The Wasted Years Page 29

  ‘I mean … since we can’t get divorced, and since we’re so incompatible, perhaps the Church will grant an annulment. Set us free of each other. We can at least ask.’

  ‘The Church would never do that!’ Annie cried, amazed that he could think such a thing. ‘We married for better or worse, so we did. The Church doesn’t grant annulments just because you can’t have children. That’s God’s will! You have to learn to live with it. You can only get a marriage annulled if it’s not consummated.’

  His finger pointed accusingly at her, and his eyes scornfully raked her face. ‘But you can’t live with it… sure you can’t, Annie,’ he taunted. And turning on his heel, he strode down the hall, through the kitchen and out of the door, to stand gazing blindly in front of him. The back garden, about seventy feet of it, stretched before him and the Cave Hill loomed high above it. He eyed it bleakly. Annie was right. This was a house to rear kids in. That big garden was made for swings and slides, the tree made for tomboys to climb. He’d been a fool to think that a house like this could ever belong to him.

  Alone on the stairs, Annie sat stunned. She wanted children, yes, but Sean was her world … from the first moment she had set eyes on him, she had loved him, and no other man had ever received a second thought from her. Why, without him she would die. Slowly, she rose to her feet and followed him, pausing at the door.

  ‘Sean?’

  He remained outside, his head averted. His cheeks were wet with tears that he did not want her to see. He felt ashamed. Imagine crying over a house.

  Going to him, she put her arms around him and pressed her cheek against his sleeve, delighting in the smell of him, the feel of the rough tweed of his sports jacket under her cheek.

  ‘Sean, I’m sorry,’ she said softly. ‘I realize that I’ve been a selfish fool. If you want this house, buy it, and we’ll give it a try.’

  Astounded, tears forgotten, he turned to face her. ‘You mean that? Honestly now, you’re willing to give it a try?’

  The sight of his tears dismayed her, tore at her heart.

  ‘Ah, Sean … Sean. Forgive me. I’ve been blind.’ Her fingers smoothed his cheeks, wiping the tears away. ‘I’ve been a blind fool, so I have.’

  ‘Listen, Annie, I’ve been selfish too. I should’ve gone and seen about myself long ago, but I was afraid.’ A tense silence yawned as he gripped her tighter still. Then the fear that was constantly with him poured out. ‘What if I can never father children?’

  Regret gnawed at her mind. She had been so wrong. She had been blaming him, thinking that he didn’t care enough about children, and all the while … he had been afraid of the result of the tests.

  ‘It won’t matter, Sean. Honestly, love. Just so long as we have both tried.’ Her voice was earnest, compelling. She must make him understand that he came first. ‘Much as I want children, I can live without them as long as I have you. But, love, don’t you think it’s worth a try? A visit to the doctor? That’s all I ask. That we both try.’

  Feeling humble, he vowed. ‘On my next leave, once you know just when I’m coming home, you can set up an appointment for me with the doctor, and I promise I’ll go.’

  And as his lips claimed hers, hope was deep in their hearts.

  Both Rosaleen and Annie gazed adoringly at the baby lying on the rug in front of the fire. He was a beautiful child, his chubby limbs flailing the air, gurgles being emitted from his widely yawning mouth.

  On her knees beside him, Annie tickled him under the chin. She was rewarded with a lovely, gaping, toothless grin and a gurgle of pure happiness.

  ‘He’s lovely, Rosaleen … beautiful. Such a good baby. I wish he was mine.’ She gave a long, heartfelt sigh. ‘You don’t know how lucky you are to have two lovely children.’

  Rosaleen leant forward in her chair, the better to enjoy the beauty of her son. She agreed wholeheartedly with Annie. Her son was beautiful. The pregnancy had been hard, the child spending most of his time lying on a nerve and causing her unending pain and misery, but the result was worth waiting for. Her eyes examined him intently. The chestnut hair, just like her father’s, the big blue eyes … Would Sean see the resemblance? No one else had noticed. If he did notice, what would he do? Could she bluff him? Did she want to?

  Annie continued gently to tickle the child, and as he gurgled and kicked, she examined him.

  ‘Do you know something, Rosaleen? My desire for a child must be affecting my mind.’ With a wry grimace she raised her gaze to Rosaleen’s. ‘I can actually see Sean in young Liam.’

  Leaning forward as she was, their faces just inches apart, and taken completely unawares, there was no way Rosaleen could have controlled her expression, her change of colour.

  Open mouthed, Annie gaped at her in dawning horror. She saw the colour flood her sister’s face and creep down her neck, the guilt and dismay register in her eyes. Aghast, her eyes returned to the child and feverishly examined each feature. He had her colouring … just like his grandfather. He even resembled his grandfather in features, which meant that he favoured her. Why, this was how a child of hers and Sean’s could look, chestnut-haired, blue-eyed. But then, thousands of children had blue eyes, she assured herself.

  Not this shade of blue! her mind shouted back.

  Such an unusual shade. She had noticed the eyes before but had assumed that they were inherited from Joe’s father. Perhaps they were, she warned herself. She must be cautious, not accuse Rosaleen. Perhaps she was wrong. Once more her eyes returned to her sister but Rosaleen now had her emotions under control, her features schooled, and gazed innocently back at her.

  Annie blinked in bewilderment. Had she imagined that look? No! No … she had not imagined it. But she must have. Surely she must have? There was no way that Sean could be the father. Wasn’t he sterile? Besides, he wouldn’t … not with Rosaleen, not with her sister! Would he? Would he do that to her?

  Afraid to speak in case she said the wrong thing and made matters worse, Rosaleen watched Annie grapple with her doubts.

  Confused, she shook her head as if to clear it and stumbled to her feet. Towering over Rosaleen, she wailed piteously, ‘Tell me it’s not true. Oh, Rosaleen, tell me I’m wrong. Please tell me I’m wrong,’ she begged. ‘Don’t let this happen to me.’

  ‘What? What’s not true? I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Rosaleen replied, looking bewildered.

  And all Annie’s doubts fled. She knew! She was sure. How she didn’t know, but she was sure that Rosaleen lied. Her voice was too easy … her manner too innocent.

  Blinded by tears, she groped for her shoes and pushed her feet into them, all the while her mind insisting that it could not be true. It just could not be true! How would she be able to bear it if it was true? With shaking hand, she reached for her coat and shrugged it on.

  Rosaleen watched her in silence, afraid to speak, flailing about in her mind for words that would make everything right, but none were forthcoming. At the door Annie turned and gazed wildly around the room.

  The peaceful scene of mother and child by the fire enraged her. Her world was falling apart and nothing had changed. Everything still looked the same.

  With a cry of pain, she lifted a vase that sat in pride of place near the door, and crashed it against the wall. As it shattered, Rosaleen was on her feet.

  ‘Now wait a minute … just what do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘Don’t you come near me, you mealy-mouthed, sanctimonious bitch, or I won’t be responsible for my actions,’ Annie hissed, her fist lifted threateningly in the air. ‘You slut! You dirty, rotten wee slut!’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Rosaleen blustered. ‘But that was an expensive vase, and I’ll see that you replace it. You’re right. You are crazy. You need your head examined.’ Then, her voice softening, she implored, ‘Look … sit down. Let’s talk this out.’

  ‘Sit down? Are you nuts? I’ll never sit in this house again. Never again.’

  Pain was et
ched sharply on Annie’s face and her voice broke on a sob that tore at Rosaleen’s heart when she asked, ‘Does he know?’

  ‘Does he know what? I don’t know what you’re talking about, so I don’t.’

  ‘Oh, you know! You know all right! You lying cat!’

  As the door settled back on its hinges and the sound of Annie’s footsteps storming up the street receded, Rosaleen sank slowly down on to the settee, shame and regret tearing her apart. It was awful to hear Annie call her a slut, but wasn’t it the truth? And didn’t she still covet her sister’s husband? What would Annie do? Would she confront Sean? If so, how would he react? Swamped with unhappiness, she argued with herself. Was it so wrong of her to want Sean? Perhaps Annie was meant to notice. Perhaps it was fate and at last she was going to get a chance at happiness. Was she not entitled to some happiness? All those wasted years married to Joe, frustrated and unhappy. And most of the time Annie and Sean were at loggerheads. Annie longed for a child and obviously she was barren. Sean was miserable married to her. He was right! She should have listened to him. Why should everyone be unhappy? Still, was she brazen enough to cause a big scandal? Run off with him and live in sin?

  Annie’s feet hardly touched the ground in her mad race up the Springfield Road. She kept her gaze straight head, ignoring people who spoke to her, not in a fit state to converse with anyone, very much aware that some stopped to look after her in amazement. And why wouldn’t they? She must look demented. At the corner of Colinward Street her feet faltered, then continued on up the Springfield Road. George would be with her mother and she just didn’t feel able to see him, make conversation.

  George was so good and kind, her mother doted on him, treated him as the son she never had. It had surprised everyone the way she proudly introduced him as her stepson. Deep inside it must have hurt her to announce to one and all that her husband had sinned against her, but she seemed intent on punishing herself. She probably looked on it as penance, and her brave act brought her nothing but admiration.

  Young Maureen Murphy also doted on George, but he kept her at arm’s length, and Annie was aware that this was because his religious beliefs differed from hers.

  Annie knew that she was just thinking of George to keep her mind off… Sean. There, she had let his face surface. How could he have done this to her? Him and Rosaleen. Her mind baulked as she tried to picture them together. Where had they met? Sean had been home so rarely during the war, and for such short periods … how had they managed to have an affair? Was he leaving Rosaleen and coming directly to their bed? But then, hadn’t she been rejecting him? It had been wrong of her to withhold sex, to try to compel him to see a doctor. Was this why he had turned to Rosaleen? Hadn’t she, hypocrite that she was, warned Annie that she would lose him? That some other girl would be glad to accommodate him. And all the while she was accommodating him, was already pregnant by him. She remembered how surprised she had been when Rosaleen had told her that she was expecting another child. The idea that a physical wreck like Joe could father a child, and a big healthy man like Sean could not, had stuck in her guts; made her, in her mind, scorn her husband. And all the time it was Sean’s child that Rosaleen was carrying, and gullible fool that she was, she had believed Rosaleen that it was Joe’s.

  Pain seared through her, bringing sobs to catch at her throat. Angrily she choked them down. This was no time for tears. What she needed to do was think. She must have been blind! But then, wasn’t the wife always the last to know? It’s a wonder that the neighbours hadn’t dropped hints. They delighted in doing that, and they must all have known. They must have been nudging each other and laughing at the idea of it. Well, what the neighbours thought had never bothered her before, so she would not let it matter to her now. No, she would not let it hurt her!

  It was her own fault! She had been obsessed with the idea of having a baby. She had nagged and repulsed Sean and driven him into Rosaleen’s arms. No, it was Rosaleen’s fault. Good-living Rosaleen!

  She, who cringed with distaste when a smutty joke was told. She, who would never take the Holy Name in vain. She had been letting Sean get his leg over. Oh, now, wouldn’t Rosaleen be shocked at that expression? Wouldn’t she just be shocked at anything so crude? How had she squared her conscience with committing adultery? Pure, holy Rosaleen! And what about Sean? It took two! But didn’t the priests say that if there were no bad girls, there would be no bad boys? Didn’t the women always get blamed. Weren’t men weak, and wasn’t it up to the women to keep them at arm’s length? As for Rosaleen … how Annie had admired and looked up to her. All her life, because Rosaleen was such a good, pious person, she had thought it right that her mother and father should favour her, hold her up as an example. She had always been second best; only with Rosaleen and Sean had she felt that she came first. Rosaleen had been her friend as well as her sister, and look how she had betrayed her. How was Annie ever going to face her again? Her mouth trembled at the thought of her loss. Hurt and pain once more brought tears to her eyes, but she brushed them angrily away. She had no intention of wallowing in misery; she wasn’t going to give in to self-pity. If Rosaleen thought that she was just going to walk off with Sean, she had another thought coming. He was her husband, and she would fight tooth and nail for him, child or no.

  At the Dam she paused, then slowly made her way down the grassy bank, off the road. She could sit here for a while, gain control of her emotions before facing her mother. It was a lonely place, and as she gazed down on the water she shivered. Many nasty rumours circulated about the Dam, but the way she felt, it wouldn’t matter if someone finished her off and pushed her in. Indeed, they would be doing her a favour.

  As her anger abated, the house on the Serpentine Road came to mind, like a sanctuary in a storm. Sean had set things in motion the day after she had consented to live there and now it belonged to them, lock, stock, and barrel. So why not go there? But sure she couldn’t. Except for the table and two armchairs, it was empty.

  They intended moving in during Sean’s next leave, but why wait? George would help her. He had a car; she could depend on him. First thing tomorrow morning she would go down and order a bed. It being a Saturday, the first day she could expect it to be delivered was Monday, but meanwhile she could sleep on the floor. It wouldn’t kill her to live rough for a few days. Not after the nights spent in the Falls Park during the war. What about the chimneys? They needed to be swept. Sean had been warned not to light a fire until the chimneys had been swept. Well, it was just at night that it got chilly. The weather was changeable for June, but not really cold. She would survive. They had been told that a man in the village swept chimneys. Tomorrow she would find out where he lived and go and ask him to sweep them as soon as possible.

  Now that a course of action was open to her, she turned and quickly retraced her steps up on to the road. She must catch George before he left to go home, make arrangements for him to help her move cooking utensils, bed linen and her wedding presents.

  Once she had moved into the house on the Serpentine Road, she would be able to think, to decide what to do.

  George and her mother had finished their inspection of the house and were now enjoying a cup of tea in the kitchen. Sitting at the old wooden table on two dining chairs borrowed from her mother, surrounded by pots and pans and boxes.

  ‘It’s lovely, Annie. You must be real proud to own a house like this.’

  ‘Your mam’s right … it’s a beautiful house,’ George agreed with Thelma. ‘Well-built and sturdy. But will you be all right here on your own?’

  There was a worried frown on his brow, and from her perch on the edge of the draining board, Annie smiled reassuringly at him.

  ‘Yes. Once I get the gas and electricity turned on, I’ll be fine. Meanwhile I have your Primus stove and oil lamp. I’ll be all right.’

  ‘You should have asked Rosaleen to come and stop with you for a couple of nights, just ’til ye get settled in. I’d have minded the kids, so I would. Surely y
ou knew that?’ Thelma admonished her. ‘I don’t know what the big rush was for. Ye said you’d move during Sean’s next leave … what changed your mind?’

  ‘Oh … I thought I may as well be doing some decorating … have some of the rooms ready for Sean coming home,’ Annie replied airily. ‘Anyhow, Rosaleen’s too busy looking after her wee business, and to be truthful, I prefer to be alone.’

  ‘Rosaleen’ll be surprised when she hears about your movin’. She’ll probably come down t’morrow t’see the house.’

  ‘No. Tell her that I don’t want her to come down. She’ll understand, so she will.’

  George watched her from under drawn brows. There was something wrong here. He sensed a deep unhappiness in Annie. Had she and Rosaleen quarrelled? Surely not. They were such close friends.

  When they were ready to leave, and Thelma was in the car out of earshot, he whispered to Annie, ‘I’ll come down tomorrow afternoon and help you start cleaning out the rooms. I’ll bring some food, so don’t worry about cooking on the Primus stove. But do make yourself plenty of hot drinks.’

  ‘Thanks, George. Thanks a lot,’ she whispered back, ‘I’ll look forward to seeing you.’

  Cold and unhappy, she was unable to sleep. Early next morning, an orange glow radiating from the front of the house brought her from the back bedroom to investigate – to stand at the window in awe and gaze entranced at the sun rising on the lough. Everything was orange and gold. The sky dazzling her eyes with its glow, and the lough shimmering and glowing like a thick gold chain brought a sigh of pure rapture to her lips. The sun was free of the lough and lightening the sky, and some sort of normality was apparent before she turned away from the beauty of it all. Imagine waking to that every morning. Wait until Sean saw the beauty of it, he would be enchanted. Thoughts of Sean dampened the joy that engulfed her. Would she ever be able to think of him without pain? Only time would tell, time and Sean’s introduction to his son.

  She had bought some ceiling white, and making up a thin paste with this, whitened the window panes. The house was high up and back off the road, and so far she had witnessed little traffic, but she still felt exposed by the curtainless windows, and the whitened panes made her feel easier, more private. With earning good money in Mackie’s, she had some savings of her own. Tomorrow she would measure up for curtains and go into town to see if she could get any bargains. Something cheap to tide her over until the house was decorated and she knew just what kind of curtains she needed. They had decided that they would furnish the house slowly. Buy things as they could afford them. Only the best would do.