Saints and Sailors

by Pam Rhodes

  Harry wasn’t sure how to continue, and was wondering whether he should just take his leave, when Brig turned round to look at him steadily.

  “Go on, ask! Ask how I could have been a sailor all those years if I suffer from seasickness. Pretty illogical, eh? Ask if I’m making everything up. Just a deluded, idiotic old fella who’s living in a past that never really was. I must have been a crap sailor, mustn’t I? Go on, ask!”

  “You tell me,” was Harry’s soft reply. “Tell me what you’d like me to know.”

  Brig took a deep breath, sighing heavily before he spoke. “You’re married, aren’t you, Harry? To Iris?”

  Harry laughed. “No, we’re just widowed neighbours who keep an eye on each other now we’re both getting on a bit. Iris is Neil’s mum, and Claire’s my great-niece, so it feels as if we’re all one family nowadays.”

  “What was your wife like? Did you get along?”

  “Rose? I lost her to cancer five years ago. Yes, we had a good marriage. No children, and that was a sadness for us both, but we rubbed along OK. How about you? Do you and Daisy have a family?”

  “Two daughters, both married and living locally with children of their own. I lived in a household of three women for years.”

  “Aah,” smiled Harry. “A mixed blessing, I imagine.”

  “Daisy taught the girls well. They know women are superior, in charge of everything and don’t expect to be challenged by a man in any way.”

  “I see. That must be very difficult.”

  “Impossible is the word I’d use. Daisy’s an impossible woman – patronizing, bossy and insensitive. It’s partly my own fault; I admit that. After all, she married a sailor, and sailors go to sea. When the girls were young, I was away more than I was home, so Daisy had to cope with everything on her own. She’d got her routine and didn’t take kindly to her arrangements being disrupted. Every now and then, I’d arrive back home with my dirty washing, my stories of life at sea – which plainly bored her – and my totally unreasonable wish to be allowed once in a while to take charge of the remote control for the television I bought for us.

  “I also had the unreasonable expectation that I might have her company, even her affection, once in a while – but she made it very clear that she no longer fancied me, not in any way. Did she ever? I wonder now. She was never really that keen, even when we were first married. I came to the conclusion that I was no more than a meal ticket for her, the mug who provided the house, the money, the children and the lifestyle she felt was due to her. After that, I was irrelevant, surplus to requirements.”

  “And now the girls have left home and you’re no longer at sea, and there’s just the two of you left in the house?”

  “We’ve got a dog, a collie. I chose him, so she hates him. Says he messes up the floor and leaves his fur all over the furniture. I spend a lot of time with him, out walking, doing anything to get me away from the house.”

  “Have you got friends of your own to spend time with?”

  “There’s the Naval Association club. I often drop in there for a drink at lunchtime, and they have some nice social nights there at weekends. Daisy won’t go, though. She says it’s common.”

  “But at least you meet other seamen there, who understand what it’s like to have been in the forces.”

  “Yes, they’re a good crowd. We’ve got a lot to talk about. Speak the same language because we share similar memories.”

  “And it’s not easy to share all you’ve seen and been through with people back at home, is it?”

  Brig looked at Harry carefully. “You’ve obviously been a military man, to say that.”

  “Just four years, straight out of school because it was a job and I couldn’t think what else to do. I learned a lot in the army, about myself as much as anything.”

  “The lads you serve with,” said Brig with passion, “they become your family. It’s hard to explain to anyone who’s not been there. But when the chips are down, when you’re faced with real danger, so scared you can hardly speak, you have to work together to save your own life as well as theirs. That makes a special bond.”

  Harry nodded in agreement. “And it’s very difficult for family members back home to understand…”

  Brig grunted. “Daisy never could. She never tried. She wouldn’t even listen. She always switches off the news because she doesn’t want to know about anything outside her little world. She’s not interested, because she thinks everyone should just get on with each other and there shouldn’t be wars between one country and another. Because she believes it shouldn’t happen, she refuses to see it does happen, and that military men like me and you have to deal with it. Blinkered, disinterested, full of her own righteous opinions. It wears me down.”

  There was a catch in his voice as he spoke. “I’m tired of it. Tired of her.”

  “Would you honestly want to live away from her, your girls and the grandchildren, though? Can you imagine being on your own? Wouldn’t that be quite lonely?”

  “I’m already lonely. I’ve been lonely since the day I married her.”

  Harry fell silent, unsure what to say.

  “I bet she loved telling everyone I was seasick. Did she make an announcement to a nice big crowd? Because that’s what she normally does. Makes sure there are plenty of people listening when she puts me down.”

  “It was a bit of a shock to hear you were ill, especially when you obviously love the sea so much. We’ve all been impressed by how knowledgeable you are about everything.”

  “I’ve never felt seasick under water. I was in subs, so I was always OK once we’d dived. It’s the motion of the waves up top that gets me. I thought in a big ship like this one I’d be OK, and mostly I am. It was just that really rough night that laid me low.”

  “I see. That makes sense.”

  “So I’m a laughing stock, am I? I bet everyone thinks I’m a bit of a joke.”

  Harry considered his words for a moment before he answered. “I don’t think we’ve had much chance to get to know you. You’ve come across as such an expert, it’s made you seem a bit daunting. But the way you’re speaking now, just being yourself, you’re really good company, Brig.”

  “Daisy doesn’t think so. She never misses a chance to tell everyone how boring and delusional I am.”

  “Well, maybe you should hold back a bit on the seafaring lectures and just talk more generally about things we can all contribute to – this trip, the places we’re seeing, the entertainment, the food. I sometimes think the best conversations I have are the ones where I do most of the listening.”

  Brig grinned. “That’s your tactful way of saying I need to shut up about myself and let other people get a word in edgeways once in a while.”

  “It’s always worked for me.”

  Brig laughed then, before stepping forward to lay a hand across Harry’s shoulders. “Fancy a coffee?”

  “When we know the girls are looking for us?” grinned Harry. “That will really infuriate them.”

  “Quarter of an hour in that little coffee bar upstairs, out of the way?”

  “Sounds great,” agreed Harry as they headed for the door. “When it comes to the ladies, it’s never a bad idea to play a little hard to get. Treat ’em mean, keep ’em keen!”

  As Deirdre emerged into the sunshine at the top of the disembarkation ramp, her heart lurched to see the unmistakeable figure of Clodagh waiting beyond the wire barrier of the quayside. The nervous stomach cramps and nausea that had kept her awake all night now washed over her again as she thought about what this day might hold. She stood at the top of the ramp, the competent, accomplished forty-two-year-old woman she’d become. Yet just looking at the dockland area, here in the city that had been her childhood home, instantly catapulted her back into the fear and confusion of the teenager she’d been when she had last stood on Irish soil.

  She felt Mark’s hand slide onto her shoulder, solid and reassuring.

  “It’s OK,” he whispered.
“I’m right beside you. Is that Clodagh over there?”

  Deirdre nodded dumbly, her throat constricting with dryness.

  “Let’s go and meet her, then,” he said. “You can do this. You want to do this.”

  At that moment, Clodagh spotted her sister and started waving to catch her attention. There was something about Clodagh’s obvious excitement at her arrival that made Deirdre’s feet pick up speed as she made her way down the ramp. There followed a frustrating delay while she and Mark had to go through the quayside security check for all passengers, but as Deirdre stepped out of the exit, Clodagh was there, her arms open, warm and welcoming as she drew Deirdre into an emotional embrace.

  “I can’t believe you’re here after all these years. Oh, Deirdre, welcome home!”

  In spite of her good intentions not to cry, Deirdre felt hot tears running down her cheeks into Clodagh’s hair as the two sisters clung together.

  “You’ve brought someone with you.”

  Deirdre pulled back so that Mark could move closer to join them.

  “This is Mark Stratton.”

  Clodagh’s eyebrows raised with curiosity as she shook hands with Mark.

  Deirdre smiled. “Yes, we’re together. Mark’s very special. He’s one in a million. I’m very lucky to have found him.”

  “Well, Mark, you’re most welcome. This is a big day for Deirdre. It won’t be easy.”

  Mark stretched out to take Deirdre’s hand in his. “That’s why I’m here. I plan to stay in the background, because I know she has to do this alone…”

  “… but whatever happens today, Mark’s here to pick up the pieces,” added Deirdre, looking lovingly at him. “I don’t think I could face this without him – and you. I’m so nervous.”

  “Look, let’s go into the café over there and get a cup of coffee,” suggested Clodagh. “We can talk things through and decide on a plan of action.”

  Ten minutes later, Mark noticed that Deirdre’s hand was trembling as she picked up her mug of steaming coffee to take a sip.

  “Mum and Da still have no idea I’m coming?”

  “None at all.”

  “Do they ever speak of me?”

  “Mum does sometimes, but only to me. I don’t think your name’s ever mentioned in front of Da.”

  “So he meant it when he said I’m no longer his daughter. He’s erased me from his life. I’m nothing to him.”

  “Da’s not an unfeeling man, in spite of how it seems. He’s mellowed a lot over the years.”

  “So how do you think he’ll react if I turn up on the doorstep?”

  “Honestly, Deirdre, I just don’t know.”

  “Are they both definitely home today?”

  “I’m pretty sure Mum will be, because I said I’d pop over to see her this morning. I don’t know about Da. I didn’t dare ask in case I had to explain why I was bringing it up.”

  The blood seemed to drain from Deirdre’s face. Mark slipped his arm around her rigid shoulders.

  “I think,” she said at last, “I’ll just pop into the ladies’ room to powder my nose – and then we should go. The anticipation’s worse than just getting on with it. If this turns out to be a disaster, then I’ll leave and that’ll be it. We’ve lived without each other for twenty-four years. If I have to live the rest of my life that way, well, so be it. I’d rather spend my time with people who really care about me.” She looked into Mark’s eyes for a few seconds before leaning down to pick up her handbag as she got up to head for the restroom.

  “I worry that this will hurt her,” Mark said as he and Clodagh watched her go. “Being estranged from her family has been a huge sadness for her, especially because Brendan’s had to grow up not knowing his grandparents.”

  Clodagh nodded thoughtfully. “We’re talking about a very different time then,” she said. “In those days there was still a huge stigma associated with getting pregnant outside of marriage.”

  “It does take two to make it happen,” retorted Mark. “She was just a kid, immature and scared. She was abandoned by Brendan’s father and then her own mum and dad – in fact, everyone except you. It seems unbelievable to me that they’d turn on their own so heartlessly.”

  Clodagh shrugged. “We’re a Catholic family in a staunchly religious community. Mum and Da are regular churchgoers. A pregnant daughter would have brought disgrace and shame to the whole family.”

  “Very Christian.”

  “I agree – and perhaps if the same thing happened now, generally parents wouldn’t react like that. But I think Mum and Da were completely shocked by it. It was the last thing they expected and they didn’t know how else to respond.”

  “Do you think they’ve regretted it over the years since?”

  “Yes. Yes, I do. Da’s never said anything, but Deirdre was always daddy’s girl, and I know he’s missed her.”

  “Right, let’s do this,” said Deirdre, appearing at their side. “Let’s do it before I change my mind and scuttle back home again.”

  Clodagh ushered Deirdre into the front seat of the car so she could have a clear view of the familiar streets as they travelled back to the house she’d grown up in. Mark felt she was unnaturally quiet as she took in every detail, sometimes turning to stare at something she’d almost missed as they passed, sometimes simply gazing straight ahead.

  “It’s probably changed a lot from what you remember,” said Clodagh, glancing at her sister’s pale face.

  Deirdre nodded without answering.

  They drove past the shops and offices of the city centre, and on into the suburbs, where the buildings became more residential. Ten minutes later, Clodagh turned off the main road into an estate of large terraced houses built in the elegant style of Edwardian days, though a century of city life had definitely taken its toll.

  At last Clodagh pulled into a space halfway up a tree-lined street. Mark heard Deirdre catch her breath as she looked across at the house immediately opposite. It was tall and solid, joined on both sides by identical dwellings. Beyond the gate, a neat lawn was laid out to one side of the path, which led to a small porch framing a black front door.

  “They’ve painted the door. It was dark blue.”

  “Really?” smiled Clodagh. “I’d forgotten that. It’s been black for so long.”

  “And there’s ivy up the wall. That wasn’t there.”

  “Da says it’s a weed and he’s no idea where it came from. He’s always hacking bits off it.”

  Deirdre’s deep breath was almost a sigh as she stared at the house.

  “Ready?” Clodagh reached over to still Deirdre’s fingers, which were twitching nervously in her lap.

  “I don’t know…”

  “Would you like me to go in first? I can see who’s there, then come out and let you know.”

  Deirdre nodded wordlessly. With one last squeeze of her sister’s hand, Clodagh got out of the car, crossed the road and walked up the path. Pulling a key out of her pocket, she unlocked the door and disappeared inside.

  The wait seemed endless. Mark leaned forward in the back seat to put his hand on Deirdre’s shoulder as she sat with her eyes fixed on the front door. At last it was pulled open, but not by Clodagh. A small, elderly woman was clutching the door, her eyes anxiously scanning the street for Clodagh’s car.

  Deirdre reacted immediately, throwing open her door, hardly looking as she ran across the road, through the gate and up the path. And then she stopped, but the woman moved for her, her arms outstretched as she cried Deirdre’s name, stepping forward to pull her into a tearful embrace of longing and love. And there they stood for long minutes, hugging, crying, loving, as two long decades fell away. Her mother pulled back to cup her daughter’s face in her hands, taking in every detail of her, stroking her hair, caressing her skin.

  “Come in, come in!” Her mother started to guide Deirdre towards the house, but stopped as she glanced back at the car. “Is that your friend over there?”

  “That’s Mark. He’
s happy to stay out here, if that’s best. He doesn’t want to intrude, but I needed him with me today.”

  “If he’s important to you, then I’d like to meet him. Clodagh, ask him to come in, would you?”

  The moment Deirdre stepped inside the door, it hit her, achingly dear and familiar – the smell of home. The colour of the walls in the hall had changed and there was a new stair carpet, but what overwhelmed her was the indescribable, unmistakeable aroma of a house and family, the family she used to belong to. Her family.

  She knew her mum was watching her reaction closely as she led her past the parlour door and into the back room. Deirdre stopped by the door to take it all in, the things she recognized and the things that were unfamiliar. There was a smart new suite of settee and chairs in a fabric that complemented the swirling beiges and browns of the wallpaper. And they’d had central heating put in! She could picture the coal fire that used to be lit all year round in the cosy, comforting room which was the hub and heart of their family life. This room had been a warm refuge no matter how cold the other rooms in the house might be – especially the bedrooms, where hot water bottles had to be placed between the covers on chilly winter nights before any of them dared to go to bed.

  A shiver went through her. This was the room where she’d last spoken to Da. Her final conversation in this house had been right here, when Da turned his back on her and ordered her to leave. She was dimly aware that she was starting to shake, unable to control the trembling that gripped her.

  “He’s not here, love,” said her mum quietly. “He’s at the allotment. He’ll be back soon.”

  “Should I leave?”

  “Deirdre, you’ve come home, and I’ve prayed for this moment every day since you left. You’re our daughter…”

  “Da threw me out. You packed my bag. He told me I meant nothing to him.”

  “I know, I know…”

  “I’d made a terrible mistake. I knew I was wrong – but the people I loved turned their backs on me. I left the only life I’d ever known that day. I was so alone and scared…”

  “I know, love; I do.” Her mum’s eyes were glassy with tears, and her voice choked on the sob she was trying hard to suppress. “There’s so much we have to talk about, but let’s put the kettle on first. Do you have a job now…?”