The Wasted Years Read online

The key was icy to her touch but at last it turned in the lock and her cold fingers struggled with the bar at the top of the door, then the one at the bottom. Then Sean was in the hall, and the door was closed, and she was clasped to his breast, the tears free to flow at last.

  There was infinite tenderness in the way he lifted her in his arms, inwardly lamenting at how light she was, and carried her to the settee where he sat with her on his knee.

  ‘There now, love … that’s right. Cry it all up.’

  He held her close, rocking her gently, murmuring endearments, until the last shudder trembled through her body, and the last hiccup left her lips. Then, tilting her face up to his, he tenderly wiped the tears from her cheeks.

  Taking the handkerchief from him, she blew her nose. ‘I’m sorry … imagine greeting you like that.’

  He smoothed the hair back from her damp brow and assured her, ‘My shoulders are wide enough to bear your grief.’

  She gazed back at him, sad-faced. Her hair was lank and lifeless, her nose and eyes swollen and red, but to him she was beautiful.

  Embarrassed at the look in his eyes, she turned aside.

  ‘I must look awful.’

  He wanted to tell her that she could never look awful to him, but there lay danger, so instead he asked, ‘Have you eaten anything today?’

  When he had arrived home an hour earlier, after a bite to eat, Annie had urged him straight out again, and pressed on him the need to make Rosaleen eat something.

  A guilty look passed over her face and she shook her head. ‘Sure, you won’t tell Annie?’ she pleaded. ‘I promised her I would eat something, but when Laura said she had eaten next door, I couldn’t be bothered to cook for meself. Besides, I’m not hungry.’

  ‘Have you any eggs?’

  At her indifferent nod of the head, he eased her gently on to the settee and rose to his feet. ‘I’ll make you an omelette.’

  When the omelette was ready, he buttered crusty bread and poured a cup of strong tea. Pulling a small table over close to the fire, he made Rosaleen sit at it and watched until she had finished every last crumb of the meal and washed it down with the tea.

  ‘Now, do you feel any better?’

  With a faint smile she had to admit that she did. ‘Thanks, Sean. You’re very kind.’

  KIND! The word struck into the depths of his being. If only he was free to show how he felt…

  He poured her a small sherry and a whiskey for himself, and sat facing her. ‘I’m sorry I was too late for the funeral. It must have been awful for you.’

  She nodded and took a sip of sherry. Then to his dismay, with a hand that shook, she placed the glass on the table and buried her face in her hands.

  ‘Ah, Rosaleen … Don’t torture yourself, love.’

  He fought the desire to go to her and hold her close again. He was only human and her need for comfort was putting a great strain on his self-control.

  Her muffled voice barely reached him.

  ‘I feel so selfish … Here I am, filling my face, and Joe’s down a hole in the damp earth on his own.’

  Suddenly her head jerked up and she gazed imploringly at him. ‘Do you think me da and Joe will be company for each other?’

  ‘Of course they will!’

  He would tell her black was white if he thought it would ease her pain. His resolve to keep away from her crumbled. Moving to the settee, he ordered, ‘Come here. You still look frozen.’

  She also was aware of the danger but she needed to be held, wanted to feel his arms around her, so she rose slowly from her seat and joined him on the settee.

  His arms opened to hold her. When he tenderly pressed her close, she melted against him and felt all the tension flow from her body as his hands warmed and caressed her.

  It was without surprise that she found herself naked in his arms on the rug in front of the fire. His face above hers was full of love and awe, bringing a lump to her throat at the wonder of it. Then Annie’s face rose before her mind’s eye and she tried to demur, to push him away as her conscience smote her, but he would not let her.

  ‘Hush, Rosaleen … don’t think, just feel.’

  Mesmerised, she obeyed him, and all else was forgotten as for the second time in her life, she reached for heaven.

  They lay for a long time at peace. If only they could stay like this forever. If only he was hers, to have and to hold, how wonderful life would be. If she had listened to him at the beginning, how different her life would have been. But then she had been so naive and innocent. Innocent? Ignorant was more like it!

  At last he broke the silence. ‘Rosaleen … we must tell Annie the truth.’ He felt her body jerk in revulsion at the idea, and hastened to add, ‘Not right away, but eventually. You know how it is between Annie and me. She doesn’t care … all she thinks of is having a baby and I can’t give her one. She’ll be hurt for a while, but we must tell her.’

  When she would have pushed him away, he tightened his grip on her. She had sent him away once before. This time he was determined to win her over.

  ‘Listen, love. There’s no point in everybody being miserable, now is there? That would be stupid, wouldn’t it? We’ll go down south or over to England … anywhere you like. I’ll leave the navy and get a job, and together we’ll make a home for Laura.’ His eyes held hers fearfully as he asked the next question. Would she mind having only one child?

  ‘You won’t mind if you don’t have any more children, sure you won’t?’

  Mind? Even if he really was sterile, if she was childless, she would not mind. Just to be with him was all she desired. His words washed over her. He made it seem so easy. Just grab their happiness and take off. If only they could. Oh, if only they could. Why, it would be heaven to know that he was hers to have and to hold, to depend on forever. But that kind of romance was just for novels. Life wasn’t like that! There was Annie to consider. In spite of what he thought, Annie loved him. She was just letting her desire for a child get in the way. If she had to choose between him and a child, she would choose him. This Rosaleen knew; this she was sure of. Besides, there could be no divorce. Annie would be tied to him for life, and they would be living in sin. No, she did not believe that happiness could be found at other people’s expense. They would come to hate each other. No matter where they went, they would not be able to hide the truth from Laura. To her he would always be Uncle Sean, and she would be bound to inquire where her beloved Aunt Annie was. And to tell her and Sean the truth? No! That must never happen. How could Laura ever cope with that? No, she must not be swayed. She must convince him that she did not care enough to go away with him.

  Gently, she extricated herself from his arms and sat up, her arms around her knees, her back to him.

  Propped up on his elbow, he watched her in silence, determined not to let her send him away as she had before. They were two halves of a whole. They were meant to be together. He should never have married Annie. Why had he been in such a rush? It was the war. Wanting to keep the family name going. Hah! That was a laugh. Well, many a hasty marriage had been entered into during the war. Three of his mates in the navy were getting divorced. But Catholics could not get divorced. That was the snag! He would have to persuade Rosaleen to live with him. He was very much aware that she would call it ‘living in sin’.

  He remained silent. Let her weigh the pros and cons. Let her measure life with him against life on her own. Surely she could not fail to see that they were meant to be together? With or without the Church’s blessing.

  Rosaleen gathered all her resources about her. She had to convince him that she did not love him, that she had used him. Only if she convinced him of that would he leave her alone. There was no way she could square her conscience and go off with him. Hurt Annie? Bring shame on her mother?

  No! It could never be.

  When she was sure she could control her voice, she spoke. ‘Sean, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m grateful to you for being here when I needed you …’


  ‘Don’t talk a lot of bullshit!’ he interrupted her angrily. ‘You love me! I know you do, and I won’t be sent away again.’

  ‘You listen to me, Sean Devlin,’ she whispered fiercely, afraid of a bawling match. What if Laura awakened and came down? ‘I admit that I needed you. Oh, yes, I needed you. And I know I shouldn’t have used you, but I was missing Joe so badly …’ Her voice broke as she uttered these lies to the man she loved above all others. But to Sean it sounded as if it was because of her longing for Joe and he rose from the floor in a fury. Gripping her by the shoulders, he hauled her to her feet and shook her roughly.

  ‘Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me!’ he ordered. ‘Come on … look me in the eye.’

  He gripped her chin and pulled her face towards his. Unable to do as he asked, she pulled angrily away from him, but his arms tightened around her and he pressed her closer still against the hard muscles of his body, defying her to deny her need.

  As always, when close to him, she went weak at the knees and passion welled through her, causing her to tremble in his arms.

  He smiled grimly in triumph. ‘Go on. Deny you want me,’ he growled.

  Fear filled her mind. She must not let him take her again or all would be lost. There would be no turning back.

  ‘You’re despicable!’ she hissed. ‘You’re taking advantage of my vulnerability, my unhappiness. Go home to your wife. Annie trusted you to come here alone to help me … and look how we repaid her trust.’ She put her head high and looked him in the eye. ‘I’m so ashamed of my actions … but it will never happen again, Sean. Believe me, it will never happen again.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. After how you behaved just now?’ He saw the hot colour spread across her face, down her neck, and laughed harshly. ‘Ah no, Rosaleen … you’ll have to do better than that.’

  Her heart sank. She must convince him.

  ‘Lust, Sean?’ She hardly recognised her own voice, it was so cold. ‘You don’t recognise lust when you experience it?’ She forced a light laugh from her lips. ‘Mad animal lust? Hah! You surprise me. It’s all I know.’

  He winced, and slowly relaxed his hold on her. His eyes examined her face and she returned his look without blinking. She sounded so sincere. Was she speaking the truth? For her, was it lust that lifted them above all reason; above right and wrong? Was it because he loved her so much that he’d believed she felt the same? Had she just used him to assuage her longing for Joe?

  Free of his grasp, she groped for the dressing gown and thrust her arms into it. As she tied the sash around her waist, she felt better, stronger. He had murmured over and over again how the sight of her bare body set him on fire. How he had pictured her often; longed to caress her milky skin. But now she must put out the fire. Try to deny her love for him.

  Stunned and bewildered, he stood uncertainly, examining her face through narrowed, searching eyes. Head back she returned his look and just when she thought that she would break down, he reached for his clothes and started to get dressed. Unable to watch the hurt and pain on his face, she turned away, her heart aching. She had burnt her boats all right. He would never bother with her again.

  When he was dressed, he stood silent, waiting, until she was forced to turn and face him. A ghastly smile twisted his lips and she cringed inside at the contempt in his eyes.

  ‘Well… you know where to come when you need to be serviced. I enjoy it, Rosaleen, and I’ll oblige anytime.’

  With these cutting words, he turned on his heel and left the house.

  In despair, she slowly sank to her knees and huddled in front of the fire. If only he hadn’t married Annie! If only … She stayed on her knees for a long time but there was no relief in tears. The hurt went too deep.

  The light was bright, and coming from the darkened house, Rosaleen shaded her eyes as she gazed up at the tall, young man in army uniform, standing on the pavement.

  He returned the look, unblinking, noting the signs of grief and pain etched on her delicate features.

  ‘Well, can I do anything for you?’ Rosaleen’s voice was sharp; it was the second time she had asked the question.

  With a start of dismay, the man straightened to attention.

  ‘I beg your pardon. Are you Rosaleen Smith?’ he asked. He didn’t need to ask the question. He knew who she was; had seen many photographs of her. None of which had done her justice.

  She nodded and he delved into the pocket of his overcoat and extracted a letter, which he handed to her.

  ‘Your father asked me to give this to you.’

  ‘My da? You knew my da?’ she asked in wonder. How could this soldier know her da?

  ‘Yes, I knew him well … very well indeed,’ he replied gravely.

  She gazed at him in bewilderment. ‘He’s dead, you know.’

  Once more he surprised her. ‘Yes, I know. I was informed. I would have come sooner but I’ve just returned from abroad.’

  Her bewilderment grew and swelled. He had been informed? She fingered the bulky envelope. From her da? Sure, he had hated writing. Would have done anything to avoid putting pen to paper. She examined the envelope; it was his scrawl all right.

  Still looking bemused, she stood aside and with a jerk of her head motioned him into the house, closing the big outer door before following him into the living room. Since Joe’s burial she kept the big door shut. The neighbours were very kind, but she couldn’t think with them popping in and out at all hours and she needed to think, to face up to her shame. Besides, she was afraid of Sean coming back, she had to keep him at bay. She must never be alone with him again.

  Once inside the living room, she tore open the envelope and counted the pages. Six! She found it hard to believe that her father would ever write six pages, but here they were in black and white.

  Becoming aware of the bulk of the man standing watching her, she said abruptly, ‘Here … gimme your coat, and take a seat.’

  He struggled out of the army overcoat and her arms sagged under its weight as she took it from him and hung it at the foot of the stairs.

  ‘Sit down. Go on … sit by the fireside,’ she ordered, and when he obeyed her, she sat on the armchair facing him and turned her attention once more to the letter.

  Tears stung her eyes as she read. In her head she could hear her father’s voice. It was as if he was talking to her, a voice from the grave.

  My dear, lovely Rosaleen, when you read this letter, I’ll be gone. Gone to meet my Maker and receive my sentence. It will also mean that I have died before your mother, so I want to put the record straight. You see, Rosaleen, it’s my fault that your mother is the way she is. My fault! Mine alone, and I shoulder the blame gladly. I have seen you look at me in surprise from time to time when I apparently let your mother walk all over me, but you see, Rosaleen … I deserved it. Your mother will never defend herself, she’s a very private person and she’ll let you go on believing that she is cold and hard. This is far from the truth, because behind that rough front your mother shows the world, is a very shy, passionate, loving woman.

  Sharing a bed as we had to, she could not always deny her need for me, because in spite of what I did, in spite of the pain I caused her, she still loves me. That surprises you, doesn’t it? But she does love me, and although I’m sure she had her chances (a lovely woman like your mother?) and she may have been tempted to get revenge, I know she never betrayed me. Besides, her good Catholic upbringing would never have let her commit adultery, so sometimes she needed me, and it was when she needed me that she scorned me most. For me, those were the moments that made up for everything else.

  When I first met her, your mother was like a breath of spring. Very like you in looks, and pure and good. She could have had her pick of any man in the neighbourhood and she chose me. I couldn’t believe my luck when she agreed to walk out with me. Me! Tommy Magee, a mill worker, when she could have had an electrician or a joiner or a schoolteacher. They all fancied her, but right from our first meeti
ng there was a bond between us. I hope you and Joe are experiencing this bond. I’ve watched you together and sometimes I’ve been uneasy for you, but I hope and pray that you are happy, Rosaleen.

  She paused, startled at these words. Imagine her da sensing that all was not well between her and Joe. Perhaps if she had talked to him about their difficulties at the start of their marriage, things might have worked out differently. Ah, but sure you couldn’t talk to your da about a thing like that. Besides, although she had not been aware of it, she was already pregnant. When she had found out, would she have gone to her da and told him that? That she was expecting another man’s child? No way! There was no way she could have admitted that to her da. Sad for chances lost, she continued reading.

  But to get back to me. The day your mother married me, I was the happiest man in the world and I swore that she would never regret it. That I’d spend the rest of my life making her happy. And I meant it, Rosaleen. I wanted no other. All I wanted was to care for her and when you came along, my happiness was complete. But I was weak and the promises so easily made, were even more easily broken. I didn’t mean to betray your mother’s trust … ah no, I didn’t set out to do it, but betray it I did.

  Let me explain. We were invited to a party. A mate of mine got the key to a house in Leeson Street and threw a house-warming party.

  Your mother was expecting Annie at the time and the day before the party she was confined to bed for a couple of days. Her blood pressure was giving concern. Nothing serious, but she had to rest, and going to a party wasn’t allowed. I didn’t want to go without her but she insisted. Said I must give the happy couple the wee present she had bought for them. So I went alone – and, oh, how I lived to regret it.

  It was like this … it was a long night and there was plenty to drink. I didn’t realise I was drinking so much, and I wasn’t used to it.

  Anyhow, I got drunk and was foolish with a girl. We were thrown together because we were both on our own, and later, it seemed only good manners to walk her home. I don’t remember much about that night and I don’t want to put the blame on her. It takes two. But one thing I did know – I knew I’d done wrong and I prayed your mother would never find out. As time passed and I never set eyes on the girl again, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was going to be all right and I had learnt my lesson. I would never get drunk again. And in spite of what your mother often implied, I never did. Tipsy, now and again, but never blind drunk. Ah, no, it had cost me too dearly.