A Daughter's Secret Read online

  But, of course he had, and it pleased him greatly to have a young, nubile girl lusting after him. As yet she was but a child, anxious to please him and do things for him. When she was a little older, maybe he would see just how far she would go in pleasing him, for she was turning out to be a very fetching little thing.

  * * *

  Not long after Aggie had passed her fourteenth birthday, Biddy announced to the family that she was having another baby. She was unaccountably excited about this pregnancy, different from the way she had felt about the others. At first she said Aggie had to give up the dancing for she would need her full help in the house. It was Thomas John who said she needn’t do that.

  ‘Sure, it is the only place she goes, unless you count Mass. It doesn’t take her out of the house much all told, and the girl needs some distraction.’

  Biddy never argued with Thomas John, the only person that she ever listened to and took heed of. Aggie knew that, and she gave a sigh of relief at her father’s words and hugged herself with delight.

  Her little sister was born on a blustery day in February 1900 when the wind howled so fiercely around the cottage, it sounded like a creature in torment. It rattled the windows and caused the fire to splutter and smoke. All that ceased to matter to Aggie as she held in her arms the little sister that she had helped the midwife bring into the world. She felt a special bond with her. She was overwhelmed when Biddy asked her if she would like to be the child’s godmother, and the baby was christened Nuala Mary when she was less than two weeks old.

  The whole family was charmed by that one small baby – even wee Finn, who would spend hours just gazing at her.

  ‘Don’t you try lifting her out of there,’ Biddy said to her small son one day, catching him by the side of the crib.

  Finn looked quite astonished that his mother might think he had such a notion. ‘I wouldn’t,’ he said. ‘I might hurt her.’

  ‘You could well,’ Biddy said grimly. ‘And that goes for you too, Tom and Joe. Don’t you two be thinking of playing with her, for you are too big and too rough altogether.’

  Tom thought his mother didn’t need to say that to him. He had left school now and was at work full time alongside his father. With his hands chapped and callused he wouldn’t touch the child at all, and as for holding her, she was so petite and delicate-looking, he would be afraid that she would break.

  ‘They are stronger than you think,’ Aggie told him one day when he said this.

  She was lifting the child as she spoke and Tom marvelled at the easy way she did this. She laughed, but gently, at the look on his face. ‘It’s easier for a woman,’ she said. ‘And that’s how it must be, of course, for I will probably have my own weans one day.’

  ‘Aye, and meanwhile you are mooning after him, McAllister…’

  Aggie flushed with embarrassment and guilt but she denied the accusation vehemently. ‘I am not.’

  ‘Yes you are,’ Tom maintained. ‘You just be glad that Mammy hasn’t noticed.’

  ‘There’s nothing to notice,’ Aggie said heatedly. ‘This is all in your imagination.’

  ‘No it isn’t,’ Tom said. ‘And for the life of me I don’t see what the attraction is. He is an old man and a well-married one too.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ Aggie said, and as Tom shook his head at her, Aggie hid a smile. At home she was just good old Aggie to her father and brothers, and an extra pair of hands to her mother, especially now, and her life one of boring drudgery.

  Twice a week she was Agnes Sullivan, talked and listened to as if she wasn’t a child any more, especially when she attended the special Wednesday evening dancing classes with Cissie. And that was all down to McAllister. He wasn’t exactly old either – not like her daddy was old, anyway – but he was mature. The lines on his face just added to his character, and he had the darkest brown eyes. But what was the point of saying any of that to her brother? He’d laugh himself silly if she tried.

  Of course, when he was in the farmhouse, teaching her brothers or drinking with her father, he had to be far more proper towards her, seeming to know without her having to say anything that her parents wouldn’t like any sort of familiarity. If he addressed her at all, he called her ‘Aggie’ and she called him ‘Mr McAllister’, but on Saturday, after the younger children had left, and especially on Wednesday evening, she was Agnes and he was Bernie. He also kissed her and Cissie on the cheek when the class was over, making them blush at first, before they began to enjoy it, but the two girls were sensible enough to say nothing about this at home.

  Aggie did daydream about Bernie McAllister sometimes, and her nights too were punctuated with fantasies about him. Sometimes, she would imagine that he would hold her in his arms and kiss her properly. She had no idea what a proper kiss was; she just knew people seemed to hold great store by it, as a sign that one person liked another. She never allowed herself to go further than that kiss, though, and yet in the morning she would be ashamed of herself. She never even whispered these thoughts and dreams to Cissie, fearing she would be shocked.

  It was more than three weeks before Christmas when Aggie got to the church hall one Wednesday evening to find that Cissie hadn’t arrived. That was strange, as she was always there before Aggie. Usually, as Aggie was going out the door, her mother would find another job for her to do, for though she wouldn’t openly defy Thomas John and forbid Aggie to go dancing, she resented it bitterly. She particularly disliked the Wednesday evening sessions and so would deliberately make Aggie late, and she would arrive red and out of breath, having run every step of the way.

  That night was no exception. As she stood framed in the doorway, McAllister’s breath caught in his throat. She was truly beautiful, with her flushed cheeks, heaving bosom and dancing eyes. Cissie was a bonny enough girl, but she didn’t hold a candle to Agnes, and the girl was totally unaware of it too.

  ‘Where’s Cissie?’ Aggie asked, scanning the room.

  ‘Cissie isn’t coming tonight,’ McAllister said, crossing to stand beside her. ‘She has the measles. Her mother caught me in the town and told me, but I came on here to wait for you.’

  ‘How awful for her,’ Aggie said. ‘Poor Cissie.’ And then disappointment trickled through her body as she said uncertainly, ‘Well, I had better go then.’

  ‘Why?’ McAllister said, drawing her into the room and closing the door with his foot. ‘Do you want to go?’

  McAllister’s face was very close, and Aggie said, ‘No, not really but—’

  ‘You are very lovely, you know, Agnes,’ McAllister said, cutting across he

  ‘Why?’ McAllister said, drawing her into the room and closing the door with his foot. ‘Do you want to go?’

  McAllister’s facer.

  No one had ever mentioned loveliness to Agnes and her eyes opened wide. ‘Am I?’

  ‘You are,’ McAllister said emphatically. ‘Did no one ever tell you that before?’ he asked, knowing just how unlikely that was.

  ‘No, never.’

  ‘Anyone ever tell you how your eyes sparkle brighter than the stars in the sky?’ McAllister asked. As Aggie’s face flushed further with embarrassment he added, ‘And that you look so enchanting when you blush.’

  ‘Oh, Bernie, really,’ Aggie said, flustered. ‘Please don’t say such things.’

  ‘Why?’ McAllister asked. ‘Don’t you wish to hear them?’

  ‘No, not really. I’m sure it is wrong to make a person think too much of themselves, especially when the things said are not true.’

  ‘Who said they were not true?’

  ‘Exaggerated then…’

  ‘Not a bit of it,’ McAllister cried. ‘Look into a mirror, Agnes, my darling girl, and you will see it all for yourself.’

  ‘You have me all of a dither.’

  McAllister caught up her hand and said, ‘Don’t be ashamed or embarrassed, for as you grow up you’ll hear many such comments. And you must learn to accept them gracefully and thank the person a
pplauding you so.’

  ‘Oh, I do thank you, Bernie,’ Aggie said earnestly. ‘It was just that it was so unexpected. I am not at all used to hearing people say such things about me.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ McAllister smiled. ‘And now to show you that I really mean the things I said, I will give you a wee kiss!’

  Aggie returned the smile and, expecting the type of kiss that he gave both her and Cissie when they were leaving each Wednesday evening, she said, ‘All right.’

  McAllister caught Aggie’s face up between his hands and kissed her mouth gently and then, as if Aggie’s arms had a life of their own, they encircled his neck. His kiss became more ardent and demanding, and Aggie’s whole being began to shake, and she knew she wanted that kiss to go on and on for ever.

  When they broke apart at last, both were breathless. Aggie dropped her arms and pulled herself from McAllister’s embrace before allowing herself to look into his eyes. She saw the yearning there and though she didn’t understand it, she was a little alarmed by it. But what was more worrying by far were the strange longings she had coursing through her own body, feelings the like of which she had never had before and wasn’t sure they weren’t downright sinful.

  ‘Oh, Agnes,’ McAllister said, ‘that was truly wonderful.’

  ‘I know. But I don’t think we should have done it.’

  ‘And why not? Don’t say you didn’t enjoy it, for I shall not believe it. It wasn’t a stranger’s arms that came about my neck, or a stranger’s lips kissing me so hard.’

  ‘I know,’ Aggie admitted, her face flaming again, but this time with shame. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry. Did I push you away?’

  ‘No, but…’

  ‘For two pins I would repeat the experience,’ McAllister said, reaching out for Aggie, but she twirled out of his grasp.

  ‘No, no!’ she cried. ‘We mustn’t.’

  ‘We mustn’t,’ McAllister mimicked, but gently. ‘Mustn’t touch, mustn’t kiss, and mustn’t have fun in any shape or form.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Stop being sorry. Stop saying you’re sorry,’ he snapped. He seemed to think for a moment and then suddenly said, ‘Well, if a kiss and cuddle is out, then we must dance. Take off your shawl and boots and we’ll make a start.’

  Aggie looked at him and knew that while one part of her wanted to go into his arms willingly, the other part was urging her to bid the man good-night and go home. She did neither, and as she removed her shawl she said, ‘I can’t dance without Cissie,’ because the two girls had been practising a duet they were to perform in the Christmas concert put on by the Church.

  ‘Aren’t you the girl for finding problems where there are none?’ McAllister said. ‘We will do dances that need not include Cissie.’

  ‘We will?’

  ‘Yes, we will. They are called polkas. They’re fun to do and a chance for me to hold you in my arms legitimately. What do you say?’

  ‘I say maybe I should go home.’

  ‘You disappoint me, Agnes.’ McAllister shook his head sadly. ‘Really you do.’

  Aggie thought of her home and knew she wouldn’t be right in the door before her mother would be roaring at her for something and there would be a list of jobs waiting for her. And if she went, she would upset the man she admired before all others. Anyway, she wanted to stay in the church hall, lit softly by the paraffin lamps, and she knew too she would be warmed further by McAllister’s arms around her as they moved to the music.

  ‘I’ll stay,’ she decided, facing him, and he beamed in approval.

  ‘Good girl.’ And he took her in his arms.

  Aggie loved the polkas, the tantalising and evocative music, and dancing in McAllister’s arms was just heavenly. They danced for ages, stopping only when the gramophone needed cranking up. Eventually they were completely out of breath.

  ‘Sit down and recover before you attempt the walk home,’ McAllister invited. ‘And tell me about yourself.’

  Aggie couldn’t remember opening her soul as she did that night with McAllister. The man listened to the child – she was little more – who was at it from dawn till dusk just because she had the misfortune to be the elder girl in the family.

  ‘That’s why I love dancing, you see,’ she said. ‘It is a chance to get out. Mammy would have stopped me ages ago if Daddy hadn’t put his foot down.’

  ‘I’m glad he did then.’

  ‘Mm, so am I. Have you any family? Brothers, sisters?’

  ‘I have three brothers older than me who hightailed it to the States, and an older sister, Gwen, living in Birmingham,’ McAllister told her, taking a hip flask of poteen out of his pocket as he spoke and taking a long drink. ‘I was the baby.’

  ‘And spoiled, no doubt,’ Aggie smiled. ‘Like Nuala will probably be. She is just ten months old and she rules the roost already.’

  ‘But Nuala might not be the youngest always,’ McAllister said, and laughed at the blush forming on Aggie’s cheeks. ‘Now what’s embarrassed you?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s just… well, the thought of my parents doing that sort of thing.’

  ‘What sort of thing?’ McAllister teased. ‘Sex?’

  Aggie gave a gasp. ‘I don’t think we should say that word.’

  ‘What word? Sex? Let me tell you, girl, the world would be a very peculiar place without it. You do know what it is all about, don’t you?’

  Aggie nodded. ‘Of course I do.’ She lived on a farm and had seen the bull brought in to service the cows, the ram for the ewes, the boar for the sow, and the baby animals born afterwards.

  McAllister, guessing a lot of the thoughts tumbling around in Aggie’s head, said, ‘You have seen the animals at it, I imagine, but for humans there is pleasure to be had too.’

  Aggie’s face was a picture, for she had never heard that before. She looked at McAllister incredulously and he laughed as he pulled her to her feet.

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Get your boots and your shawl. It’s time to go home.’

  Aggie was loath to bring the evening to an end. It had been a special time with just the two of them, which would probably never happen again.

  At the door McAllister took another hefty drink from the flask and offered it to Aggie. ‘Care for a drop?’

  Aggie smiled as she shook her head. ‘Daddy gave me a wee sip just the other day and it burned my mouth and my throat, and afterwards it was as if my stomach was on fire. I have no liking for it at all.’

  ‘You don’t know what you are missing, girl,’ McAllister told her. ‘Still, your loss, sweetheart. Now, I will see you home.’

  ‘Oh, but really there is no need.’

  ‘Agnes, the wind would near cut a body in two and the night air is raw and bone-chillingly cold,’ McAllister said firmly. ‘If you will not have a wee drop of poteen to help you cope with that, then you need my arms around you to keep you from freezing altogether.’

  Aggie did not protest. She could think of few things nicer than walking home wrapped in her warmest shawl and cuddled into Bernie McAllister, and she nodded her head happily.

  ‘I’d like that,’ she said, and they stepped into the night together.

  TWO

  Aggie recalled that walk home many times. She remembered how secure and protected she had felt. McAllister had his arm tight around her so that, despite the bleakness of the night, she felt glowingly warm inside.

  He had been telling himself since they’d set out to go easy and have a bit of common sense, but the very nearness of Aggie was making him harden. He knew to touch her was madness. Hadn’t his wife threatened what she would do if ever she found him at it again, after that last time?

  And he knew that if they hadn’t had the offer of the grocery store, and been able to flee to Ireland when they had, he’d have more than likely been laid out in a hospital bed, if not on a mortuary slab, as soon as the pregnancy of their neighbour’s daughter had become ob
vious. He remembered how she had pleaded with him for help and he had promised to think of something, even as they were making plans to leave. He had blamed the girl for her condition, though, claiming that she had teased him and flirted with him outrageously and that a man was only flesh and blood after all.

  He had seen the telltale flush of shame steal over the girl’s face and she had even apologised for leading him on so. He had patted her hand and said she wasn’t to worry her wee head about it any longer; that he would deal with it.

  How Philomena found out he never knew, but she had and she was not best pleased. Yet she made plans to leave at once and in the early morning before many were astir. McAllister had a fleeting flash of pity for the young girl left alone to cope, but it was gone in an instant and he had to admit he was relieved to be away out of it.

  When Philomena saw this, however, she had snapped, ‘This isn’t being done to save your skin, so never think it. What you did to that young girl was disgusting and my heart goes out to her and the life she will likely have because of you. But I have my own weans to see to. It would not help them if you were dead or crippled, and I know you would be one or the other if we stopped here one moment longer than necessary.’

  He knew she was right. He was also well aware that the girl would name him as the father, because if she wouldn’t tell willingly, her father was the sort to beat it out of her. Then he and the son would have come for him. Fear had crawled all through McAllister at that thought. His salvation, in the shape of a grocery shop in a remote part of Ireland, hadn’t come a moment too soon.

  ‘I appreciate it,’ McAllister had said to his wife. ‘And I’m sorry.’

  ‘You’re always sorry,’ Philomena had replied scathingly. ‘And in the end it makes no odds. But I am telling you now, Bernie, I know that that girl was not the first, but she will be the last, for if this ever happens again, that will be the finish of us.’

  ‘It won’t, I promise.’

  ‘You’ve promised more times than I have had hot dinners,’ Philomena snapped, ‘but this time think on, because I mean it. Keep your hands to yourself and your prick in your trousers, and we will get along well enough.’