The Wasted Years Page 8

  She fell silent, then taking a compact from her handbag, tried to repair her make-up. Watching her, Rosaleen noticed that a bruise was already appearing on her cheek.

  ‘How will you explain that?’ she asked, dismay in her voice. ‘What will Billy say?’ She could understand letting big John away with his attack on him, but May was a different matter. He obviously loved her, so there could me more trouble.

  May examined her cheek in the small mirror of the compact. ‘I’ll put some Pan-stick on it … that should hide it.’

  ‘It’s very close to the eye. What if you’ve a black eye in the morning?’

  A smile twisted May’s lips. ‘I’ll accidentally fall and hit my face when I’m in the bathroom tonight.’ Seeing Rosaleen’s start of surprise, she added proudly, ‘Oh, yes, I’ve a bathroom.’ Then, squeezing Rosaleen’s arm, she added, ‘Don’t look so worried. Remember I’m used to explaining bruises away. Do you remember at school? Miss Watson thought that I was accident prone. If she had only known … I hardly ever fell.’

  Rosaleen sat aghast at these revelations. She remembered how, apparently, May was always falling down the stairs or getting hit on the face with a swing in the park, but she had been so bright and cheerful when she explained her wounds that no one had ever doubted her.

  Unable to think of any words of comfort, Rosaleen sat silent and was relieved when Laura chose that moment to let out a wail. Lifting her from the pram, she hushed her, rocking her gently over her shoulder.

  ‘Can I hold her, Rosaleen?’

  With a smile, she handed over the sweet-smelling bundle, and May stretched the child out on her knee, playing with the tiny hands and little bare feet, all the while exclaiming at her loveliness.

  ‘God knows when I’ll see her again,’ she said sadly.

  ‘Now listen, May. We’re not going to let this stop us from meeting. We’ll meet somewhere else.’

  ‘Where, Rosaleen? Tell me where?’

  ‘Would you not consider coming to my house, May?’

  ‘And have me da put a brick through your window?’

  At these words, Rosaleen drew back in disbelief. ‘Surely he wouldn’t dare?’

  ‘Oh, he’d dare all right. You don’t know him. Not that you’d ever be able to prove he did it. He’s a cute aul bugger.’ May watched Rosaleen from the corner of her eye when she asked the next question. ‘I don’t suppose you’d come to visit me?’

  She saw the look of horror spread over Rosaleen’s face and cried bitterly, ‘For goodness’ sake, Rosaleen, don’t look like that! Nobody’ll bite you. They’re not a lot of savages, ye know.’

  Shamefaced, Rosaleen smiled wryly as she replied, ‘I know, I know. I believe you.’

  May had never felt less like laughing in her life, but when she saw Rosaleen square her shoulders before declaring, ‘All right!’ as if preparing for battle, she laughed aloud.

  ‘Good for you!’ she cried, her eyes teasing, ‘I’ll write and tell you the easiest way to get to our street. I’ll draw a wee map, and send it to you, so I will. Then next month, you can visit me.’

  They smiled at each other and the time flew as they exchanged ideas and advised each other.

  It was Laura starting to whinge and nuzzle about, looking for something to eat, that brought Rosaleen to her feet in alarm. A glance at her watch told her it was a quarter to five and she gasped in dismay.

  ‘If I don’t hurry Joe’ll be in on my heels and there’ll be no dinner ready for him,’ she cried, settling Laura in her pram, and turning to May for a last farewell.

  She was surprised to find her friend gaping at her. ‘Surely Joe won’t mind?’

  ‘No, not really,’ she lied, because Joe did mind, he minded very much. He expected his dinner to be on the table when he came home from work. ‘It’s just that, with me not working, I like to have a meal ready for him when he comes home.’

  ‘Well, just let him wait today. Don’t you kill yourself pushing the pram up that hill in a hurry … especially in this heat,’ May admonished her.

  ‘I won’t. But, look, I’ll run on now. Don’t forget to write.’ And with a final hug and wave Rosaleen set off at a trot, leaving a bemused May staring after her.

  When Sean came home on leave, he always, weather permitting, caught an open-deck tram up the Falls Road to Beechmount, the estate where he lived. Today was no exception and as he sprawled on the seat looking about him, Rosaleen was not very far from his thoughts. As the tram trundled across the junction where the Falls divided the Springfield and the Grosvenor Roads, he sat up in delight, because there she was, waiting to cross the road, a brand-new pram in front of her, and looking young and sweet in a spotted cotton dress; the sun catching her hair and turning it to silver. On his feet instantly, he rang the bell for the tram to stop at the next stop and descended the stairs two at a time.

  A short distance up the Springfield Road, he caught up with her and put a restraining hand on the handle of the pram.

  ‘Why the big rush?’

  Alarm brought her to a halt when his hand descended on the pram but when she saw who it was, taken unawares, joy lit up her face as she stared up at him in amazement.

  ‘I thought you weren’t due home for another couple of months!’ she gasped.

  His eyes twinkled down at her as he tried to steady the thumping of his heart. She would probably deny it but she was pleased to see him. It was in her eyes and the warmth of her greeting.

  ‘Oh, have you been counting the weeks? Eh, Rosaleen?’ he teased.

  ‘Oh, don’t be silly.’ Her hand flapped at him, but a smile tugged at her lips and crinkled her eyes. ‘I’m fed up listening to our Annie counting the days.’ Her brows lifted slightly. ‘Does she know you’re home?’

  ‘Not yet.’ He shook his head, and peering into the pram, at the little red, screwed-up face, declared, ‘My, but she has a fine pair of lungs.’

  ‘She’s hungry,’ Rosaleen cried defensively. ‘She’s usually very good.’

  ‘Here!’ He thrust his holdall at her, and before she could demur, lifted Laura from the pram. The little rascal stopped crying immediately.

  ‘She’s spoilt rotten, so she is,’ Rosaleen admitted, with a wry smile.

  ‘Put the bag on the pram and I’ll carry her home for you,’ he ordered. And without waiting for her agreement, he started walking up the Springfield Road, leaving her to follow.

  Noting the way he supported Laura’s back and head, Rosaleen asked. ‘How come you know so much about babies?’

  ‘I’m an uncle four times over. Three nephews and one niece.’ He tickled Laura under the chin and when she rewarded him with a big, toothless smile, he added, ‘I must confess I’ve a weakness for girls. She’s lovely, Rosaleen.’ His eyes scanned her face and his voice caressed her. ‘Just like you.’

  Colour stained her cheeks at the compliment and she was glad it was one of her days for meeting May and that she was looking her best, in her new cotton dress with the squared neckline and puffed elbow-length sleeves. Seeing her blush, he had a great urge to hug her and kiss her. If only he was coming home to her and this was his daughter. Why, it would be like heaven on earth.

  With the past events still fresh in her mind, Rosaleen found herself telling him about May and her father. He let her ramble on, just giving her an encouraging nod now and again. When her voice trailed off, he glanced at her, and seeing her nip in her lips and an apprehensive look pass over her face, knew at once what was wrong.

  ‘It’s all right, Rosaleen. I won’t say a word.’

  She flashed him a grateful smile and wrinkled her nose at him. ‘I did go on a bit, didn’t I? It’s not like me. Usually I can keep a secret … not that it was a secret, mind. I wasn’t sworn to secrecy.’ She hastened to explain. ‘But, well, really I shouldn’t have mentioned it.’ She held his eye. ‘You won’t say anything to our Annie, sure you won’t?’

  ‘I won’t say anything to anyone,’ he assured her gravely, lost in the green wells
that said far more than she realised.

  ‘Thanks … I got carried away. You’re so easy to talk to, so you are and … I trust you,’ she added shyly.

  Often he had recalled their last meeting but one, when she had called him evil, treated him with scorn. Her words had stung him, hurt him to the very core, and he had lost sleep over them. Now he took these words and tucked them away in his heart. She trusted him.

  A frown puckered the smoothness of her brow. ‘I’d better hurry. Joe will be home soon.’

  With these words she walked faster and as he lengthened his stride to suit hers, it was his turn to frown.

  When they arrived at the corner of Iris Drive, she turned to him.

  ‘Put her back in the pram now, Sean. I’ll take over from here, and you can go on home.’

  She nodded along Oakman Street that ran down on to Beechmount Avenue.

  ‘No, I’ll carry her in for you. And I’ll tell you what. Since you’re behind time, I’ll give her a bottle while you make Joe’s tea. How’s that?’

  To his delight, colour again stained her cheeks, deeper this time as she confessed, with lowered eyes, ‘I breastfeed her.’

  His eyes teased her again, bringing an answering sparkle to her face. ‘I’m glad to hear that. If she was my daughter, I’d want her to be breastfed.’

  She was glad that they had arrived at the small forecourt at the front of the house. Glad that she could bend down to open the gate, and that her hair swung forward to hide the dark blush that suffused her face and neck as guilt assailed her.

  To think that he was holding his own daughter in his arms and didn’t know it.

  If he should ever find out … why, it didn’t bear thinking about. Once more she tried to send him off, but he was adamant.

  ‘While you feed the baby, I’ll start Joe’s dinner.’

  ‘I can’t ask you to stay, mind,’ she lamented. ‘I’ve only one chop.’

  ‘I’ve already eaten,’ he lied, and she knew he lied and was grateful to him. He was so kind, so understanding.

  ‘But what about you? Are you not eating?’ he asked, his glance keen. Surely she could afford to eat properly?

  ‘I’m on a diet. I’ve another few pounds to get rid of. I’ll have salad later.’

  Having witnessed his sisters starving themselves to lose weight after the birth of each child, this reassured him and he relaxed.

  Heading for the kitchen, she said, ‘Since you insist …’ and pulled open the door of a cupboard. ‘The pots and pans are in there, the chop, a couple of sausages and cooking fat are on the top shelf in the larder, and the potatoes are under the sink. Now I had better get this wee girl upstairs before she turns blue.’

  As she fed Laura, she thought how wonderful it would be if he was coming home to her. If only she had listened to him! With a sad smile on her face, she pictured how things would go. She would finish feeding Laura and then make him his tea, and they would talk for a while … She found herself laughing softly at the very idea. Who did she think she was kidding? The way he was looking at her, if she was his wife they would be at it hammer and tongs right away and she would not object. Oh no, she would not object … not one wee bit. Sadness settled like a mantle on her shoulders. If only she had met him sooner …

  After she had changed Laura’s nappy, she combed her hair and powdered her nose. Descending the stairs, she entered the kitchen.

  He was turning the chop in the pan and the potatoes were bubbling away on the back ring. He had removed his jacket and donned one of her aprons but still managed to look all man.

  ‘What about veg?’

  Dismay filled her, and her face crumpled. ‘Oh! I completely forgot about vegetables.’ She ran her fingers through her hair, undoing all the careful combing and leaving it standing on end. At last she muttered, ‘Tut! Joe hates tinned peas, but it’s too late to do anything else.’

  ‘If he’s hungry, he’ll eat anything.’

  He was eyeing her intently and she grimaced, but did not reply. ‘I’ll take over now, Sean. Thanks very much.’

  He was about to demur, but one glance at her face and he knew she did not want Joe to see him in the kitchen, so he whisked off the apron, gently took Laura from her arms, and with a wink at her, went and sat in the living room.

  Joe must be a right sod. It was obvious that she had to be home before him, to have his meal ready. His heart ached for her. With hindsight, he realised that he should have phoned in sick last year and made her listen to him. But would she have done? He doubted it. Anyhow, now it was too late. Not that Joe was mean. No, far from it. As his eyes examined the room in which he sat, Sean was aware that money had been spent, and spent to advantage. The settee on which he sat was new, no second-hand things here, and made of a moquette velvet in deep rich autumn colours. Matching armchairs graced each side of the grey and black kitchenette grate, and curtains that toned exactly hung at the window, separated by fine nets. And setting all these off to a treat, a square carpet, thick-piled and dark rust in colour, covered most of the floor. Rosaleen was obviously being denied nothing, so why did sadness lurk in her eyes? Because it did; when her face was in repose, sadness was apparent. But then, perhaps he had caught her on a bad day … perhaps Joe and she had had words this morning?

  When Joe arrived, he paused just inside the door, his eyebrows rising in surprise when he saw Sean.

  ‘I met Rosaleen on the Falls Road and walked home with her,’ he explained, and thrust his hand at Joe in greeting.

  Clasping his hand, Joe said, ‘I thought you weren’t due home for another month or two.’ His eyes were very intent as he examined Sean’s face. Somehow he looked too at home, too comfortable, sitting here in his living room, young Laura on his knee.

  ‘Well, it seems we’re likely to be at war soon, so we’re getting our leave early.’

  ‘Oh?’ Joe reached down and tickled Laura on the tummy. ‘So we’re going to war at last?’

  ‘It looks like it.’

  ‘I thought something was going to happen when they sandbagged the City Hall last week and ordered a complete blackout, but when everything slackened off, I imagined it was another false alarm.’

  Sean shook his head, and his voice was grave. ‘No, I think that this time we’ll be going to war.’

  Rosaleen’s voice came from the kitchen. ‘Your dinner’s ready, Joe. Come eat it.’

  Excusing himself, he entered the kitchen and when he saw the table was set for one, enquired in surprise, ‘Did you not make Sean some?’

  ‘He has eaten already, and his mother will be expecting him home soon,’ she explained, and raising her voice called, ‘Sean, will you have time for a cup of tea?’

  ‘For tea, I’ll make time,’ he called back, glad of the opportunity to stay in her company for a while longer.

  As he drank the tea, she watched him, watched his hands as he played with Laura, bringing squeals of delight from her small, rosebud mouth. In spite of the tight rein she had on her feelings, Rosaleen was remembering the excitement his hands had brought to her, and she wriggled uncomfortably in her chair. If only she had met him sooner!

  Feeling his eyes on her face, she refused to meet them, afraid of what he might see. She was relieved when, tea finished, he rose to leave.

  Placing Laura on her knee, he went to the door of the kitchen. ‘I’m away now, Joe.’

  Joe rose from the table, but with a motion of his hand, Sean stayed him. ‘Finish your dinner, I’ll see you before I go away again.’

  ‘Come round on Saturday night with Annie, Sean. We’ll be glad to see you.’

  ‘Ah, well …’ His eyes sought and caught Rosaleen’s at last, and teased her once again. ‘I’ll have to see about that. Annie might not want to share me with anyone else.’

  She grinned back at him. ‘Oh, listen to the conceit of that! I’m sure she’ll be glad of a break away from your brand of humour,’ she retorted, but in her heart she thought that Annie would be daft if she didn’t keep
him to herself, and really it would be better for her if she didn’t see him again. Still, she found herself hoping that they would come. At the door she mouthed the words, ‘Thanks for everything.’

  His eyes held hers, deep and soul-searching, and she stood entranced. At last he whispered, ‘The pleasure was all mine.’ And leaning closer he assured her with a nod of his head. ‘And it was a pleasure, Rosaleen.’

  As he strode along Beechmount Avenue, his thoughts were busy. He had seen the scepticism in Joe’s eyes. He was no fool, and Sean was aware that if he wasn’t careful, he could place Rosaleen in a compromising position. Joe must never guess that he was interested in his wife, or Rosaleen was the one who would suffer. Yes, he would have to be very careful. Joe must never guess. The best thing would be for him to break with Annie. He had used her to see Rosaleen, to find out how she still affected him, how, after months at sea, he would react to her presence. Now he knew the answer to that. He loved Rosaleen with a deep abiding love, but he would have to get out of her life before he ruined it. There was no way, no way at all, that she would be lured into an affair with him. She was too good-living and her conscience wouldn’t let her. Even if by some chance he managed to play on her feelings for him, because he knew that physically she was very attracted to him, and they started an affair, what would happen? Why, the guilt and worry of it would kill her. Besides, he didn’t want an affair; he wanted a wife and children. No, he must get out of her life. Joe was providing a comfortable lifestyle for her and it was up to him to leave her in peace.

  That evening when he called at Colinward Street to visit Annie, all Sean’s good intentions were forgotten. Annie’s delight at seeing him, her warm, eager embrace, touched his heart. She was lovely and they got on well together, so why not court her? Because she was Rosaleen’s sister … that was why not! If only she wasn’t. But then, he would never have met her otherwise. He would never have danced with her, asked her out. Oh no! He would have considered her too young.