
And that had been that. She had committed herself. But Josie was right, she must stop thinking of him as Mr Bradley. ‘His name is Arthur,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘Come on, dry your eyes and let’s go in.’
‘Will I get into trouble?’ Josie asked tremulously. ‘Will they all give out at me?’
‘Maybe,’ Hannah said. ‘But I’ll stick up for you, don’t worry. It’s you and me in this together from now on. You and me against the world.’
Josie liked the sound of that. She got to her feet, scrubbing at her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan and dusting the pieces of straw from her clothes. ‘I’m ready,’ she said and she followed her aunt down the ladder.
Chapter Two
Frances’s funeral was well attended and everyone spoke of the fine woman she’d been and what a great loss it was to the whole family. The eldest of the Mullens, Peter, officiated at the Requiem Mass. Hannah knew that would have pleased his mother and also too that Margaret had got dispensation from her convent to attend the service.
What would have upset her, though, would have been to see Miriam. Hannah had been so shocked at the young woman only a little older than she was herself who she hadn’t seen for years. Miriam’s face was gaunt, though ruddy in complexion, and deeply lined and her hair, which had once been burnished auburn like Hannah’s own, had streaks of grey in it and hung in limp strands around her face. Her black clothes were respectable enough and Hannah guessed they were borrowed because her shoes were scuffed and down at heel. Beneath her coat was the swell of yet another pregnancy. Miriam resembled a woman nearly twice her age and Hannah felt sorry for the life she led.
But one of the worst aspects of that day for Hannah had been meeting her father. She’d made no move to visit him since she’d come over, knowing she wouldn’t be welcome, and he greeted her with a curt nod as if she were a person he’d seen before, but never really knew. Her brother Eamonn took her in a hug that Hannah knew he’d done just because it was the thing everyone expected but in fact, she felt closer to Mary, his wife, who greeted her warmly and said she must come up to the house.
She knew she wouldn’t go. Her father’s continual rejection still hurt her, cutting deeply. Now, together with the pain of losing Frances, she felt misery almost engulf her.
She’d been in no mood for the riotous wake after the funeral and was glad that she and Josie were leaving soon. She told the others that work was pressing and that Gloria had written asking about her return and Hannah felt she shouldn’t be away too long, especially as Gloria had been so good both about giving her so much time off and allowing her to bring Josie back with her.
Most of the family had been relieved that Hannah had agreed to take on the care of Josie as their mother had wanted, though little was said about it. Hannah thought it was probably embarrassment and guilt stopping their tongues. Only Pet
er and Margaret had said that Hannah’s reward for her generosity would be in Heaven.
Hannah was tempted to say that was a long time to wait and ask Margaret what was so appealing about black heathens that she could turn her face towards them so stoutly and ignore the needs of her young orphaned sister.
But of course she said none of this. She just thanked them. Martin eventually spoke about it as he drove them to the station. ‘It’s really good of you to do this,’ he said. ‘Taking on Josie and such. I suppose you think me and Siobhan really selfish taking off for America, but it’s what we’ve both wanted to do for years and it’s been like a carrot dangled in front of me what with me being unable to take it, especially after Daddy died.
‘If we don’t go now,’ he went on, ‘we’ll never go, neither of us. Siobhan is as anxious as me. She knows as well as I do that there’s nothing here for me. She sees the life Miriam has and shudders, like I do myself. God! The man she married must be an inconsiderate brute.’
‘There are inconsiderate brutes in America too,’ Hannah reminded him. ‘They are not the prerogative of the Irish, you know.’
‘I know, I know,’ Martin replied. ‘But … anyway, we both think there’s nothing to keep us here now and you agreeing to look after Josie has made it possible. You won’t lose by it – financially, I mean. As soon as I’m settled I’ll send you something for her.’
‘Well, though I’m not saying the money won’t be useful, the point is it’s rationing that’s the problem,’ Hannah said. ‘I’ll have to see about getting Josie a ration book as quickly as possible.’
‘There won’t be rationing for ever,’ Martin pointed out. ‘And there might be a bit of money too once the farm is sold. The beasts are all but gone, your father’s had some of them, and the farm goes up for sale tomorrow. ’Course it will have to be split between us all, but there’ll still be a little.’
‘However big or small, I’ll put that away for Josie. She will want money in the future,’ Hannah said.
