The Wasted Years Page 13

  This time May forestalled Rosaleen. ‘That would be very nice, thank you, Mrs … Maggie.’

  When Rosaleen had settled Laura for the night, she made her way down the hall to the back of the house, to where May’s room was situated. To her surprise Ian was soundly asleep in his cot but of May there was no sight. Puzzled, she slowly entered the kitchen.

  ‘Oh, so you’ve changed yer mind, have ye?’ Mrs Magill greeted her. ‘Come over here and sit down near the fire.’ She reached across and poked the turf in the grate, sending a warm welcoming glow around the room. ‘It’s quite chilly t’night. Come on, come over to the fireside.’

  Only when she saw May up to her elbows in suds at the big brown jawbox did Rosaleen realise that she would have nappies to wash out each night.

  ‘Were you looking for me, Rosaleen?’ May asked. ‘I’m almost finished. Is there anything you want me to rinse out for you while I’m at it?’

  ‘I’ll do me own, thank you, May.’ She turned to Mrs Magill and asked politely, ‘Is that all right, Mrs Magill?’

  ‘Of course! Of course! We’ve always plenty of hot water, and don’t be so formal… call me Maggie.’

  ‘Thank you, Maggie. I haven’t much … just a few wee things … I’ll fetch them.’

  They did stay in the kitchen after all, bringing Mrs Magill up to date on things in Belfast and discovering that twice a week, Tuesdays and Saturdays, a bus passed close to the farm, should they want to go into Dungannon. At eleven o’clock, after a cup of hot cocoa, they retired for the night. A relieved Rosaleen was glad that Vince had not put in an appearance.

  Awakening early next morning, she rose and thrust the curtains wide open, raising the blackout blinds. Back home in Belfast, she had often wondered what it would be like to awaken to a beautiful view, to see the sun rise and set. Now she would find out. To her dismay, everything was shrouded in mist. All she could see was the hedge that surrounded the house and barns. Everything else was grey and dreary. Disappointed, she closed the curtains again, remembering that she would be in full view as she washed herself down.

  At breakfast, when she asked if she could have butter for her toast, Mrs Magill informed her that although they made butter, it was all for the market and if she wanted any she would have to pay extra for it. Annoyed, Rosaleen agreed to do so. She was more annoyed still when she discovered that if she wanted one of the big brown eggs that were abundant for Laura each morning, this would also have to be paid for.

  As she spoon-fed a soft-boiled egg to Laura, she asked, ‘How far is it to the Catholic church?’

  ‘Ah… I was wonderin’ about that. Did ye not notice it in town yesterday? But never worry, Vince goes t’church every Sunday. Not the Catholic church, mind, the Church of Ireland, but he’ll give ye a lift in, so he will. You can leave the bairns with me, if ye like.’

  ‘Why, that’s very kind of you, Maggie,’ May gushed, seeing a refusal hover on Rosaleen’s lips. ‘What time have we to be ready for?’

  ‘Half-past ten.’

  A glance at the clock made May cry, ‘Oh … then we’d better get a move on, hadn’t we? Come on, Rosaleen, come on.’

  She gathered Ian up in her arms, leaving Rosaleen to shovel the last spoonful of egg into Laura’s mouth and follow suit. Entering May’s room, Rosaleen rounded on her.

  ‘You’re not going to leave Ian with her?’

  ‘Why not?’ May asked, reasonably.

  ‘We didn’t come here to palm the kids off on to someone else. That’s why! We’ll take them with us.’

  ‘Look, Rosaleen, I’m going to Mass to please you … remember, I don’t go to church any more. So if you want me to stay at home and look after the kids, that’s all right with me.’

  ‘Of course I want you to come to Mass, but…’

  ‘But, nothing,’ May interrupted her. ‘The church will probably be tiny, and the kids won’t like it, so they’ll probably play up and cause everyone to look at us. We don’t want that, do we?’ When Rosaleen’s head swung slowly from side to side, May added, ‘We’ll stick out like a sore thumb as it is, so let’s be grateful to Maggie for offering to mind them. Not everyone would offer, you know.’ And a disgruntled Rosaleen had to agree with her.

  May was wrong: the church was big, old and beautiful, and after Mass they took a walk along the market square, window-shopping. The shops contained the usual regulation coats and dresses, but there were some other shops displaying the latest fashion and Rosaleen nudged May with delight. They beamed at each other, thinking of the hours of pleasure they would spend in these shops, a bit like browsing around Smithfield Market, only on a much smaller scale. On the lower corner of the square they saw a poster stating that tonight the local band would provide music for dancing. One look at the hall and Rosaleen sneered, ‘You won’t find me going to any dances there.’

  Tight-lipped, May retorted, ‘Well then, perhaps you’ll look after Ian for me, ’cause if I get the chance I’ll go.’

  ‘You’d go to the dance?’ Rosaleen turned a horrified look on her.

  With an exaggerated sigh, May exlaimed: ‘Honestly, Rosaleen, you astound me! You sound as if you were about fifty, instead of twenty-four. I didn’t think you were such a stick-in-the-mud. I, for one, will be glad to get to the dance. Do you realise that there’s nothing else to do in this Godforsaken hole?’

  Hurt at May’s attitude, Rosaleen replied huffily, ‘We didn’t come here to enjoy ourselves. We came to protect our children, so we did.’ Her look was reproachful. ‘I don’t understand you, May. I thought you loved Billy.’

  ‘What on earth has my love for Billy got to do with going to a dance? Eh? Come on … tell me. I’m all ears.’ And then the absurdity of their quarrel struck May, and slipping her arm through Rosaleen’s, she apologised. ‘Look, I’m sorry. You’re right, of course. We should be respectable, staid, married women. We’ll just sit in every night and talk to Maggie,’ she said appeasingly. ‘All right?’

  Her apology only served to make Rosaleen feel guilty, just as May had known it would, and Rosaleen found herself compromising.

  ‘Look … if Maggie will keep an eye on the kids, let’s try the dance tonight. It will probably be awful and we won’t want to go back, all right?’

  And a relieved May agreed with her, happy to have won her over.

  Maggie good-naturedly did consent to keep an eye on the children, and it was with trepidation that, once Laura was settled, Rosaleen left her bedroom and entered the kitchen. Not realising that there might be a bit of a social life, she had just brought a selection of skirts and jumpers with her, and now she wore a pale green skirt and a cream twinset. She was dismayed to see that May had come prepared, and looked lovely in a dress of floral colours, with a full flowing skirt, a white cardigan draped around her shoulders.

  ‘You both look lovely, so ye do. Now away ye go!’ Maggie urged. ‘Go on, Vince is waitin’ outside for ye, an’ ye better hurry up. He’s very impatient, so he is.’

  ‘Laura’s asleep, but she’s a bit restless … you will listen for her, won’t you?’ Rosaleen asked anxiously.

  ‘Never ye worry. I’ve reared six of me own.’ Maggie laughed at the surprised reaction these words provoked. ‘Yes, six, and they’re all married except Vince. So I know how to take care of babies.’

  Once outside, Rosaleen motioned May up into the cabin of the lorry first, then climbed in beside her, receiving a mocking smile from Vince. May gave her a puzzled look but remained silent, and only when they were in the cloakroom of the dance hall did she query it.

  ‘Have you anything against Vince, Rosaleen? He hasn’t been too handy … ye know what I mean?’

  At this, Rosaleen drew back and laughed aloud. ‘No, of course he hasn’t. Do you think I’d hold me tongue if he had?’

  ‘Perhaps.’ At Rosaleen’s surprised look, May sighed and added, ‘I keep forgetting you led a sheltered life. If you knew the things I’ve had to pretend never happened, just to keep the peace, you’d swoon
away.’

  ‘Ah, May …’ There was a wealth of sadness in Rosaleen’s voice and May laughed.

  ‘Oh, it hasn’t done any lasting damage, so it hasn’t,’ she declared. ‘I mean, it wasn’t anything serious … you know what I mean.’ When Rosaleen still looked concerned, May became flustered and with a final look at her reflection, tossed her ash-blonde hair and said, ‘Come on … let’s go in and see what the local talent is like.’

  In spite of herself, Rosaleen enjoyed the dance. The last time she had danced had been at her own wedding reception. The sound of the music set her feet tapping and soon she was twirling around the big wooden floor, to quick-steps and slow foxtrots, and even enjoyed the Gay Gordons, a dance she usually avoided.

  It was after the Gay Gordons, as they stood flushed and breathless, that Vince approached them and offered to buy them a drink. As they waited for him to return, May confided in Rosaleen.

  ‘I often wondered what it would be like to be lifted in every dance, and now I know. It’s heaven.’ She hugged herself, then gazed beseechingly at Rosaleen. ‘You will come back next week, won’t you, Rosaleen?’

  ‘Of course. It will be the highlight of our week by the looks of it… and Joe and Billy won’t mind if we enjoy ourselves, sure they won’t?’

  ‘No! Of course they won’t mind. For heaven’s sake, relax, Rosaleen. Anyone would think it was a sin to dance,’ May admonished her, then leant forward confidentially. ‘Did you notice the big horsey girl that Vince dances most with?’ When Rosaleen nodded, May whispered, ‘Well, that’s his future wife.’

  ‘Really?’ Surprise made Rosaleen’s voice shrill, and she covered her mouth with her hand to try to contain her astonishment. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really.’ They fell against each other and giggled at the idea. ‘So you needn’t worry about not having a lock on your door. He’s “promised”, and by the look of yon one, he’ll be afraid to look sideways at anyone else.’

  When Vince returned with two orange juices, he was accompanied by the big horsey girl whom he introduced to them as Mavis Cartwright. Avoiding each other’s eyes, Rosaleen and May politely shook hands with her. Still afraid to look at each other, for fear a single glance would make them start to giggle, they made inane conversation and were relieved when the music started up again. Then, to Rosaleen’s amazement, Vince turned to her.

  ‘May I have this dance, please?’

  Flustered, she looked at May for guidance but, relieving her of her glass, May gazed somewhere above her head, looking as if butter would not melt in her mouth.

  A glance at Mavis showed tight-lipped disapproval, and Rosaleen was just about to refuse to dance with him when Vince put his arm around her waist and drew her on to the dance floor.

  Once out of earshot, she looked up at him. ‘Won’t your friend be angry?’

  ‘Who cares?’ His shoulders lifted in a shrug of indifference and his narrowed eyes examined her face. ‘Every time I tried to dance with you I was beaten to it, so I took the opportunity when it was offered.’

  ‘Are you engaged to Mavis?’

  He nodded and his face closed up and Rosaleen knew he was warning her not to trespass.

  Most of the farm helpers and country lads plodded around the floor, but Rosaleen had to admit that Vince had class. His steps were light and his long strides covered the floor expertly. She gave herself up to the joy of dancing with a good partner.

  They danced in silence and when the music trailed off, Vince looked down at her flushed, happy face and whispered, ‘I thoroughly enjoyed that.’ And Rosaleen could only nod her head in agreement, knowing that he was aware that she had enjoyed it also.

  ‘Will you save me the last dance?’ he asked softly.

  Uneasy again, Rosaleen countered, ‘No … I don’t think that would be right. Won’t Mavis object?’

  ‘No. Mavis and I have an agreement. She won’t object.’

  Against her better judgement, Rosaleen nodded her consent. ‘All right.’

  Somehow or other, she thought that Vince meant that Mavis did not dare to object and she felt sorry for her.

  After the last dance Rosaleen had to admit to herself that the priests really did know what they were talking about when they preached from the pulpit about close dancing. An uneasy bond had been formed between Vince and herself, a bond that would never have shown itself had they not danced, and Rosaleen was apprehensive and quiet on the drive home.

  Not so May; she eyed Vince and asked demurely, ‘Are you and Mavis engaged?’

  He nodded, and to Rosaleen’s surprise volunteered information.

  ‘She’s an only child and will inherit the farm adjoining ours. It should be a good match.’

  And that explained everything. Obviously, Mavis wanted Vince and Vince wanted the farm, and there would probably be a lot of strings attached … like him doing as he pleased when it suited him. Poor Mavis. It seemed like she would get the thin edge of the wedge.

  When they arrived at the farm, Rosaleen was relieved when May whispered, ‘Are you going down to the loo?’

  She nodded, and bidding Vince goodnight, they made their way down the yard. She was glad of May’s company, had been afraid of meeting Vince in the dark, feeling that somehow she had given him the wrong impression by enjoying her dances with him. And in spite of what May had said, she was more worried than ever that her door did not have a lock. Much more worried. She had seen the desire in his eyes.

  Once back in her room, Rosaleen looked around for some means of securing her door. Something that would make a noise and awaken her should anyone try it during the night. The only chair in the room was too low and the back did not reach the door handle, so she abandoned that. At her wit’s end, she at last tied a belt to the door handle and then secured it to the pram. Next she piled the pram high with objects and at last crept into bed.

  Should Vince try to enter her room during the night, she should be forewarned, and consoled by this thought she drifted off to sleep.

  The clatter that brought her from the bed in confusion and panic, to stand shivering on the cold oil cloth, resounded through the quiet household. The room was pitch black because the dark blinds and heavy curtains that prevented any light from showing outside also prevented natural light from entering the room. She heard a muffled oath outside the door, then voices.

  ‘What on earth’s wrong, Vince?’

  She heard Mrs Magill approach her door and Vince answer her. ‘I don’t know, Ma. I heard this awful noise … I think it came from Mrs Smith’s room.’

  Quietly, Rosaleen removed the belt from the doorknob and opened the door slightly.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised. ‘I’m afraid I had a nightmare and accidentally knocked over the pram.’

  ‘Oh? The pram?’

  Rosaleen sensed Mrs Magill’s doubt and added appeasingly, ‘I really am sorry to have disturbed you.’

  ‘Rosaleen … are you all right?’

  Glad to hear May’s voice, Rosaleen opened the door wide and entered the hall, forgetting that she was in her nightdress until Vince’s eyes scanned her body, making her feel naked. Crossing her arms over her chest, she sank her chin on to them and answered May.

  ‘I had one of my nightmares, you know how it is? I forgot where I was, and in the dark knocked the pram over. I’m sorry to have awakened everybody.’

  May frowned. She had not been aware that Rosaleen suffered from nightmares … then she saw the chagrin on Vince’s face and the penny dropped.

  Why, the cheeky bugger! Giving him a look of venom, she backed Rosaleen up. ‘Oh, you poor dear. Will I stay with you the rest of the night?’ The look she bestowed on Vince was derisive. ‘Just in case your nightmare returns?’

  ‘No, no, I’ll be all right now. You go back to Ian. Goodnight, everybody.’

  With these words, Rosaleen entered her room and closed the door, glad that Laura had slept through all the noise. She did not think that Vince would risk trying her door again but
to be on the safe side, she secured the door as before and fell into a sound sleep the minute her head hit the pillow.

  The next morning it rained, and on Tuesday they awakened to more rain. Bored, they decided to brave the elements and catch the bus into town. And when Mrs Magill offered to mind the children, Rosaleen did not hesitate to take her up on her offer, having come to the conclusion that she was fond of children. She was also aware that farmer’s wife though she may be, Mrs Magill had time on her hands. It was the woman and two young girls who came to ‘do’ every day who scrubbed and polished and black-leaded, while the men attended to all the outside work, leaving Mrs Magill free to attend to the cooking.

  In Dungannon, they spent some hours browsing in the small shops full of old second-hand stuff, Rosaleen bought some ornaments, which she was convinced would grow in value, and May bought a shawl made with silk threads and shot with all the colours of the rainbow. Pleased with their purchases, they had tea and scones in a small cafe and returned to the farm in a more settled frame of mind.

  On Wednesday they awoke to more rain and were glad to break the monotony by lending a helping hand in the dairy.

  They churned butter and helped to make cheese and then assisted Mrs Magill in baking bread. Then donning Wellingtons, amidst squeals of laughter, they collected the free range eggs, letting a delighted, giggling Laura help them. The week passed slowly, but at last Sunday dawned, bright and dry, and Rosaleen had her first experience of watching the sun rise. When she opened the curtains, she knelt on the window seat and gazed in awe at the scene before her. A huge red ball of flame slowly rose and swelled, its rays colouring everything it touched, setting the sky on fire and awakening birds and wildlife as it spread its glow. As she gazed in wonder, her breath caught in her throat at the beauty of it, and her belief in God was strengthened. It was an experience she knew she would never forget.