The Wasted Years Page 18

  ‘You’ll have to excuse me now – I must clean the rooms for them bringing him home.’ And without another glance in Rosaleen’s direction, she had mounted the stairs, her back straight, her step firm. Imagine! Her husband was dead and she was worried about what the neighbours would think if the rooms were dusty.

  Taking Rosaleen’s wrist between his fingers, Doctor Hughes examined her face intently as he took her pulse. He felt heartsore for these two girls whom he had brought into the world.

  ‘Rosaleen, you must not judge your mother by her actions. She’s coping in the only way she can. You need to rest,’ he said, with a gentle tap of reprimand on the back of her hand. ‘I’ll go up to your mother.’

  Sitting down beside her on the settee, Annie tried to explain. ‘I tried to tell her, Rosaleen. Honestly, I did, but she wouldn’t listen to me.’

  ‘I know, Annie. I know. She was the same with me. Listen …’ the look she turned on Annie was full of dread ‘… what are we going to do? I wish Joe was here. How I wish he was here.’

  ‘And Sean,’ Annie fervently agreed. ‘They’ll get compassionate leave, won’t they?’

  ‘Huh! It depends on where they are and what they’re doing,’ Rosaleen cried in despair. ‘Don’t count on them getting home. We’ll probably have to manage on our own.’

  They fell silent when they heard Doctor Hughes on the stairs.

  ‘I’ve given your mother a sedative. She’ll sleep for about six hours and I’ll leave some tablets …’ He opened his bag and took a small bottle from it. ‘Make sure she takes two of these every six hours. They’ll keep her calm.’

  He placed the bottle on the mantelpiece and eyed the girls.

  ‘Now … what are we going to do about you two? You look dead beat.’ His teeth gnawed away at his bottom lip as he stood deep in thought. ‘Have you an uncle or male cousin? Someone to see to the funeral arrangements?’

  ‘We’ll send for Sean and Joe … our husbands,’ Annie informed him.

  ‘That will take too long. Is there no one else?’

  Before they could reply the door was thrust open and Amy entered the room, followed by Bobby Mackay.

  ‘Oh, you poor, poor girls.’

  Kneeling in front of them, Amy put an arm around each of them as she explained, ‘Mr Mackay came for me. Wasn’t that good of him?’

  Clutching her, Rosaleen wailed, ‘Oh, Amy, what are we gonna do? Do you know anything about funerals?’

  ‘You leave all that to me, Rosaleen,’ Bobby interrupted her. ‘I’ll make all the arrangements.’

  Relieved that someone was in charge, Doctor Hughes produced more tablets from his bag, and pouring some into the palm of his hand he proffered them to Amy.

  ‘Here, see they take two each … it will make them sleep.’

  As she listened to his words, Rosaleen felt hysterical laughter well up inside her and pressed her lips tightly together to contain it. Tablets to waken her up … tablets to make her sleep. She’d feel like a pill bottle before this was all over.

  ‘Thank you, Doctor. I’ll see that they take them,’ Amy assured him, and duty performed, Doctor Hughes bade them good day and left the house.

  ‘Rosaleen?’ Bobby hovered in front of her awkwardly. ‘Before you take the tablets, can I have the death certificate? I’ll need it to make the funeral arrangements.’

  Rosaleen, who was still sitting with her outdoor coat on, searched the pockets. When she failed to find the sheet of paper, she panicked and began feverishly to search them again.

  Gently, Bobby stilled her frantic hands. ‘Rosaleen, I think you put it in your cardigan pocket for safety. Remember? Eh, love?’

  With a relieved sigh, she unbuttoned her coat, extracted the certificate from her cardigan pocket and gave it to him.

  ‘Will you need me here, Mrs Smith?’ he asked Amy, and when she shook her head, said, ‘Then I’ll away down and set things in motion.’

  When the door closed on him, Amy turned to the girls.

  ‘Where’s Laura?’

  ‘Upstairs.’

  ‘Well … here’s what I suggest, Rosaleen, you and I will take Laura and go to my house. That way I can look after her for the next few days and leave you free to support your mother.’ With an apologetic look she turned to Annie. ‘Will you be all right here, near your mother, in case she awakens?’

  ‘Oh, yes … yes. Don’t worry about me. I’ll look after Mam. But, what about Sean and Joe? Shouldn’t we let someone know, so that they can be sent for?’

  ‘Mr Mackay is seeing to all that, so he is. My, but he’s a good man.’

  ‘Do you know Bobby, Amy?’ Annie questioned her.

  ‘No … no, Annie. I didn’t know him from Adam when I opened the door to him an hour ago. He stood on the doorstep, big and sorrowful-looking, and informed me that he was Bobby Mackay, your father’s warden partner. He said that your father had been killed and he thought I might be needed.’

  ‘Oh, thank God for that,’ Rosaleen exclaimed. ‘That was kind of him. We were worried about the funeral arrangements. It’s a relief to know Bobby’s helping us.’

  ‘Amy, do you think Sean and Joe will get home?’ Annie was eyeing her beseechingly, and Amy was sorry to have to disillusion her.

  She shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not. I can’t see them getting home in time for the funeral.’ But when both their faces dropped, she hastily added, ‘But ye never know … ye never can tell.’

  Joe did get home; he arrived the day before the funeral and when Rosaleen opened the door and saw him, she fell into his arms and wept. She wept for joy at seeing him, and she wept because she was horrified at how thin and gaunt he was. Just like a bag of bones in her arms. She thought her heart would break as she hugged him close.

  Her mother had refused to allow her father to be taken to spend his last night in the church. She said she wanted to keep him at home with her as long as she could; and near eleven, when everybody had departed at the sound of the sirens, she settled down in the chair she had occupied constantly since they had brought him home, near the trestles on which the coffin rested.

  When the sirens had started their mournful wail, they had ignored them. Just as they had the previous night when a few planes had passed over the city and dropped bombs. Somehow, nothing seemed to matter any more. There was no way they were going to leave Tommy on his own, no way. They had been outraged when a neighbour had the effrontery to remark that they were daft and should get themselves away up into the fields, saying, ‘Sure, ye can’t kill a dead man. What about the child?’

  Annie had rounded angrily on him. ‘She’s safe. She’ll already be up in the fields, but we’re staying with me da.’ And she had bestowed such a look of wrath on him, he had said no more.

  When Rosaleen retired to the scullery to make a cup of tea, Joe followed her in. This was the first time they had been alone since he had arrived that morning, and coming up behind her he put his arms around her waist and sank his face into her hair.

  ‘How I’ve missed you, love … you’ll never know how much I’ve missed you.’

  She sank back against him, and closing her eyes pulled his hands over her breasts and revelled in the comfort of his arms. As she felt his passion rise, her heart soared. Surely this time it would work? It was different, she could feel the difference as he gripped her tighter still against his body.

  Swiftly she turned in his arms and lifted her face for his kisses. Gripping her arms tight around him, she moved her body sensuously against his, her long months of frustration making her act like a wanton woman. Aware of her mother in the kitchen and Annie upstairs, she urged him so that his back was against the scullery door and no one could take them unawares.

  Such was her great need to be held and loved, it was a minute or so before she realised that Joe was not responding to her frantic actions. He was actually squirming in her arms, and hot with shame she pushed her body away from his and turned away from him.

  Her knuckles showed whit
e as she gripped the edge of the stove, and wrapped in misery, fought for self-control. She was a fool! Why should it be any different? He was still the same man.

  Sean’s face surfaced in her mind but she pushed it away. She had no right to think how differently he would have responded to her actions. No right at all!

  ‘I’m sorry … I’m sorry, Rosaleen. I’m … I’m very tired.’

  Joe’s voice, soft and apologetic, invaded her misery, and thinking grimly that it may as well be a headache, she avoided his outstretched hand and busied herself at the stove.

  ‘It’s all right. Never worry.’

  Keeping her attention fixed firmly on what she was doing, she set a tray and when she had poured the tea, motioned for him to carry it into the kitchen. She was amazed at her own stupidity. Had she really believed that Joe would get carried away enough to make love to her, and her mother sitting in the kitchen? No, she had been daft … but he could have held her and kissed her and suggested that they wait until they were alone. He could have softened the blow. After all, he was her husband. He didn’t have to reject her like that. Make her feel cheap and dirty. Still, she should have known better. Joe would be appalled at the idea of her wanting to make love in the scullery and her father dead in the next room; she would have dropped another notch in his estimation.

  When her mother had finished her tea, the sleeping tablets Rosaleen had insisted she take soon worked and she fell asleep.

  ‘Joe, will you carry her over to the settee? She’ll rest better there.’ After she had placed a pillow at her mother’s head and gently tucked blankets around her prone figure, she turned to face him.

  He looked so worn out that she wanted to go to him and hold him close, tell him everything was all right, but the rejection in the scullery still rankled and she found she could not make herself move towards him. She knew he needed to be held and comforted, and it was her duty to attend to him, but she had needs too … and he always left her wanting.

  ‘Joe, you can sleep in me mam’s bed, I’ll sleep with Annie, all right? That is … unless you want to go home to Iris Drive? I must stay here in case I’m needed.’

  ‘I’ll stay here too. That is, if you don’t mind?’

  His look was pleading for understanding but she refused to meet his eye. Keeping her gaze on his shirt front, she shook her head and moved over to the coffin to say goodnight to her father.

  ‘Ah, Da, if you can see us, if you know what’s going on … please help us through tomorrow,’ she whispered, before heading towards the stairs. ‘Gome on, Joe. I’ll show you where you can sleep.’

  He followed her up the stairs and on the landing she motioned him into her mother’s bedroom. There was such a wealth of sorrow in his eyes that she felt compassion block out all the other mixed-up, hurt feelings. It was like seeing a child in pain. And wasn’t that what he was to her … a child? And who could reject a child?

  With a sigh she followed him into the room and closed the door. He watched her, a hopeful expectancy about him. Pushing him gently down on to the bed, she started to unbutton his shirt.

  The happiness that radiated from him was her reward, and cupping her face in his hands, he whispered, ‘Thanks, Rosaleen … thanks, love. You’re too good for me.’

  ‘It’s all right, love,’ she assured him, while her mind lamented. If only it was all right. If only it was.

  When she undressed and crept into bed beside him, he gathered her close and she thought, ah, what the hell? We can at least cry together.

  The next morning, Rosaleen awakened early and asked Joe to nip down to Iris Drive and light the fire so that later the water would be hot enough for her to bathe.

  Early though it was, she discovered when she descended the stairs that Annie and her mother had beaten her to it.

  They were both washed and dressed and although they were sipping tea, untouched breakfasts were pushed to one side.

  ‘Did you sleep well?’

  Annie’s voice held an insinuation and Rosaleen realised that she was envying her Joe’s return.

  ‘Yes.’

  Entering the scullery she reached for the pan and then hesitated. Would it look heartless to make Joe a fry? He must be hungry, he deserved a fry and one thing was sure … her da would be the last to begrudge him a proper meal.

  She sat sipping a cup of tea and watched Joe wolf down the bacon and eggs, potato and soda farls. He must have lost stones in weight. Once she got him home she would soon fatten him up.

  He’d be home for a week, she’d shovel food and vitamins into him while he was here. It would help to sustain him when he returned to war.

  After breakfast, Joe departed for Iris Drive to carry out Rosaleen’s wishes and as she washed his breakfast dishes, Annie joined her in the scullery.

  ‘I dread the day,’ she said mournfully. ‘I just know it’ll be awful.’

  ‘So do I,’ Rosaleen agreed with her. ‘I wish it was over and done with. Although … mind you … me mam’s coping better than I imagined she would.’

  ‘Ah, but wait ’til they take me da away. Oh, the very thought of it fills me with dread. If I need you … if she’s bad, will you stay the night?’ Annie’s voice was apologetic as she added, ‘I know you’ll want to be alone with Joe … but if I need you, won’t you stay?’

  ‘Of course I will. Joe’ll understand,’ Rosaleen assured her.

  ‘Thanks, Rosaleen.’

  However, things rarely go as expected and in the event it was Rosaleen who was worst affected.

  Father Logan and the hearse were expected at eleven, and at twenty minutes to the hour the mourners gathered in the house to say the rosary. Someone suggested that Rosaleen, being the older daughter, should lead the prayers and bravely she tried, but halfway through the first decade her voice broke. At once Joe took over; with a comforting arm around her shoulders he recited the prayers in a strong voice.

  Rosaleen let the Our Fathers and Hail Marys go over her head. She was standing beside the coffin and as she looked down on her father’s features, she was suddenly swamped with guilt.

  This dear, kind man had been so good to her. He had lavished love and affection on her all her life and she had accepted it all without so much as a thank you. When she was young, she hadn’t known any better, but what about when she was an adult? She had just taken everything he did for her, as her due. As if it was his duty to attend to her. Not once had she asked if he was happy; if there was anything that she could do to make his life easier. No, she had been too wrapped up in her own problems. And the worst thing of all… she could never remember telling him how much she loved him. Probably when she was young she had told him, but never once had she said so when she was an adult. It didn’t seem possible that she could have been so remiss, but it was true.

  She heard the words of Hail, Holy Queen resound around the room and moved closer still to the coffin, sensing rather than seeing Joe’s look of surprise as she left the shelter of his arm. The rosary was almost over, but she still had time to tell her father how much she loved him, before they put the lid on the coffin.

  He was heavy, she couldn’t get her arms under him to hug him, but she gripped the front of the shroud and kissed him feverishly. ‘I love you, Da. Honestly! Honest to God! I just forgot to tell you.’

  She felt hands try to move her away, was aware of the awful hush, but still, defying their efforts, she clung on.

  ‘Da … Da? Can you hear me, Da?’

  It was her mother who at last managed to get through the wall of guilt that surrounded her. Gently, she put an arm around Rosaleen’s shoulders.

  ‘Come on, love. Come on now. He knows you loved him … he knows.’

  ‘Really, Mam? You’re sure?’

  ‘Yes, love. Really … really. I’m sure. Now we must let him go, in peace.’

  With these words, Thelma led Rosaleen into the scullery, and whispering ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ left her with Amy and went to make her own farewell to her husband.


  The next thing Rosaleen was aware of was wakening in her own bed in Iris Drive. Joe was sitting at the bedside holding her hand and when she opened her eyes he smiled at her.

  ‘How are you feeling, love?’

  A frown puckered her brow as she looked around the room. ‘What happened?’

  ‘You passed out.’

  She struggled to sit up but he pressed her back.

  ‘You need to rest.’

  ‘You don’t understand … I promised Annie that I’d stay and help her with Mam.’

  ‘It’s all right … Sean’s home. His ship was in port loading cargo, and he got three days’ leave. He arrived just as the funeral was moving off. He’ll look after your mam and Annie. Now you go back to sleep. I’ll see to everything else.’

  She stretched herself. ‘I ache all over.’

  ‘That’s shock. The doctor says you received a shock to your nervous system and it only hit you yesterday, when you realised that you would never see your father again.’

  ‘Yesterday? You mean I’ve been sleeping since yesterday?’

  ‘Yes. The doctor gave you a sedative.’

  ‘How’s me mam?’

  ‘She coped very well … surprised us all. Even came to the cemetery in one of the cars. Sean came down this morning to see how you are and he said she seems to have accepted Tommy’s death … ye know what I mean.’

  Rosaleen gazed at him blankly. She couldn’t understand her mother, but then, she had always thought her strange.

  ‘Where’s Laura?’

  ‘Round at me mam’s. Shall I fetch her? Do you feel well enough?’

  ‘Yes, I feel much better now. Bring Laura home. There isn’t much of your leave left. Let’s not waste any more of it.’

  With a grin on his face, Joe rose to his feet.

  ‘I won’t be long, love.’

  When he left the room, Rosaleen swung her feet to the floor and rose shakily from the bed, surprised at how weak she felt.

  Imagine her carrying on like that. What must everyone have thought? Now if it had been her mam, everybody would have understood. She couldn’t understand herself what had possessed her. She knew her father couldn’t hear her, couldn’t feel her kisses, but she had felt compelled to try to reach him. If only she had been a better daughter. Well, she would make sure that she would have no such regrets when her mother died. From now on, she would make a point of showing her how much she meant to her. That would please her da. Yes, it would. Help to make up for her neglect of him.