Читать книгу Till the Sun Shines Through - Anne Bennett - Страница 8

Mary never told Bridie of the conversation she had with their uncle Francis and the threat she’d issued, so Bridie didn’t look for any significant change in his behaviour once Mary left for home.

But at the harvest, which the two families had always worked together, Uncle Francis was quite curt with her, when he spoke at all. She didn’t see why he should seem so annoyed with her, but preferred that attitude to his previous one, so didn’t bother worrying over it.

She still viewed the coming winter – the rambling season and Christmas – with apprehension, but she needn’t have worried. Francis made no attempt to waylay her, or even say anything slightly suggestive, but rather seemed to avoid her if he could.

She was able to say this in a letter to Mary, who was glad she hadn’t Bridie to worry about for that autumn she had discovered she was expecting again. The baby was due in April and she knew she’d have her hands full soon enough.

In the New Year 1931, Father Dwyer began a fortnightly social in the church hall for young Catholic boys and girls over the age of sixteen. There was to be no strong drink, but it was a place to meet and chat and dance to the records played on the old gramophone belonging to the priest.

It hardly headed the list of exciting places to be but, as Rosalyn said, it was better than nothing and might brighten up those bleak winter months. Nearly everyone in the place was known to them anyway – most of the girls they’d been at school with, while the boys were usually their brothers or cousins, or friends they’d known for years.

Bridie could have been in great demand and yet as the winter came to an end, she’d given none of the boys the slightest encouragement to take an interest in her. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ Rosalyn asked, as they walked home together one night. ‘It isn’t as if you don’t know the boys. You even know most of their families.’

‘I know.’

‘Don’t you like any of them?’

‘Not particularly. Not the way you mean.’

‘Don’t you want to be kissed and held and … well, you know?’

Oh how well Bridie knew and she also knew she’d had enough of that sort of carry-on with her uncle to last her a lifetime. There was anyway no point in it.

‘You’ll never get married the way you go on,’ Rosalyn told her.

‘I might not want to get married.’

‘Oh God, Bridie, you can’t want to be an old maid?’

‘Look, Rosalyn,’ Bridie said. ‘Say I really liked one of those farmers’ sons at the social tonight and we began walking out together. If we should decide in time to get married, where would I live? If I moved out of the farmhouse what would happen to Mammy and Daddy?’

‘They’d get someone in to help them. Lots have to do that,’ Rosalyn said. ‘You can’t stay with your parents all the days of your life, Bridie. It’s not healthy.’

But Bridie knew her father would hate to get a stranger in to help him on the farm. He’d rather break his neck trying to do it all himself than that.

‘Daddy said you’re wasting yourself,’ Rosalyn said.

‘Oh, did he?’ Bridie retorted. ‘What does he know?’

‘He was only concerned about you,’ Rosalyn said. ‘You know how fond he is of you.’

Fond, Bridie thought grimly, is that what they call it these days? ‘Your father should mind his own business,’ she cried angrily. ‘He should look to his own life and keep his nose out of my affairs.’

‘Look here, Bridie.’

‘Leave it be, Rosalyn,’ Bridie said. ‘I’m away home.’

Rosalyn looked after her cousin’s retreating figure and couldn’t for the life of her think what she’d done or said to upset her so much.

Bridie was ashamed of her outburst and glad that Rosalyn was not one to bear a grudge, for she couldn’t wait to show her the latest letter from Mary telling her of the birth of another boy whom they’d called Mickey after Eddie’s father. There was also one from Ellen saying her and Sam would be over for a wee holiday later than usual, maybe September time.

When they arrived, the hay was all safely gathered in as the summer had been glorious and Ellen came with tales of the hungry baby Mary could barely satisfy. ‘She’s feeding him every minute and he’s so big, you’d never believe it,’ Ellen said. ‘I’ve told Mary that child doesn’t need milk, he needs good roast meat and potatoes, that one. And as for Jamie, I tell you that child is one body’s work. Dear Lord, Mary often doubts he’ll ever grow up, he’s in so many scrapes.’

‘We’re all longing to see them,’ Sarah said.

‘Maybe next year I’ll come with her to give her a hand – Jamie will surely fall overboard the minute her back was turned.’

‘He sounds a handful right enough.’

‘He’s full of life and fun, that’s all,’ Ellen said. ‘They have only the streets to play in too, remember. You can’t always be at the park.’

‘There’s more space here.’

‘Aye, that’s true,’ Ellen said. ‘But there’s dangers too. Jamie might easily sink into the midden, or drown in the river, or fall down the hillside.’

Bridie laughed. She longed to see Jamie and the new baby and wondered as the work slowed down for the winter whether she’d be able to go over to see them. Even a week, or failing that a few days, would be better than nothing.

But the trip wasn’t to be. Ellen and Sam had only been gone home a week when Sarah tipped a kettle of boiling water over her legs and feet as she attempted to fill the teapot on the hob. The scalds were bad enough and needed the services of a doctor, but a more longer-lasting concern was why it had happened in the first place. It appeared that Sarah’s left arm had given way on her.

As the scalds healed, the arm got steadily weaker and the doctor was able to offer no reason for it, or treatment, or possibility of a cure. Gradually, Sarah was able to do less and less and Bridie had taken on more, until she knew even to take a day off now would be out of the question. Her mother’s disability had tied her even more firmly to the farmhouse and yet Sarah could hardly be blamed. It was just the way of things.

Bridie lifted the burden of the house onto her narrow shoulders and found as time passed she had scarcely a minute to call her own. Even those winter months that usually weren’t so frantically busy on the farm were not easy for her. There was still the washing to be done, the cooking and breadmaking and the dairy work, which her mother had always taken the brunt of previously.

Christmas and the New Year passed in a flurry of activity and even more cooking than usual and Bridie looked forward to 1932 with little enthusiasm, although she would be eighteen in February. This year she’d be able to go to the Harvest Dance. It was the highlight of the year – Rosalyn, being a year older, had already been there the once and had hardly stopped going on about it for weeks afterwards.

Some parents had allowed their daughters to go at sixteen, but Jimmy, Francis and Delia had been adamant that the girls were not to go till they were eighteen, for drink was served there, and that Frank should take them there and fetch them home again.

Bridie was more excited than she would normally be; since her mother had scalded herself, she’d not even been to any of the socials, though Rosalyn had urged her to. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘It’s the only chance we’ll have to do things like this. My aunt Maria said if she knew what she knows now, she’d have stayed single longer.’

‘I don’t blame her,’ Bridie said. Delia’s brother Aiden had married his Maria and now had two boys of three and two and a baby girl of six months old. He’d gone to America and got work with a gang of navvies in Central America, but so far had found nowhere suitable for his family to live so that they could join him. Rosalyn was fond of her young aunt and, feeling sorry for her, often went round to give her a hand.

‘I told you I don’t want to get married,’ Bridie said. ‘Didn’t you tell me Maria has barely time to blow her nose?’

‘God, Bridie, you’re little better,’ Rosalyn reminded her and Bridie knew she had a point. ‘Ah, but it would be worse if I had weans to see to as well,’ Bridie said. ‘Weans are lovely when they’re someone else’s. I mean I love Mary’s, but want none of my own yet a while.’

‘Well, it wouldn’t be sensible without a husband,’ Rosalyn said with a giggle and Bridie gave her a push.

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Oh I know all right,’ Rosalyn said with a nod and a wink, and the girls laughed together.

But for all that, Bridie was looking forward to seeing Mary and her two sons, who were coming over for the last three weeks in August with Ellen and Sam. She knew that there would be little extra work involved for her, apart from making up the beds, as both Mary and Ellen would give a hand in the house.

When they arrived, Mary and Ellen were astounded at Bridie’s workload and Ellen gave out both to Jimmy and Sarah for allowing it. ‘Get someone in to help on the farm,’ she said sharply to her sister. ‘And if your Jimmy is too stiffnecked to do that, at least get someone in to help in the house.’

But Sarah was no more inclined to have a stranger in her kitchen than Jimmy was in his farm, Bridie knew, and realised the situation was unlikely to change. Ellen felt sorry for Bridie, but also for her sister too. She knew how much of a burden Sarah felt already and didn’t want to add to her problems by continually carping at her.

There was little Ellen could do long-term to ease the situation for the family, but she did tackle Bridie about the social evenings that she had stopped going to. ‘I got out of the way of it when Mammy scalded herself,’ Bridie said, and gave a shiver at the memory of it. ‘God, it was a desperate time.’

‘I’m sure it was,’ Ellen said. ‘But what about afterwards, when your mammy recovered a bit?’

‘There is so much to do,’ Bridie replied. ‘And I’m always so tired by the evening. It hardly seems worth it.’

‘Of course it’s worth it,’ Ellen retorted sharply. ‘It’s not helpful to be buried away in this place with two old folk and never seeing anyone else day in and day out.’

‘I see Rosalyn.’

‘Aye, but isn’t she at work every day?’ Ellen said. She knew too that soon Bridie would lose Rosalyn as well because Delia was after telling her just that day of the offer Rosalyn had received that she’d be mad to refuse. She guessed that Bridie hadn’t a hint of it, or she’d certainly have mentioned it. She knew also how much Bridie would miss her cousin and had no intention of telling her, particularly as the details were not finalised yet. However, Ellen knew it was even more vital now that her niece meet other young people. ‘You need to get out more,’ she continued. ‘Jimmy tells me you hardly ever go into the town, even on a Fair Day.’

‘We can’t both be away from the farm,’ Bridie protested. ‘Anyway, I’d hesitate to leave Mammy.’

‘Well, you’ll leave her tomorrow,’ Ellen said determinedly, ‘because you and I are going to town. Mary is here to see to things – we’ll take the rail bus in, so we will.’

‘But why are we going to town?’

‘Why? Because, my girl, I see you for ever in breeches and shirt. I bet you’ve nearly forgotten you’re a girl – a young lady. For your first Harvest Dance, I want you to be the belle of the ball. We’re going to choose the dress of your dreams.’

‘Oh,’ said Bridie, and felt stirrings of excitement at the prospect of new pretty clothes. She went to bed that night dreaming of the next day.

‘Right, Sam,’ Ellen said as the three of them reached the town, ‘here’s the list Sarah and Jimmy gave me for things they need.’

Aye,’ said Sam, taking it from her. ‘Where will you be when I finish?’

‘How would I know that?’ Ellen asked. ‘I don’t know how long things are going to take. Wait for us in the hotel and we’ll have our dinner there before heading for home.’ She nudged Bridie as she spoke. ‘Bit of a treat for you.’

It was a treat. The whole day out was just wonderful. Just to be there in the town, carefree and not with one eye on the clock all the time, worrying about her mother and knowing there would be a pile of jobs waiting for her back home, was sheer bliss. ‘Oh, Aunt Ellen,’ she said. ‘It’s tremendous, the whole thing. Thank you.’

‘God, girl, you’ve got nothing to thank me for yet,’ Ellen cried. ‘Come on now, let’s do some serious shopping.’

And with that, Ellen tucked her arm through Bridie’s, gave a desultory wave to Sam and the two set off to conquer the town.

Ellen led the way to Dumphries, the elegant and pricey dress shop Bridie had never been through the door of before, where she had Bridie try on one dress after the other.

‘What d’you think? Which one do you like?’ she asked Bridie who could only shake her head in reply. She’d never seen such clothes – how could she choose? One was as beautiful as the next.

‘Shall I tell you my choice then?’ Ellen asked, and Bridie nodded her head eagerly. Ellen held up a dress of golden brown with a pattern of green and russet running through it. ‘Put this one on again.’

Bridie took it from her aunt. It was beautiful: the bodice was of fine shimmering material over a skirt of satin and was worn just off the shoulders. It felt so good next to her skin. ‘You don’t think it too low?’ she asked, anxiously tugging at it. It showed her figure to perfection with just a demure hint of cleavage.

‘Not at all,’ Ellen said firmly. ‘It’s a dance. Everyone will wear similar things. Trust me.’

‘But my shoulders are bare,’ Bridie went on. She’d never had anything like this in her life. ‘Isn’t it …? Maybe people will think it a little fast?’

‘Bridie, you’re eighteen,’ Ellen said. ‘The time for childish dresses is past – and you don’t wear sensible clothes that you wear for Mass to a dance, especially your first.’

Bridie still looked doubtful and Ellen said, ‘I’ll buy you a stole to cover your shoulders if you’re so worried. But once the dancing starts, you won’t want a stole hampering you. Come on, take it off and we’ll get them to wrap it up. Now for the underneath.’

‘Underneath!’

‘Bridie, you don’t wear flannel bloomers under a dress like this,’ Ellen said with a twinkle in her eye. ‘We need lace bloomers and petticoats. No need for any sort of brassiere though, for the dress is fitted to show off your bust.’

Bridie felt her face flame with embarrassment at her aunt talking this way, and in the hearing of the shop assistants too. She knew full well the dress was fitted to show off her bust. That was what worried her most, especially the reaction of her mother when she saw just how much flesh the dress showed off.

She couldn’t help, though, but be impressed by the soft bloomers with deep lace edging and the matching petticoats and before they left the shop, true to her word, Ellen bought a stole of soft brown wool shot through with threads of gold that went perfectly with the dress. Then she marched Bridie to the shoemaker’s and bought her the softest, daintiest boots of tan leather.

‘And now,’ she said as they stood outside the shoemakers, ‘I’ve made an appointment with the hairdresser.’

Bridie’s hands immediately flew to her head. ‘My hair! What’s the matter with my hair?’

‘Nothing,’ Ellen said. ‘Or at least nothing that can’t be fixed.’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘Now don’t fly off the handle,’ Ellen said. ‘I’m not talking of shaving your head, but it needs to be thinned a little. It’s so thick it tangles easily. And then maybe a wee tadge off the length.’

Bridie had had little time to do anything with her hair but wash it for years, yet she was still apprehensive. But she needn’t have worried. Submitting to the hairdresser’s skill, she saw her natural waves again become apparent and the straggly locks cut off, reducing the length to just below her shoulders.

‘Do you like it?’ she asked Ellen, still doubtful herself.

‘Like it? Girl, it’s tremendous so it is,’ Ellen said excitedly. ‘And d’you like the length? You could wear it down to the Harvest Dance. All you’d need would be two Spanish combs to fasten at each side. God, Bridie, you’re going to look the business!’

Bridie’s head was reeling. She’d never had so much spent on her in the whole of her life. ‘And now we’ll be away to the hotel for a big feed,’ Ellen said. ‘Come, girl, let’s see you knock them dead in that place, even wearing those old clothes you have on. Their eyes will be out on stalks, so they will.’

‘Oh, Aunt Ellen,’ Bridie said, her face flushing with embarrassment. Ellen wondered if she didn’t see the way the men looked at her. Was she as unaware as she seemed to be of her beauty, and not just beauty alone, a sort of allure that seemed to draw people to her?

However, while Bridie might have been unaware of the interest of those in the town, she was more than aware of the astonishment of her family as she and Ellen turned into the yard later that afternoon.

They were all there waiting for her: Jimmy and Sarah, Mary with Mickey in her arms, and Jamie standing at her feet. No one spoke because no one could think of words to say. Bridie’s gleaming hair bounced on her shoulders, the only restraint two sparkling combs in either side. The effect was to make her eyes look larger, even clouded with apprehension as they were now. Her mouth was strained a little as she awaited their verdict on what she’d done, what she’d allowed Aunt Ellen to do.

Mary recovered first. She went forward, handed the baby to her father and put her arms around her sister. ‘You look gorgeous,’ she said. ‘Your hair really suits you like that.’

‘Wait till you see the dress,’ Ellen said. ‘She’ll look even better with the whole rig-out on.’

Later, alone in her room, Bridie tried on her new things. When she had pulled the dress on and had fastened it up, and fitted her feet into the dainty little boots, she turned to look at herself and was astounded at the reflection that stared back. Bridie had always thought Mary was the beautiful one in the family with her raven black hair, flawless skin and vivid green eyes. Now, though, she saw she had something special herself and she was quite unnerved by it.

Mary came into the room and stood in open-mouthed admiration. ‘God, Bridie,’ she said, ‘you look fantastic!’

‘It’s all Aunt Ellen’s doing,’ Bridie said proudly. ‘She said she was fed up seeing me in breeches and shirt. But these clothes, Mary, I’m not really sure, and she’s spent a small fortune.’

Mary could tell that: you didn’t get clothes like that for pennies. Yet she didn’t resent the money Ellen had spent on her sister; Ellen was a generous woman and she’d had plenty of help from her herself. ‘Are you going to show Mammy and Daddy?’

‘D’you think I should? I mean what if Mammy doesn’t like it?’

‘Why shouldn’t she?’

‘Well, you know,’ Bridie said. ‘It’s so low. Won’t she give out?’

Mary laughed. ‘She won’t dare. It was Aunt Ellen’s choice, don’t forget. Tell her you’ll keep the stole wrapped around your shoulders all evening.’

Sarah was inclined to say plenty when she saw her daughter come out of the room, but any misgivings she had were forestalled by the cries of admiration from Jimmy. Because Bridie was so small and because her shape had been hidden for so long – for even the few dresses she had already did little to flatter her – he’d not believed she’d changed much from the wee girl who used to trail after him. Now, it was as if the caterpillar had turned into a butterfly before his eyes.

Jimmy wasn’t usually given to much praise of how a person looked: he and Sarah always believed it led to a person thinking too much of themselves. But now Jimmy crossed the room and put his hands on Bridie’s shoulders and said softly, ‘Darling child, you look so lovely.’ His gaze took in all around as he asked, ‘Did you ever see anything so beautiful?’

‘Thank you, Daddy,’ Bridie said, relieved he wasn’t shocked, disgusted even, at the cut of the dress. She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek and he put his arms around her. She met Ellen and Mary’s eyes across the room and they all knew, with Jimmy’s open approval, Sarah would say nothing detrimental about the outfit.

Bridie was sorry to see her sister and aunt leave, and not just because they had shared the burden of work, allowing her free time to get to know and play with her nephews, but also because of their cheerful company.

But she was too busy to miss them for long, as the hay was ready to be cut and stacked in the barns for the winter feed. Francis and Frank came to help as they did every year and Jimmy and Bridie would then help them in return at their farm, Delia keeping them well supplied with sandwiches and tea as Sarah wasn’t able to.

As she toiled alongside the men, slicing through the hay with her scythe, Bridie couldn’t help recollecting the harvest time when she was small. She remembered what fun Uncle Francis he’d been then. His good humour and stock of jokes seemed to take some of the ache from bent backs and threshing arms. He’d always seemed tireless himself. Even after a day’s work, he would think nothing of tossing Bridie and Rosalyn up on top of the stacks.

Bridie remembered the smell of newly mown hay, the thrill of fear as they slid down the sides of the stack and the way the bits of hay went up her nose and in between her clothes, tickling her. She was often tired, hot and dusty, yet she’d enjoyed the harvest then and had to admit most of that enjoyment had come from her uncle Francis. Now, she kept as far from him as possible and knew she’d be glad when it was over and she wouldn’t have to work near him at all.

After the harvest was safely in, they all visited the peat bog together. Again, Bridie remembered her trips as a child, with her and Rosalyn thrown into the back of the cart, with her father and Francis up in front, and Terry and Frank walking behind. Uncle Francis would sing rebel songs all the way there, his voice rising in the mist of an autumn morning.

Bridie had always loved the damp mossy smell of the bog and the way the spade slid so effortlessly into the peat. Usually black sludge would seep along it, squeezing between her bare toes and slapping up her legs. She liked the feel of it and never minded the icy coldness. She remembered how her mother would often give out when they arrived home and have her stand in a basin of warm water to be washed down before any of them were given a meal. It was part of her childhood; the time she thought would go on for ever with no change.

Now she walked alongside Frank and there wasn’t the hint of a song from her often morose uncle. The fun had gone out of it as it had gone out of a lot of things. These were now just chores to be done in order to get by for another year.

However, at last, the day of the Harvest Dance arrived. Frank was to take them up to it and bring them home afterwards, but at the last minute he went down with flu and wasn’t able to. ‘We can go ourselves,’ Bridie insisted. ‘Haven’t we often enough for the socials?’

‘Not tonight,’ Sarah said. ‘Some of these young fellows will have the drink on them. Lord knows what they’ll be up to once the night’s over.’

‘Well, sure I’ll take them up,’ Jimmy said, ‘and go to collect them.’

‘Aye, but you’ll not know when it might be finishing,’ Sarah said. ‘Ask Francis. He often goes up to the dance himself.’

Bridie wanted desperately to protest. She wanted to say she’d have anyone but Francis, but remained silent, afraid of what her uncle might say if she spoke aloud her fears. She resolved to stick to Rosalyn and her friends like glue.

Later, when her uncle Francis called for her, he stood speechless in the yard, wondering if Bridie had any idea how tempting she looked dressed in her finery as she stood framed in the doorway with the lamp behind her. Her eyes were sparkling and her face aglow with excitement at the thought of going to her first real dance and her dark brown hair, which she had rinsed in rain water earlier that day, shone as it bounced on her shoulders.

The blood coursed through Francis’s veins as he stared at her. He caught a glimpse of one bare shoulder as she adjusted the beautiful stole about her and picked up her bag where she had put the soft kid boots, wrapped in paper. These boots were the loveliest footwear she’d ever owned and she had no desire to tramp across the bog and rocks of Ireland in them, her old working boots would do well enough for that.

Many must have had the same thought as Francis, for Bridie was in great demand all night at the dance and had such a good time that she barely noticed her uncle at the bar, drinking steadily and watching her broodingly.

Lots of the young girls had their eye on some fellow or other and Bridie knew a lot of couples often began walking out from the Harvest Dance. ‘Anyone you fancy?’ said a girl in Bridie’s ear. ‘You have plenty of choice anyway, for you’ve seldom been off your feet all night. You must have danced with half the men in the room.’

But none of the men had stirred Bridie in any way. Quite a few had asked if they could see her again, begin walking out with her, and she’d immediately shied away. She had no wish to be unkind, and just said she was not ready for that level of commitment yet, but she saw the disappointment on all of their faces.

She refused to worry much about it though. She was here to enjoy herself and that’s what she intended to do and she told Rosalyn the same as the two went arm in arm back to the dance floor after the Harvest Supper.

It was as they came back into the hall that a girl said to Rosalyn, ‘Won’t you miss all this?’, the sweep of her arm taking in everything.

‘I suppose,’ Rosalyn muttered, her eyes avoiding those of her cousin.

‘What did she mean?’ Bridie asked when the girl was out of earshot.

It was obvious that Rosalyn was uncomfortable. Bridie saw her lick her lips nervously before she replied, ‘Didn’t your Aunt Ellen say? I saw her talking to Mammy when she came over and I thought

‘What are you on about?’

‘I’m … I’m leaving.’

‘Leaving?’

‘Leaving here. Leaving Ireland.’

‘Leaving Ireland?’ Bridie repeated. ‘Why, in God’s name? And don’t you think if I’d had just one sniff of that, I’d have been around to your house straight off to ask you about it?’

Of course Rosalyn knew: telling Bridie was what she’d dreaded most about the whole affair. ‘Why on earth are you leaving?’ Bridie demanded. ‘Do you mean really leaving, or just going away for a wee while?’

‘No!’ Rosalyn couldn’t let her think that. ‘You know my aunt Maria, well, Uncle Aiden has somewhere for them all in America now. But Maria can’t face the journey alone and is afraid of something happening to the weans, so she’s offered to pay my fare to go over with her.’

‘To what?’ Bridie cried. ‘Here you have a job – a life. What would you get in America?’

‘Experience,’ Rosalyn said. ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ She knew Bridie was hurt and upset and she wanted to explain it to her, make her see what a chance it was. Bridie knew, or she’d realise when the hurt had eased, that Rosalyn would never have been happy in rural Ireland all the days of her life. God! She’d made that plain enough from when they were in their early teens.

Now her young aunt had handed her the means to leave on a plate and her mother, far from opposing it, had urged her to go. She told Bridie this. ‘Mammy’s all for it. She says it’s a chance that might never come again. ’Course, the weans are older now and able to help more. Nora’s only a year behind Declan at ten. I was a fine hand in the house when I was ten and there’s no babies to see to now either. Mammy says I must go. She said these are opportunities that you must take when you’re single.

‘As for a job, I’m sure I could get one over there soon enough if I wanted one. Maria doesn’t want me to work, not at first anyway. Aiden earns good money and he wants me to stay with her too, for he says Maria is bound to feel strange at first. He thinks she’d settle better with someone of her own beside her.’

Bridie couldn’t believe it. Neither Terry leaving, nor Mary moving to Birmingham, had affected like this. Rosalyn had been living next door to her since they’d both been babies and they’d been inseparable ever since. She couldn’t visualise life without her. Even when Rosalyn began work and had been in town during the day, they’d still seen each other in the evenings and at the weekends. Unlike Rosalyn, who’d made other friends at work, Bridie had had no opportunity to do that. It had never bothered her. She’d never really needed anyone but Rosalyn.

Hurt and frightened of the loneliness she’d feel at her cousin’s departure, she spat out sneeringly, ‘Oh, that’s it then, you’ll be a skivvy for your sister-in-law. Fine job that will be.’

‘Don’t be like that, Bridie!’ Rosalyn cried. ‘I’m sorry I’m going, for your sake, and I’m going to miss you like crazy, but …’ She shrugged. ‘Maria can’t go on her own, not with the three weans so small. If your Mary asked you for help, you’d break your neck to do it and you know you would.’

She might like to, Bridie thought, but knew she couldn’t up sticks like Rosalyn could, no matter what fix Mary was in. The heavy cloak of duty and responsibility kept her successfully on the farm. A lump lodged in Bridie’s throat and she was scared she was going to cry. She fought to control herself; she couldn’t bear to make a holy show of herself like that. She swallowed the lump and suddenly she felt anger at the unfairness of life course all through her and turned once again on Rosalyn. ‘Go to bloody America then,’ she snapped. ‘And I hope it stays fine for you.’

‘Bridie …’

But Bridie turned away from her cousin. Tears had begun to seep from her eyes and trickle down her cheeks and she ran from the place lest anyone should see. She knew she had to move well away. Anyone could be about the hall outside: people out for a breath of air to cool off, courting couples – anyone. There was a little copse of trees not far from the hall so she made for there and leaned her head against a tree trunk. She could still see the twinkling lights of the hall and hear the laughter and tantalising music from inside and it cut into her very soul. It felt like a mockery, especially as she remembered how excited she’d been about the dance. At the thought of that, the tears came in earnest, almost bursting from her in a torrent.

She had nothing with her to wipe her eyes; she’d run in a panic, leaving behind her bag, her work boots and her stole. But she couldn’t go back for them, she’d look a sight and she knew her eyes would be puffy and red from crying and everyone would know something was wrong.

But then what should she do? She couldn’t go home yet; her parents might still be up and would wonder why she was back so early. They’d know she’d have been upset by something and wouldn’t rest till they got it out of her.

She’d take a walk, she decided. Her kid boots would be ruined, but no matter. It was precious few dances she’d go to after this one.

One person, the one who’d watched Bridie all night, had seen the altercation between her and Rosalyn. He’d seen Bridie’s flight and Rosalyn biting her bottom lip in consternation.

But he didn’t approach his daughter. Instead, he’d slipped outside and stood by the side of the hall and then, hidden by the velvety darkness, had begun to move forward. He’d watched Bridie approach the edge of the copse and had heard her tears, but he had not moved closer until he seen her enter the small wood and then he began to follow in earnest.